#i also did not realise until way too late that there were working carts in this level.

[devotedlystrangewizard]

pro tip for scary levels just fucking close the game

[seijorhi]

Inescapable

Part 2 of Always - another soulmate au with extra angst!

Oikawa Tooru x female reader, Miya Atsumu x female reader

TW toxic relationships, implied abuse, blind reader

“Stay here,” he murmurs, soft lips brushing briefly against your cheek before you feel his warmth retreat.

It’s an effort to quell the fleeting panic that rises in his absence. Japan is your home – was your home – but Tokyo… You’re not supposed to be in the village. Only the athletes, trainers and the support crew for the national team were supposed to stay there. It kept out distractions, made it easier for security, gave the athletes the space to focus on what they’re there for; to compete. To win. 

You don’t know how he did it, what strings he had to pull, but somehow he’d managed.

A room for the two of you. Just the two of you.

“You’re staying with me,” he’d told you when you’d brought up the possibility of going home to Miyagi to visit your family, or even spend a few days with Makki and Mattsun. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

The words had been whispered, a soft, teasing purr as lips curled into a smirk at your neck, but you know what he’s like when he’s competing. The focus and obsession he’ll throw himself into. 

Especially when you both know who he’ll be competing against. 

Nevertheless, you’re here. Alone now, standing in a sea of strangers talking too loud in a cacophony of foreign tongues while Tooru left to go find his team–

Strong, familiar arms encircle your waist, a kiss pressed to the top of your head. 

– but only for a moment.

“C’mon, cutie. Let’s get going – Coach gave us twenty before he wants us at the gym.”

—

You know one or two of the players on the national team from San Juan. They’re friendly enough, and they’ll stop and chat with you on the odd nights you venture out into the cafeterias dotted around the village for dinner. But for the most part they’re focused on other things and Tooru–

Tooru’s possessive enough of your attention at the best of times. 

Which means that you’re either with him, tucked carefully under his arm as he guides you around the village, or you’re stuck in the room, bored out of your mind waiting for him to come home to you. And for lack of anything better to do, you have the games playing on the TV.

Just for the sound of your mother tongue filling the room around you. Just so you won’t be alone with your thoughts for too long.

It’s different, back home in San Juan. But you understand it – why he brought you. 

“Where I go, you go, always.”

“Always.”

And the loneliness is worth it, you think, when he sinks down into the mattress beside you after a long day’s training and pulls you close, nuzzling into your side. This is better than being left behind. You’re here to support the man you love. Your soulmate, the name on your arm be damned. 

His good luck charm, he hums, kissing you in the early hours of the morning before slipping away. 

But even you can’t just sit around the apartment all day long. It’s good to stretch your legs, even when you’re in strange, unfamiliar territory. You tell yourself that what Tooru doesn’t know won’t hurt him, forgetting just for one blissful moment that your soulmate and his team are not the only ones who might catch you wandering. 

Of course, that realisation doesn’t sink in until broad shoulders suddenly barrel past you, knocking you off your feet. And you would have fallen, awkwardly probably, had a pair of strong, lean arms not caught at your waist, steadying you.

“Jeeze, Bokkun! Watch where yer goin’, wouldja!”

The first voice, the thick, drawling Kansai dialect isn’t familiar, but the voice that follows is impossible to misplace.

“Thought I told you two–”

It cuts off abruptly, and in some distant part of your brain you register that the stranger’s still holding you, the warmth of his hand still braced on your hip, but all you can really focus on is the owner of that second voice.

“Iwa?”

Tooru had told you he’d be here, Hinata too and Kageyama. And of course Ushijima, but you’d assumed that – at least up until they played against one another or team Japan got knocked out of the running – they’d be busy and you wouldn’t cross paths.

There’s a surprised intake of air from your left – ‘Bokkun’, you imagine – and he asks, “Wait, you know her, dude?”

And still, the warm body holding you doesn’t move an inch. Not until a familiar, irritated huff sounds, “Get your hands off her, dumbass.”

The body behind you tenses for a split second before obeying, hands ripping themselves away from you as if he’d been scalded. “Shit, sorry!”

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine,” you murmur with what you hope is a polite smile, only half paying attention because you can hear Iwa striding towards you. In one breath, he’s knocking back your saviour and pulling you into a one armed hug.

“Shittykawa said he’d be bringing you,” he says quietly as you squeeze him back. It’s been such a long time since you’ve been face to face with him. Tooru calls him to catch up most weeks, more often than putting him on speaker so that you can say hi, but it’s not the same. “Didn’t think he meant to the actual village, though.”

You’ve missed him, you realise. Him and Makki and Mattsun, and suddenly there’s a lump in your throat, emotions welling that you can’t name. There’s so much you want to say to him, things he knows but should be said anyway, but–

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us to your pretty friend, Iwa?”

Your cheeks heat as the two of you part, yet it’s Iwa who answers for the both of you.

“No. You two need to get your asses moving,” he says. “Back to the gym, now. Unless you wanna stay back after everyone else finishes up to run extra drills?”

It’s a clear dismissal, and the two only pause for a heartbeat before grumbling their assent – and one sheepish apology – and heading off to continue their run.

“Let me walk you back.”

Some things never change, you suppose. “Iwa, you have an Olympic team to train,” you tell him with a wry grin. ”I’m not going to risk being accused of sabotaging the Japanese national volleyball team just because you feel the need to be gentlemanly.”

It’s clearly meant as a tease, but instead of the good-natured huff you’re expecting, he sighs. “C’mon. You almost got knocked on your ass, let me walk you back.”

It’s not a suggestion, and as he takes you by the hand and starts leading you back the way you came you’re reminded of high school - he used to do exactly same thing any timeTooru wasn’t around. There’s a slight flicker of irritation at your first breath of fresh air without Oikawa’s overprotective hovering being snatched away, but you know he means well.

He always does.

So you shove those feelings down and offer him a smile. “You know I’m stupidly proud of you, right?” you tell him. “Both of you.”

And something in Iwa relaxes and he laughs, “Yeah well I’m just glad you’re gonna be here to witness me wipe the floor with Shittykawa’s ass.”

—

It’s late, and Tooru isn’t back yet. 

And it wouldn’t bother you except that lunch had been hours ago, and your stomach is starting to growl, hunger settling in. 

Tooru works hard, he pushes himself and stays late when he should be home resting, you know that, but even if you did want to go and find him, pull him back so that he won’t push past his limits days out from competing, you wouldn’t have a clue where to find him – not in this sprawling maze of a complex.

What else can you do but wait, as fifteen minutes turns into half an hour, then an hour, and suddenly it’s almost nine. 

He won’t be happy that you’ve left without him, but either he’ll meet you at the cafeteria, or you’ll get home before he’s back and you’ll have dinner waiting for him. At this time of the night it’s likely to be empty anyway, it’s not like you’re running off in the middle of the dinner rush.

Most of the athletes’ll be back in their rooms, you’re not gonna get knocked around in the mad scramble for food, nobody’s going to pay you any mind.

But once again, you’re proven wrong. 

It’s not quite the roaring din that you’ve come to associate with the dining hall, but you can hear a few quiet conversations scattered throughout the room. At least none of them pay you any heed as you slowly wander the buffet, shyly asking one of the servers to help you pick out something for you and Tooru both.

It’s not until you move to take a seat, hoping that Tooru will get there before you have to try and cart his dinner back to the room that you hear the unmistakable scraping of a chair being dragged back beside you.

“Ya know, Iwaizumi never did end up telling us yer name,” a familiar voice states, settling down into the seat. “He did end up making me ‘n Bokuto run extra laps as punishment for knockin’ into ya, though.”

Out of habit, your fingers fiddle with the sleeve of your jacket – Tooru’s actually – warmth flooding your cheeks. He doesn’t sound pissed off by the fact, and you suppose he probably wouldn’t have sat down beside you if all he wanted was to pick a fight. 

“Oh, I’m… sorry?” It comes out sounding more like a question than anything else. 

He laughs at that, the sound surprisingly warm and pleasant. “Nah, not your fault. Iwa’s a hardass at the best of times.”

“Sounds like he hasn’t changed much since high school,” you muse.

Oikawa might’ve been Captain back then, but that never stopped Iwa from slapping him upside of the head whenever he did something particularly stupid. He was a hard ass, but he was also incredible at keeping the rest of the team in line and motivated, and he kept Tooru grounded. He kept you grounded. Aggressive, tough love was simply a part of that. 

You wonder distantly if his new team realizes just how lucky they are to have somebody like him in their corner.

“High school? Ya knew him back then?” he prods.

He’s a stranger. Not just a competitor, but ‘The Enemy’ just like Kageyama and Ushiwaka. Out of all the teams that Tooru might go up against during the games, you know that they’re the ones he’s most determined to defeat. And you don’t necessarily buy into the whole ‘destined rivals’ thing – Kageyama was never anything but polite to you, but you know you’re supposed to back your soulmate up on this. You know he’d be pissed to find you casually chatting away with any one of them, except maybe Hinata. 

Maybe.

But it’s nice just to indulge in a conversation – even meaningless small talk – with somebody who doesn’t know you as Tooru’s. You can’t help but relax a little, the tension easing from your shoulders, a small smile creeping across your face. 

“I’ve known Iwa since I was six years old. He’s one of my best friends.”

The man hums a little, his chair creaking as he leans back, “Really? He’s never mentioned ya.”

And it’s clear from the sharp intake of his breath that he regrets the words the moment they’re said, but instead of feeling offended, you simply laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it. 

“It’s fine,” you say when he tries to backtrack. “Do you often have deep and meaningful’s with Iwa about his childhood friends?”

He snorts, “Yeah, point taken, I guess. So how come yer here then? Didn’t think they allowed cheerleaders in the village, even the cute ones.”

Something flutters in your stomach at his tone; it’s warm like honey, just a hint of teasing. He’s flirting, you realise, and in an instant you know you should shut it down. Harmless small talk is one thing, but you’re–

You have your soulmate. 

“What makes you think I’m not staff?” you ask instead.

“No uniform,” he counters, and you can’t argue with that. It’s not your fault that you can’t see what everybody’s wandering around wearing. “And you don’t really strike me as the ‘athlete’ type, no offense.”

You don’t really know how to respond to that, so you just shrug somewhat self consciously. He’s not wrong; you don’t really belong here, but you find yourself reluctant to tell him the truth.

The only reason you’re here is because Tooru cheated the system, because he couldn’t bear to be without you.

Or maybe because he knows how much of a mess you are without him. Blind and helpless without him to guide you, even here, back in the country you’d both left behind all those years ago.

“I’m here to support my soulmate,” you tell him instead, and it’s not entirely a lie. No matter what, you’ll always support Oikawa – here, back home, to whatever ends. That was the promise you’d made to each other long before you’d ever left Japan.

There’s a short pause, and you take the opportunity to turn back to the plate of food in front of you – you’d forgotten about it entirely. You half expect that he’ll take it as the perfect opportunity to politely bow out of the conversation. 

You might’ve been blind, but you’re not naive; you know exactly what athletes get up to after the sun goes down in the village. There’s a reason that your welcome packs were stuffed full of free condoms. 

And you’re not interested in that. You have Tooru and he has you. If that’s all that this guy is after; some quick, meaningless fuck, then–

“Volleyball?” he asks, and you almost roll your eyes.

He’s not wrong, of course he’s not, and you suppose considering your connection with Iwa it makes sense that he’d make that leap, but still. One track mind, all of them.

“If I tell you, you might not like me very much,” you say in lieu of an answer.

He leans closer, the chair creaking once more. “So I’m right.” He sounds so smug about it, you almost wanna tell him he’s wrong just to mess with him a little. “What position does he play?”

Not what team, what position. That, more than anything else, mattered to him – and again, you understood it. The pride players took in their position within the machine.

 “You first,” you shoot back instead, because you feel like you have a sneaking suspicion. 

And with a little huffing laugh, he confirms it, “Setter.”

Of course.

And the smile on your face tugs wider, a strange trill running through you, “Ah, and here I thought Kageyama,” you draw the name out, “was Japan’s starting setter.”

He scoffs, dragged in by your teasing jab, “Yer kiddin’, right? Tobio’s talented an’ all, but he ain’t half the setter I am.”

Cocky and smug. You wonder if he has the skills to back it up. Yet just as you open your mouth to pry further, you’re interrupted by a voice.

Several actually. 

“Talking shit again, Miya?”

“Who’s she?”

“Oh hey – Iwa’s friend!”

And your heart skips a beat, your body tensing as those voices close in, more chairs being pulled out, trays of food dumped on the table as his teammates settle down around you. It’s just a name, one name. It doesn’t mean anything, doesn’t–

“Atsumu, why don’t you shut– oh. Y/N, hey. Didn’t realise you'd be here. Isn’t the village restricted to athletes only?”

Kageyama’s blunt greeting isn’t intended to be antagonistic, but it washes over you regardless. You’re frozen, heart pounding, a sick, twisting feeling settling into your gut.

Atsumu, he’d said.

Miya Atsumu. 

Two words, and your world stops spinning. 

You’d promised him – Tooru – years ago that the name on your arm didn’t mean anything. It was all just a cruel cosmic mistake because from the moment you met him, you were his, and he was yours and nothing else mattered.

And you’d told yourself that, repeated it like a mantra until you started to believe it yourself. Because Tooru loved you, you were his soulmate and what kind of horrible fucking person would you be to take that gift, that bond and shove it back in his face.

Tooru isn’t perfect, and he’d freaked out and lied to you, but he’s your soulmate. 

The name on your arm didn’t matter, it didn’t matter that you didn’t know whose it was, because you had Tooru. It should have been his.

And you told yourself that for six months, until some blowout fight had Tooru storming out, you following in his footsteps. 

It was a stranger, some random passerby in the street. You can’t remember what prompted you to stop her and ask, why it suddenly mattered when Tooru had all but convinced you that it didn’t, but you had.

Miya Atsumu. The pronunciation had been unsure, her tongue clunky over the foreign syllables, but in that moment when you’d heard his name every lie you’d convinced yourself of had fallen apart.

It was like you’d been drowning without ever realising it, and the second you’d heard that name a hand was dragging you up to the surface and suddenly air was flooding your lungs.

Miya Atsumu.

There are voices surrounding you, somebody laughing uproariously, but it’s all just white noise. 

“Y/N,” a choked, hoarse whisper that shouldn’t have been heard, but it pierces you like a knife, cutting through everything else. It’s too much. 

On shaking legs you stand, knocking your chair back as you grab for your cane. 

The name hadn’t mattered, until you’d heard it. He hadn’t mattered, until he was standing right there in front of you.

“I– I have to go,” you mutter, not entirely sure if they heard you, or if they even cared. You leave your food untouched on the table, stumbling as you step back.

And again, you hear that whisper of your name. There’s a hand that reaches for you – his or somebody else’s you don’t know, you shrug it off regardless. “I have to go.”

Nobody stops you as you skitter back towards the entrance, but for once the cafeteria is silent. The moment you burst out through the double doors, the brisk, summer night air hits you like a slap, and you don't realise that your cheeks are wet with tears until the breeze cuts through, the damp skin prickling uncomfortably. 

And the sob that follows rips through your chest like a knife.

This isn’t what you wanted. 

If there’s a god out there, he must have a cruel sense of humour, because your name is being called again, and suddenly there’s a hand on your cheek brushing at your tears, an arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you close. “Cutie, what’s wrong?”

The scent of him, all citrus and summer, invades your nose as you clutch at him tighter. You can’t speak, can’t find the words to tell him, so you just squeeze your eyes shut and burrow into him. 

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he repeats, not asking this time. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. “I want to go home,” you whisper, clutching at his jersey. “I wanna go home, Tooru.”

A kiss brushes against the crown of your head, and you almost miss the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement behind you – at least until the interloper speaks.

“You–” Atsumu breaks off, his breath ragged and raw, and you don’t miss the way that Oikawa stiffens, his grip tightening, fingers digging in. “Yer my soulmate.”

Three simple words, and everything, everything just falls apart.

Tooru snarls, taking a step back and dragging you with him. “She’s not your anything, Miya. Fuck off.”

“You can’t leave me! You can’t - you’re mine!”

It hurts, the grip he has on you. He’s trembling, from rage or fear you honestly don’t know, but you can feel his heart pounding a vicious beat as his arms lock around you like a cage.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s my goddamn name on her arm. Let ‘er go, yer hurting her,” he snaps. 

“She’s my soulmate, so mind your own business and run off back home.”

You can’t breathe.

“Not when yer hurting her.”

It’s like the floor’s suddenly disappeared from beneath you, and you’re in free fall, hurtling back towards god knows what. Your head’s spinning, your legs feel like jelly, and if Tooru wasn’t holding you up against him, you’re not sure you’d still be standing. 

You can’t breathe. 

“Leave, right now,” he hisses. “She’s mine. She always has been, and always will be mine!”

You’d promised him that much, hadn’t you?

“Ya don’t scare me, and I don’t give a flying fuck if yer wearing her name on your arm. That’s my soulmate, and you’ll take yer fucking hands off ‘a her.”

You can’t breathe, not as the shouting gets louder and Tooru’s grip gets tighter. 

He takes another step back, pulling you with him, and another hiccuping sob catches in your throat. You try to speak, to stop this before it gets any worse, but the words won’t come–

“You’re hurting her!”

“I LOVE HER!” he screams. “I would never, ever hurt her!”

“T–Tooru, please…” you beg. It’s little more than a whisper, and neither one of them seems to hear it.

But somebody else does. 

“Hey, hey! What the fuck are you dumbasses doing?!” 

Iwa, always your second protector, your best and oldest friend, wastes no time in getting between the two of them, shoving Miya back.

“What is wrong with you both?!” he snaps, grabbing you by the wrist and ripping you from Oikawa. And you don’t fight it when he tugs you towards him, a protective arm wrapping around your waist. 

You cling to him, like a scared child with tears streaming down your face. 

“Iwa–”

“No, shut up. I don’t wanna hear a single word out of either one of you! Not a goddamn word!��

He doesn’t bother berating them in front of you, though you know that’ll come later. He doesn’t say anything to you either, but his hand doesn’t leave yours all the way back to his apartment. Not the one in the village, but the one just outside of the city.

“You knew, didn’t you?” you ask quietly when he drops his keys on the counter.

There’s a beat of silence, and he sighs. “Yeah, I knew.”

It’s hanging in the air between you, like a dark, stormy cloud about to unleash. “Iwa,” you whisper, your bottom lip trembling once more. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know,” he answers, as honestly as he can. “But you’re gonna stay here tonight, and tomorrow I’ll call Makki and Mattsun and they’ll come and take you back to Sendai for a little while if that’s what you want. You don’t have to see either one of those assholes, not until…” 

Not until you figure out how you’re supposed to make this impossible choice. 

He squeezes your shoulder as you sniffle. “It’s gonna be alright, whatever you decide to do.”

Neither one of you truly believes that, but what’s left to say?

He hugs you again before he leaves, makes you promise to call if you need him, but you both know you won’t.

Not tonight, not when he has other priorities. 

And then you’re alone, sitting on his couch surrounded by blankets with a mug of hot chocolate warming your hands. You know you should try to get some sleep, you’re exhausted, overwhelmed, but every time you close your eyes, you can’t stop thinking about it.

About the way Tooru’s voice had shook, how you’d smiled for Atsumu, that familiar warmth blooming in your chest when the two of you talked and you’d teased him.

And you remember how it was the day Tooru first told you that he loved you, the butterflies in your stomach the first time he’d kissed you, spinning you around and laughing as his lips met yours again and again and again. 

How he’d yelled and screamed and fallen apart in your arms that night, begging you not to leave him. 

You love him, for better or for worse, you love him. 

A loud knock echoes through the apartment, shaking you from your thoughts.

It’s almost 2am, and nobody but Iwa knows you’re here. Nobody should be knocking, and so you sit, frozen in the dark listening as your heart hammers uneasily.

One beat, then two, and then–

“I know you’re in there, just– just please. I need… I need–” he breaks off with a frustrated huff, and there’s a low thud, like his head’s fallen against the door. “Please,” he begs, quieter this time. 

There’s another thud.

“I need ya. Don’t lock me out, I’m beggin’.”

[imagineyourworld]

First Impressions

Peggy Carter x Fem!Stark!Reader 

Summary: When Peggy and Howard’s sister first meet they both get the wrong impression of why the other is at Howard’s apartment 

Warnings: Drinking, allusions to sex

Check out more of my work here 

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Peggy had begun questioning why she ever agreed to meet with Howard, she knew that man was impossible. But he was also one of her oldest friends and when her friends asked for help she found it rather difficult to refuse.  So now here she was, in one of Howard’s lavish New York apartments waiting for the man who was already fifteen minutes late.  Finally Howard walked through the door.  “Good to see you, Peg”, he greeted before he made his way over to a small cart in the corner of the room and started pouring himself a drink. “Do you want a scotch?”  Peggy shook her head. “No, thank you, Howard. I’d like to know what you wanted to talk about, you said it’s urgent.”  With his drink in hand Howard sat down in the armchair opposite of the one Peggy was sitting in.  “Yes, I recently-”, he started but was interrupted by a young woman entering the room. She was very beautiful, Peggy noticed as soon as her eyes fell on the woman. And incredibly furious, judging by the fire in her eyes. It really is a shame, Peggy thought. That Howard always seduces beautiful girls and then drops them. Leaving them heartbroken at worst and at at him at best. “Howard Stark, you ungrateful, arrogant, self obsessed idiot! I flew all the way to New York for you, even though I had better things to do I might add, and the second I turn my back you hurry off to meet one of your girlfriends?”  Howard jumped up and lifted his hands in surrender.  “(Y/N), my dear, it’s not like that. This is-”  The woman, with an accusatory finger in the air, shook her head as she stepped closer. She stopped only a few centimeters before Howard and for a moment Peggy thought she was about to hit him, not that it was underserved if he really invited that poor girl over only to leave her alone.  With a sigh he put his glass on the small table next to the armchair he had just vacated.  “How about we talk in private?”, he asked and without waiting for an answer he grabbed the woman by the elbow and lead her out of the room.  “I’ll be back in just a moment, Peg”, he yelled over his shoulder before the door closed behind him. 

-------

“You can’t just burst into a room like that, I was having an important meeting”, your brother started.  You just rolled your eyes. You knew what kind of ‘meeting’ he was talking about and were not keen on deepening the topic.  “I thought that’s what your many bedrooms are for, not the sitting room that’s supposed to be for everybody”, you shot back.  Howard tried to put on his most charming smile, which it seemed had granted him the favour of the woman currently sitting on the other side of the door. The woman you couldn’t help but think about. She was gorgeous, Howard’s conquests usually were, but it wasn’t just her beauty that made her stand out, there was something else about her. Maybe it was the way she held herself, as if she had found her place in the world and had no intention of moving. Maybe it was the smile on her lips, that kinda reminded you of your own whenever your brother had said or done something dumb. Or maybe it was the kindness and determination in her eyes, that you had spotted after looking at her for only a split second.  “You know, that woman in there is too good for you, they’re all too good for you and never realise it until it’s too late”, you couldn’t help but yell. Part of you was actually hoping that maybe the pretty brunette could hear you and would take your words to heart.  Instead of answering you Howard simply smiled.  “You like her, don’t you?”  Though your brother often disregarded women’s feelings, that was never the case with you. The two of you could read each other like a book and you were lucky enough that you never had to hide your attraction towards women from him, if anything it brought the two of you closer together, since you had basically the same type.  “I like pretty much every living being enough not to wish them heartbreak caused by Howard Stark”, you scoffed.  He leaned closer to you until his lips almost brushed your ear and though the two of you were close and you were not opposed to being physically close to your brother, the stench of his cologne and the lingering smell of scotch almost made you push him away, until he whispered something in your ear, that is.  “It’s really not like that, she’s a friend.” Howard must have sensed that you were about to tell him that you knew exactly what his female ‘friends’ were to him, so he continued. “That’s Peggy Carter in there. The one I’ve been telling you about.”  You opened your mouth and closed it again. That was Peggy Carter? Howard really had told you a lot about her, and judging by the smug grin he was now sporting he knew that you had developed a slight crush just based on his stories. But how could he have left out how pretty she was? How could Howard of all people not have mentioned it?  Finally you found your voice again.  “Well, perhaps you should introduce me then.” 

-------

Peggy looked up from the magazine she had been flipping through when the door opened again. She had been expecting Howard to come in alone, but instead he held the door open for the young woman and closed it behind the two of them.  “(Y/N), would you like something to drink?”, he asked as if nothing had happened.  The woman sat down in the armchair Howard had occupied earlier and Peggy wasn’t sure whether she should admire her ability to make herself at home in Howard’s apartment or find it disgraceful.  “I don’t suppose you have a water on that cart, do you?”  Peggy looked from the woman to Howard and back again. They did realise she was right there in the room with them, didn’t they?  “I’m afraid not. But I had Jarvis buy some of that way too sweet iced tea that you like so much.”  The woman nodded with a pleased smile gracing her lips, lips that Peggy tried her best not to look at because this was one of Howard’s girlfriends and she shouldn’t be looking at her like that.  “Thanks”, the woman said to Howard, who had positioned himself on the armrests of her chair.  She took a sip and Peggy could have sworn that this woman was doing everything to draw attention to her kissable lips.  “I don’t suppose you’ll introduce me?”, she finally asked Howard, her eyes flitting over to the woman, who seemed to be staring at her.  Howard jumped up from his seat and lifted a hand to motion to the woman.  “Peggy, this is (Y/N) Stark, my sister. (Y/N), Peggy Carter, my most trusted friend.”  Peggy couldn’t believe her ears. Sister, she’s his sister. Even though at first glance they didn’t look much alike, there was something in the way they held themselves, something about their gestures and their smile that made her realise that, yes, she was indeed Howard’s sister.  Not having forgotten her good upbringing Peggy stood up and offered her hand. (Y/N) did the same.  “It’s nice to finally meet you, Howard’s told me a lot about you”, she said with a smile. A smile that Peggy could have sworn made her knees go weak.  “I wish I could say the same”, she replied with a smile she hoped was equally as charming.  She couldn’t quite read (Y/N), wasn’t sure whether her smile was simply friendly or perhaps meant something more, but something told her that she’d have a lot of time to figure it out.  “What do you say, Peg, do you wanna stay for dinner?”, Howard chimed in.  Peggy let go of the other woman’s hand, only now realising that she was still holding it, and nodded.  Usually she would have declined, dinner at Howard’s was always a long and prestigious affair, but if sitting through dinner meant she’d have another chance to see (Y/N) smiling at her she’d gladly bear it.  “I’d love to”, she said, looking more at the woman she knew she wanted to get to know better, whose lips she wanted to kiss and whose laughter she wanted to hear than Howard. “I’d really love to.”  (Y/N) smiled and for the first time since Steve went into the ice Peggy felt as if she had a chance at love again. 

