#i always intended to go back and give it a bit of an extra polish. but at this point there's so much i'd change that i think i'd ruin it

[colgatebluemintygel]

Find A Word Tag

The rules are simple - find the word (or something close enough) in a fic (WIP, published, whatever) and share the excerpt it’s in.

Words I was given: constant, bare, green, flop, sore

Your words: moon, skin, flavour, ache, try

thank you for the tag darling em @maybebabyplease <333 kisses for your curly head

i tag: @drowsyanddazed, @mostlyoptimisticdinosaur, @fruity-individual, @crushofdoves <3

excerpts under the cut! x

constant - on another ocean

The early spring light is golden and crisp, the bright blue sky dotted with mottled grey clouds. The trees, slowly being overtaken by the first green buds of spring, are smoky and wispy on the Parisian skyline, and as they walk, the Eiffel tower watches over them, a constant, looming presence.

At this time of the year, there’s a gentleness to Paris that Sirius doesn’t remember from the stifling summers of his youth. He wonders if it’s Remus’s presence, or if Regulus was right in that he’d never truly known Paris. Perhaps it’s both.

bare - on another ocean

The lean muscle of Remus’s bare back glows with sweat in the midday Tuscan sun. Sirius could count every freckle on his golden skin. He could trace them with his fingers. He wants to.

Images flash through Sirius’s mind at that moment, memories of his dream from the night before. Images of his own hands on Remus’s back, his nails dug in, crescent moons imbedded into the skin there; red, raised welts from his fingernails marring golden skin; Remus above him, amber eyes dark with heat—

Sirius’s stomach swoops and he’s filled with want: pure, utterly dizzying, undeniable want.

Oh.

Oh fuck, Sirius thinks. No, no, no.

green - wading in waist-high water

Sirius is wide eyed, surrounded by the fronds of the willow, the last vestiges of sunlight dappling on his skin, on his hair, in his eyes, making them shine. Remus thinks he almost looks like the image of some god, some painting; he should be in a gallery, the Louvre . His aristocratic features, his windswept black hair, surrounded by the green; frazzled, shirt untucked, and hair ruffled. Remus has a fleeting thought that he doesn’t know what’s more beautiful: Sirius or the scenery.

It’s him, his mind supplies. Him.

flop - wading in waist-high water

“Not a morning person then?” Sirius asks, his voice light and airy.

Remus flops down beside him, his long arms spilling onto the counter, and grumbles something that could be interpreted as affirmative, but Sirius really isn’t sure.

“French press or espresso?” Sirius asks, standing up.

Remus yawns.

sore - wading in waist-high water

And, sometimes, when he lets his mind get away from him, he imagines a shock of black hair against his pillow. Pale skin against his own golden skin. Stormy eyes gazing up at him, lips—

“Sore hip?” Malene’s voice shakes him from his reverie.

Remus clears his throat and blows on his tea before he takes a sip. “Yeah.”

“How’s the bread practice going?”

He shrugs. “So, so. Bread’s always a bit of a funny one. It either works or it doesn’t.”

[elkenbulwark]

hc(ish) // character vs game dynamics

The barbarian class in dnd is?? I always feel so confused by it since I have it as Birvor's main class. Mainly because as soon as you load in and the default character is barbarian wearing nomadic looking barbarian furs (like up the Skyrim wilds feel) it gives off the impression that barbarian as a class is actually more like a way of life? Like if you pick it, then your character has to be this wild character living out in the wildness- either in some tribe or maybe they're just a hermit, or a widower that's no longer dealing with society and just kind of lives off the land like a wild animal. (Granted, we have Karlach as a differing sort of barbarian, though her sub class is berserker so it's not quite the same as the 'wild heart' standard variant of the barbarian.)

As far as Birvor goes, I felt compelled to add this in to his backstory in the form of him being born into a nomadic tribe of humans that fit that standard 'barbarian' feel to them, but ever since I got the idea for the character, I always thought of him wearing the fighter-class gear since that's what sort of armor and weapons he'd have been brought up in house Cragdew learning to use. He'd also have a much more polished fighter look (since elves and their fancy equipment) than what the barbarian class offers (at least starting out). So I was very inclined to just have the 'fighter' class for him, with the overall issue being that he needs to rage. Barbarian rages I'm sure have all sorts of different ways to explain what they are and why they happen, and in Birvor's case- he did not have that ability until he was 'seen' by Gruumsh after the orcs that attacked him and the others spilled elf blood. That's of course me going off my own personal spin of rages can happen to orcs/half-orcs in that way regardless of their class.

In which case, having him as a fighter class and still being able to rage thanks to the intervention of Gruumsh makes most sense to me RP wise. Of course in game, I can't do that so- he has his barbarian class on. And another issue would be that his rage with the elk heart angle allows him to stampede/knock things over, which I consider a very canon manner for Birvor's typical fighting style. All in all, I find it a bit strange to refer to him as a 'barbarian' class since even though he was born into a tribe, he was raised within the 'noble' confines of a background, and would have learned the fighting tactics of a fighter class. The only exception to this being that because of his over exerting strength, him using certain 'swordplay' moves would look more barbarous, and he has absolutely bent cheap swords before with how he uses them to basically beat the hell into something.