-------

I just finished the first season of Agent Carter for the first time (I know, shame on me for waiting this long) and it just inspired me to write something about this beautiful badass woman. As always, feedback is very welcome. 

[script-nef]

Confession in the moonlight | Gojou Satoru

Category: fluff

2.2k words; Hatsumoude date [6/6]

Happy New Year everyone!

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Bells and chatter are almost deafening even this late into the night. Families and friends are gathering here, mingling and pushing against each other in the narrow path leading up to the shrine. There are so many carts lined up on the sides, owners screaming their products and shouting over another.

And you're walking through the crowd with the one person who you want to avoid the most in the world.

Thanks to the event which is now dubbed "The Alcohol Incident That Can Never Happen Again", you learned about a couple of things in the following days.

First, alcohol is the enemy. This is ironclad and nothing will ever shift your opinion on it. Alcohol. Is. The. Enemy. None of it will ever touch your lips again.

Second, you discovered what type of a drunk you are. The clingy, bubbly one who has the misfortune of remembering practically everything that happened. Worst combination ever. Because your brain wants you to die from embarrassment. The only plus is that you don't feel like throwing up and you don't have headaches. Whatever Gojou fed you worked wonders. 

Just thinking his name makes you want to slam your head into a wall. 

Facing him again after that has proven to be a challenge. The memory of what happened on that day intrudes every time you see his face and then you have to take a break to calm down. Faking ignorance and acting as though you remember nothing from the night was your choice. Which was a bad choice since you’re not known for your acting skills and you also have the misfortune of wearing your heart on your sleeve. Which brings on the next problem.

Third, you… seem to have feelings for Gojou. The romantic kind. Like, the boyfriend-girlfriend kind. When you woke up the next day, it was probably the most clear your mind had been in months. Alcohol is a confusing drink. Still, you're never going to go near it again. Making a fool out of yourself once is enough.

Lastly, perhaps most importantly, you basically confessed to him. While drunk. And then went to sleep.

Sitting up in bed the morning after, hair everywhere and jacket still on, you did an analysis. 

It's like a typical light novel cliché. A guy and a girl, co-workers or something like that, comfortable with each other, hangs out all the time, one major event or couple of minor events happens, the girl falls in love with the guy or vice-versa, confession and then happy ending. 

It all kind of made sense with your new, alcohol-cleaned brain. The fluttering feelings, the spike in heart rate, the uncontrollable blushing and noticing physical contact more. There’s a reason why he’s so comfortable to be around, why you practically entrusted your life in his hands. And you literally said to him once, you think in the movie theatre, that he would make a good boyfriend. To his face. Who says that? Embarrassment turns into self loathing. It makes you wonder how you didn’t notice it last time.

With this new shocking revelation, you didn’t know what to do. Confess? If there is even the slightest bit of chance he doesn’t like you back and rejects you, life will be hell to live. Because you live in the same goddamn place, work together and all of your friends are his friends.

So two options. Three outcomes. One: you confess and he accepts and everything is fine. Ideal. Two: you confess and he rejects you and so you leave the place, never come back again and work in a farm halfway across the world by changing your identity. That sounded reasonable enough. Three: you don’t confess and somehow act naturally around him. This has problems because, again, you wear your heart on your sleeve. It’s still very tempting. More so than the second one. This is perhaps the most difficult decision you’ve made in your life.

So you turned to the one person you can vent this kind of thing on. Shouko. Who looked at you like you were either stupid or dense. Maybe both. Definitely both. It was quite amazing what she could express while moving the least amount of facial muscles. 

“So… yeah. I think I like Gojou and I don’t know which of the options I should take. Help me?” 

She just stared at you. With a deadpan face that has all the stress and exasperation in the world. You pride yourself in being able to read other’s faces quite easily. Rubbing her fingers over her eyes and groaning for a bit, she eventually took her phone out and dialled a number. The line rang for a bit.

“Ijichi? You owe me 10,000 yen.” Clicking off the phone even before hearing a response, Shouko turned her focus back to you. “You seriously don’t know?”

“Don’t know what? What was the phone call about?”

“That he likes you? That’s he’s insufferable because of that? You seriously don’t know?” She inched closer and closer until her face was right in front of yours. Shouko is seriously scary when she’s angry, like a sleeping lion. And you just somehow poked her. “Look at me in the eyes. You seriously never realised?”

“Um, what?”

“The dates. Remember when I couldn’t go to the movie for Howl because someone came in? I immediately gave it to him because I owed him a favour and he wanted to spend time with you. The time he went shopping with you by flying. Do you know why he offered that in the first place?”

“I mean, it was getting late… And I was in a bad mood so— oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. Do you get it now?” 

“So then… the dinner, that was also…”

“A date.” Sighing, she sits back on the sofa, letting her head drop onto the backrest. Thoughts jumble inside your head, all of them slowly clicking into place.

“Wait, so. He likes me?”

Annoyed moans are her response as she thuds her head into the furniture. Something along the lines of “Why me.” could be heard.

“So him inviting me to hatsumoude today is also a date?” Her hand waves lazily in the air.

“Yes, it is. Tell me you accepted.” You nodded, then realised that she can’t see from her position.

“I did. I can’t really say no to him.” She makes a gagging sound.

“Good. Finally. So just confess to him then. He’ll accept, you’ll be happy, he’ll be happy, and we’ll all finally be free.”

“Free of what.”

“Your denseness.” She snaps, sitting back up. Fire burns in her irises. “It’s like the Chinese story, the one with the shield and the spear. You’re the shield, oblivious to every single one of his advances and he’s the spear, never giving up. And we’re the spectators who are bored and tired. So dress up in your prettiest clothes and go.”

And that’s why you’re walking up the steps to the shrine, swaddled in clothing. Gojou is right next to you, enjoying mochi he bought from somewhere and humming. He’s humming while you’re having one of the worst crises of your life. God, you envy his ability to keep cool. 

Making every effort to keep calm and not look move your head in his general direction, you finally arrive at the bell. The sound resonates clearly into the night. Coins clink into the offering box. Two bows, two claps, pray, one bow. Your wish is the same as always, with one more sentence. Gojou copies you, mochi finished and trash discarded.

The way down is much easier, your heart a little lighter. Maybe the rest of the night will be fine. 

This is a delusion and you realise it as soon as Gojou opens his mouth.

“What did you wish for?” His voice cuts through the commotion, nudging for your attention. You flinch a bit at the closeness but try to regain your composure. If he saw it, he doesn’t comment on it.

“I—I  wished for everyone I love to survive the fight with Sukuna and have a peaceful retirement. Especially Ken-chan.” In actuality, you did wish for that but also for a way to confess. He doesn’t need to know that yet. Your voice trembles a bit, betraying you. 

“You do know that saying it out loud negates the wish right?” There’s a delighted tone in his voice, like he’s happy he baited you. How is a person this childish? And what does that say about you, the person who likes him? A hand ruffles your head before you have a chance to lament your heart. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure your wish comes true.” Your heart thumps.

It’s so unfair how he always knows what to say. It’s so unfair that it’s having this kind of effect on you. Your earlobes grow hot and you scramble to find a reply.

“What did you wish for then?” He shifts his head to look at you. “Yeah, I know. It won’t come true if you say it out loud, but if you can protect everyone and save the human race, I’m sure it's not up to the gods or spirits whether or not your wish comes true.”

He seems to contemplate it. Then nods. 

“Yeah, you’re right. It’s not up to them.” 

“See? So what’s yo—”

“It’s up to you.”

You nearly trip over one of the stone tiles, flailing for balance. Of course Gojou comes to your rescue, hands gently gripping at your sides. The first problem here is that your reaction was too obvious. You can’t feign ignorance now, like you didn’t hear him over the crowd. The second is that you just made a fool of yourself. Which leads to the third problem. 

He is way too close. 

“You okay?” And now he’s whispering. The blushing worsens. “Come on, let’s go.”

It’s a clearing in the forest a bit away, a smaller dilapidated shrine on the edge of it. A small pond is in the middle, fireflies skimming over the surface and glimmering beautifully. 

“There you go.” He guides you to the steps of the ruined shrine, letting you sit down but stays standing. Shifting on his feet, neck cracking as he rolls it. Nervous energy leaks out of him. Wait, is this— 

“I don’t know what to say. I’ve rehearsed this like, hundreds of times but my heart is kind of going crazy.” So is yours. He comes back to you then lowers himself to one knee. Your heart stops. “I’m not proposing. Not yet. I’ve heard dating comes first.”

One of your hands slots into his. He removes his blindfold, revealing his cerulean eyes to you for the second time. Breath hitches and he most definitely heard it because his smile, no matter how tentative it was, becomes full and true.

“Let’s get to the main point straight away. I like you.” The words burn you alive and you try to take your hand back but his grip is strong. So you do the next best thing. Averting your face. “I know you do too. I also know you remember the night. Your acting skills are terrible. And Shouko told me.” If you’re not drowning in mortification and something that feels vaguely like hope, you might hit him. And Shouko.

But the second you face him, you see him. The heart-gripping worry in his eyes, the way he’s smiling to cover for his anxiousness, the light trembling in his fingers. It’s so different to his normal self, the aloof and laid-back aura completely dissipated. This is what you do to him?

“I’m not good at this. But I mean every word when I say that you’re the kindest, cutest and the most loveable person that I’ve ever met. You put up with me, and that’s saying a lot.” Protest is at the tip of your tongue, ready to argue that he should stop being so hard on himself and that you genuinely like spending time with him, but he recognises the look on your face and laughs delightedly. “See? So ready to come to my defence, even if it’s me you have to fight. Everyone’s fed up with me to some extent, and I know you are as well, but you still put up with me. That’s what made me fall for you. That unlimited kindness.”

He presses a kiss to the palm of your hand and it feels like he’s giving you his heart at the same time. Love shines in his eyes and clogs at your throat. A shuddering breath passes over the both of you. But then the cheeky smile comes back.

“I think that’s enough to sweep you off your feet. Is your heart beating fast?” A nod. “Hands clammy?” A nod. “Think you can manage granting me my wish?”

A wave of calm washes over. Gojou’s words, filled with sincerity and bare hearted emotions, turn into butterflies that travel to every inch in your body. It’s delightful and there’s no way you can live without hearing it again.

The distance between your lips close, and you swear your heart synchronises with his when they finally touch. 

[mmvalentine]

The Bargain Pt 7 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 8

Rhys and Feyre sat on the sidewalk passing a tray of chips between them.

Rhys had woken up in a good mood. The two of them were meeting at the mural site, and on the way Rhys passed a cart selling hot chips and slices of sausage with a curry sauce. Not a conventional breakfast, but delicious.

Today, he was spending the day alone with Feyre, making a giant painting, and he that sounded like the best offer he'd had in a long time. In fact, they would be doing this for the next five days. He had whistled on the way there.

Feyre had turned up in these adorable little paint splattered overalls, with her hair piled up in a bun. Part of Rhys wished he was painting her today.

They were staring up at the wall where their mural was going to go, armed with an array of paint tins and aerosol cans and discussing how to start. On the one hand, when designing the piece they had taken turns and that had worked really well. On the other, it didn't make sense for only one of them to be working at a time. In the end, they decided they would lay down the base structure, and work from either end until they met in the middle.

When they finished their chips, Feyre got up and started pulling out reams of string and weights from her pocket to make a grid, the same way she always started. Then the wind picked up, blowing the string out of her hands and Feyre cursed.

"What are you doing?" Rhys asked her, the corner of his mouth lifting.

"Making the reference grid." Feyre looked at him. "Don't tell me you were just going to freehand the whole thing. Don't be a hero, Rhys."

Rhys laughed. "I was going to use a lazy grid. Use a gibberish reference instead of a grid, so you don't have to get the lines perfect."

"I don't know what a lazy grid is, but if it cuts out the straight lines, then be my guest."

Feyre put the string back in her pocket, while Rhys picked up a can of pink spray paint and gave it a shake. Then he walked up and down the wall, making big sweeping letters all over the white base.

Rhysand is a spectacular person. Rhysand is the most handsome mural artist.

"Hey," Feyre said. "What about me?"

Rhys didn't turn, just filled in the last section of the wall.

Feyre you look absolutely delicious today.

The wall now filled with pink squiggles, Rhys back down next to Feyre. Where she smacked him across the arm.

"Since when are you such an outrageous flirt?" she asked him. "I don't know," Rhys answered honestly. "I'm just in a really good mood today." He smiled broadly, and Feyre rolled her eyes at him. But he caught her grin before she turned her head away, and his day just kept getting better.

Rhys completed his lazy grid: took a photo of the wall, uploaded it onto his laptop and then overlaid their design onto the photo. Instead of having a square grid as a reference point, they could now see what parts of the design matched up to what curly letter on the wall, and plot the painting scaled up.

And then they started painting.

By the end of the first day, they got the outline and main structure filled in. Feyre used a broad brush for her half, but Rhys used a lot of spray paints to cover large sections. At one stage, he got so lost in the process, unused to having someone painting by his side, that he nearly forgot Feyre was there. Until he took a step back to check the image from a far, and realised that Feyre had painted Feyre is the most delightful mural artist along the bottom of the wall where his pink script hadn't reached.

On day two, it was Feyre who showed up with breakfast. Fresh pretzels and pastries filled with cherries, and more hot coffee. Rhys traded his aerosols for brushes and they began painting in broad sweeps of rainbow colours, in Feyre's style. He painted blues across the bottom, yellows in the top, and a stripe of green across Feyre's left ear. She shrieked and flicked purple right across his chest before she had realised what she had done, and then looked mortified.

"Rhys, your shirt, I'm so sorry," she had said. Rhys pretended to be outraged for a minute, and then swiped orange across her nose before running away from her and letting her chase him down the street before calling a truce. And leaving a handprint on her back for her to find later.

On the third day, Feyre brought a speaker and they had music to work to. They added shadows and depth, and the image started to come alive before them. A wave of summer rolling from left to right. And everyday Feyre and Rhys worked closer and closer until they met in the middle. They had been swapping which side they worked on, too, so that they could make sure it was nice and cohesive. Rhys started leaving tiny messages in the spaces he knew Feyre was going to paint over.

I like the colour you put here, he wrote in one section.

In another: This bit reminds me of picnics.

And then especially well-hidden: I never thought I'd see you again.

When Feyre found the last one, she said out loud, "Rhys you big baby you have me on Instagram, you can talk to me whenever you like."

"I couldn't," he said, "you were a client." "I'm not now," she retorted, "so you can."

And then she returned to her painting, leaving Rhys to wonder what he might text her if he did.

Day four was the day of details. They picked up smaller brushes, and picked out careful patterns, finer outlines, points of solid black and white. Highlights, dot work, and the points on curls and tendrils. When they reached the centre, and then crossed the road to see the full effect, neither Rhys not Feyre could tell which parts were theirs and which parts were the other's.

Rhys whistled, and flung his arm over Feyre's shoulders.

"I think we might be done, what do you reckon?" he asked her. "I think we might be done, too," Feyre agreed. "A day early. We should call Tarquin."

Suddenly, it hit home that if they were done, he'd have to go home and Feyre would a continent away.

"No," he said. "Tarquin's not expecting us to be finished until tomorrow afternoon. Let's just have fun tomorrow, take the day off and tell him it's done at the end of the day."

Feyre looked up at him from under his arm, squinting through one eye.

"Rhysand you diabolical thing," she said. Then she stuck her hand out. "You've got yourself a deal." They shook on it, and Rhys breathed a sigh of relief. He was sure he could make one day last a lifetime.

"Come on," she said. "We'll just sign our names on the bottom."

She picked up the brush and put her signature in the corner, and then handed the brush to Rhys. He squatted down where she had been, pushed up his sleeves, and scrawled his name in next to hers. Then looked up and grinned at her.

But she was staring at his hands with her jaw hanging open. His smiled faded, as he followed her eyes and saw what she was looking at. Not his hands. His arm.

And the coloured tattoos that he had inked there after she drew them on in sharpie at their last booking a year ago.

****

Okay but lazy grid, or doodle grid method is so genius. I'm trying to write but my brain is mushy today so if you happen to be interested here's a great explanation video. Anyway I know I've slowed down a bit and I wandered off to make some Jurdan there, so thank you all for your patience.

Also! There seem to have been a flurry of new followers lately so if you are new here welcome and thank you so much for being here ❤️

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen

[omgrachwrites]

Our Souls Crave This Magic- Chapter Three

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Reader

Summary: All you want is a quiet year of university as you and your best friend, Edmund move to New York City. Though, that all changes when you meet the spoiled trust fund brat, Caspian. College au.

Warnings: fluff, slow burn romance, enemies to lovers

Words: 2463

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me,all characters are 18+

A/N: Literally just realised how many side characters I’ll have to put in this bc Narnia characters don’t work hahaha! Also, I know that Caspian’s parents are dead, omg Nathaniel Parker is his dad but in this they’re alive and well! Hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think, please let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

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Chapter Three - An Odd Companionship 

You were in heaven, or at least you were as close to heaven as you were ever likely to get as your eyes roamed over all the Halloween themed snacks. There were things that you’d hardly even heard of such as, pumpkin spiced m&ms and chocolate with candy corn in the middle. You loved Halloween, when you were in university in London; you loved to decorate your dorm room, even though 9 times out of 10 you’d be going out to a party. It seemed that Halloween was an even bigger thing over here in America so you knew that you had to decorate your loft apartment.

Glancing behind you, you laughed at the bored look on Edmund’s face; he looked over at you and scowled as he pulled a tongue at you. Lucy, on the other hand looked as excited as you felt, “ooh, marshmallow Oreos,” she grinned and her face lit up, “I should send some over to Susan,” she took a packet off the shelf and threw it into the cart.

Edmund groaned in frustration as he covered his eyes as he trailed behind, “I get why we’re decorating the loft, it’s a tradition and the both of you are obsessed. But, do we really need to buy all of the snacks?”

Ed wasn’t a fan of Halloween. Lucy gasped in horror as she placed her hand over her heart, she was so dramatic, “how can you even say that? These snacks trump the ones in England!” she scoffed at him before wandering down the aisle, intent on grabbing more snacks.

Ed carelessly flung an arm around your shoulders and you smiled up at him, resting your head on his shoulder. Then, your best friend dropped a major bombshell, “Caspian is coming over to help us decorate,” you groaned in frustration, receiving stares from strangers but you didn’t care.

You pinched your temples as annoyance shot through every inch of your body. It was the worst news that you’d heard all day, “jesus, Ed! Why does he have to come over?”

Ed smirked as he looked at you without sympathy, “I think that you’re forgetting, Y/N, just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean I can’t be his friend.”

“He called me a slut,” you pouted as you both caught up with Lucy, you were still sore about that fact.

Ed huffed out a deep laugh, “actually, he didn’t.”

“He didn’t have to, Ed! It was implied.”

Edmund rolled his eyes and lowered his voice so Lucy wouldn’t hear the conversation you were both having, “okay, maybe it was implied but trust me, he didn’t mean it. I think he feels awful about it actually.”

You scoffed as you looked away, wrapping your arms around yourself, he should feel bad, Ed stopped you by placing his hands on your shoulders, worry etched into every corner of his freckled face, “Y/N,” he sighed, biting his lip and you knew that he was trying to find the right words, “please don’t lie to yourself and don’t pretend that you liked Caspian before all that happened. Don’t bring what your dad did into this, Caspian is not the same.”

Edmund’s eyes were so intense and worried that you had to look away, all of the Pevensie siblings were there for you when your dad betrayed your family. And for that, you felt eternally grateful. But, you didn’t want to talk about your dad.

“I can see that you really care about Caspian but I just don’t share your judgement but I suppose for you, I can tolerate him,” you smiled, “even though he is the most insufferable person that I’ve ever met, I hope you know that I would never ask you to choose between Caspian and I,” you would never make your best friend do that.

Edmund laughed as he cupped your cheek, “well that’s a good thing because I really like Caspian,” he smiled when you frowned at him and tilted your head, “you’re my best friend, Y/N, if I had to choose between you and Caspian, I would always choose you.”

You laughed bashfully as you rubbed the back of your neck; you weren’t used to people putting you first. Before you burst into tears like a total loser, you pulled Ed into a hug, inhaling the fresh scent of his aftershave.

Later on that day, you and Lucy entertained yourselves by working your way through some of the Halloween chocolate as you decorated the loft. It had been a long time coming but New York was finally beginning to feel like home. Presumably, Edmund was off somewhere sulking, he wasn’t getting involved with the whole decorating thing but you wanted to go all out. You knew that you’d probably be working on Halloween, but the beauty of college parties was the fact that they seemed to go on all night.

As you were adding fake cobwebs to the corners of the kitchen, there came a quiet knock on the door. Your blood ran cold and you scowled to yourself when Ed answered the door and you heard Caspian’s soft melodic voice. Despite yourself, you peered over your shoulder to look at the handsome man as he grinned at Ed and ran his hands through his thick hair. You were surprised when you noticed that he was wearing a simple white shirt and jeans. You were almost fooled into believing that he was just like everyone else, but you knew the truth.

“Hi, Caspian,” Lucy shouted joyfully and you narrowed your eyes at her as she pulled him into a hug. What a traitor.

“Hey, Lucy,” you could hear the smile in Caspian’s voice and you rolled your eyes, “how are you?”

“I’m good thank you, I’m going to go and decorate the bedrooms, are you alright, Y/N?” you glanced back at Lucy who shot you a meaningful glance as she walked away.

Caspian bit his lip and looked at you from beneath his thick eyelashes, and you noticed that he had the decency to look guilty, “want any help, Y/N?” he muttered and you sighed, remembering the promise that you’d made to Ed.

“Sure, Caspian. You’re on skeleton duty,” you gestured to the plastic bones by the door, “don’t mess it up,” you teased.

Caspian smirked and you had to look away, he was so blindingly handsome in that moment, not that you’d ever admit it, “I’ll try not to.”

The both of you somehow managed to work in harmony for a little while until Caspian halted his movements and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance at you. You almost felt the burn of his eyes on your skin.

“Y/N,” he started and when you looked over at him you were surprised to see that his deep brown eyes were soft and a crease was forming in the middle of his forehead, “I owe you an apology; I didn’t mean what I implied the other week. I was in a bad mood, lack of sleep you know.”

You grimaced, it was your fault that he hadn’t got any sleep that night, “right,” you flushed as he walked behind you to grab some tape, the warm spicy scent of his aftershave washing over you, “I’m sorry about that.”

Caspian shrugged, “I think I was jealous too.”

His confession shocked you so much that you gasped and almost toppled off the chair that you were standing on. How was he jealous? “Jealous?” you squeaked.

Caspian’s eyes widened as he realised how it sounded and you  could tell that he was trying to backtrack, “I swear, not in the way you think, it’s just, it’s been a while,” he flushed and you found that it was pretty endearing.

A frown graced your features as surprise wracked through your body, you hated Caspian but you weren’t blind to his attractive looks and mild mannerisms. Most girls would fantasise about him, “seriously?” you raised an eyebrow, “no park avenue princesses’ have won you over?”

Caspian let out a deep laugh that would reduce most people to a puddle, “nope,” he smiled as he picked up a can of silly string, “although I’m flattered that you’re surprised, even if you don’t think much of me.”

Caspian’s voice was teasing but you still kind of felt guilty, if you were being truthful, it wasn’t all that personal because you hated everyone like him, it didn’t matter who they were. People who had too much money and not enough sense got on your nerves.

“Trust me, Caspian I have my reasons for not liking you.”

Caspian touched your elbow gently as he walked past you, “I wish you would tell me what they are, because I know that you’re hiding something, Y/N.”

You wouldn’t open yourself up to Caspian, no matter how many sweet smiles that he shot your way. There was no way that you were going to be allying with your enemy; Hell would have to freeze over first.

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

A couple of weeks later, Caspian was sitting in the living room of Edmund’s loft apartment with his text book open on the coffee table. The words in the text book in front of Caspian seemed to swim before his tired eyes, the young man groaned as he rubbed his hands over his face as his head began to throb. He glanced over at Edmund who was fast asleep with his cheek sticking to the paper of his essay with his mouth agape. Caspian chuckled and looked over at the clock; it was a little past 2 in the morning.

Caspian was glad that Ed had suggested that they studied at his apartment, Caspian had had a row with his housemates, they were some of his closest friends but lately, they were pissing him off. Caspian stretched his tired muscles, he needed to finish this essay but they had run out of coffee a little over an hour ago. He stood from the couch, fully intent on grabbing some more coffee when he saw that Y/N’s bedroom light was still on and the door was slightly ajar.

Biting his lip, Caspian decided to ask her if she wanted anything, he’d feel bad if he didn’t at least ask. He swallowed and peeked his head through her open door and he was awe struck with what he saw. Y/N had her back to him and she was painting a beautiful landscape of a castle in ruins, surrounded by mountains and an ocean. It was so hauntingly beautiful.

“Y/N?” he called out softly and she jumped as she was startled and she whipped around to look at him.

“Caspian?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I was going to go and grab some coffee, do you want anything?”

Her lips parted slightly, like she was surprised that he’d even ask, her eyes were downcast for a second as she fiddled with her fingers. Caspian had never seen such a look on her face before, it seemed that she was in fact, human, “would you mind it if I came with you?”

“Oh!” Caspian exclaimed, gobsmacked that she wanted to go with him but she looked a little upset, maybe she needed a break, “sure, Y/N. Of course.

Y/N smiled tightly at him as she grabbed her distressed leather jacket before following Caspian into the main part of the loft. As soon as she saw the state that Ed was in she giggled, shaking her head. Her laugh was a pretty sound when it wasn’t directed at Caspian’s expense, “someone couldn’t cut it, huh?”

Caspian laughed at the smirk on her pretty face as they walked out into the cold night together, it was an odd companionship, “did you need a break or something? That’s the only reason I can think of as to why you would actually spend time with me willingly,” he teased and Y/N laughed as she bumped her shoulder against his.

“I sure did need a break; my art assignment is really kicking my arse.”

Caspian bit his lip and decided to try his luck, “is that what you were painting. From where I was standing, it looked beautiful.”

Almost at once, Y/N tensed up and her face grew stoic which was a shame, “thank you but um, no that’s something else,” she ran a hand through her messy hair but she didn’t elaborate.

“What was it?” Caspian asked with interest, they were actually having an adult conversation and he didn’t want to stop now.

Y/N scoffed as she gave him the side eye, “nice try, keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

Caspian chuckled as he held up his hands in defence, “can’t blame a guy for trying.”

As they were walking down the dark high street, Caspian internally groaned they ran into a family friend who was leaving a bar, he was completely insufferable. Why the hell was he in a bar in Brooklyn? Michael smirked as he looked from Caspian to Y/N, if Y/N thought that Caspian was an arrogant trust fund baby then he was nothing compared to this guy.

“Hello, Caspian, you’re out late, it definitely looks like you’re slumming it but I never would have believed it,” his lip curled when he noticed Caspian’s NYU jumper and Caspian’s blood boiled in anger. Michael raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Y/N, “at least you’re slumming it with a pretty girl.”

Y/N let out an angry breath as she glared at Michael, “watch it, wanker.”

Michael grimaced, his blue eyes cold and lifeless, “interesting, a mouthy British girl,” he let out a nasty laugh as he patted Caspian’s shoulder. Caspian clenched his jaw, he so wanted to punch Michael in his smarmy face, “make sure you call your mom.”

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Caspian lowered his voice as Michael pushed past them.

She nodded but she looked angry, angrier than Caspian had ever seen here, “what an arsehole. How do you know him?” she gritted her teeth as she glared at Michael’s retreating back.

“Family friend unfortunately, I have to put up with him,” Caspian muttered, distracted when his phone vibrated in his pocket, he sighed in frustration when she saw it was a text from his mum. What the hell was she doing up at this time? Did she have eyes everywhere or something?

‘Just because you haven’t been in touch with me sweetie, doesn’t mean you can get out of the wedding at the end of November, I hope you haven’t forgotten. Evelyn says that she hasn’t heard from you in a while, sort it out, Caspian x’

Caspian scowled as he angrily shoved his phone back into his pocket, talking to Evelyn hadn’t been a part of the deal. Not yet anyway.

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

@smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black​ @generalblizzarddreamer​ @blackbirddaredevil23​ @whiskeywinter89​ @graciehams​ 

[jaskiersvalley]

Look I knew from things my friend reblogged that you have A Gift but now I'm following you and crying every time you post because it is ALWAYS top quality and I am but a poor little goblin with Feelings. You are my favorite and I love you. (also "oh what a hairy valley it is" is fucking hilarious I laugh every time I read it)

You are my new favourite and I love you too! Especially because you find “oh what a hairy valley it is” funny. As thanks, I hope you like a bit of a twist on the Witcher Wolf Pack and their Bard in a modern setting.

Street life was harsh but the wolves had learned how to play the game over the decades. Witchers had become nothing more than myths and they had died out. Or rather, they faded from visible existence and found ways to get with the times. But nobody really wanted grizzly, musclebound men with facial scars so the wolves of Kaer Morhen were left behind by society. It wasn’t like they could get paperwork and ID needed for work and rent, so they lived on the fringes, accepted the ‘help’ of a sorcerer. It wasn’t much better, living on the streets as wolves most idiots mistook for large dogs. But at least they could slink around relatively undisturbed. They could shift forms as they needed but most of the time, they remained four legged.

They had a whole system worked out, honourable as much as thieves could be. Because they needed to steal, needed food and money to survive. The back alley that they’d pulled blankets and cardboard boxes to had become home. But they couldn’t live off things they fished out of the dumpster all the time. It was how they ended up with a range of schemes and ploys.

Easiest was the sad, scared puppy game. It was one that Lambert excelled at, looking vulnerable. If he rolled in a puddle first, he could look exceptionally pitiful. His scars showed up the least too and, as the youngest, he often got the most response. Some days he would hang around outside a food shop and whimper at those going in. The more generous humans would emerge with their shopping plus a little something for him. When something was thrown his way, Lambert would snatch it out of the air and run, hide the stash until he could haul his trophies home to share.

More elaborate was the teamwork of Vesemir and Eskel. They didn’t pull it off often because it was much more dangerous for them both. At some traffic lights where cars were slowing down, Eskel would step in front of a car and get clipped. He’d perfected the art of just getting a glancing bruise on his shoulder but it sounded impressive enough. Once the car stopped, Vesemir, in his grizzled old glory, would fling himself in front of the car with a whimpering howl. That usually got everyone’s attention, the poor old dog, shaking and quivering on the floor. It was enough of a distraction for Eskel to shift to human form and dive into the car, pulling anything of value out. They had to be so careful, not taking anything from those who obviously were in need. That was on top of the constant worry that Eskel could actually get hurt or Vesemir would get carted off to the pound. But the few times they did it, they often got enough things to pawn or, once, a shopping bag full of party food.

Geralt was too bulky to look sad in front of a shop, he got chased with a broom more often than not. He also didn’t have Eskel’s light fingers to steal from cars or Vesemir’s gravitas to look convincingly injured. What he could do though was pickpocket and steal bags. It was so easy to walk pad through a square, a stray dog nobody paid attention to. A snout in a passing pocket resulted in a mouthful of wallet. And the times someone put a bag down to look at their phone or, rarely, to pet him, he could pick up the bag and trot off without much fuss. The other thing Geralt did was trail buskers. He learned about them, knew those who were busking for fun and those who needed the coins tossed at them. Those who did it for a hobby, Geralt had no qualms about ambling up to and snuffling their things. It usually earned him a pat on the head and a laugh. It meant he could curl up with whoever it was playing and, at the end of their stint, Geralt could snuffled a little more under the pretence of curiosity. Nobody ever thought to look in his mouth to find the coins they could have sworn were there.

It was a great ploy until a new busker turned up. Geralt couldn’t get a read on him. The man looked and acted like a peacock but he smelled tired and hurting. Before Geralt could even approach him to investigate, the man was setting his instrument to the side and reaching out in invitation for Geralt to join him.

“You might need a bit of rest.” The man said and pulled a water bottle from his pack. Shoving his handwritten sign of gratitude from the plastic container, it was filled up with water instead. “It’s a warm day, I doubt there are puddles around for you.”

It turned out, the man chattered a lot when he wasn’t playing. He was called Jaskier, had no real family to speak of and loved singing. There was an art to speaking a lot without saying much and Geralt knew Jaskier was a master. In the evening, when Jaskier packed up, Geralt couldn’t bring himself to take any of his coin.

“If you’re ever in the area, you’ll always have a blanket to rest on with me,” Jaskier promised and waved to Geralt. It was only then that Geralt realised that not once did Jaskier touch him.

Once a week, Geralt sought Jaskier out. It was oddly relaxing and on his third visit, Geralt found he had actually fallen into a deep sleep, trusting this stranger to keep him protected. Of course, the others teased him about it relentlessly. Late at night when they were all sprawled in their alley with a rare treat of beer Eskel had managed to snag, they laughed about Geralt’s crush.

“Fine. You go see if you can do better,” he grumbled.

From then on, the wolves took turns and each came back suitably cowed. Eskel had taken the first chance to go see Jaskier for himself. He’d come back subdued and quiet. “He told be about his White Wolf,” he’d said. “How I must be his brother because I’m just as handsome.”

There was nothing handsome about Eskel, or so he thought. His scarring in wolf and human form had his lip pulled up and, as a wolf, he looked like he was continually snarling, teeth bared.

“He wasn’t scared,” Eskel whispered in wonder.

Unable to believe it all, Lambert went to see Jaskier next. He only came back late at night and refused to say anything. It was only later the next night that he whispered to Eskel that he’d tried to goad Jaskier into hurting him, to prove a point. And he got belly rubs instead. Which were a lot nicer than anything Lambert had experienced in a long time, so he had to slink off and think for a few hours before returning home.

Vesemir still had his doubts. His three pups might have been taken in by the singing stranger but he was suspicious. Determined to get to the bottom of their infatuation, Vesemir set out to spy on Jaskier. It didn’t go as well as planned because he was spotted and beckoned over. Even worse, there were freshly bought treats in Jaskier’s pocket, coming out to appease him.

“You look like you could be their father,” Jaskier prattled, handing over another treat. “The same noble, ancient look they’ve got. Living on the streets is no easy feat and I imagine you’ve done it your whole lives. But your pack seem wonderful. You ought to be proud of your boys.”

Vesemir would have thought it all some great, cunning plan were it not for the fact that he could smell the street on Jaskier. Obviously he’d been sleeping in hostels or the like until recently. And yet there he was with the best treats he could afford for a bunch of stray dogs who he knew to be wolves.

From then on, Jaskier enjoyed the company of a wolf beside him for four of the seven days of the week. Geralt slept on the blanket, running and eating in his sleep. By contrast, Lambert was needy, demanding attention and petting, constantly by Jaskier’s feet. Eskel liked to lie calmly and watch, sometimes he’d howl along and get laughs. Occasionally trotting off and coming back with a snack or a drink for them, clutched carefully in his mouth. The first time he presented Jaskier with a sandwich, he man had looked both scandalised and then blissed out as he bit into it like he was starving. Vesemir was by far the calmest, he watched Jaskier rather than the crowds around them, keeping track of how things changed.

“He sleeps on the streets,” he told his pups one night. “I worry for him.”

They couldn’t find Jaskier though, it was a large city and there were a lot of places to hide. By pure luck, they were settling down into a tangle of limbs, tails and fur when they heard voices.

“Just hand it over and you’ll live.” A menacing voice growled.

“I can’t give you that. It’s how I make what little money I have. I’ve already offered you everything I can!” That was definitely Jaskier.

“Along these parts, our word is law. You’ve not paid your dues and now we’re raising fees.”

There was the soft thump of someone being struck and the smell of blood. The wolves were up on their feet as one, quietly padding closer to investigate. Jaskier was on his knees, guitar behind him along with his usual pack which looked like it had been rifled through already. Opposite him were three men, one of them with a nail studded baseball bat.

“I think you need to be taught a lesson,” the man snarled and raised the bat. It arced through the air and there was the sound of it striking flesh and a sharp whine of a wolf in pain rang through the alley.

“What the fuck?”

Geralt was laid flat on the floor and panting, white fur staining red. The other three wolves were snapping and growling at the attackers while Jaskier knelt and watched in awe. Lambert jumped first, jaw latching around the wrist holding the bat and shaking his head.

In two minutes, the attackers were running, bleeding and cursing and the alley was silent save for the panting of the wolves. Eskel and Vesemir shared a look as they approached Geralt. They shifted, ignoring the gasp of surprise from Jaskier.

“You need to shift, pup,” Vesemir stroked over Geralt’s head. “Let us get a better look.”

It took a moment longer but Geralt was human once again and wheezing.

“Fuck,” he gasped, hands clenched in fists.

“Let them sort it,” Lambert murmured from just behind Jaskier, making him jump. “It’ll be okay. Geralt’s just a drama queen.”

“A drama queen with broken ribs,” Eskel grumbled. “At least the nails didn’t puncture his lung.”

In all of that, Jaskier was quiet and surprisingly unafraid. Puzzled, most definitely but he didn’t panic or run.

“Will he be okay?” he asked, soft and worried.

“He’s a strong one, survived a lot worse.” The reassurance from Vesemir lifted a little of the tension. “Why aren’t you running and screaming?”

“Why should I? You saved my life and you’re the wolves I’ve known for weeks now. It’s nice that you can talk back now.”

That seemed to settle matters somehow. And the wolves got a fourth act in their repertoire. Now, Jaskier sang and busked with the protection of a wolf by his side at all times. And, when he returned back to the alley, he always shared his bounty with the others.

“And when I get famous, you’re all coming with me. We’ll tour the world together,” he promised each night from the centre of the wolf pile. It usually earned at least one tail thump or a chuffed out wolf-y laugh. The wolves might have indulged him in such fantasies but they were the ones who had to eat their words. A talent scout did indeed pick Jaskier up. Along with his four wolves who became his bodyguards.

Part 2 here.

[allegedlyanandroid]

Pairing: Allen60 Prompt: Cold Types: Found Family, Fluff AU: Angels and Demons, Sixty as the little devil he is, and Allen just being human.

I am so late 😅 I wrote an entire thing before realising I hated every word of it and started over from scratch. Anyway... excuses aside, I hope you like it @yayen-chan <3 `(‾◡◝)´ 

“Okay, bookshelves first,” Allen mutters, following the intricate maze of arrows and concrete as he tries to navigate the local IKEA. “Or rugs. That works too,” he sighs when he glances up and finds himself in the wrong part of the store. Looking through the copious amounts of different rugs Allen rapidly finds himself overwhelmed. He tries reading a few of the ridiculously complicated names, stuttering over them when trying to read them out loud. “Ra- raskmol- mölle?”  

Giving up on the fifth time trying to pronounce it correctly Allen rolls the grey-and-black striped fabric up and tosses it on the cart, already dreading trying to find the rest of the items on his list. There’s only one really but when passing through the plant-section he stops to pick up a potted plant. The other one is beyond salvaging from lack of water. “Ilex, foreeneling? För-enlig. What are these names?”  

After another dead-end and some frustrated grumbling, he does find the bookshelf he needs. Honestly… this trip alone solidifies why he’s never getting a puppy. The one he took in to foster was a sweet thing but very demanding and unaware that he weighed quite a lot for a pup. He’d knocked Allen’s bookshelf over, thus breaking it, and also had an accident on his rug. If being petless meant never having to go here again then that’s a price he’s willing to pay. At least the shelter had found a family for him quickly and, while he did miss the little rascal, the puppy was undoubtedly in better hands.  

“Kallax, hemnes... gersby?”

Too caught up in his own head he doesn't notice the strange scent of warm brimstone and ash filtering through the air nor does he notice the young “man” standing behind him, a man who seemingly appeared out of thin air, until he hears the sound of a throat clearing. Allen jerks his head up from wrestling with the cardboard box and offers an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “I’ll be done in a minute.”

“Or, you could tell me why I’m here and spare me the mundane small talk you humans seem so obnoxiously fond of.”

“I’m sorry?”

The man squints. “You summoned me.”

Allen pauses to take a good look at the man. He’s tall with black, artistically tousled hair and endless amounts of freckles. A few moles are scattered across his skin and his brown eyes are filled with irritation. Dark jeans with a long-sleeved shirt tucked into it, a black overcoat ending at about mid-thigh and a purple scarf hanging unknotted around his neck. Allen thinks long and hard yet finds no recollection of ever seeing this man before in his life let alone speaking to him. “I have no idea who you are.”

“You-” the man pinches the bridge of his nose, inhales deeply and slowly let it out before starting again. “You read the incantation to evoke me and you what… didn’t even realise it?” he asks and receives nothing but a blank stare from Allen in return. “Ugh, humans.”

In the blink of an eye the man transforms. Horns curve with the shape of his skull, producing from close to his temples, before ending in sharp tips that blend in with his raven hair. A black tail is wrapped around his leg which ends with a jagged spear-like point. The tips of his fingers look like they’ve been dipped in charcoal, fading into dark grey about halfway up his fingers, with claw-like black nails top it all off. They tap against the metal shelf next to them as the demon slowly advances.  

Too shocked to move, Allen’s jaw is taken in a firm grip and when the demon smiles his teeth are pointed blades. “So… are you going to tell me what it is you want?”

“You can let go of my face for a start,” Allen says, adding a quick “thank you,” when the demon does as he’s told. “What’s your name?”

“You may call me Sixty.”

“Sixty,” Allen repeats. “No offence but I quite like having my soul intact. I’m sorry for dragging you from… whatever circle of hell you reside in, but I’m not interested in making any sort of deal with you.”

“Sucks to be you then because I’m not leaving until you do,” Sixty says and from his tone of voice alone Allen knows he’s a hundred percent serious.  

‘Fucking IKEA.’

-

“Really? You couldn’t have chosen to live somewhere a bit warmer?” Sixty asks with disdain, thankfully back to looking human. His feet sink into the four inches worth of snow dusting the ground and he can already feel the cold seeping in through the gaps in his clothing. “Or somewhere nicer in general.”

“No one’s forcing you to stay.”

“No one’s forcing you to live here.” A pause. “Or if they are, I am more than willing to kill them for you free of charge.”  

Allen sighs.

-

Having a demon for a housemate isn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Sixty mostly keeps to himself whenever he isn’t trying to get a rise out of him or complaining about the cold or putting things on tall shelves like the little shit he is. Until Sixty gets bored that is.

Because when Sixty gets bored trouble ensues.  

-

Emerging from his office after a long day of meetings to see his demonic housemate casually chatting with parts of his team in the breakroom is a bit out of left field and the sight of Sixty’s mischievous eyes boring into his own is enough to quicken his pace. “What are you doing here, Si- Silas?” he asks, forcing a smile on his face.

He hates how no one else can look past the innocent brown eyes and syrupy grin to see the smugness beneath. “I thought we were supposed to eat lunch together? Did you forget?”

“No, of course not,” Allen hastens to say, ignoring Willis and Clark’s knowing grins, as he wracks his brain for a response. “Though I distinctly remember asking you to wait outside.”

“It would have been rude of me to decline Julie’s offer of getting coffee,” Sixty replies and raises his mug as if to show it off.

“No need to be jealous, boss. We just wanted to get to know the guy better,” Julie says.

“Yeah, it’s not like we’ve ever seen you hang out with anyone outside of work apart from Reed,” Clark pipes up. “We got curious.”

“I’m not jealous!” Allen tries to defend himself, latching on to the word, but the agitated tone does nothing to help his case. Sixty smirking behind the rim of the coffee cup like a cat who got the cream isn’t helping to improve his mood either.

“You are the pettiest asshole I’ve ever had the unfortunate luck of meeting,” Allen says when they’re safely away from prying eyes.

Sixty snickers, knowing full well the amount of endless curiosity and ceaseless questions he’s unleashed on the human. “There’s an easy way to get rid of me.”

The fistful of snow he gets shoved in his face shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

By the time he manages to blink the melting snow out of his eyes Allen is too far away to retaliate, though that doesn’t stop Sixty from trying.  

-

Despite his best efforts Sixty’s irritation with being unceremoniously dragged into the mortal plane dissipates after the third week of staying with Allen. By the time he’s been there for a month and a half, Allen’s team have adopted him as one of their own and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t flattered. They genuinely care about his well-being and often invite him along on outings. As someone whose family is… overbearing, their light-hearted ribbing is a nice change of pace. Their easy dynamic is the very opposite of stifling. No one ever pries when he declines to answer a question. No one touches him after he made it clear he dislikes physical contact. No one quizzes him about his every movement.

It’s… nice.

The next team building exercise and subsequent photo op, proudly displayed on the communal fridge, includes him and Sixty doesn’t cry even a little bit upon seeing that.  

Not at all.

-

In the end, the shift in their relationship is near seamless ‒ from reluctant roommates to friends to something more.  

What hits him first is the metallic scent of fresh blood and Sixty is halfway across the room before he can even process rising to his feet. He gathers Allen up in his arms and leads him to sit down on one of the kitchen chairs. Part of his dark shirt is tacky with blood and Sixty feels no remorse when he shreds it to get it off as quickly as possible. Something, a bullet or knife, must have grazed his side. It’s bleeding sluggishly though it thankfully isn’t deep. Sixty takes the ruined shirt and presses it against the wound. “Keep putting pressure on it.”

Allen doesn’t answer and in the end he’s the one who has to move Allen’s hand to take over while he dashes to the bathroom for the medkit. Sixty plunks it down on the floor and fills a bowl of lukewarm water to put down beside it before fetching a clean towel. He kneels down between Allen’s legs and cleans meticulously around the area, noting the patches of skin where bruises are slowly forming. Swiping over the wound with antiseptic earns him a bitten-off hiss and Sixty puts a hand on Allen’s sternum to steady him after the first involuntary flinch.  

He keeps it there, soothed by feeling the steady thrum of Allen’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips, until he needs the use of both his hands. In its absence, Sixty’s tail comes up to wrap loosely around his thigh for comfort.  

Butterfly bandages instead of sutures, his tail instead of his hand. Allen doesn’t say a word about either choice though he is smiling down where they’re connected once Sixty chances a quick peek.

There’s nothing left for him to do after covering the wound with gauze, taping the edges down, yet Sixty finds himself lingering there regardless.  

It’s easy to trace around the gauze with the very tip of a claw and when he catches Allen’s dark eyes the urge to lean down to place a gentle kiss over it wins out. Allen sighs quietly and coaxes Sixty up to kiss him properly ‒ a chaste press of lips against lips followed by a sincere thank you.  

Sixty blushes and knocks his forehead against Allen’s, mindful of his horns, in a silent show of affection.

-

“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?”

“Because I literally stepped in the door a second ago?” Allen laughs and pulls Sixty in for a quick kiss.

“Excuses,” Sixty sniffs and steals another kiss, one that quickly devolves into a dozen pecks being pressed all over his face until Allen plants a last lingering one to his lips.

“I love you,” Allen says when they break apart for real.  

The shy smile spreading over Sixty’s lips is one he’ll never tire of seeing.

[panda-noosh]

on the ocean {Leo Valdez x Reader}

Words: 9.8k

Summary: Living on a boat has let you see plenty of weird things in your life. Leo Valdez might be the weirdest, so you don’t really understand why you decide to help him when he comes running onto the boat you call home, crying out for help.

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings: nothing

Notes: support my writing or ask me about commissions! - so this is a thing now.

----

The sea is nice this time of day.

  You've docked, thank goodness. The constant sway of the ocean can take it's toll on anyone – including someone who has lived on a boat their entire lives. It's nice to take a break from it every once in a while.

  Now, with the sun slowly dipping behind the skyscrapers of New York, you lean against the railing and watch the people clatter onto the boat you call home. They struggle with suitcases and fussy children. A woman drops her ticket and starts crying, clearly exhausted from hours of travelling. You watch the process with a fond little smile on your face, enamoured by the people who will soon be sharing your space, the people you may soon come to know as close friends if all works well.

  There's tons of them getting on at this stop, but it's always the same with New York; considering how beautiful the city is, you're always shocked to find so many people wanting to flee from it, so many people wanting to spend their time on the ocean rather than amongst the skyscrapers and hot dog carts that you've heard litter the streets of New York. You, personally, would love to have a look. Just once. Just a single day where you can clamber off this cruise ship and take a dander through the streets, seeing what all the fuss is about.

  But you like it here. You like the rock of the ocean sometimes. You like the swish of the wind as it catches in your hair on nights where you can't seem to drag yourself away from the decks railing, too enamoured by the oceans sway to move.

  The commotion down below does not faze you. It never does; you've been here long enough to have seen almost everything by now – children threatening to throw themselves into the harbour, people genuinely falling into the harbour, tickets getting lost, suitcases being tipped the wrong way so the poor passengers clothes go sprawling into the ocean. After so many years of unpredictability, you've become immune to surprises.

  Until you see him.

  You don't recognise him – not at all. His dark curls, his short demeanour, the oil stained overalls hanging from his lanky body; you would surely remember him if you were to have seen him anywhere else, but his face doesn't ring a bell. Neither does his voice, which reaches even your ears despite how high up you are in comparison to him.

  He sprints through the centre of the crowd, nudging shoulders with everyone as he yells apologies left, right and centre. He's grinning, despite the startled tone in his voice. He pushes right to the front of the line, where he is stopped abruptly by a hand slamming into his chest, very nearly knocking him backwards.

  You have to crane your neck to see what is going on. The strange boy stands panting in front of Arnold, one of the ships dock workers.

  “Look, man,” the boy says, jumping from one foot to the other. “You have to let me through. You have to.”

  “Ticket,” is Arnold's only response.

  The boy groans, glancing over his shoulder in desperation. You don't even know what he's looking at, but it's clearly something terrifying. Even without knowing what it is, your stomach does a nervous flip.

  “I need a ticket,” Arnold repeats. “Or else I can't let you on. I'm sorry, son.”

  “Oh, come on!” The boy throws his hands up. “Why are you so boring? You ever broken the rules in your life?”

  Shit.

  You're moving before you even know why – you don't know this boy, have never seen him before in your life, but there's something about the way he's stumbling over his words, something about the suspicious red scrape on his cheek that tells you he shouldn't be out in the open like that; something is wrong.

  You clamber down the steps until you reach the entrance. You shove past the new passengers until you slam into Arnold's back, nearly stumbling over your own two feet in your haste. Arnold spins, catching you before you can fall face-first into the angry queue of passengers still waiting outside, clearly angered by the disruption.

  “You made it!” you exclaim, looking directly at the startled boy in front of you. “You're a bit late, aren't you? I cleaned my room for you, and this is how you repay me?”

  “Y/N?” Arnold asks, tugging you back protectively. “You know this boy?”

  You raise a brow as if confused that Arnold does not know who this boy is. “Of course I do. He's my friend. Mum and Dad said I could meet up with him once we docked in New York.” You frown. “Did they not tell you?”

   Arnold's face goes red. “No, they did not.”

  “Weird.” You turn back to the boy, putting your angry expression back on again. “Come on. You've held up the line long enough.”

  The boy looks between you and Arnold, eyebrows high on his forehead; you grab his hand and drag him through the door before he can expose your act as the lie it is. He stumbles in after you, shooting a “Sorry, man!” at Arnold before you pick up the pace and trail him upstairs.

  This is so bizarre; you've just lied to Arnold for seemingly no reason. If he goes to your parents and asks about who this strange boy is, you're going to be in so much trouble.

  But too late now.

  And call it scandalous, but the only place you can think to take him is your bedroom, so that's exactly where you go. You push him through the door, slamming it closed before you spin and say, “What's your name?” because that seems like an important piece of information to have from someone who you have just dragged into your bedroom.

  “Leo.” He says it like he's in a daze. His brown eyes dart back and forth, inspecting your room. His fingers don't stop moving, fiddling with a piece of scrap metal you hadn't even noticed he was holding. “Uh. . . Pretty sick place you've got here.”

  “It's my bedroom.”

  “Your cabin, you mean.”

  You level your eyes at him. “My bedroom.”

  He stares back at you. His face is mischievous. Does that make any sense? He just has the expression of someone who could potentially burn the entire world to the ground, a smile sharp as knives, eyes bright and glittering.

  Finally, he hums and says, “Okay. Well, thank you very much for saving my backside out there; I don't usually like my first impressions to consist of screaming, but here we are.”

  “Why were you screaming?”

  He raises a hand as if to silence you and starts pacing back and forth for absolutely no reason. “That is a secret. Top secret. I'd have to kill you if I told you.”

   “Or I'd have to kill you.”

  He pauses, glancing at you over his shoulder. “I suppose. But less talk about murder, please, and more talk about why you just did that.”

  Your stomach curls. “You looked. . . in trouble.”

  Leo blinks. “I mean, good observation, but half the people with toddlers out there looked like they were in trouble, too, and you didn't shove them to the front of the line and give them a free ticket to. . .” He pauses, looking round your room like he expects to find a map of your route hung on the wall. “Where is this thing going, anyway?”

   “Northern Ireland,” you reply. “You didn't know that?”

  “I just saw a big transportation device and hopped right on it.”

  This conversation just keeps getting weirder and weirder.

  And this boy is weird, too, but in an endearing type of way. You watch from the door as he walks back and forth, picking up tiny ornaments, examining them with a slight frown on his face. At one point, he picks up your laptop and closes his eyes, before shaking his head and saying, “It's on its last legs,” and you're too stunned to even respond.

  Finally, it gets too much. You dart forward and snatch a pair of socks out of his surprisingly strong hands, tossing them on your bed. His eyes snap up, wide and startled.

  “Tell me what you were running from,” you demand.

  Leo frowns, slowly letting his hands drop back to his sides. “I already told you-”

  “Top secret, yes, I heard, but we both know that's bullshit-”

  “You do curse like a sailor!”

  You slap his shoulder. He laughs, pulling away. “I'm serious! I'm freaking out right now, alright? If my parents find out I let you on this boat, they're going to throw me overboard!”

  Leo rolls his eyes. “They're not going to find out. I'll stay super extra hidden, how does that sound?”

  “How are you gonna do that? You need a place to sleep-”

  “I can sleep in the engine room if you just show me where that is.”

 You raise a brow. “No one can sleep in the engine room; it gets very hot in there. You'll probably die from the heat.”

  Leo's eyes sparkle with what you can only recognise as amusement. “Well, lucky for me, I'm also very hot. I'll balance it out.”

  “I'm serious.”

  Leo groans. “Listen – you've done enough. You got me on the boat in the first place, so you can forget about me now, alright? I'll take matters into my own hands.”

   “You realise this is my house, right? I'm not just going to let you walk around; god knows what you'll get up to.”

  “The gods set me up in the first place.”

  You blink. “What?”

  Leo shakes his head, curls bouncing. “Nothing. My point is, I will be fine. I'll go play some table tennis with the retired ones out on the games deck, yeah? What harm could I possibly be doing?”

  You stare at him; it would be so stupid of you to just let him do whatever, but it was stupid dragging him on this boat in the first place – what's one more mistake going to do?

  You sigh and nod. “Fine. But please pretend you know me; if my parents ask-”

  “I'll say you fancy me and you wanted to impress me, it's fine. I've got this!”

  “No, that's not-”

  Leo walks towards the door, not once looking back. “I've got this-” He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle as he turns his neck to look at you. “What's your name again?”

  “Y/N. Y/N L/N.”

  Leo grins. “I've got this, Y/N L/N. You can trust me.”

  ----

  You should never have trusted him.

  Arnold doesn't always come banging on your door at nine in the morning, but when he does, you can safely assume the ship is going down. You've hit an ice berg. All hell is breaking loose and there is a ninety percent chance you are going to die.

  So when you are awoken this morning by the sound of him yelling your name, his fists slamming against the mahogany door, you're fairly certain this is it; you are going to die.

  You bolt upright, blinking rapidly. “What? What is it?”

  He stumbles into the room, wrinkled face bright red, sweat dripping down his temples. Slowly waking up lets you realise the ship isn't rocking quite as bad as it should be if you were going down.

  You rub your eyes. “What the hell, Arnold? What's going on?”

  He speaks through gritted teeth, spittle spraying everywhere. “That friend of yours, Leo Valdez; get him under control before I throw him overboard.”

   You blink, certain you've heard him wrong. For just a moment, you've completely forgotten who Leo Valdez actually is, but the moment of peace is shattered when the realisation dawns on you. Yesterday. Bringing that strange boy onto the ship, claiming he was your friend.

  Fuck.

  You stumble out of bed and follow Arnold all the way to the bridge.

  “Why are we here?” you demand, even though you already know the answer, even though you can already hear Leo yelling up above.

  Arnold doesn't respond; he simply shoves you forward and lets you take control of the situation, which is overall just a bad decision on his part. Still dressed in your pyjamas, you stumble through the door, your stomach dropping once you see Leo standing beside Anna, the ships captain, his head bent over the controls, his voice loud.

  “The alignment is way off,” he says. “If you'd just let me have a touch of the wheel, I could-”

   Anna shoves her shoulder into Leo's chest. “Would you fuck off? Who even let you in here?”

  “I found my way here,” Leo replies. “Because I couldn't help but notice that the alignment on your ship is shit, and-”

  You rush forward and grab his arm, pulling him away from Anna before the tall ginger girl can backhand him overboard. Leo stumbles into your grip, whirling around with a frown that quickly morphs into a big, cheeky grin once he sees you.

  “Y/N L/N! My friend! You'll tell your captain here that she should let me have a look at the wheel so I can-”

  “Leo, what the hell are you doing in here? Passengers aren't allowed on the bridge!”

  Leo frowns.

  “You are a passenger, remember?” you hiss. “Now, let's go before-”

  He shakes his head, slowly turning back to the wheel. Your grip tightens on his arm, ready to pull him back if need be. “I'm sorry, Y/N, but do you know how dangerous it is driving a ship with wonky wheel alignment?”

  “We'll call the mechanic in.” You tug his arm. “Let's go, Leo, seriously-”

  “Why would you waste time doing all that when I could just-”

  “Y/N, get him out of here.”

  You groan, finally putting all of your strength behind the next pull on his arm. It's enough to have him stumbling out of the bridge behind you, and you kick the door closed before he can even think of turning back and continuing with his havoc.

  He whirls on you as soon as the door is shut, Anna rushing to lock it. “I just wanted to help!”

  “Leo, do you know how dangerous it is for someone to be distracting the captain whilst she's driving?” You shake your head, running your hands through your hair. “How long have you been awake?”

  “Oh, many hours. Many, many hours. It's hard to sleep when-”

  “When a ship's wheel alignment is off, yes, we all heard you!”

  Leo huffs, folding his arms over his chest; he looks like a toddler, lower lip jutted out, eyes lowered as he kicks  the toe of his boot into the floor. His curls dip into his eyes. He looks kind of cute like this.

  You look away. “What happened to you just staying on the games deck with the retired old people?”

  “Mildred beat me at ping pong last night and told me not to come back.”

  “Leo...”

  He sighs, letting his arms drop to his sides. “Okay, I get it. I stepped out of line. I do that when I'm on edge.”

  You raise a brow. “Why are you on edge?”

  He doesn't respond, which just irks you even more. Trying to get a straight answer out of him is seemingly impossible, so you don't even know why you're bothering – but you are. He just confuses you. There's so much you want to ask, but very little he's willing to share, and you suppose that's fair. It's up to him who he shares his secrets with.

  You decide to start small. “How could you tell the ships alignment was off?”

  A tiny smile pulls at the corner of his mouth, like it's a funny story. “I just know. It's kind of a special skill of mine.”

  “Oh? You spend a lot of time on boats?”

  “No.” He pauses. “Well, not technically, but I built a boat once.”

  You blink, certain you heard him wrong. “Sorry?”

  “The Argo II it was called,” he continues. “I loved that thing.”

  You look at him; he can't be much older than you, surely, and that is much too young to be creating entire ships. You've barely finished school.

  “You built a ship?” you parrot.

  Leo nods, distractedly looking at the soft play area on the games deck. Even at this time of morning, children are running and screaming as they dive from the top of it, landing in the soft blocks at the bottom.

  You, however, turn all your attention on Leo. “You're insane, you know.”

   “I've had my suspicions.”

  “I'm serious; you've just told me you built a ship. Like, an entire vessel, and you're acting like it's no big deal.”

  “It isn't a big deal.” Leo smirks, nudging you with his arm. “Unless, you know, you want it to be a big deal, then I will gladly take the praise.”

  “It is incredible.” You catch yourself and frown. “But you're still insane.”

   Leo laughs. It's a pleasant noise, a little high pitched, a little maniacal, but you find yourself smiling at the sound of it. It ends in a happy little “aaaah,” before Leo turns to you and says, “I really am sorry, by the way. I'll try and stay out of trouble from now on.”

  “Thank you, Leo,” you reply. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”

  Just at that moment, his stomach awakens, growling loudly. He claps his hands against his abdomen and frowns, before turning to you and saying, “Apparently not.”

  “Come on.” You grab his hand and start towards the canteen. “I'll get Esmerelda to make us some breakfast.”

  ----

  Leo can actually be a lot of fun when he isn't trying to rip the controls of the ship from the captain's hands.

  He's funny, which is one thing you didn't expect; he just seemed too jittery in the beginning, forever fiddling with that piece of scrap metal, eyes darting back and forth, like his brain was never working at anything less than one hundred miles an hour.

  He's also very polite, with the occasional sarcastic comment thrown in the direction of someone who looked at him weirdly, which there seems to be a lot of. As the two of you stroll through the ship together, you can't help noticing the eyes that follow you, and honestly, you don't really blame them. Leo certainly is a bit different; he walks with this skip in his step, and his voice is always really loud, even when there's nothing to be loud about. He's still dressed in his oil stained overalls, his curls bouncing around his head with little to no care.

  You don't know why you find it so endearing.

  The two of you spent the day doing everything, and that is no exaggeration. You played ping pong, despite Mildred's protestations that the gaming deck wasn't big enough for both her and Leo. You ate ice cream. In fact, you ate everything, until Arnold was telling you to slow down and make room for dinner later.

  Dinner which you missed as you decided to spend the evening with Leo.

  He took you down to the engine room, claiming to have put some AC in there that wouldn't affect the mechanisms of the boat, but would simply cool the room down enough for him to sleep there.

  “Not like I need it,” he says, flicking on the lights in the corridor leading to the engine room. “I can handle heat.”

  “There's no way you installed an AC system into the engine room in a night,” you reply. “You're not that good.”

   Leo smiles playfully. “See, that's where everyone goes wrong – they underestimate me.” With that, he pushes open the engine room door, revealing everything beyond – the whirring machines, the chugging engines, the steam billowing from contraptions you don't even know the name of, which is a little bit shameful considering you've lived amongst this stuff your entire life.

  Where there should be smouldering heat, there is no such thing. Leo steps into the room and sighs in bliss, closing his eyes. You watch the curls blow away from his forehead. You reach forward, testing the air with your hand.

  Your eyes widen at the feel of cold air brushing against your fingertips.

  “How did you. . . Is this real?”

  Leo opens his eyes and grins, grabbing your outstretched hand and pulling you in after him. “I told you I was good.”

  “Leo, this is . . . You did this in a night?”

  “I did this in. . .” He frowns, glancing at his invisible wrist watch. “About three hours. It was easy enough once I figured out where you keep all your tools.”

   You can't even begin to form words; it's such a simple thing, an AC, but this boy is the same age as you, and he has been here not even a full twenty four hours, and yet he's improving the ship in more ways than you would have dreamed of.

  You turn to him. He looks right back at you. “You're quite good with tools, aren't you?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Where did you learn all of this?”

  “My dad.”

  You raise a brow. “Is he a mechanic?”

  Leo smiles; he does that a lot, though you're yet to learn why. “No. He's in the – uh – higher up's, I guess you could say. My mum was the mechanic.”

  “Was?”

  Leo's smile fades. He coughs and turns away. “Yeah. Was. Now, how about I show you where I slept last night?”

  Without any elaboration, Leo starts towards the back of the room, the hottest part of the entire ship. You remember your dad warning you, time and time again, never to step foot in the engine room at all, but especially not this part of it. You smell the smoke billowing from the coal shafts, hidden behind insulation. You feel the heat, even through the AC, pressing against your skin.

  Once you've walked far enough into the room for the heat to be prominent again, Leo reaches back to stop you going any further. Without looking at you, he says, “Don't think you can go much further than that, I'm afraid; I'll take it from here. I need to grab a few things.”

  You grab his hand. “Wait, you can't-”

  He shakes you off him and steps deeper into the engine room. Your chest constricts, panic seizing you; only professionals have ever wandered this deep into the ships depths, because they know what they're doing. They wear the protective gear. They've trained for years.

  Leo hasn't even been on the ship an entire day.

  “Leo!” you call out, stepping forward as much as you dare. “Leo, this isn't funny! Come back here!”

  “I'm fine.”

  The sound of his voice, unharmed and unwavering, makes the breath leave you. You slouch against the wall, craning your neck in any attempt to see where he is, but you only catch glimpses of his dark curls as he parades back and forth, the sound of metal on metal being heard with absolutely no context.

  You don't understand how anyone can walk so deep into what is essentially a pit of flames and come out unscathed; what's even weirder is the fact that Leo slept in there last night.

  “Please keep talking to me,” you call. “If my dad finds out I let you in here-”

  Leo pops his head around the corner, grinning from ear to ear. Black soot stains his nose, but besides that, he looks unharmed. Around his waist is a velvet tool belt that he definitely was not wearing before. You frown, gesturing towards it vaguely.

  Leo looks down as if only just noticing he'd put the thing on. “Oh, this. It's my tool belt.”

  “Yes, I can see that. But. . . why?”

  Leo shrugs and walks past you. “It's special. Shall we go? Now that you've seen I'm not actually lying when I say I put an AC in-”

 “Which is still insane, by the way.”

  “You've said.”

  Together, the two of you clamber out of the engine room and walk back to the deck. The dinner crowds are just starting to disperse now, people heading out onto the main outdoor deck for a few after dinner drinks with the family. Toddlers are perched on parents shoulders, falling asleep after such a feast. Around you, the lamps are being turned on to illuminate the impending darkness that will soon ensue.

  Leo hums thoughtfully, gazing up at one of the lamps; it's flickering.

  “That one's always been like that,” you say. “Nobody's come to fix it. Nobody really minds it.”

   “It puts the aesthetic off a little bit, doesn't it?” He shakes his head, stopping right in front of it. “No, we can't let that continue.”

   “What are you-”

  He reaches into his tool belt and pulls out a light bulb – just one, the perfect size and shape for the lamps lining the deck. You narrow your eyes, jaw dropping open as Leo starts climbing onto the railing, reaching his small arms above his head to get to work on the lamp in question.

  “Hold my legs, will you?” he calls down to you.

  And even though you're in a daze, growing only more and more confused by this strange man, you lurch forward and wrap your arms around his knees, keeping him from slipping off the edge of the deck and into the murky waters below.

  In seconds, the bulb has been changed and the lamp is working just fine. Leo hops back down beside you, grinning brightly as he tucks his screw driver back into his tool belt.

  You hook a finger through the pocket, tugging him closer so you can peak inside; at first glance, it looks empty, but you're certain that can't be right – he's just put his screw driver inside it. He's just pulled a light bulb out of it. How can it be empty?

  Leo laughs, gently prying your fingers off. “I told you it's special.”

  “Where did the screw driver go?”

  He presses his index finger to his lips. You scowl, swatting his arm until he throws his head back in laughter.

  “I'm glad you're enjoying yourself,” you grumble.

  Leo nudges you, his laughter slowly descending into a simple chuckle. “Oh, lighten up. The screwdriver is in there.”

  “Where?”

  “Somewhere.”

  “Who are you, Leo Valdez? Where the hell have you come from?”

  He swipes his tongue along the inside of his cheek, deep in thought for a moment. Finally, he turns to you and says, “I'd have to kill you if I told you.”

   “Or I'd have to kill you.”

  His eyes sparkle. “Or that, yes.”

  ----

  “We don't even know what they are. We've never had a warning signal like this before.”

  “Let me see.”

  Your dad shoves to the front and ducks his head down to see into the flashing screen in the control room; an emergency alarm had gone off in your room only moments before, startling you from a peaceful sleep. Another night spent traipsing through the ship with Leo had left you utterly exhausted, but hearing that high pitched beep woke you into full alert. You joined both your parents and the rest of the crew in the control room in seconds.

  “It's in the shape of a trident,” Arthur, one of the control experts, says, pointing at the glowing trident flashing on screen. “What could that even mean? Who's sending that?”

  Your dad frowns. “I have no idea. Is it some kind of prank?”

  “There are no other boats around for miles, sir. None are even showing up on the radar.”

  You fiddle with your fingers. You hate this unpredictability, especially when you're so far out to sea. There is nobody here to help you if all goes wrong, and anyone who can help is miles away; the ship will surely be in tatters by the time anyone can reach you.

  Your dad sighs, raking his nimble fingers through his slowly greying hair. “It's okay. It's okay. We'll figure it out.” He turns and catches your eye, stopping midway. “Y/N, go back to bed.”

  “What's happening?” you ask.

  “Nothing terrible.” He places a hand on your shoulder, gazing into your eyes lovingly, but it doesn't matter how he wants to play it off – you can recognise fear in your fathers eyes, and it's there now. He hates the unpredictability just as much as you do. “Go back to bed and get some sleep; if anything happens, I'll come wake you in plenty of time.”

   “What about the passengers?”

  He raises a brow. “Is this about your little friend Leo? Arnold was telling me all about him.”

  Your cheeks heat up, and you flick your eyes to the floor.

  Your dad sighs, squeezing your shoulder. “The passengers will be safe, too, Y/N. I wouldn't have kept my family on this ship if we didn't have the most state of the art safety precautions put in place. It's going to be fine. Don't stress about it.”

   Don't stress.

  That's so easy for him to say having been trained in the art of keeping a straight face for other people. You, not so much.

  Nonetheless, you leave the control room and head back out onto the deck. Your exhaustion is finally starting to creep up on you, but you know you won't be able to sleep. You'll sit in bed, tossing and turning with the waves, and your night will be made into hell; you don't really fancy that right now.

  And so, you walk along the outside deck, hair blowing around, the lanterns up above illuminating the path you have memorised by now; in fact, you truly think you would be able to walk through this very area in pitch darkness without a care in the world. The metal beneath your feet is so familiar, holding stories from your childhood, bringing you back to a time when you would walk across here, holding your parents hands, wondering why on earth anyone would want to live life on land over the sea.

  “I thought you'd gone to bed.”

  Your eyes snap up. You have to narrow them to see clearly, but you can make out the shape of Leo Valdez sitting on the edge of the railing, his feet dangling over the water, his knuckles white with his grip. His curls are windswept, brushed over his forehead. His cheeky smile is on full show, his glittering eyes running up and down your form before finally meeting your own.

  He frowns when he sees your expression.

  Quickly you avert your gaze, tucking your hands into the pockets of your massive hoodie; you don't even know where you got it from, just that you found it laying on the floor and threw it on before barrelling through the halls to see what all the commotion was about.

  “Is that my hoodie?”

  Your cheeks heat up despite the cold night chill. “No.”

  “Pretty sure it is.”

  “So what?”

  “Looks good on you.”

  You mumble a thank you.

  “You gonna tell me what's got you so glum?”

  You hollow out your cheeks, kicking a pretend stone. You imagine it flicking beneath the railing, landing in the water to make those mini waves you were once so fond of.

  The railing creaks as Leo turns his body to face you. “Hey. You alright?”

  “I'm okay,” you mumble. “Can I sit up there with you?”

  Leo holds out his arms. You waddle over, letting him pull you onto the railing beside him. Once you're seated, he keeps one arm around your waist, holding you close to ensure you don't fall head first into the water; you should probably let him know that you used to sit on this very railing every single night, that you know how to keep yourself up, but you don't. You instead move a little closer to him.

  “What's on your mind, champ?” he asks, jokingly ruffling your hair.

  You scrunch up your nose, swatting his hand away. “Just worried, that's all.”

  “Worried about what?”

  “The ship. The journey. We got a warning signal sent through to us, but no one on the crew knows what it means; they've never seen it before.”

  Leo's eyebrows knit together. “How have they never seen it before?”

  You shrug. “I've been asking myself that, too. My only guess is that someone's hacked the system from another boat and is sending random symbols through to mess with us, but Arthur said there's not another boat for miles.”

  “What did this warning signal look like?”

  “It was like that. . . that thing.”

  Leo leans forward, meeting your eyes; he looks almost desperate, his tan skin suddenly pale. “What thing?”

  “You know.” You click your fingers, trying desperately to remember the name. “That thing that god used to hold all the time. The . . . The big water stick.”

  Leo's eyes flash. He jerks back, arm falling from your waist so fast you nearly tumble into the water. “A trident?”

  “That's the word.”

  “Oh, gods.”

  Before you can say or do anything, Leo spins around and hops off the railing. He reaches up and grabs you, pulling you back into his chest, setting you on the floor despite your squeal of shocked protest.

  “Leo, what the-”

  “Go back to your cabin and don't leave,” he demands. “I mean it, Y/N. Lock the doors if you have to. Only come out when I say.”

  You blink, completely lost by now. Part of you wants to burst out laughing, certain all of this is some big joke, but Leo's eyes are wide, and he's breathing heavily, and you've never seen him act like this. Ever.

  “Leo...”

  “Go, Y/N!” He scrapes one hand through his hair, the other dipped into his tool belt. He mutters to himself as he pulls out the most random of things; bubble wrap, a pack of Tik Taks, a Stephen King book, multiple wrenches, one of which he throws overboard as his frustration grows.

  You grab his wrist. “Please explain what's going on.”

  His eyes shoot up. “I don't. . . . I can't really explain it without sounding crazy.”

  “You sound crazy all the time.”

  “Fair.” He pauses, glancing around nervously, before he leans in and says, “You ever heard about the Greek gods?”

  You pull away, frowning. “Leo, I'm being serious. You looked really scared-”

  “Have you ever heard about the Greek gods, Y/N? I'm asking a serious question.”

  “Of course I have, but-”

  “Heard of Hephaestus?”

  “Yes, but-”

  “Well, I call him dad.”

  You blink. Leo doesn't stop moving, continuing the search for whatever he's looking for inside his never ending tool belt. Under his breath, he mutters, “Please, please, please don't let it be them. Please, please, please.”

  Your silence must span an awful long time, though it only feels like seconds before Leo is flicking his eyes up, frowning and saying, “Why are you still standing there?”

  “What the hell does Hephaestus – the Greek guy – have to do with the warning signal we got?”

  “Oh, yeah, I could explain that, I guess.” He tugs another wrench out of his pocket and rolls his eyes, tossing it into the ocean. “That makes me a demigod; my mum's a mortal, my dad's. . . . Hephaestus. That means loads of monsters are constantly on my ass literally all the time.” He sends a pointed glare at the ocean. “I must have done something to tick off the sea nymphs-”

  “Sea nymphs?”

  “Because they've all been trying to kill me for weeks!”

  You shake your head. “Is that what you were running away from-”

  “When you saved me? Yes, it was, and thank you for that, really. Means a lot.” He grabs your arm, swirling you towards the exit. “Now, please let me return the favour by staying in your cabin.”

  He pushes you forward. You stumble, catching yourself on the door before spinning back to face him. “So you think these. . . these sea nymphs have found you? That's what the warning signal was?”

  “It makes the most sense,” Leo replies. “Rookie mistake on their part; they're giving me a lovely head start on-”

  Something slams into the underside of the ship.

  You're thrown into Leo, chest smashing against chest, chins smashing against chins. You're a tangle of limbs when you land on the floor, Leo on his back with you on top of him. Neither of you have a chance to even be embarrassed, though, before a melodic voice is drifting up from the waves, so appealing that it nearly drives you directly over the edge just to go and find it. It lifts your spirits. Everything is right in the world so long as you continue to hear this lovely, lovely voice. . .

  “Snap out of it!” Leo grabs your arm, pulling you to your feet. “Okay, so they have definitely found me.”

  “Come to us, son of Hephaestus, and we shall spare the innocent mortals on this ship.”

  Leo groans. “Always with the bargaining! Can't you guys just die already?”

  Your eyes widen. Your hands are trembling. This is too much for you to handle. “Leo, please don't make them angry.” You glance over the railing, seeing nothing but the swirling waters below. “Uh, hello, friendly sea nymphs; he doesn't mean that. He's a little bit cranky right now because he hasn't slept much, but I promise-”

  Leo hisses, tugging you away from the edge. “Would you just-”

  Another wave crashes against the ship, knocking you and Leo to the side. Your shoulder slams into the glass, and this time, the sirens go off. The entire ship is notified of danger. Soon, every deck on the ship will be flooded with innocent people, people who have no idea that any of this is going on, people who could potentially be in danger if these mystical sea nymphs don't get exactly what they're asking for.

  Leo curses, scrambling upright. “Okay, maybe we don't have as much of a head start as I thought we did.”

  “You think?”

  Another wave. Your feet slip from beneath you, sending you sprawling. Leo cries out your name, scrambling for your hand, but he's just as drenched as you are. He slips, crashing to his knees as you slide down the length of the deck, scrambling for anything to hold onto. Eventually, your feet crash against a barrel lodged against the wall, stopping your impending doom for a few moments longer. Below, passengers are screaming, and you can't even bring yourself to think about what is happening to them, what they must be seeing right now.

  “Leo!” you cry out, choking on water. “Leo, where are you?”

  “Leo Valdez is ours,” the melodic voice chimes in. “He has taken our existence as a joke for far too long; it's about time our people show him some respect.”

  “Okay, okay!” You gag, fighting to keep your head above the waves splashing into your face. “I get it! He's a little shit, but please, give him one more chance. I'll – I'll keep him in check as best I can. I'll-”

  “We don't want to hear it.”

  The ship rocks again. People scream. One more hit, and you're certain they're gonna go through the hull. One more hit, and this entire ship is going to go down, taking thousands of innocent passengers – and Leo – down with it.

  You can't let that happen.

  With difficulty, you lift yourself from the grip of the waves coursing along the deck. You do one final check for Leo, but he is nowhere to be seen – you can't even hear him, which really just confirms the severity of this situation. You need to do something quick.

  You say a silent prayer to Hephaestus, and you feel stupid for it, but you're willing to do anything right now just to make sure you get to see Leo's face again, that stupid grin of his, those bouncing curls you never got to touch because you were always so afraid it would seem too intimate.

  “Please save your son. Please let him be okay.”

  You spin on your heel and dart towards the exit.

  Throwing yourself into a crowd of screaming people is jarring, but you push through. Shoving your shoulder into anyone who gets in the way, you sprint for the bridge. You throw open the door, grab Anna's shoulders and push her out of the way. She stumbles, but she doesn't even have the energy to say anything to you; when you glance at her, you can see her pale face and wide eyes, her hands trembling as she utters, “I don't know what's happening,” over and over, a woman traumatised before she's even seen the severity of the danger.

  You turn back to the wheel and inhale deeply. You've done this before. You know what these controls mean. You have gripped this wheel plenty of times, steered this boat enough times to know what to do. Your hands tremble. Your mind is blank, but maybe that's for the best.

  You grip the wheel. As soon as your hands make contact, that voice drifts back into your consciousness, startling you to reality.

  “Son of Hephaestus is ours. In a battle, water always wins over fire.”

  You grit your teeth and yank the steering wheel. Passengers scream, but it's not their screams you're focused on. In the back of your mind, like the sea nymphs are right behind you, you can hear them squealing as the ship is yanked from whatever grip they have on it; you like to imagine you broke their arms or something.

  “Curse you!” they screech. “Mind your own business, mortal!”

  You yank the wheel again. Anna flies across the room, crashing against the window, screaming your name, but you have to keep going. You have to dislodge the ship from their magic before they take over entirely.

  You yank the wheel one last time, and finally the ship lurches forward. Passengers scream. Anna starts sobbing desperately, begging you for mercy, and the sound is heart-breaking; you don't understand why she can't hear the sea nymphs herself, because when they speak, they are clear as day in your head.

  “I'm sorry,” you grit out. “I'll explain later.”

  And then you slam your hand into that big red button on the dashboard. The propellers erupt, jumping into high gear. In your head, the sea nymphs scream. Outside, an explosion rocks the ocean, shaking the ship just a little bit before you press the engine button and send the ship forward.

  For a second, the world is quiet. Your headache fades away. The passengers are all silent, waiting for the next heart wrenching move to be made.

  You pry your hands off the wheel, spin on your heel and sprint out of the bridge.

  On deck, people cower on the floor. There are head wounds, and unconscious individuals, and you promise you'll apologise to all of them individually when you next see them, but for now, you need to see Leo. You need to make sure he's okay. You need to know that none of that was in vain.

  You sprint back to the outdoor deck, slipping only briefly on the water still crowded upon it. The ship rocks back and forth gently now, sloshing the water over the edge, making it easier to wade through it in search of the Valdez boy.

  “Leo!” you cry out. “Leo, where are you?”

  For just a moment, nothing happens. You are convinced the deck is empty. The tears erupt to the surface, spilling over your eyelids before you can stop them, because you're certain you've failed. You got rid of the sea nymphs – only by the grace of god – but you were too late to save Leo.

  And then something flickers in the far corner, just behind an overturned barrel.

  You squint, heart stopping in your chest. Part of you thinks you imagined it. That is until the flames flicker again, followed shortly by a groan of protest.

  You gasp and dart forward. You slip to your knees in the water, grabbing the barrel and rolling it out the way. Laying on his side beneath it is Leo, blood pooling from his side, a tiny flame dancing in the palm of his hand.

  You don't even question the fire right now – you can't. You press your trembling palms to the wound in his hip, biting your bottom lip in any attempt to look tough, but it's really no use – you're terrified. You don't know what you just did, how much damage you just caused, but you know for a fact it's going to take a lot of explaining to get you out of this one. You can already hear Arnold scolding you for letting Leo onto the boat, into your life. Someone like him is such a bad influence.

  But then his soft brown eyes flicker open, and you don't really care.

  A sob slips from your lips. Tears slip down your cheeks. When you speak, your voice wobbles, on the verge of cracking.

  “I thought you were dead. I thought I was too late, Leo.”

  He groans, more like a man getting out of bed than a man who's just had a piece of timber sliced through his hip. “I will be if you don't get me some nectar right now.”

  You pull back. “What?”

  “Nectar.” He clicks his fingers and points at his tool belt. “In there. Grab it for me, will you?”

  You dip your trembling hands into his belt, plucking out a gold bar about the size of your index finger. As soon as Leo sees it's unwrapped, he snatches it from your hand and pops the entire thing in his mouth, sighing in bliss once he's swallowed it.

  “You can let go of me now,” he says.

  “Huh?”

  He chuckles weakly, before wrapping his soft, gentle fingers around your wrists and pulling your hands away from his hip. Instead of letting you go, however, he holds them close to his chest, leaning his chin on your knuckles so the two of you can watch as the wound stitches itself up in slow motion.

  Your heart thunders. “So you weren't lying when you said you were the son of Hephaestus.”

  “I wish I had been lying.”

  “I think it's pretty cool.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” You swallow thickly. “Just don't be bringing that sort of trouble to my door again, or I'll throw you overboard.”

  ----

  Leo got his own cabin once your parents saw the damage he took.

  You were able to play it off as him having no part in the havoc. To your parents, and everybody else concerned, Leo was nothing more than a victim in the entire ordeal. Your parents lodged him in one of the spare cabins, giving him the medical treatment he needed, despite the nectar doing most of the job for him. All he was really suffering with was a bit of muscle pain, but for the size of wound he suffered with, you feel like he got away lucky in the end.

  You've been visiting him most nights, just because. His company is nice, and he seems to enjoy yours, and the two of you get on really well. You kind of dread the day you're going to dock in Northern Ireland, the day he's going to clamber off the boat and never look back. He'll probably forget about you.

  That thought really, really hurts, so you try not to think about it.

  Today, you decide to bring him some croissants Anna made. The plate balanced in your hand, you raise your other one to knock on his cabin door, only to freeze when you hear someone else's voice ringing through the dimly lit corridor.

  “So they just. . . killed the sirens on their own? Where the hell were you, Valdez?”

  “I already told you, Jason, I was completely out of it. I got hit with a wave and went flying backwards, right into a piece of broken wood. It went through me.”

  “Still. It's not everyday a mortal takes on a mythological monster on their own; how did they even see them?”

  Leo sighs. His bed springs creak. “I have no idea, but it was incredible. They're incredible.”

  Your heart flutters, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

  “Sounds like you've lost the battle, Valdez,” the unfamiliar voice says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know what I mean. It sounds like you really like them.”

  Leo pauses. Your heart thunders; you shouldn't be so anxious to hear his response, but you'd be lying to claim otherwise.

  “I do.”

  You close your eyes, biting your lower lip.

  “Gods, Jason, I think I do. I don't even want to get off this boat.”

  “Man, you can't just go travelling through the sea your entire life.”

  “I know. I know.” Leo sighs again. “Maybe they'll agree to come with me; you guys are still sending that chariot to come pick me up from Northern Ireland, right?”

  “That's still the plan, yes.”

  “Do you think Y/N will come with me?”

  This Jason fellow pauses. Part of you wants to burst in the room and cry out “OF COURSE I'LL GO WITH YOU” but you hold yourself back, because would you really ever leave?

  Yes. Yes, you would.

  “Ask them,” Jason finally says. “But Leo, you realise long distance could work, right?”

  Leo scoffs. “Slow down there, pal. I don't even know if they like me back.”

  “You just told me you saw them crying over you when you came to.”

  “Emotions were high. They'd just killed some sea nymphs for the first time.”

  “Take it from me, Leo – they like you. All evidence points towards it.”

  Leo grumbles something beneath his breath before finally saying, “They'll probably be here soon, man, so I should go.”

  “Oh yes. The nightly visit. Have fun. Be safe.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Bye.”

  Jason laughs. “Bye.”

  You take a few moments just to breathe; you're overjoyed, which is a weird feeling for you to have. The days following the sea nymph attack, you spent the majority of your time either in Leo's cabin or your own, struggling to come to terms with everything you did, all the people you hurt, the truth that was brought to your attention. It was such a struggle getting your head around it, and trying to certainly put you in a slump.

  But hearing this piece of good news has lifted your spirits, if just a little bit.

  Once you believe you've gathered your wits, you knock on Leo's door. He says, “Hellooooo?” and you enter, giving him the most subtle smile you can muster whilst showing off the plate of croissants.

  He sits up in his bed, the quilt falling from his chest; he's wearing a pair of cloud patterned pyjamas, provided by the laundry department of the crew. He rubs his eyes, trying to pretend he's just woken up, even though you know better than to believe him.

  You place the croissants on the table beside him before taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He smiles at you, warm and a little bit awkward, so unlike the smiles he usually gives you. You can only assume it has something to do with the conversation you accidentally eavesdropped on.

  “What's wrong?”

  His smile falters. “What?”

  “You look a little weird.” You lean back against the footboard, folding your arms over your chest. “Something you want to tell me, Leonardo Valdez?”

  “That's really not my name.”

   You raise a brow, waiting for him to answer the question.

  He stares back at you, an eyebrow arched. “I really have no idea what you're talking about.”

  “Who's Jason?”

  Leo isn't even smiling any more – his expression is one of complete dread. “Are you kidding?”

  You giggle, nudging his foot. “Who is he? A friend of yours? He seems nice. Can I talk to him?”

  Leo throws his head back, crinkling his eyes shut as his cheeks burn a bright red colour. “Don't start. Did you actually hear all that?”

  “I was outside the door with my croissants. Heard every word.”

  “I'm gonna throw myself overboard.”

  “You can't do that.”

  Leo cracks open an eye, glaring at you like you've done something wrong. “I'll do whatever I damn well find necessary.”

  “If you throw yourself overboard, I'll never get to go to Northern Ireland with you.”

  Leo's head snaps up. “Wait-”

  But you push on. “If you throw yourself overboard, I'll never get to tell you that I like you, too.”

  “Y/N-”

  “If you throw yourself overboard, I'll never get to kiss you.”

  Leo swallows, eyes dipping to your lips. “Okay. You've got me convinced.”

  You kiss him.

  His hands travel to your jaw, calloused fingertips like butterfly kisses against your jaw bone. Your own hands find their way into his curls, a place they've wanted to be from the very day you met him. The kiss is small, timid, testing the waters more than anything else, but it's perfect just the way it is. Leo grins against your lips like he's won some award, the cat who got the cream. You're half tempted to pull away and tell him to stop being so cocky, but you decide against it when the feel of his lips drags you back to the moment.

  You pull away. “You should have told me you liked me.”

  “It works both ways.”

  “Fair.”

  Leo scoots over, patting the free space next to him. You bundle yourself beneath the covers, shoulder-to-shoulder with him, facing the cabin window; together, you watch the sea rise and fall, rise and fall, sending the mildly damaged boat to it's final destination.

  “I can fix the hull, you know,” he says. “It'll take me an hour at most.”

  “I know you can.” You tilt your head against his, inhaling deeply. “But I think I like you here a bit better.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mm.”

  He wraps an arm around your shoulders, tugging you into his side. “Guess I'm bedridden for a bit longer, then.”

  ----

  Northern Ireland is really pretty.

  Leo Valdez is even prettier.

  He holds your hand as the two of you get off the boat. An emotional goodbye to your parents (and Arnold) has left your eyes puffy and your mood a little dipped, but your spirits are slowly beginning to rise with the realisation that a brand new chapter in your life has finally opened, and Leo is there to help you navigate through it.

  He squeezes your fingers as the two of you stand on the harbour, watching your home drift back to New York. The stars sprinkle the sky, little rips in the night sky, slightly dulled by the street lights dotting the Belfast docks.

  “You'll be back there soon,” Leo says. “I promise. I haven't kidnapped you.”

  You laugh. You're always laughing with Leo. “I know. It's just different.”

  “Yeah. I can imagine.”

  You swipe a hand beneath your eyes. Your home is now a mere dot in the distance. “Are your friends here yet?”

  “Probably.” Leo glances at his non existent wristwatch. “I can imagine they'll be making a pretty bold entrance right. . . about. . . now.”

  On queue, a golden ball of light emerges from the night sky. You flick your eyes around desperately, but the harbour is completely clear besides you, Leo and the dock worker who is too busy tapping away on his iPad to pay much attention to the spiralling ball of gold currently impending upon the dock.

  The chariot crashes to the floor, shaking the trees and the wood beneath it. Leo is grinning, his hand squeezing your own a little tighter in his excitement; it's been weeks since he last saw his friends, and from the stories he's so keen on telling you, his friends are more like his family.

  “That's them,” he needlessly points out.

  Together, you walk to the golden chariot. Six other demigods spill out of it, two of them slapping each other's arms, bickering about something.

  “-landed a little more gracefully.”

  “Oh okay, Percy, how about next time, you try controlling the wind with Frank snoring behind you!”

  “Maybe I will! I'd probably do a better job than-”

  Leo raises his hand. “Hey guys!”

   All six of the demigods spin around, their arguments now ceasing to exist as they catch sight of you and Leo. A girl with choppy, braided hair takes one look at your joined hands and immediately covers her cheeks, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Oh, I thought Jason was lying!” She throws herself into Leo's arms. “I'm so proud of you!”

  “Thanks, Pipes,” Leo grunts. “Good to see you, too.”

  “And you!” 'Pipes' squeals, throwing herself into your arms next. “You're so pretty! How on the gods green earth did Leo catch your eye?”

  “Woah, okay!” Leo pushes Piper away, scowling. “Leave them alone for a bit, alright? We're both tired.”

  “I'm sure you are,” the blonde haired boy in the purple shirt chuckles. “Come on. How about we go get some McDonalds?”

  The big dude with the baby face narrows his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at the golden chariot. “Can we get that through a drive through?”

  “We can if I drive!” Percy exclaims, snatching the keys off the blonde boy and darting to the front seat.

  The other demigods grumble their horrors, clearly not pleased with the idea of Percy driving, but they follow him anyway.

  Leo and you hang back a little bit. Leo squeezes your hand. When you look over, he gives you a wary smile.

  “Welcome to the family, I guess.”

[wanderingchocolateeclair]

When it rains - an Edgejeanist backstory

Ao3 link

As I have mentioned before I wanted to do a drawing for this eventually but it would take a lot of effort and I don’t have that in me right now so I’m gonna share it with you in the form of a rather long jumble of words instead :D it might be too long to read on tumblr because it kept on crashing the app when I worked on it so please feel free to read it over on ao3!

I wasn’t really happy with the drawing I did for the injury prompt so I’m posting this to make up for it lmao

If you have not read my Edgeshot backstory (well the summary that I did), I do recommend it because it may give some context as to what they’re talking about!

This was originally meant to be happy but it turned out kinda angsty (unsurprisingly)...but then I managed to make it not as angsty?? Anyway ->

Warning: a few times they talk about death, mentions of injury, self-doubt and generally quite sad stuff.

Also, it turned out incredibly long so imma stuff it all under the cut for those of you who don’t wanna read it :)

Hakamata Tsunagu wasn’t one to usually complain when sent on a mission, however on this particular stormy evening he really didn’t fancy the idea of being caught up in a case that wasn’t in his own area, simply because he was “passing by” trying to go home. But, he understood that this guy was quite the hassle and it would probably be best to sort it out as soon as possible. When he arrived to the area he could see that there were already many other heroes on the scene, including one of the higher ranking heroes - Edgeshot. They had met before and had worked together on various cases due to the two of them being known for rather rapidly climbing up the ranks, not to mention that their ranks were neighbouring and often would over take one another. So they knew each other, to some extent. He walked over to where the ninja hero was standing to ask him about the details of the villain they were going against.

“Fire-type quirk, troublesome. Had many sidekicks aiding him in an armed robbery. We’ve managed to apprehend most of the smaller accomplices, however this guy’s a pain, so I was told to wait for you to arrive in order to end this quickly.” The fiber hero hadn’t even said a word and had already gotten his answer.

“I see. I guess we should probably get to it then, as he seems to have his eye on escape.” Jeanist swiftly responded as he went on to restrict the villain’s clothes to prevent him from moving any further. Luckily, the area had been cleared out and the other villains had been carted away by the other heroes that were in the scene, so the only ones left in the area were the two of them, and this maniac.

The air around the two pros started to heat up and before they could act, flames burst from the open air around them causing them both to flinch and Jeanist to lose his focus. The villain started to sprint away from the scene but Edgeshot was one step ahead of him. The hero had rushed over and the two had started to engage in a fight, and the villain had no problem with using his quirk to aid in this. Jeanist tried to drag the villain back to the open space using the denim threads of his own clothing and had managed to grab hold of him, however, the two were unaware of what the man was carrying. He was taken back when a cold, sharp object came flying towards him, cutting through the high collar of his hero costume and through the skin of his ear and cheek - causing him to curse quite audibly.

“Watch it!” The silver haired hero hissed as he took another swing at the walking flamethrower, now also knife-thrower apparently, in front of him.

“My apologies,” mumbled the lanky blond as he regained his posture once more and continued to restrain the armed robber.

The other hero hesitated for a moment. “Ah- wait no, sorry, I meant uh- I meant the other guy, not you sorry.. you just got a knife thrown at you why would I yell at you?” They hadn’t properly spoken before so Shinya really didn’t want to give him the wrong impression of himself, especially since it was someone he kind of admired and...uh well...yeah. The two shared a rather awkward apologetic glance as they tried to come up with something to say but were rather rudely interrupted when-

“Oh for THE LOVE OF-” the villain angrily snapped around, “YOU TWO ARE REALLY DOIN’ MY HEAD IN! WOULD’YA GIVE IT A REST? OR AT LEAST JUST. SHUT. UP.” The heroes barely had time to react when the villain set his whole body and the air around it on fire. The flames engulfed the two who were previously fighting each other and briskly travelled along the threads that were restricting the man from escaping, and towards a startled Jeanist. The fire had reached the fiber heroes arm at this point and was obviously going to spread further if it weren’t for him removing that part of his sleeve, only shortly after the ninja hero had speedily shot forwards and cut through the fiber that connected Jeanist and the villain, his own arm very much ablaze. However, he didn’t look too concerned for his own injury as he eyed the taller man’s scorched arm.

The two heroes were now starting to get rather tired. Not because they were weak, or this guy strong, but just because they wanted to go home. They’d really had enough at this point and really wanted to just end this before the weather got any worse, but this stupid lunatic just wouldn’t give in! Maybe it was the fact that they had never really fought alongside each other before, so were holding back the more powerful, more dangerous side of their quirks - in case a mistake would be made that could injure the other. That was probably why it took so long.

After many more painfully long minutes, they had managed to wear down the robber enough to get close enough to knock him out. Tying him up, the two heroes handed the unconscious villain over to the police that had just arrived to help clear up the scene of any passer-by’s. At this point, it was the late evening and already rather dark and gloomy, the sky let out a large growl as if to warn that it would only get worse...and well, it’s point was proven as it started to rain.

The blond hero sighed and glanced up at the sky in dismay, realising that all that paperwork wasn’t going to get done by itself, and grumbling at the fact that he still had to get back home - which was going to be a real pain in this weather. He wasn’t a huge fan of the rain, especially with that denim hero costume of his, but he decided to ignore all of that and started making his way towards the train station, hoping to get home before the weather becomes too bad. Edgeshot noticed the other hero’s intent to go home and looked back up at the sky. No chance. That weather was way worse than Jeanist thought it was and he knew that by the time the other man reached the train station, there would be an unbelievable length of time before he would be able to get to where he wanted to go - not to mention how busy it would be. Taking a moment to think things through, he decided to chase after the lanky hero and called out to him, suggesting a better idea.

“I wouldn’t take the train right now if I were you,” Shinya advised the tall figure in front of him.

Tsunagu was confused, he wanted to get home and that was currently his only means of transport. “Why? What’s wrong? Please tell me there’s not another villain to deal with...” he murmured. Oh he really hoped that wasn’t the case, because there’s no way he could fight in this storm - especially with all these new burns, they may have been small but wow they hurt like hell! He looked down at the shorter man in front of him, weary of the answer he may receive but felt an odd sense of relief when he saw him let out a light chuckle. Or was it cough? Maybe a sigh? How would he know - that man was as mysterious as they get!

“Ah no, that’s not it.” Shinya couldn’t help but feel amused by Tsunagu’s response. The rain was soaking into his costume and was making it a little harder to breathe through his mask, so he tried his best not to laugh. “It’s just that this storm isn’t going to be easing anytime soon, and I feel that it’s only going to get worse - there’s no chance that transport will be easy, especially not for a hero in such a state as yourself.”

“Oh...I hadn’t thought of that,” Tsunagu replied, “do you...have any suggestions as to what I should do instead?” He understood what the other was saying, he had quite a few burns and a large gash across the side of his face - there’s no way that people wouldn’t notice that - but he really did want to get out of this miserable rain. So where could he possibly go, if not straight home?

“Yes, actually, that’s what I was wanting to talk to you about.” Shinya shifted his weight from one foot to the other, unsure as to how he should phrase his next question. “Um...well...my...my house- I mean, do you want to stay at my place? Until the storm blows over-” he stopped himself mid-sentence. That did not come out the way he heard it in his head, and why did he panic?

“Pardon?”

“Sorry, I-” Oh. Right. He probably didn’t understand that rushed mumble of his. Thank god, Shinya could have another go at mending his failed attempt at a suggestion. “Ah...my house isn’t far from here, it doesn’t take that long to walk there. And, well, I just wanted to suggest that you come with me. Those injuries could do with tending to, and with this storm getting worse, I just thought that it might be of help to you to stay at mine until the storm passes. Only if you’d be willing of course- It’s simply a suggestion I thought might be easier than you staying in this rain.”

“Oh. I see. That’s...thoughtful...I- are you sure?” Tsunagu was taken aback, but was definitely not opposed to the idea of getting out of the rain.

“Yes, of course. If you are okay with accompanying me?”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“...thank you”

Shinya glanced up at the taller figure in front of him and smiled. Not that you could really tell.

They both decided it would be best to stay somewhere warm, get patched up, and wait for the weather to relax. So, off they went, away from the scene that had just been up in flames - now basically back to normal - and toward wherever this mysterious little ninja’s home was.

————————————————————

After a while of walking through heavy rain, dodging leaves as they zoomed past on the wind of the winding path, and silently accompanying each other with minimal words between them, they finally reached Shinya’s house. Not in the middle of nowhere, but also not near any busy city noise. It was peaceful, well, as peaceful as it could be in a raging storm.

Shinya fumbled at the door handle with numb fingers, as he attempted to unlock it as quickly as possible. The door opened with a small click and was gently pushed open. He gestured for the taller man to enter and closed the door after them, relieving them from the cold wind. As soon as they were both inside, they shared a long sigh of relief - ahhh....warmth...

“Sorry, it isn’t much,” Shinya said as he set down his bags and rain soaked hero gear, “I’m the only one that lives here, so I never really thought about how small it was. But now that someone else is here with me...”

“Haha it’s fine! Lovely, even, I think it’s quite sweet.” Tsunagu chuckled, placing his heavy and rather soggy denim coat gently to the side. He’d always liked the more traditional style houses, they had this comforting feeling to them that he couldn’t quite describe. “How long have you had this place?”

Shinya smiled and led Tsunagu towards the living room, they could do with a sit down after all that walking. “It was my Gran’s, well, she wasn’t really my Gran but that’s what we called her. She took us in and looked after us - my sister and I - and after she died we kept this place. Eventually, my sister moved out to be nearer the main city, but I thought it best to stay. I’m comfortable here, you know what I mean?”

“Of course,” Tsunagu nodded, “I think it’s wonderful.”

“Thanks...”

Shinya looked up, watching as droplets of water dripped from the other’s droopy fringe, his own hair now clinging to the side of his face. They both still had their faces masked and breathing through damp fabric probably wouldn’t be very good for their health. As Shinya noticed this, he let out a startled noise that took Tsunagu by surprise.

“AH!”

“What? What happened? Is something wrong?”

“No, I just realised, we’re still stuck in our costumes. They’re soaked! It’s probably best if we get cleaned up before anything else...” Shinya exclaimed.

“Oh, right.” Tsunagu replied quietly. He’d actually forgotten about the rain, which was weird because normally he’d be grumbling about it louder than the storm itself!

“There’s a spare bathroom downstairs, just to the left of the kitchen. It’s quite small but works just as well.” Shinya handed Tsunagu a towel and some spare clothes, looking a little hesitant as he did so. “I had some spare clothes lying around, though I’m sorry they probably won’t fit you very well...you’re very tall compared to me...” Shinya muttered sheepishly.

Tsunagu chuckled at the shorter man’s rather obvious remark and folded the fabric that was now in his own hands. “That’s very kind of you, thank you. It’s okay, I’m sure I’ll be able to adjust it to fit well enough.”

“Oh, of course, that’s- you can do that can’t you...I kinda forgot about that.” Shinya felt even more embarrassed from that, but managed to brush it off as he looked back up at the rather amused figure in front of him. “Well anyway, I’ll be cleaning myself up upstairs and preparing the things we need to tidy up those troublesome injuries of yours-”

“And yours I hope.” Tsunagu briefly interrupted.

“O-of course,” Shinya stuttered a reply. He’d actually somehow forgotten about his own injuries, too caught up in the company of another for once. “Well, if you should need anything, please just call me, I’ll be down as soon as I’m finished- oh and don’t feel the need to rush, take as long as you need.”

“Thank you.”

Tsunagu watched as the other left the room before making his way towards the bathroom. It was quite a small room. He made sure the door was securely locked before peeling away his sodden hero costume, piece by piece.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, he noticed how deep of a cut it was that ran across his left cheek and over his ear. The rain had washed away most of the blood but it was still quite the nasty injury. He grimaced. ‘That’s gonna leave a bit of a scar...’ he thought to himself. Oh well, just another one to add to his growing collection of them. Although, he suddenly realised something. He’d have to show his face. And what about Shinya? Didn’t he always cover his face as well? Would they really be able to trust each other enough to show their faces to one another - even though they barely knew each other?

He felt himself freeze as he thought about it. They were both known for masking their faces, but the idea of showing his face had always made him feel uneasy. Little did he know that about five minutes prior, Shinya had the same nerve-wracking revelation and was feeling just as conflicted as he was. ‘Stop it, dammit,’ Tsunagu frowned, ‘he’s been so kind and nice to you, I doubt there’s anything to worry about...’

He shook his head and brushed these worries aside before stepping into the running shower. Oh wow, that felt nice. The water flowed over his shuddering body and embraced him in a warm blanket of comfort. Though, it did sting a bit when it seeped into the crevices of the gash on his face, and over the burns on his arms. However, he didn’t mind. He was used to these kinds of small pains and, though he’d be ashamed to admit it, he found it oddly comforting.

At the same time, Shinya was preparing a first aid kit, disinfectant and some warm damp cloths (he, luckily, knew what he was doing. Even if I don’t lol). He’d already managed to clean himself up and had changed into some older, plain clothes - so fast, but as expected from someone as stealthy as himself! Humming quietly to himself, he listened as the sky let out another loud grumble. “Why are you so angry today!?” He chuckled at the noise the raging storm made as he tidied up, “you’re doing this on purpose aren’t you! You always seem to pick ever so specific times to conjur up a storm...is it because I seemed lonely? You want me to make a friend or something?”

The sky growled again and Shinya took that as his response. He’d always found himself talking to the nature around him when he was alone, it had just become a habit of his - he found comfort and company from doing so...and it always seemed to have a way of replying. He was a bit anxious at the thought of showing his face to another, but had managed to push away his concerns as best he can. ‘What else is there to be worried about, Shinya?’ He thought to himself. ‘He’s already in your house. So in terms of his knowledge about you now, you’d basically already be screwed! He knows where you live, so I don’t think that showing your face would be that bad. Plus he’s a hero, isn’t he? Not to mention he’s trusting you with his own identity too...it’ll be fine...’

He sighed and clutched his stinging, scorched arm. Glancing at the rain that danced its way down the cold glass of his bedroom window, he headed back downstairs to give company to his guest who was just as battered and tired as he was.

Shinya set the items he had prepared, down on the small coffee table and walked to the kitchen to grab some hot water. As he stood there, he heard the bathroom door click and turned to see it open ever so slightly. “You’re done? I’ve prepared some stuff to bandage up our injuries and disinfect that nasty cut of yours,” he called out.

“Ah, yes. Thank you,” Tsunagu replied from behind the door.

“...uhm...would you like me to go and wait-”

“Oh! No, there’s no need, sorry...” Tsunagu blurted out as fast as he could. “It’s just...well...I...” he trailed off. ‘It’s never been easy, will he understand that?’

“Don’t worry, I understand. But I guess that with it being just the two of us here... can we say that we may fully trust one another?”

Tsunagu let out a small sigh of relief, before nudging the door open further and emerging from behind it. Making eye contact with the smaller figure in front of him, he smiled gently as he allowed the other to view his face. Shinya doing the same in return. “I guess so.”

Shinya locked eyes with the man that stood in front of him. Wow. He...did not look anything like how he expected...not that he really knew what he expected. Damp, blond hair was messily ruffled across the top of the taller man’s head. He’d managed to make the spare clothes fit well enough to make it look as if they could possibly be his own, though they were still awfully short. They suited him well, actually, and Shinya felt himself stare a little at this gangly noodle in front of him. Why did he look good in those clothes? Hell, they’re old and rather tatty and are way too small for him, and yet he still manages to look like a freaking model in them! And to top it off, they were just some clothes that Shinya owned, that happened to be the longest things he could find! He was unsure of why, but the sight in front of him definitely made him feel rather “odd” (in his own words) - though he didn’t really know what that was.

There were so many things about him in that moment that seemed so out of character for “best jeanist” but what really caught his eye were his scars. Ignoring the large cut on his cheek, Shinya traced his eyes over the bottom half of Tsunagu’s face in a shared silence. Large scars ran from just above his chin, and down to his neck. Some ran over his lips, which had formerly been pressed together to form a small smile, but were now separated slightly in a shocked manner. Noticing where he was staring, Shinya felt his face heat up as he quickly averted his eyes and looked down at the kettle that he was clutching (he went to go boil some water, but had gotten distracted before he could actually put the kettle on). ‘What on earth are you doing, Shinya!? I mean he’s really pretty, sure, but you can’t just stare omg-’ he lectured himself as his face progressively got more unnaturally warm, ‘those scars though....whatever caused those couldn’t of been a small accident...’

Concurrently, Tsunagu was completely stunned. ‘Pretty...’ was the only thought that circulated around his mind for many long seconds. Not only was this man incredibly considerate and mysterious, he was also very pretty and wow did that make Tsunagu’s face redden like an overheated saucepan. He took in his sharp features with observant eyes. Shinya’s hair was no longer fashioned into spiky points, but was now pulled up into a high ponytail. He still had that long fringe covering his right eye, but instead of seeming blocky, it was now loose and soft - and oh wow was Tsunagu really resisting the urge to pat it - though it still looked to be quite sharp, as if you could cut your fingers on the edge of each strand. Tearing his focus away from the shorter man’s hair, he found himself softly staring at Shinya’s face. Though his first thought may have been about how pretty he was, he couldn’t help but notice the other’s scars. Yes, he had quite a few. They were mostly quite small and would go unnoticed by some, but there was one that stood out. A long scar, in the shape of a large gash just like the majority of his own, ran down from just under the corner of the uncovered side of Shinya’s mouth, and down to the middle of his neck. ‘What an idiot.’ Tsunagu thought to himself. ‘You were so busy worrying about showing your own face to even think that he’d be worried about the same thing...it’s...oddly comforting to see another that hides them...even though its not something I should probably be comforted about, since it means that there’s most possibly a painful story behind them...just like my own.’

After a couple of minutes of a shared, awkward silence, Shinya started the conversation back up again with a few stuttering words exchanged between them and nervous laughter. “Ah...um...I guess we should probably...you know...”

“Aha yeah, sorry...” Tsunagu rubbed the back of his neck, “the...uh...you...you forgot the hot water...”

“Oh! Yeah...sorry about that! Um, please, go and sit down. I’ll be there in a moment.”

Tsunagu made his way to the living room and sat down, his mind still curious about all these new discoveries. The pain in his cheek had started to sting even more than before and he was really wishing that he didn’t have to deal with that right now. Letting out a shaky sigh, he reached up to grab it in a hope to ease the pain slightly, but his burnt arm got caught on the edge of the sofa, causing him to let out a distressed grunt.

“Are you okay?” Shinya asked from just beside where the taller man was seated. Tsunagu was quite startled by the other, who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

“Ah, it’s just this stupid cut. It’ll probably be better once it’s been treated,” Tsunagu brushed it off, still rather confused by the speed of which the other man seemed to appear without being noticed.

“I see. Well, everything has been prepared so we should probably take care of that first.” Shinya smiled and took a seat next to the other man, gently picking up a cotton swab and dipping it in disinfectant. “The cut just has to be disinfected before anything else though, who knows what else that bastard had been doing-”

“Haha! You’re approaching this just like a proper doctor! So serious and everything,” Tsunagu laughed.

This made Shinya chuckle in response. “Well, I do like to think that I know a bit about what I’m doing!”

They laughed together for a couple of minutes and the tension between the two of them started to dissipate. Tsunagu eyed the cotton swab in Shinya’s hand and realised, how on earth was he gonna do that himself? Well, I think we all know that the answer is he wasn’t. Even he came to that conclusion, as he exchanged funny words with the man in front of him. Shinya knew this, and decided that it was time to tend to the lanky blond’s wounds.

“Do you trust me?” Shinya slyly asked.

“Huh?”

“Do you trust me?”

Tsunagu was hesitant to answer, not because he didn’t trust him, but because he had a feeling as to what was going to happen. “...yes...”

Without missing a beat, Shinya leaned forward and pressed the cold, disinfectant-soaked cotton pad against Jeanists cheek. This caused Tsunagu to scrunch up his face and let out a tiny screech from the shock - it stung like hell - and he was not prepared. “Wrong answer!” Shinya chuckled. He was a little unsure whether he was actually going to do that or not, but knew that it would only hurt more if the other man had to slowly and hesitantly do it himself...plus he actually knew what he was doing.

“Argh! You- you’re evil you know that?” Tsunagu yelped and sat upright, trying to get used to the sting of the disinfectant that was seeping into his cut.

“I try my best,” Shinya hummed as he held the taller mans face, tilting it slightly upwards to better see the injury in the light. Whilst doing so, he noticed how many scars were littered across his face, and felt a little sad at the sight of them. ‘There’s so many...I didn’t really notice before, but now, seeing them up close...these all feel like painful memories. And no matter how much I understand his reasons for hiding them, I cannot help but wonder what on earth happened to him...’

Tsunagu held his breath, wincing every once in a while as the smaller man dabbed the gash on his cheek. He was so close! Not only that, but he was holding his face and wow, did he look like an angel as the light illuminated him from above. He felt the tops of his ears redden as he let out a small breath. As Shinya held his face close to his own, Tsunagu noticed things that he hadn’t spotted before, and made him even more curious than before. Like the front tooth that was slightly chipped, that he could see when the other’s mouth twitched open everytime he dabbed at his cheek. Or, the two rather odd but beautiful tattoos that were wrapped around his two wrists. ‘So much to take in, I didn’t really notice it before, but all these things are so unique and different. His face looks so soft....and pretty....But I truly do wonder what could’ve happened to cause that.’

“Your scar-” Tsunagu mumbled before quickly cutting himself off. ‘Tsunagu, you idiot! You weren’t supposed to just blurt that out...I guess there’s no other option than to just ask now you stupid- stupid, ugh!’

“Hm?” Shinya locked eyes with the other in a distracted confusion, before getting embarrassed and quickly looking back down.

Tsunagu stuttered as he tried to find the right words to say. “O-oh, well...I, uh...Sorry, I was just curious about your scar. It’s just- I, well...wondered-”

“How I got it?” Shinya interrupted quietly, almost in a rather hushed tone.

“Ah. Yes. Sorry, I don’t mean to be nosy, it was simply a curious thought.”

“No, it’s alright, it’s okay. It seems both our curiosities lay in the same area of thought.” Shinya smiled softly, lowering the cotton swab and throwing it in the bin. As he went to pick up the thread (you know, the one they use to stitch up these wounds) Tsunagu placed his hand on his arm and stopped him from doing anything else. Shinya handed the thread to Jeanist and watched as the blond man slowly and carefully stitched up his now clean wound in one gentle swoop of his hand - though it did look quite painful by the look on his face. “Woah!” Shinya exclaimed in awe. He often forgot about the beautifully handy and elegant things that the other man could do with his quirk. This caused Tsunagu’s ears to redden even further.

Shinya let out a deep sigh and sat back slightly to take a rest for a moment. “Ah, where do I start? You said you were curious about my scar, but I’m sorry to tell you that this isn’t any light-hearted story...” he started, scratching the back of his neck and wincing as the burnt skin on his arm brushed against the fabric of the sofa.

“Sorry, you don’t have to...”

“No, it’s alright! To be honest, I think it would actually do some good to tell someone for a change...because, for once I feel that I can trust someone, and that’s a weird thing...” he muttered the last part under his breath so that the kind man next to him wouldn’t hear it. Tsunagu simply smiled in response, looking down as he acknowledged the smaller man’s courage to reveal a very clearly painful memory.

“Uhm, well, are you...are you aware of the small band of mountainside villages down south?” Shinya asked, “if I’m correct in thinking that you are a couple of years older than me...”

“Pffft- did you just call me old?” Tsunagu snorted.

“No! Of course not!” Shinya quickly defended himself. “It’s just that, you are around my age, so I was just wondering whether you’d know of it or not.” He smiled sheepishly as he watched the other’s amused face turn into one that was more focused.

The older man hummed quietly. “Yes, I think I know which villages you are talking about. My mother used to take us there every year when my father was off of work, to go and watch the yearly festivals. Oh, and to visit the market! They had some amazing tomatoes!” Shinya laughed at this little comment. They truly were some good tomatoes, though he preferred the strawberries that they’d grow there. “But...we...we stopped visiting when...” Tsunagu trailed off with a frown and looked back up at Shinya, noticing the distant smile that was faintly spread across his face.

“Then, you know what happened...you know what happened all those years ago?” Shinya questioned quietly as he reached for the bandages that were tangled in the basket. But, doing so only made his arm quiver in pain even more.

“Ah, please, let me do that,” Tsunagu insisted, reaching out for the bandages and using his quirk to gently and swiftly untangle them. He gave Shinya a reassuring look and gently took his arm, starting to wrap it very carefully. “Yes. I was around...13? Yeah, I think I was about 13 when it happened. It was all over the news, I don’t think I could ever forget it. It...was so awful, just hearing what happened...” he had a rough idea as to what Shinya was going to tell him, and it made his heart sink at the thought of it.

The sky let out another huge growl, and a streak of lightning flashed past the window, causing Tsunagu to flinch. Shinya didn’t move a muscle, but simply carried on with what he was doing.

“Hm.” Shinya felt his face warm up slightly as the taller man held his arm softly. ‘So gentle’ he made himself blush even more, but shook these thoughts away before continuing with what he was saying. “I guess it’s kind of obvious then, what I’m about to say I mean.”

“I...I don’t want to immediately assume what happened, but if what I think is true...”

“Yeah.” Shinya sighed. “It was my home. I’d lived there all my life until that day...they...they took everything from me...”

Tsunagu stopped wrapping the other’s arm and looked up, their faces merely inches away, taking in the broken sadness in his eyes and allowing it to drown his heart even further into the pit that it had sunk into.

“Everyone I knew, my friends, my family, everyone, they all died in front of me. There was nothing I could do to stop it... I was the only one that survived...just me...a small, defenceless, 10 year old child. I grew up as part of a family that was renowned for protecting their people, yet I couldn’t even protect my own innocence...my...my own mother...” Shinya’s voice started to get weaker and smaller as all of the memories started flooding back.

Tsunagu could do nothing but listen in shock. This was a lot to take in, and Shinya was trusting him enough to tell him something this personal. It pained him, watching the small ninja’s face contort into a broken frown. “...I’m sorry...”

His voice made Shinya snap back to reality and look him in the eye, confused. “What for? There isn’t anything for you to be sorry for...”

“No, I mean, making you have to think back on a memory that painful...it must’ve been horrible.” Tsunagu finished wrapping the other’s arm and let go of it slowly, hands still slightly lingering over the injured area.

Shinya sighed. He couldn’t disagree with that, it truly was the most painful memory he could imagine. Tucking his silver hair behind his ear, he reached up and touched the scar on his chin. “This was from that day. The people who ambushed us tried to attack me. They had stolen my own grandfather’s sword and managed to just catch my face as my mother whisked me away. It hurt, but I didn’t really notice it until later on...which...well...it’s not like they survived either...”

“Oh dear.” Tsunagu muttered, his face and arm still stinging. The wind picked up and rattled against the window, startling him again.

“I guess you’re wondering what these are as well,” Shinya gestured towards the intricate patterns that were inked into his wrists. “My family was part of that village for many generations. Over these generations, the Kamihara name became rather well known as a family of protectors and guardians. When my family died, I felt like I had lost all my connections to being a ‘Kamihara’ and so I decided to get these tattoos.”

He lifted his left arm, “this represents my father’s side of the family, the Kamihara name.” Then proceeding to point at the other arm, he explained the rest. “This represents my mother’s side of the family, always one with nature. I find that it’s a comforting way to keep them with me at all times, even if they’re not really there. It means that I can keep them safe, and in return they keep me safe too.”

“Wow...I think they’re beautiful!” Tsunagu breathed. They really were. The patterns were so small and intricate yet they held so much meaning and story...just like Shinya himself. “That’s- quite the tragic past...”

“Hm. Well, that’s what happened really...not all of it, but I think it’s best if that is shared some other day.” Shinya plucked the bandages out of the lanky blond’s hands and gestured towards his arms, waiting patiently as the other hesitatantly held out his own scorched arm. He looked back up at Tsunagu’s face and, out of some sort of instinct, reached up and gently touched the long scars on his face, deep in thought. After a very brief moment of...whatever that awkwardness was, Shinya snapped his head down to look back at his hands and Tsunagu averted his eyes in a nervous manner, both turning much redder than they had been before. “A-ah, I’m sorry!” Shinya immediately blurted out.

“No, it’s- it’s okay...” Tsunagu managed to stutter out. Blimey, that was awkward, why did his face feel so hot?

Once they had both managed to laugh it off, Shinya decided to return the same curious question that had been on both of their minds. “So...your scars...how did you get yours?”

Tsunagu froze. He knew it would come up in the conversation at some point, but he still had that reaction whenever someone asked. Shinya noticed this, and panicked a little, “Sorry! You don’t have to-”

“No no, it’s only fitting for you to ask the same question...and I think it’s best you know, since you shared your own story with me.” The anxious Jeanist interrupted. “But, I must ask you not to think ill of me after hearing this, nor should you feel the need to keep me here...I’m...it’s just...I-”

“It’s alright,” Shinya reassured him, “I’m not gonna kick you out of my house, just because of your past...you...didn’t judge mine.”

“Heh,” Tsunagu smiled and watched as the small ninja bandaged up his arm delicately. “Well, it’s not a happy story either, I’m afraid!”

“Guess that makes the both of us!” Shinya let out a light chuckle.

“Yeah...” He paused. These memories still scared him. “When...when my quirk activated, I didn’t know how to control it, like most children. The only thing is, both my sister and I had our quirks activate at the same time, being twins and all this was expected. This, however, just made things worse. I was...I was wearing a scarf at the time, and, well basically...to put it simply, I strangled myself.” He looked up, realising how stupid that sounded.

“Oh! That’s awful, though I’m sure it was probably much more traumatic at the time,” Shinya smiled sympathetically. “I can’t really say the same for my own rather embarrassing quirk discovery....”

“Well that sounds like a story I’d love to hear!”

“Oh, I’m sure!” Shinya laughed and cut the bandage carefully, tying the ends around the other’s slender arm and making sure that everything was secured nicely. “So, was it that which caused those scars on your face? That sounds horrible.”

“Ah,” Tsunagu shifted his eyes in thought, “not exactly...you see, there was an accident later on in my childhood...and...well, it did a lot of damage...” he trailed off, “not only to myself...”

A loud clap of thunder startled them both, and Shinya darted his eyes up to see Tsunagu looking down at him with a solemn face. ‘Whatever happened, that doesn’t sound good...in any context...’ he thought, choosing not to interrupt the taller man.

“It was a villain attack that burst out in the middle of the street. My family just happened to be passing by, but there was this loud scream and I turned around just in time to see that this villain had taken a young girl, about my age at the time, and was planning on taking the rest of her friends too.” Tsunagu paused again, he wasn’t sure how to word this, he never knew how to say it. But this time, it seemed a lot easier. “Before I knew it, and well this is quite typical isn’t it, I found myself in the middle of it all, unable to breathe or move. There was...blood everywhere...pieces of fabric were piercing my body, strangling me, completely littering the area. I- I remember, just, hearing my sister screaming...the pain I felt...she had to go through it all...but I couldn’t do anything, the heroes couldn’t get near me.”

Shinya sat there, stunned from this information, unable to form words. It sounded like such an awful situation to be in, even from his own point of view. He watched as the blond man shifted in his seat and turned to lean back more comfortably with a sigh, unsure of what he should say. However, he thought that it would be best to allow Tsunagu to continue.

Tsunagu felt his chest tighten at the memory of what happened, but still carrying on. It felt nice to talk to someone about it for once. “I had managed to very seriously injure my neck and face, unable to breathe, especially from the panic that I felt. I thought that was the worst part...it really wasn’t.” Tsunagu looked up cautiously at Shinya, wanting to say something but too scared to go further. Shinya saw this and placed a small hand on his shoulder, trying to think of words to say.

“I’m sorry, I can’t say much in terms of comfort. But, whatever it is, please know that I’ll listen no matter what.” He gave a small smile. Despite the fact that they hadn’t really talked before this, he already felt that he could trust him, and wanted the other to feel the same way. He’d made many mistakes in the past, and had done things that had weighed down on him all the way through his life, so knowing that Tsunagu probably had the same thoughts towards whatever it was that happened to him.

Tsunagu felt relieved. No one had ever said those words to him before, and for once he felt that he wasn’t alone. And he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t feel like crying. He nodded slowly and took a deep breath before carrying on, “...well...I- I looked up to see the villain in front of me...he wasn’t breathing, he’d been caught up in the strands that I’d sent flying and...I...he...he didn’t survive...I killed him. Just a small, scared 12 year old child, yet I’d managed to kill a man in a moment of pure terror. I- I think it was how angry I felt that someone was being that bad, I don’t know...but whatever it was, I couldn’t stop it, and the fear from that day has haunted me ever since.”

Shinya was shocked, he had a feeling that something like that must’ve happened, but it was still not something he’d been expecting or hoping to hear. Though, he’d experienced the same kind of shock himself, so he knew that it wasn’t something to be taken lightly. “I...poor child...that’s not something that someone should go through...I know from experience as well...”

“Wh- really?”

“Yeah. Those villains that ambushed my village. In a moment of blind rage I had managed to rid of them entirely, completely unaware of what I did. So, I guess, we aren’t too different, huh?”

“Wow...yeah...look at us, just a couple of very traumatised, depressed and barely capable adults, trying to make a living out of helping others...heh.” Tsunagu remarked, making Shinya chuckle in agreement, his mind easing more and more. “Y’know, I got bullied a lot, trying to become a hero. My quirk was ‘not suitable’ for it and I was ‘weak’. The more they said it the more I believed them, and well, knowing what I had done and knowing that I’d not been able to save that man who was simply going down the wrong path...I really did feel weak. Ever since, I’ve just buried myself in my work, trying to give myself a reason to feel ‘strong’, taking on as many cases as I can even if I know that I can’t do them alone...and well these moments have caused me to make some...stupid...decisions in the past, and, well they’ve all left their mark on me quite prominently.”

Shinya’s eyes softened as he heard the other man spill all of these worries that he’d been hiding for so long. “Oh...poor Hakamata-senpai...” he said with a slightly saddened look.

“Ah, it’s alright. To be honest, I don’t think I’d be where I am now without their bitter words and mean, pain-inflicting prompts. Also, please, ‘Tsunagu’ is just fine!” He normally didn’t mind the formalities, but for some reason when the small ninja sitting beside him used them, it made him feel odd.

“Oh, okay.” Shinya’s face heated up slightly at the thought of using the other’s first name to address him, he wasn’t used to that. “So, I guess we both have kinda...depressing backstories...to our scars and ourselves in general.” (You may not be able to see it but eclair is currently smiling very gleefully)

“Yeah,” Tsunagu glanced at the rain dancing down the window, “I guess so.”

————————————————————

After a long time of exchanging funny stories (well, they aren’t funny at all really, they’re either sad memories or quite self-deprecating...but I guess that’s their way of bonding...to simply share their most traumatic experiences and become friends....huh) the tension between the two of them had almost completely lifted. They sat there chatting away, all bandaged up and tired as hell, simply making the most of each other’s company.

“Oh come on, how is that not funny-” Tsunagu exclaimed, gesturing towards Shinya as he laughed. The pain in his cheek had faded, almost completely, as he slowly became more comfortable.

“Because! You try tripping over, knocking yourself out for 2 hours on the edge of a stone fountain and chipping your tooth. It isn’t a fun experience!” Shinya said enthusiastically, very defensive about the little chip in his front tooth - in response to the taller man’s question.

“Of course, sorry! Poor little Kamihara-san~” Tsunagu replied with a smile.

“Please, just call me Shinya!”

“Shinya, huh?” Tsunagu felt a little bit shy at the thought of using his first name, but it would probably be easier. “You know, now that I think about it, being in the middle of this storm isn’t so bad.”

Shinya smiled. He’d always loved this type of weather, and seeing the lanky man in front of him start to agree, he felt like he’d somehow accomplished something.

They were startled from their little conversation by a loud beeping noise coming from Shinya’s phone. When he checked it, he let out a shocked gasp and this caused Tsunagu to be slightly worried. Was it something important?

“What? What is it?”

“I can’t believe it...it’s already 1:45...we’ve talked for so long!”

Tsunagu widened his eyes in disbelief as he checked his own phone. Yep. That was the time. They’d gotten so carried away by their conversation that they’d become completely unaware of the time. They shared a very shocked look before snickering at their own carelessness. “Hah! To think that there was a time I’d never imagined this would happen.”

Shinya quickly got up from his seat, and started to make his way to the kitchen. “Sorry, I realise that it’s probably way too late for this, but I realise I never offered you food!” He called out.

“It’s okay! I forgot about it myself! But to be honest, what food could we possibly have at 1:46am?” Tsunagu inquired, slowly becoming more aware of the hunger that crept through his stomach.

“Hm...” Shinya thought before looking back up at the confused man with excited eyes, “pizza?”

“Pizza?!”

“Uh-huh!”

“Who on earth sells pizza at this time?!”

Shinya chortled at the other’s comedic remark. “Oh, you seem to be forgetting all that I told you about my very first internship...” he said slyly.

“Of course...that’s actually a brilliant idea!” Tsunagu laughed. Well...who doesn’t love getting 50% off of pizzas, even at 1:47 in the morning!

So, they ordered pizza. Just...two pro heroes, chilling out at 2:00am, eating pizza instead of sleeping off their injuries. How fun!

After even more time, the two of them decided it was best to actually get some sleep, and Tsunagu watched as the silver haired man quietly said goodnight and crept up the stairs, before setting his head down on the arm of the sofa - his legs dangling over the edge.

He listened as the wind and rain battered against the window. Normally, he’d be fed up by these noises, however that night, he found himself listening to it peacefully, and he had a thought:

‘maybe the rain isn’t so bad after all...’

[pb-nj]

Let Me Take Your Hand, I'll Make It Right

Nico Kim/Levi Schmitt

Stress relief comes in many forms.

(hc inspiration from this post)

Warning: Racism

It's surprising the cases they've had lately at Grey Sloan. All of a sudden the most mundane injuries that people come to the ER for is down to nothing. They still had their influx of non covid patients, legitimate ones at least. Mostly food poisoning; weird but not surprising since people have gone into the trend of experimental baking during lockdown and the occasional injuries that happen when families get too bored in the house. 

He heard it before he actually saw it, a shout of an angered man and Levi rushes to the pit to check the commotion and he just came right at the time that his ex-boyfriend had been punched in the face by a distraught-looking man.

He saw Dr. Hunt and even Ben Warren coming to his aid but they were barely able to reach Nico before the blow was made. 

"I SAID NO CHINESE DOCTORS!" The man bellowed and tried to make another move towards Nico but Ben was able to pull him back and restrain him while Dr. Hunt had used himself as a barrier between Nico and the man. 

"Sir, calm down. This is a hospital and you are causing a disturbance. And you're not supposed to be in here, patients only." Dr. Hunt had one arm towards the man as he tried to reason with him. "Dr. Kim is not Chinese, he is negative from the virus and he is our only orthopaedic expert right now who can see your daughter's broken shoulder."

Levi checks the surroundings and indeed sees a teenage girl on a gurney, crying and clutching her injured arm. She was trying to get her father's attention, shaking her head hysterically but the man only kept staring daggers at Nico. 

"Exactly why I snuck in here! I saw that man attending to my daughter! Chinese, Asian, whatever! They're all the same! How can you keep people like THAT working in the hospital! They caused this virus and he still has the nerve to show up here?!" 

Levi exhales sharply and walks briskly to the nearest nurse station to check if security has been called, to his relief they've already called them as soon as they heard the man raise his voice. Levi looks back at Nico and his expression is merely blank, looking at the floor as if he's tuned everything out. He can see blood through his mask and some trickle from his brow, the exposed cheekbone is forming a nasty bruise, he's not gonna be surprised if his lip is cut too. 

The nurses nearest to the ruckus were too afraid to come near and so Levi took it upon himself to get something from the instruments cart that Nico can wipe his face with.

He walks quietly, closer to the scene and kneels by Nico.

"Here." he whispers softly, handing some tissues to Nico.

Nico startles and that seems to get him out of his daze, looking up at Levi and slowly takes the offered tissue. He slightly lower his mask and starts dabbing at his bloodied nose. Security came right at that moment and pulled the hollering man out of the pit, his daughter sobbing loudly.

Together with Dr. Hunt they helped Nico up, "Dr. Kim, go and get checked in one of the private rooms. I'll see if I can, uh, call Dr. Lincoln to step in for this girl. I wouldn't in normal circumstances but you're pretty bashed up. Please know it's nothing to do with what that man said. Go get yourself cleaned up and have some rest."

Nico merely nods and allows the nurses to help steer him out of the pit. Taryn comes in just in time, surprise on her face when she gets a glimpse of Nico and saunters to Levi, most likely to ask what happened. 

Levi could only rub his forehead as he retells the story and is halfway through when a nurse comes to disturb them.

"Dr. Schmitt, sorry to interrupt but Dr. Kim has asked for you in on call room 6. He doesn't want to be seen by anyone else." Taryn pointedly looks at Levi as he catches her eyes. 

"I'll take over here and.." she pauses, raising a finger towards Levi, "I'm only allowing this because he got sucker punched in the face. You... You better not wear your heart on your sleeve. Now go see what Asian Ken doll wants."

He gives her a small smile and thanks the nurse as he makes his way to the on call room. He grabs a first aid kit on the way just in case and knocks on the door before going in.

"Hi.. What are you doing in an on call room?You were supposed to be in one of the private rooms." Levi steps over to him and he was sitting up on the bed, mask off but was inspecting his injury on his phone. 

"You haven't been seen to?" Levi asks, pulling a chair over and puts the first aid kit on his lap. 

Nico shakes his head, putting his phone down and meets Levi's eyes. "No. I can only trust you." 

"Nico, the nurses are just as capable to tend to you, you know?" 

"I know just... Please?" He looks at Levi pleadingly and the resident can only sigh and nod. Taryn told him not to put wear his heart on his sleeve but how can he when the person he still loves is hurting.

"Okay." He opens the first aid kit and starts cleaning Nico's wounds and he was right, not only did he got hit on the side of his face and nose but his lip got cut but not too bad to require stitches. 

He could feel Nico looking at him, looking at his eyes as he works on the wounds. He tries his best not to flush but Nico's always had a strong look that can weaken his knees especially when he's looking at Levi. If Nico notices Levi's hands trembling he doesn't show it. 

Applying a small wound strip on his lip as the last part, he sits back and finally meets Nico's eyes. The fellow had never stopped looking at Levi the whole time.

"Are you okay?" He asks softly and knowing full well his question can be consider stupid after what happened, he still asks. 

Nico is silent for awhile, just staring into Levi's eyes before he lowers his gaze, clasping his fingers together.

"5th."

"Sorry, what? 5th?"

Nico nods, expression numb and his tone equally numb when he spoke, "5th.. He was the 5th person today to tell me not to go anywhere near them and the numbers go higher throughout the day. I've not only been counting patients I've lost but also patients who have rejected me. Patients who I attended before the pandemic and had to come in for emergency cases and rejecting me, asking for Link instead. Some end up agreeing when they're told Link is on paternity leave and some go home without being seen to. Saying they'll go to another hospital."

Levi's heart breaks right then and there and he can't imagine how much Nico's heart is breaking.

"Nico... I'm so sorry. I.. I never realised how much you've been going through." He takes a deep breath, raising his hand in an attempt to cover Nico's but stops himself midway. Nico noticed the gesture but doesn't move nor react. 

"I got used to it over time. People are scared, worried and they just want to stay alive."

"Yes but Nico they shouldn't be afraid of you. You are not the virus. You get swabbed every week and come out negative. You don't need to suffer silently."

"Levi, this hospital is already going through hell. If I can ignore the abuse I do. I treat who wants to be treated and those who don't want me I make sure I recommend them to the best orthopaedic surgeon in another hospital. It's part of the job."

"It's not, you know it's not.." Levi tries to argue but even he is at a loss of words. He doesn't know how to make this better, how to make people not be afraid of Nico. "Has this been going on for months?"

Nico nods but his expression doesn't change. Levi studies his face for awhile and he must admit it's been awhile since he's seen Nico without a mask on and just actually look at him without doing all the other things they've been doing normally in on call rooms. He misses these moments where they can just be and having each other's presence was enough to make everything right. 

"What can I do?" Levi says softly he isn't sure if Nico heard it especially with his mask still on. 

Nico slowly looks up at Levi and his face is showing like he's debating on something before he responds, "Stress relief."

Did Levi hear that right? He blinks a few times, shock evident in his eyes as he makes sure he heard it correctly.

"Stress relief? Stress relief as in.. now?" He must've looked comical,which is a success in itself since half of his face is covered, because Nico chuckles and smiles. 

That smile reached Levi's heart and he hasn't seen that smile in months. Even when fooling around lately he actually hasn't seen Nico's real smile. 

"Yeah stress relief." He's smirking now and Levi wonders how Nico Kim can still look hot smirking with bruised and bloody lips. 

"I mean.. Okay if that's your thing but you should really be resting."

"Can you sit next to me?" 

Levi raises a brow, putting away the first aid kit on his lap and placing it on a table. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed next to Nico.

"Did you get punched that hard? I mean should we ask for a CT?"

"Turn around."

"What? Nico are you okay? and like not feelings-wise but like in the head.. How many fingers am I holding up?" Levi waves a peace sign in front of Nico but the other just kept staring at him with a small smile on his face at Levi's antics.

"Turn around Levi."

Levi huffs and gives in turning around, his back now facing Nico. He nearly jumps out of his skin when arms wrap around his waist from behind and Nico touched his forehead to Levi's shoulder. 

His hands hang in the air awkwardly as Nico hugs him from the back, not really sure what to do until he hears soft sniffling from behind him and his heart breaks at the sound. He places one hand on the arms that seems to cling tighter and tighter and the other reaches back until he can pet Nico's hair carefully. 

He closes his eyes as he keeps hearing the sniffling and ragged breaths of Nico's cries and he too feels like he's gonna break down just from hearing it but he has to be strong. Strong for the person who he's known to only be strong and act strong. 

Levi allows Nico to cry it all out. He doesn't know if he's crying out the today or the past week, past months or perhaps he's crying out everything he's never cried out before but he knows they've been there for a long time like that because he could feel how stiff his body is from being in the same position for so long. It's a surprise no one has come looking for him but he guessed Taryn had something to do with it. 

Nico's hold finally relaxes and he leans back on the headboard again, not bothering to wipe his tears. He merely swallows thickly and closes his eyes. "Thank you, Levi." 

Levi turns around and this time he doesn't hesitate to place a hand on Nico's, "I can't make people change their prejudices but I can be here, I'm always here. For this kind of stress relief and the other." He grins sheepishly and it makes Nico open his eyes and chuckle at him.

"I miss seeing your whole face." He admits and once again Levi's heart soars. 

"Nico-..." He starts and of course he gets paged. They were bound to need him soon enough. "Page, non covid and all other residents have their hands full. I gotta go."

Nico merely nods, that soft expression still on his face. 

"Get some rest and just.. tell me, us, anyone.. If you need anything." He walks backwards, trying to keep Nico in his sight for as long as he can before he walks out the door. 

_

This was Levi's 7th devastating news to give out and this was the worst today. The patient was about to get married, they've made plans to have a small ceremony, just them and their parents and it was 4 days before the wedding when she started getting symptoms. She died and they didn't even know she was 4 weeks pregnant. Her fiance is practically on the floor sobbing, his mother holding him. Levi is just stood there, unable to do much. He stands there until the mother and son manages to get up and give him a quick thank you before leaving. 

He clutches his tablet to his chest, letting out a shaky breath and trying to keep from tearing up. He gets a message on his phone and it's.. it's from Nico.

Come see me. The usual.

He isn't sure what to make of it and he pockets his phone. He hasn't had a break yet and so can do with some while he goes to find Nico.

After that time Nico got punched, they've only come to each other for sexual relief. It's like Nico has cried out everything and is back to himself completely. They don't talk about that time and Levi doesn't allow himself to be confused by that time. He takes what he can from Nico and leaves it at that or so he makes himself believe but he's getting better at this purely physical thing. 

He makes it to their usual on call room and as soon as he opens the door he is already talking, "Look Nico I'm not in the mood. Can we do this another time?"

"I saw you just now.. Breaking the news to that family. Must've been hard." 

Levi is taken aback because he didn't see him around that time.

"I was just behind you, updating another family. You looked like you had an even harder time breaking the news to them."

"She.. She was pregnant and.. They didn't even know and they were supposed to get married in a few days." He shudders out a breath, hugging himself as he shares the news. 

"Okay." Is all Nico says before he turns around, back now facing Levi and oh... 

He knows he shouldn't and he knows they need to talk if they keep doing this for each other, being there for each other but right now he just needs this.. needs Nico. 

And so he wraps his arms around Nico's waist, rests his forehead on his broad back and cries, not even caring that he is now full on sobbing and Nico, he rests his hands on Levi's arms and eventually takes one of his hands and intertwine their fingers together as Levi keeps crying on him. 

They both know they're blurring the lines again and Nico isn't sure if he is ready for that. They're at the precipice where it may just go downhill if they make the wrong move.

But for now.. he holds Levi and lets him cry.

[whitecatindisguise]

Give Him A Chance To Mend

I'm alive, lmao. Took me long enough to update this story, and I hope this want to write is not temporary, and will last unless until I finish it.

Anyway, AO3 link can be found here, and the newest chapter is put under read more, to not spam the dash with long post.

So, enjoy.

Chapter 4: Raise A Little Hell

Varian and Quirin were working in the fields, when it happened. There was no sign, no way to prepare themselves. It took them both by surprise and left them wishing they didn't have to ever deal with it. 

It started innocently. Adira and Hector left for training,while Varian offered to help his father with the harvest. They were nearing lunch break, when the two came back, wearing unrecognisable faces. 

"Aunt Adira? Uncle Hector?" Varian called out to them, confused by their behaviour. He never saw that kind of expression on them, and didn't know what to make of it. 

"Did something happen?" Quirin inquired from a little further, placing a pumpkin on a half-full cart. 

"You could say that." The woman replied, pursing her lips together. 

Varian observed the two and noticed a crunched paper held in his uncle's hand. He cocked his head to the side, wondering what's on it, already figuring out it must be the cause of their off behaviour. 

"Well, neither of us is a mind-reader, so maybe you could tell us what's wrong." Quirin said, putting his arms on his hips. "Unless you want to continue this staring contest."

"Why our nephew has a wanted poster?" Hector asked. Both father and son blinked, not really registering the question. 

"We were training in the woods, when we found this." The man unrolled the paper and a 14-year-old Varian glared at his older self from the poster. Oh…

"We missed one." The alchemist mumbled, more to himself than anyone in particular, but it managed to make Adira and Hector give him a weird look. He chuckled nervously and scratched the back of his neck. "I… might have commited treason once?" He said, attempting to make it sound like a joke and failing miserably. It was only partly worth the bewildered faces of his aunt and uncle. 

Quirin sighed and picked up the cart, wheeling it towards the shed. 

"Let's go inside. It's a long story." He said. Hector sputtered. 

"You knew?!" He screamed. 

"Can we talk inside… please?" Varian asked, looking deeply uncomfortable. The two Brotherhood members shared a look and nodded. 

"I expect to be explained everything, nephew." Adira said, as he led them back to the house.

"Oh joy…" They heard his response. 

It took ten more minutes for them to get settled in the kitchen, Quirin insisting he prepare mugs of hot cocoa. For grounding, he said. Neither of his siblings questioned it, but they did exchange confused glances. 

Finally, they all sat down around the kitchen table, Varian picking nervously at his gloves, Ruddiger curled comfortingly around his neck. 

"So… treason?" Adira spoke up. Varian sighed and straightened up, curling his hands around his mug. 

"Let me start from the beginning." He said. Adira nodded, Hector remaining silent but attentive. "Six months after Princess Rapunzel was brought back, and two days after the failed coronation, she and Cass..andra came to Old Corona in search of the great wizard. "He made quotation marks with his hands and put them back around the mug. "which was how people used to call me, since they didn't know anything about alchemy and thought what I was doing was magic. Anyway, the Princess wanted to ask about her hair which magically reappeared, I tried to help but couldn't come up with anything specific. Then her boyfriend arrived, I told him about my water heaters, which were highly unstable back then, and long story short, they blew up and the Princess and her entourage left while I stayed to clean up the mess. Then we met at the Science Expo few weeks later, I asked Cassandra to be my assistant, she agreed but stood me up later, that's not really important and now it seems I'm rambling-"

"Drink some hot cocoa, son." Quirin helpfully suggested. Varian nodded and took a few gulps, exhaled slowly and continued. 

"Anyway, after the expo I showed Princess the black rocks that grew outside the village, and she asked me to research ways to get rid of them, promising we'll get to the bottom of this together. So, in secret and against dad's orders, I've spent next weeks studying those rocks, trying to find anything to make them stop growing, or, better yet, get rid of them entirely. At some point, when the village was almost completely overrun, me and dad travelled to the capital to ask the King for help. I wasn't allowed inside the throne room, but I overheard dad lying about us having a good harvest and needing more land to store all the crops." 

Adira and Hector both looked surprised. 

"Quirin lying?" The woman asked. 

"It was a code." The man quickly explained. "I didn't want everyone to panic about what was happening. My words actually meant we need a place to move to until the situation is taken care of."

"But, of course, I didn't know that, so I lashed out at dad, he lashed out at me, then the Princess came and I told her what's going on and she, yet again, promised to help me once her parents will be back from their anniversary trip, during which she was to act as a Queen." Varian added. "But then everything went downhill. Dad caught me during one of my experiments on the rocks and we had a fight about secrets and such. I didn't notice one of my solutions spilling on the rock, but dad did. He pushed me away and got stuck in amber, me running to the capital to get Princess' help. At the same time, an enormous snowstorm hit, which later I learned was caused my Zhan Tiri herself. Anyway, I managed to get to the castle, but as I begged for help, the Princess refused, saying she had to stay and help the others, and I was thrown out into the storm."

"You were what?!" Hector screamed, standing up abruptly, his chair falling to the floor with a loud clatter. 

"Sit down and drink your cocoa, Hector." Quirin ordered. "You getting angry now won't change what happened."

"And you're fine with this?" The man questioned angrily. 

"I had the same reaction as you did when I found out." The farmer replied calmly. "The matter was resolved long time ago. There is no need to dwell on it."

"They threw a freak-"

"Language."

"A teenager, my nephew, in the middle of the snowstorm!" Hector finished, fuming. "And you expect me to not get mad?!"

"Let Hairstripe finish, Hector." This time it was Adira who spoke. She looked as collected as ever, but Quirin knew her long enough to know she was just as angry as her brother. 

The green-eyed man grumbled, but picked up his chair and sat down, crossing his arms and mumbling under his breath. 

"A-anyway" Varian continued. "I ran back home but I was too late, dad already fully encased in the amber. I worked day and night, trying to find a way to save him. At some point I've found a hidden chest in his room, full of armour pieces, weapons and a piece of the scroll with a drawing of the sundrop, the black rocks and some weird language. Took me some time, but I finally managed to decipher it enough to know the Sundrop might be the way to end all this. Oh, and in the meantime, the King apparently decided I know too much and sent royal guards dressed in masks and coats to make sure I don't tell anyone. The rest of the village moved to the new land long ago, so nobody was around to stop them. I called the Princess to the village, using a lantern with a tied letter, to find the scroll which I hid in my lab. I wanted her to see dad, see why I was doing what I was doing. Then, a week later, I came to the capital to meet her in secret, because somebody spread a rumour I attacked her on the day of the storm and people didn't really like me walking around anymore. I managed to persuade her to sneak into Royal Vault with me and stole the Sundrop Flower. But, it turned out its power was long gone, moved to the Princess instead. So, I devised a new plan. I built an army of automatons, used alchemically-turned monster Ruddiger as a distraction and kidnapped the Queen, all to get the Princess' attention. And, of course, she came, along with the citizens of Corona ready to fight the dangerous alchemist of Old Corona. I made her use her hair to try and free dad, but when that also failed… I snapped. I went total rampage, and even tried to kill Cassandra and the Queen. I was only stopped when the Princess touched the black rocks, which blew up and impaled the automaton I was controlling. I was arrested and the Princess went her merry way, on a journey following the black rocks."

"I've seen the aftermath of the battle before but I didn't realise…" Adira seemed genuinely shocked. "It was you?"

"Turns out being left without adult supervision and having someone promise help and then back out when they start to feel uncomfortable does that to people." Varian shrugged, but they could see he was ashamed of his actions. "Or just to me."

"Is this true?" Hector looked at Quirin for confirmation. The man nodded. 

"The Princess confirmed it." He said. 

"Wait, the Princess went to the Dark Kingdom…" Hector looked like he didn't really want to hear an answer to his question, but he asked anyway. "What happened to you?"

"Prison." Varian replied darkly

[undertaker1827]

Hey I wanted to make a request and sorry if this sounds awkward. But could I request a Undertaker imagine where the reader is Korean and by accident travels back in time and meets Undertaker, she doesn't found a way back and is forced to stay in that time and she meets Undertaker who falls for her bc she has different features from others and is special just overall fluffy. I hope this isn't awkward or something but I just thought it was a cute idea. Have a great day! 💜

Aw man I’ve been looking forward to writing this one for such a long time!! It’s not awkward at all and I’m sorry it took me so long to write this (I write requests in the order I get sent them so sometimes it takes a while, I apologise) but this has been in the back of my mind since you sent it, so I might have gone a bit overboard hope I did it justice!! I’ll link part two once it’s up. Enjoy!

Masterlist

-

Squinting heavily and blinking rapidly, you tried to orientate yourself. Not really able to see, you extended your hands and felt along the ground you had collapsed on, hoping it was your normal carpet. Instead of plush warmth, you were met with wet, cold stone, which felt particularly gritty to you. The room you had been standing in just a moment ago had suddenly filled with bright white light, but even with the light gone, the glare it left behind was stuck in your vision. You were relieved to find it was finally starting to clear, though from the dull ache pulsing behind your eyes, it would leave behind a massive headache in it place.

When you felt able to, you glanced around you to try and work out what on Earth had happened and where you were now. No small amount of panic lodged itself in your chest when you found yourself sitting in an alleyway just off a cobblestone street, back against the wall of one of the buildings lining it and covered in the mud spraying off the wheels of passing … carriages? You leaned forward to look for people, seeing several who were running for cover from the heavy rain but frowning when you saw how strangely they were dressed. You thought back to some stereotypical English period dramas you had watched a long time ago and decided the scene before you could well have been the set from one of them. You took a short sharp breath when it occurred to you that you hadn’t fallen into one of the scenes so much as into the time period itself. The rain was real rain, as was the mud matting your hair and the smell was far too awful to have been concocted for filming purposes. Perhaps your only saving grace was there were no strangers lurking in the alleyway, though conversely, that also meant you had no one to talk to who might know what happened.

Unsteadily, you climbed to your feet, thinking the worst possible thing you could do was just stay put looking the way you did. You pressed a hand to the wall to steady your balance then allowed your gaze to pan the small area in front of you, working out what you should do next. You had just concluded that you would search for a police officer or something similar when a small and considerably battered looking cart stopped right in front of you, blocking your only exit. You looked to the driver, who leapt down from his seat in surprise then tipped his hat forward. When he straightened again, you found his eyes were entirely concealed by heavy grey bangs, a positive mane of hair falling down his back and almost reaching his hips.

“Well, dear me,” the man started, voice possessing a lilting, slightly raspy quality that immediately drew your attention, “and I thought for sure you’d be one of my next customers after I drove past you this morning.” Your eyebrows drew together of their won accord. Drove past you this morning? Just how long had you been laying there?

“Customers?” You asked uncertainly, inching a little closer to him. You felt his gaze scan your appearance, even if you couldn’t see it, then he tilted his head forward slightly.

“You’re not from ‘round here, are you?” He asked conspiratorially, “Not at all.” Your heart leapt at what he appeared to be implying and this time you took a full two steps in his direction.

“Do you know how I got here, then?” You whispered, eyes lighting up at the prospect of getting some answers.

“Not here,” he said by way of reply. “Join me?” He climbed back up to the driver’s seat then leaned down and stretched out a hand to you. You took it, out of politeness rather than necessity, thanking him and asking for his name. “Take the name of me profession, love.” At your blank expression, he elaborated. “Undertaker.” You smiled warm and gave him your name in return. You practically saw him perk up. “You’re Korean?” He asked, voice full of interest. Your smile widened, both surprised and glad to not be mistaken for Chinese or Japanese.

You had chatted about your culture for a while, Undertaker full of questions about something so entirely unfamiliar to him before he explained that he was heading back to his parlour and asked if you planned on joining him. Not, as he so helpfully reminded you, that you really had anywhere to go. You wouldn’t have disagreed anyway, but this really just confirmed your decision.

When you arrived, he walked inside with you and told you to wait in f=the front room while he tended to the horse and the cart. You did so gladly, but after a few minutes found your curiosity got the better of you. You couldn’t help but examine the multitude of jars lining the walls, filled with various preserved body parts, human and animal from what you could tell. You were moments away from picking one up to examine it more closely when the door flew open and Undertaker announced his presence, a massive grin taking over his features as he seemed to know immediately hat you were doing.

“Most courtesy of autopsies and the occasional family of one of me customers.” You had already worked out that his ‘customers’ were actually the bodies of the dead that he worked on, so you nodded in understanding and commented on how interesting you found the apparent hobby. It was only a short time later when you were sat on one of the coffins in the front room, him leaning against the front edge of his large desk and both of you holding conical flasks of tea, a detail you couldn’t help but find endearing. He told you that he knew you were from a different time period entirely - this one turned out to be Victorian London - though he fell to mention why. It also appeared that he had no idea how you got here, or how to get you back, leading you to the inevitable question of what should I do now?

“Your time period and the nature of people from your time is going to be entirely different than mine, which means I couldn’t, in all good conscience, throw you out on the street and leave you to fend for yourself. There’s a small pub near here with upstairs accommodation should you fancy giving yourself even more of a culture shock than you’ve already received, but you’re more than welcome to stay here with me.” It was all you could do to prevent your jaw from quite literally dropping open. His kindness was unbelievable and you accepted the offer gladly. From then on and until late into the night, you discussed the social norms of this era and the mortician fished out some more acceptable clothing for you which he though should fit - just a few of many items he owned for the sake of preparing the dead.

It was only when your eyes became bleary that you realised just how late it was, in time for Undertaker to inform you that due to the size of his home, he was only possessed of the one bed. He was at great pains to assure you that you could take the bed and he would sleep on the couch. You had seen this couch and you were certain even you would have difficulty getting a decent night’s rest on it, so you couldn’t imagine how Undertaker would manage with his height. You suspected his feet would end up hanging over one arm with his head on the other and you couldn’t possibly do that to someone who was allowing you to stay in his home. This led to a long debate over sleeping arrangements until in the end, hoping to settle the matter, Undertaker provided you with an ultimatum.

“Alright, look. Either I take the sofa or we both share the bed.”

“The latter, you replied, without hesitation. You refused point blank to deprive this man of a fitful sleep. You felt him raise a surprised eyebrow, even if it was covered by his hair, as he had been certain you would pick the first option. He then shrugged nonchalantly with an amused “If you say so,”, proceeding to lend you one of his nightshirts. You went to bed not a few minutes later, you shifting to lay on your side to look at him. You thought you caught the merest glimpse of one of his eyes, which almost looked like it was glowing, even if it was too dark to make out the colour.

“Thank you,” you murmured, offering the mortician a small, tired smile.

“You’re alright,” he replied softly, his own smile the last thing you saw before you drifted off to sleep.

[abraxos-is-toothless]

Surprises (3)

So here we have chapter 3! This is all Elain’s POV but I promise that Az will be back in the next chapter. I was originally going to put them together but I changed my mind🤫

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1 and Chapter 2

Warnings: it’s clinical at the beginning so I tried to use doctor speak. There will be swearing, mature themes, mentions of alcohol at times, and mentions of sex. I will updates warnings as I go if needed.

I didn’t have a gif for this really so this works I think? Because Elain makes a decision in this that you may not agree with but we all feel differently

Chapter 3

—————

She should not be here. She was only seventeen for crying out loud! A nurse had brought her back into an exam room and asked her to wait saying that the doctor would be along shortly. Lucien remained in the waiting room but just before Elain had left with the nurse, he kept reassuring her that everything would be alright no matter what, and he already knew how he was going to kill the boy who did it. Smiling to herself she could imagine it; he had always been very protective of her. Everyone always thought they were a couple when the saw them together and from seeing the dirty looks he would give the boys who just stared at her ass. They had kissed once, just something chaste with no tongue included but when they pulled apart, they both agreed to never speak of it again because it did not feel right at all.

Elain was startled out of her reverie when the door opened and the doctor spoke, “So miss Arch- Wait Acheron?” Looking up she felt herself flush, meeting the gaze of Helion, Lucien’s father. Gods why did she have the worst luck imaginable? This could also get worse so suck it up Elain. She opened and closed her mouth several times before offering the pathetic response of “Uh, hello Helion.” He came and sat down in front of her and she took to wringing her hands nervously in front of her. How the hell was she meant to tell him what she came here for? It was like talking to her father about it which she would never do. Ever. He coughed slightly to clear his throat and asked “What can I do for you El?” Forcing herself to take a breath she decided to spit everything out at once in the hopes she wouldn’t have to do it again, “Well you see I think that I may havehadsexlastnightwithoutacondom.” He chuckled a bit and asked her to repeat that and to maybe slow it down this time so she steeled her nerves and said again, as clear as possible, “I may have had sex for the very first time last night and I also believe that there was no condom involved.” Elain was bright red now and could feel the heat in her cheeks and was focusing vey intently on her toes. She hated how embarrassing this was.

Helion sputtered a bit then but recovered quickly saying “Right well after an examination I’ll be able to tell you if you did the former but as for the latter, I may not be able to tell especially if you’ve used the bathroom and such since.” He got up then and walked over to retrieve a gown and then handing it to her, “Put that on and then jump up onto the table and prop your legs up slightly. We’ll figure it out Elain I promise.” After she watched him step behind the curtain she started to strip, replacing her clothes for the ugly hospital gown and did as he asked once up on the table. When she was ready, she called him back and watched as he sat at the end of the table right between her legs. She could hear the snap of gloves as he pulled them on but this time, he was gentler as he spoke, “I’m going to put my hands on you now Elain and it may feel a little cold from the gloves, Okay?” She gave a small hum of confirmation but still gasped when she felt place his hands on her. Focus on the ceiling. “You’re going to feel some pressure now El, deep breaths for me as it might hurt a little.” And it did hurt as she was still sore so she bit her lip and clenched her hands to keep from making any noises. Eventually he pulled his hands away telling her she could put her legs back down to sit normally.

After peeling off his gloves he spoke again although this time it was with a hint of nerves, “Definite signs of intercourse so I can tell you that you did indeed have sex for the first time last night, and I can tell it wasn’t forced thanks the gods.” Elain nodded already knowing that was most likely the outcome but, he still hadn’t given her the most important part of that information. “And the other thing?” He looked at the floor quickly then before he looked back at her. That’s not a good sign then is it. Fuckity shit fuck, no. “Well there appears to be small traces of semen left over so I’m afraid to tell you that there was no condom used during intercourse. The possibility of pregnancy is of course a fifty-fifty chance.” This wasn’t happening. This wasn’t happening. She needed to know now. “Is there any way of being able to know now?” It wasn’t until she said it that she realised how stupid she sounded because of course there wasn’t a way to know now, the gods damned sex had only happened the night before but he answered her all the same, “I’m sorry Elain but there isn’t, not this soon anyway. The only way to know is to wait. However, I do have an option for you that would prevent a pregnancy though.” Ah yes, the holy saviour that was the morning after pill. Elain knew what it was as she’d sometimes over heard a few girls in school talk about using it instead of condoms. Fucking idiots. But the idea of using it, to stop a life from growing, didn’t sit well with her. It was probably incredibly what she was about to tell him. No, she knew she was being ridiculous but the idea of just...

“I don’t want it. Thank you, but no thank you.” Looks of shock and sympathy flashed across his face then but as a doctor she knew he had to ask her, “Are you sure you don’t want it?” No, she bloody well wasn’t. “Yes, I’m sure Helion.”

oOoOo

Walking back into the waiting room, she did a quick scan for Lucien’s red hair and found him leaning against a wall near the entrance of the clinic. He looked up when she was close enough for him to hear her footsteps but as soon as their eyes met, she couldn’t help but to burst into tears. Elain was quickly tucked against his chest while he rubbed his hand up and down her back, whispering in her ear that she was alright, that everything would be fine. When her tears finally stopped, he pulled back and led her from the clinic back to his car. Once they were belted up and Lucien had the car moving he finally asked her “Are you going to tell me what happened? You don’t have to obviously, but I’m your best friend Lainy, I want to help.”

He was too good to be true. Honestly, he was. “Well I definitely swiped my v-card last night and I wasn’t even careful about it. I was offered the morning after pill but I just couldn’t say yes, I just- I just...” Her breathing picked up then and noticing this he brought his hand over to grip onto hers tightly and said “It’s alright, just breathe. That’s it Lainy good job.” Elain squeezed his hand in thanks once she had finally managed to calm down and they were quiet for few minutes after until he spoke again “So, what do we do now?” Wallow in self-pity with pints of ice cream. That was her first thought but she only replied with “Now, we just wait.”

They made it to their favourite diner quite quickly after that, parking close to the entrance. But before she could even move to open her door, Lucien had beaten her to it, opening her door and offering his hand. “Milady,” he said with a wink, and with a roll of her eyes she accepted his hand and they walked into the diner side by side. Making it inside the diner they were about to go to their usual table when Elain heard a familiar laugh. Turning her head in the direction of the sound, she found Feyre tucked into the booth in the far corner along with Rhys, Nesta, Cassian and- Oh shit.

She was hit with another memory then after seeing the other boys face, this once feeling as though it was happening in that moment, just like it had this morning.

“Gods, you feel incredible.” She could still feel a slight bit of pain as he started to move, but it was bearable. Elain had one of her hands in his hair, gripping the soft strands at the nape of his neck. The other, she couldn’t stop using to push her nails into the skin of his back and dragging down because every time she did, he’d let out small little moans of pleasure. As she adjusted, he seemed to pick up the pace a bit and the only word she could form was “Please” over and over again.

The slight touch of her best friend’s hand on her arm brought her back to the present. Mother above she had slept with Azriel. The brother to both of her sister's boyfriends and she barely even knew him. They only ever interacted on the rare occasions that Elain chose to sit with her sisters at lunch because there were things she needed to ask them or because they hadn’t been able to catch up properly that week. Looking back over to their booth in the corner, she realised that they hadn’t actually been spotted yet. Seeing her chance, she turned to Lucien and asked, “Actually I’m not really in the mood for greasy diner food now, can we just got to that pretzel cart in the mall that I like?” He gave a weary nod of his head in returned with a muttered “sure thing” and turned to leave, not even noticing her sisters in the corner. Letting out a small sigh of relief she hurried after him with only one thought in her mind.

This wasn’t going to be complicated at all, was it?

—————

I know I know, no interaction with them yet but I promise it’s coming! Also poor Elain, she has no idea what to do. If you disagree with her decision that’s incredibly valid but it’s my story so no hate please:) let me know what you think as it’s much appreciated💓 Let me know if you want a tag and if I’ve forgot I’m sorry just tell me and I’ll fix it ASAP😁

No beta today because it’s late and I didn’t want to disturb @bryaxisthefaceofnightmares so forgive me for any mistakes

Tags: @starlitfangirl @starsauroras @drunken-starz @myfriendscallmeraba @thesirenwashere @empress-sei @elrielllll @stars-falling @cirieael @verifiefangirl @verifiefangirl-mainblog @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn @mirainthedark05 @fancyclodpaintercookie @slightly-sane-fangirl @empress-ofbloodshed @sleeping-and-books @b00kworm @kvi-arts @rhysandhlcor @tswaney17 @awkward-avocado-s

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Quiet

Listen, this is the most self indulgent fic ever but hey, stuff is bad right now and some domestic, about to be parents Jupeter is just what I need right now. Maybe it’s what you need too! 

If it is, I’d love if you left a comment or reblogged 

Trigger Warnings: trans pregnancy

-----

The Carte Blanche was never quiet.

An old ship, it constantly creaked and grumbled around the joints, the thick metal skin made brittle noises in the impossible cold of space around them and the vents were always making that low humming noise that everyone on the crew was grateful for because it meant the oxygen calculator was working.

It was never silent, not even now even in what Juno’s instincts and the glow of the SimSun lights told him was the early morning. Not even when he was the only one awake apparently, no one else in the family room or the kitchen, soft snoring coming from the closest bunk which was Rita’s.

He’d always been one for waking up earlier than anyone else, earlier than was really advisable. He’d always been the twin up first, tiptoeing around the creaky floorboards he’d memorised so he wouldn’t wake up Ben in the top bunk or Sarah in her own room. Those few hours had been precious to Juno for a reason he couldn’t name, maybe just because it was the only time he truly had for himself, when he didn’t need to be constantly aware of other people and didn’t have to gear every action towards helping them and being the responsible older brother he was supposed to be.

But thinking that made him feel selfish. So he’d told himself he didn’t know why he liked those still hours where it felt like he was the only person on Mars, when he could make himself a cup of hot tea and take it out onto the fire escape and watch the sun come up.

And then it became a habit. So here he was, thirty years and change later, awake at an ungodly hour that had no sun or shift in light to tether itself to, just the endless punctured darkness of deep space. And he decided to make breakfast, that way there would be some for everyone when they woke up.

The habit of taking care of other people hadn’t died either. Even when his brother and mother had.

Juno frowned, not wanting these unpleasant thoughts to crowd his head, not this early. He focused instead on cracking the eggs into the pan, stirring them slowly with butter so they formed gelatinous clouds, ready to be reheated for when everyone started trickling in. Their next job was a good few days of travel away so this was as close to a vacation as a company of thieves would ever get and no one would be in a rush. It would be nice to have a hot breakfast ready and waiting on a day like that, a day where no alarm had gone off and every hour that stretched ahead was yours alone.

So bread came next, slicing it carefully for big stacks of toast. The long haul stasis bread wasn’t great, chewier and tougher than anything made planetside but it could taste just as good when you dipped it in eggs, sprinkled it with cinnamon and fried it up. That was real vacation, no school, no work food.

He was halfway through his stack of bread when he heard the first footsteps on the tiles, echoing strangely in the metal arteries of the ship. Juno expected Buddy or Jet, who saw every day as a work day whether there was a job in sight or not but he knew who he wanted it to be. And it looked like he was in luck.

Nureyev wore their comforter wrapped around his shoulders, an old shirt of Juno’s that he would never fathom why he’d bothered to bring aboard with him and a pair of shorts. His feet, bare arms and legs would be freezing touching the cold metal but he’d been getting so hot lately that Juno didn’t think he’d care. He wasn’t wearing any jewellery save two of Juno’s string bracelets on one skinny wrist, or even his glasses, no make up and his hair was sleep matted and sticking up wildly.

He was the most beautiful thing Juno thought he’d ever seen.

“Good morning,” he kept his voice low, Nureyev was clearly still waking up, “Little early for you?”

Nureyev yawned, showing his pointed incisors the way a cat would, ambling over and slumping against Juno, “I woke up and you weren’t there. I missed you…”

Juno smiled and inhaled the sleepy, powdery scent of his hair fresh off the pillow, “I didn’t go far.”

“Too far,” Nureyev murmured, kissing his shoulder.

Juno pulled the pan off the heat and turned to hold him properly, slipping a hand past the comforter to touch the secret he knew he was hiding there, the skin tighter than it should be between his hips, the little knot riding low in his stomach. Their secret. Well, theirs and Vesper’s, who’d obviously seen it on Nureyev’s last physical scan and nearly had a heart attack. But she’d promised not to tell anyone else until they were ready.

Juno knew they were just two bundles of formless cells, he’d been doing his research and promptly making himself nauseous when his research went too far. But he was already picturing two impossibly tiny babies, fit to nestle in the palm of his hand, with Nureyev’s always bright eyes and his dark hair, as beautiful as Bianca. In his head, they looked a little like he and Ben had, when they were very small.

Nureyev smiled at his palm on his skin, “They’re awake. I think they get up when I do.”

Juno pouted, playfully and also kind of genuinely jealous, wishing he could feel them too, “Well, tell them I say hi, would ya? Go curl up on the sofa, I’ll bring you a plate over and you’re gonna eat every bite.”

Nureyev pulled a face but relented. The one thing Juno and Vesper had ever agreed on was making sure he abided by the millions of rules for pregnant people.

“Yes ma’am,” he hummed, nudging Juno with his hip as he passed. Making Juno blush was a sport to him and he needed to keep his skills honed.

Juno watched with a fond smile as he went to collapse on the sagging, ratty old sofa that had sat in the family room for as long as any of them had lived aboard. Nureyev tired easily these days and he could often be found nodding or outright dozing on that sofa, even in the middle of meetings. They were going to have to tell people soon, he was worried Buddy was going to fire Nureyev if he did it again.

He was slightly too tall for it, his feet left dangling over the arm of it. Juno grinned, wanting to kiss those skinny ankles and then move up. But not in the family room. Not since they’d been caught in any case.

He turned back to the food, finishing up then piling up a stack of the french toast, all the crispiest and darkest pieces where the syrup had started to caramelise. Nureyev liked when sweet was just starting to turn bitter. He said it was better that way. And tea as well, there had to be tea. Two cups of the decaffeinated stuff that was closer to flavoured water than actual tea but Juno had promised Nureyev he’d stay on it as long as he had to, as an act of solidarity.

Juno brought it all over as carefully as he could, managing not to spill anything, setting it down on the coffee table. As soon as the scent of vanilla and cinnamon entered his nose, Nureyev’s eyes opened lazily and he grinned.

“You’re a real gem,” he sighed, reaching out but not for any of the food, just to wind his fingers through Juno’s, “Being so good to me…”

Juno smiled and brought the fingers to his lips, kissing them lightly, looking up at him with a single dark gold eye full of love, “It’s my absolute pleasure.”

Nureyev was a miracle worker, Juno knew that much. He’d seen him disappear on command, he’d seen him fight his way out of the tightest corners, wear different faces and entirely new personalities as easily as other men would wear a new jacket. He’d seen Nureyev do a thousand things that would make anyone gasp.

But ever since they’d realised he was pregnant, since that day after a job where they’d all gotten a few scrapes and had been crowded into the infirmary, when Vesper’s face had gotten so still and eerily calm and she’d asked everyone but Nureyev to please leave the room, when Juno had stalked the hall outside the infirmary for twenty minutes before he was pulled in to see a stunned, grinning Nureyev and those tiny blurry shapes on the screen.

Ever since then, Juno had been so taken with seeing his dear thief perform such a human miracle. Nothing that would make anyone gasp or stand and stare, nothing with such a theatrical flourish Nureyev was used to. This miracle was performed slowly, with early mornings spent being sick and deep shadows under his eyes and aches and twinges. This miracle was messier and more painful and scarier. But god, when Juno looked at him, he felt like his heart was just going to burst in his chest.

Because it reminded him that Nureyev wasn’t a magician, he wasn’t an angel, he wasn’t a man who could weave starlight or pluck the planets from the sky. He was a human. And he was no less amazing and wonderful and beautiful for that.

Plus, it helped shake off the lingering sense of intimidation Juno still got when he looked at him sometimes. As fun as that could be under the right circumstances.

“What are you thinking about?” Nureyev was sat up now, nibbling on a piece of toast delicately with those pointed teeth of his that made Juno feel funny.

Juno laughed gently, squeezing the fingers he still held.

“Just thinking about how much I love you.”

[tiliamericana]

Muay Thai: 1.04

Read From Start | Read Ahead | Home Site

It was amazing just how quickly Nairi got used to waking up and finding texts from Cherry waiting for her.

Cherry seemed to be up and on at all hours of the day; she was awake in the morning well before Nairi’s eleven o’clock alarm, but also worked well into the small hours of the night and put in long hours at the day job. Nairi had managed to ascertain that it had something to do with art—Cherry had strong opinions on grades of paper (something about absorbency), colour theory (people were stupid), watercolours (they were bad), and on the one occasion she’d come upstairs had informed Nairi that her walls were driving her mad and that she’d be painting something to stop the encroaching insanity.

When she wasn’t inserting herself into Nairi’s life she was sending Nairi pictures and selfies with her other friends; grad students with brightly coloured hair, a grinning bartender showing off his flair, baking with a short woman in glasses. And now this:

C: youre closed on tues y/y?? C: which means yourf free tonight right?

Nairi sent her back a quick “yes” and set her phone down before pulling herself out of bed to face the day. Not opening the dojo meant she was able to take a little longer with her morning, but she still preferred to do her prayers before she had to think about anything else, and Cherry was prone to showing up if Nairi indicated she had free time. Which she apparently had a lot more of than she realised.

Maybe she should look for a new style to start training in. This was the first time she hadn’t been focused on a new one since she… Well, for a while.

When she came back upstairs her phone was lit up again. Maybe Cherry had ideas about lunch? It would mean she’d have a reason to go out and eat something.

C: great!! C: dn you wanna come out tonight?? dinner C: on me if i need to sweeten it ;) edies just moved back fr work and if its just me her and nick im go6na die from them being old folks who disapprove all night C: also i keep talking about you at nick and he wants to meet you lol

Nairi had initially assumed ‘Nick’ was Cherry’s father, just based on the way she talked about him. But then Cherry had mentioned her father later, just calling him ‘Dad’, so maybe he wasn’t? Either that, or she was very discreet about their being gay. Or she just went back and forth between ‘Dad’ and ‘Nick’ arbitrarily. ‘Edie’ on the other hand was a name Cherry had mentioned in passing once and then never again, so Nairi had concluded she was one of the colourful grad students. Apparently not.

She sent back a “sure”, and then after a moment, asked for a place and time.

C: yay!! thank you!! C: its this fckn italian place edie loves but theres a ok bar so not all bad C: edies fatal allergic to being on time but nickll be 7 minutes early

The next message was a sticker, a little pair of eyes rolling across her phone screen when she opened it.

C: meet at 7? C: i checked the menu has good veg C: pasta heavy but good :p

Nairi smiled a little at that and sent her another “yes”. After a moment she added a “thank you”. Cherry sent her back three hearts, and Nairi put her phone down to go and get some lunch.

She didn’t think anything of it until she showed up at the restaurant. Cherry had driven and was already parked, leaning against the side of her obnoxious little two door to wait. It was bright red and nearly vintage, and she’d obviously put a lot of care into it. Nairi had half expected vanity plates, but they were a normal registration.

Nairi waved as she approached and Cherry visibly perked up with a wide, glossy smile, waving back. Cherry had dressed up a little nicer—dark skinny jeans and a pretty sleeveless shirt with a modest v-neck. The heavy Docs were gone, traded for heeled ankle boots, and she had delicate pearl bob earrings to match her golden cross. Not a paint spatter in sight.

“Hi,” she said as Nairi drew to a halt just out of arm’s reach. “Didn’t we pick an interesting night to go out?”

“We sure did,” said Nairi, her brow furrowing as she looked past Cherry to the road between them and the restaurant. “What the hell is going on?”

The stretch of asphalt was filled with a flock of young adults, all of them shirtless, yelling along together in an incomprehensible chant as they ran up and down between two unmarked points on the road. They were arguably being directed; a young woman with a reflective coat and a manic grin, holding a megaphone in one hand and an airhorn in the other, was standing on a shopping cart in the middle. Standing next to her on the ground, was another woman in reflective orange with a clipboard.

Judging by the amount of honking and the lack of anything resembling city signage, this wasn’t an official event.

Cherry glanced down at her phone as one of the women held up the airhorn to the megaphone. Charitably she waited for Nairi’s ears to stop ringing before she spoke. “Flo did a round on the facebook pages—apparently it’s some dorm flash mob from a hall at her college.”

“Which one’s Flo? Did she have the blue hair?” asked Nairi as she lowered her hands from her head and gladly pulled her attention away from a panting eighteen-year-old who had something pink painted on his heaving chest.

“Nah that’s Mason, he’s finishing up his sociology honours. Flo has the green hair, she’s doing her psych PhD,” said Cherry, craning her neck to look around Nairi. “Nick’s here! Right on time, like I said.”

She started waving, and Nairi turned to see the tallest man she’d ever seen waving back across at them. She raised an eyebrow, the muscles in her forearms tensing, and she tried not to feel too uneasy about it.

Cherry hummed happily, picking herself up from where she was leaning on the car door and reaching in through the open window to grab a thin cardigan from the seat. “Oh, and just a heads up,” she said casually, “Nick like, really hates it when people call me Cherry, it’ll probably be better if you just use my real name in front of him.”

Nairi opened her mouth to remind her that she’d never actually gotten around to saying what the was exactly, but Cherry was already halfway across the lot towards the man. “Nick!” she called out as she approached, closing the distance and leaning up on tiptoe to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

He said something to her, pausing to hug her back before continuing over to Nairi. He drew to a halt next to her while Cherry returned to perching against her car. “You must be Nairi,” he said, voice alarmingly deep, hand outstretched. “Linden’s told me so much about you.”

Nairi took his hand and shook it once before dropping it, resisting the urge to take a step back once she’d done so. “Likewise. It’s very nice to meet you.”

Nicholas was close to seven feet tall and probably in his late fifties or very early sixties if she was any judge. His hair had landed firmly in the ‘grey’ zone just past salt-and-pepper, though he’d managed to keep rather a lot of it, close cropped in a very standard short back and sides. He had broad shoulders and a carefully ironed shirt that looked worn but cared for. He had a firm grip, muscle swelling ever so slightly in the lines of his shirt, and there was a furrow in his brow that made him look deeply concerned about something.

Though, from what she’d learned being friends with Cherry—Linden—if she were an older adult in her life she’d probably be deeply concerned as well. Or maybe it was the students.

“Do either of you know what’s going on here?” he asked after a moment, nodding at the crowd.

“Youthful hijinks keeping us from our dinner,” said Linden, grinning easily. She’d released some of the tension in her shoulders since Nicholas’s arrival, but at the same time seemed a little more on edge, like she was anticipating something. She took a deep, exaggerated breath, and pushed her hands into her jean pockets. “Do you know what that smell is?”

Nairi exchanged a faintly puzzled look with Nicholas, though his looked a little more exasperated. “Cheap beer?” she tried.

Linden sniggered. “Yeah, we called it ‘Eau de Freshie’ when I was in school,” she said, tossing her head to give the students behind them a speculative, almost mean look. They were still yelling enthusiastically, and she gestured at them. “It’s no longer funny, anyway. How many of these assholes do you reckon I have to beat up to let us get through?”

“I’m sure it doesn’t need to come to that,” said Nairi, her mouth twitching a little at the side.

Nicholas shot her a grateful look. “From the looks of things someone has already called the police, I’m sure they’ll be dispersed presently,” he said with a nod towards a pissed off looking woman standing by the crosswalk, phone jammed up against her ear.

“The cops always take fucking forever,” complained Linden, running a hand through her hair, foot tapping impatiently. “Come on Nick, you actually like, made a reservation and now we’re gonna miss it.”

“Linden I’m reasonably certain the staff can see what’s happening from where they’re standing,” said Nicholas, irritation creeping into his tone. “A little patience will not kill you, please do not start a fistfight with a teenager.”

Linden grinned at him, stretching her arms out in front of her chest. “I’m like, pretty certain the one with the airhorn is at least twenty.”

“Linden.”

“Well, I mean,” said Nairi speculatively, eyeing the students. “All you really have to do is be flashier than them.”

One of the running students fell out of pitch with their friends, and someone complained in her peripheral. A car door slammed and there was the crunch of footsteps on gravel followed by a huff as someone else joined the spectators. Linden turned her grin back to Nairi. “Yeah? You got an idea?”

“Yeah,” said Nairi, stepping up to Linden and reaching past her into the car window.

The other items she wanted were on the front seat, and Linden’s grin only widened as Nairi pulled them out. The baseball bat was wooden and well used, with a long crack threatening to split it clean open and letter stickers in the world’s ugliest font spelling ‘LINDE’ down the length. There was a clean spot amongst the built-up grime under the ‘E’. The bottle of lighter fluid was about half full, and Nairi held the bat out in front of her to squirt the contents over it liberally, splattering the asphalt in front of them as she did so.

She reached around Linden, extending the same familiarity she’d been receiving from her for the last two weeks, and pulled the lighter out of her back pocket.

The bat lit up easily and Nairi twisted it around to hold it upright, offering it to Linden. Linden looked at her, wide eyed, and took the bat. She placed her other hand on Nairi’s shoulder and squeezed it gently. “You get me,” she said with warmth, before throwing her head back and cackling loudly, sprinting towards the crowd of students with the bat raised over her head.

Nicholas, next to her, made a faint, strangled noise. Behind her was a scoff and a loud voice. “Well. I’m guessing you must be Nairi.”

She turned and came face to face with an older woman in a rumpled men’s dress shirt and glasses who was glaring at her. She had red hair, natural as opposed to Linden’s box dye, and it was plaited out of the way to keep her tired face clear. Grey blue eyes stared down Nairi under her stern brow, and she uncrossed her arms to step forward into Nairi’s personal space. She was stocky and only a little shorter, barely having to raise her chin. “Just for reference,” she said, tone acerbic, “If I hear a single piece of news about young adult burn victims in the local urgent care facilities tomorrow? I will track you down and hold you personally responsible.”

She stepped away without waiting for an answer, glare sliding over to Nicholas. “You’re so right, Nicholas, I can see how much of a model presence she is,” she said in a way that even Nairi could read the sarcasm. “You remain a uniquely terrible judge of character.”

She strode across the street in the wake of Linden’s chaos. The students had mostly scattered with cheers and yells, and the girl with the megaphone was doubled over laughing in her shopping cart.

Nicholas was very slowly turning red, staring at Nairi with an unreadable expression. She coughed slightly and spun on one foot to follow the others across the street, trying to swallow her irritation at their judgement.