Bard being attached to him as multi-class is also something odd to me since I can't just refer to him as 'the bard' in passing role-play even though he has the sub class. This is because he's not the standard bard class in that he can't write or compose his own music/tales, he just knows the ones from his education/upbringing because he might have low int/wis, but higher cha and the ability to parrot stuff back as opposed to learn it himself. So yes, he can play 'the power' like any other bard, but it's less of a place of he could hear someone playing it and follow along, but more of a - he's learned it before and had to do it over and over again to make sure he gets the music lesson correct or get whapped over the knuckles with a flute and told to try again. If anything, the most canon part of the bard class for him is not the music, but the fact that he can carry an extra 'weapon' (aka use the lute/whatever instrument he finds as an extra thing to SWING at someone if he drops his main weapon), and of course cutting words/vicious mockery which he would be petty enough to use while badly strumming a lute to make his intended target more annoyed (like a bull fighter waving a red tarp essentially) and eager to target him over his teammates.

[kakiwrites]

surfs up, extra

Genre: fluff

A katsuki bakugo x reader

A Surfer Au!

Synopsis: small headcannons about bakugo being a surfer and how your lives got connected because of that.

a/n: yes, a spark of inspiration. I just came from the beach, and I'm surprised this idea didn't come sooner. I don't think I'll be fully back but we'll just have to see (if I don't post, don't think much of it anymore lol-) Hope you guys enjoy this hc!

Okay, everyone, just close your eyes and imagine suntanned bakugo. Looks immaculate, right?

Bakugo is the type of surfer that heads out to sea early in the morning so he could do his thing without the prying eyes of tourists.

It was during one of those early mornings did he meet you.

You weren't a tourist. You lived in the area but you don't go out to the beach often.

But When you had the time, You would lay down a beach towel and just sit on the sand watching the sunrise.

Bakugo didn't feel uncomfortable in your presence, mostly because he thought you weren't staring at him; he assumed you were looking at the view.

But let's be honest, who wouldn't notice a well-built guy riding the waves as the sun rose? Yeah, you glanced at him once or twice.

Anyway, it was then you began to set a routine and head to the beach every morning. definitely not to stare at the ash blonde surfer but to watch the sunrise.

Bakugo began to notice you more and more.

The way your eyes lingered on the sun before glancing in his direction, like you were waiting to hear his voice from a mile away. Your face always lit up by the golden rays, you looked like a goddess blessed by the gods. 

Bakugo is very perceptive, yet it took him a while to realize that you weren't just there to watch the same sunrise.

One day, he decided to get out of his comfort zone and actually approach you,

"hey, extra," he called out to you then, an excellent start for your first interaction, but that was the phrase that made history.

After that first interaction, bakugo made it a habit to at least say a few words to you before going out to sea.

It was awkward at first, bakugo only giving you a small bow and hello as acknowledgement.

But soon, you and bakugo began staying a bit longer on the shore, sitting side by side on the warming sand as you talked about all sorts of topics.

I mean, the conversations weren't always smooth. It usually just consists of bakugo trying to make you laugh with a phrase that was considered mean while you interpret it the way he intended and keep the conversation going.

You guys are the perfect pair, I tell you.

Without realizing it, bakugo began to look forward to talking to you until the sun was high up in the sky and the tourists started to flock to the shore.

Bakugo started to invite you back to his place so you could continue your conversations while he polished his surfboard.

The blonde also started inviting you to his surf meets.

His competitors were shocked to see the normally fierce blonde surfer bringing little sweet you in tow.

Once people got used to seeing you at meets, everyone assumed that something was going on between you and the blonde.

He finally confessed after winning first place at the regional surf meet by impulsively pressing his rough lips against yours as the sun began to set on the horizon.

You didn't pull away. Instead, you wrapped your arms around katsuki's neck and deepened the kiss.

Now, if you show any interest in learning how to surf, he'd be more than willing to teach you.

He would start from the very basics, no cuts, no shortcuts; he'd each you the basics on land because he doesn't want to watch you potentially hurt yourself on the waves.

Once you're on the actual waves, Don't worry about getting wiped out, katsuki will always be there to catch you when you fall.

I finally wrote something! Most of it is just word dumping on surfer bakugo- hope you guys enjoyed reading this nonetheless! I love you all ❤️

 General taglist (don't be shy to comment your tumblr @ below): @tokyoghoose @macaronnv @reogou @midnightangelfox @wumboho @seiijixcia @tessabrown101 @agent-barnes40

[solomonish]

How To Keep Your Demon Entertained At A Walmart

Congratulations! You've earned yourself a few demon date days up in the human world! But what's this? You have errands to run? Well, we all know these demons can't function without you for more than five minutes....but an entity that's thousands of years old gets a little bored and restless in the hyper-market wasteland of a Walmart...

Nowdateables: coming soon!

Lucifer

if you don't want him getting passive-aggressive about how you should've done this before he got here (yeesh Lucifer some of us have jobs or responsibilities that we can't shove onto our siblings for a day to see our precious mc) then you better be ready to make conversation

definitely not the type to allow you to even think about sending him off so you can get stuff done. he's not even that bothersome, so he'll get offended if you even think about it, but also wouldn't you rather keep him around to reach the top shelves?

basically if you don’t want to keep Lucifer entertained, you have to be the one he needs to keep entertained

do that thing where you roll around on the cart like a skateboard and he’ll be trying to put a stop to it immediately

put random things in your cart that he knows you don’t need and let him take it out and put it back where it belongs

stare him in the eyes as you put that party size brownie mix in your cart then speed walk away. he will come up from an aisle in front of you and silently pluck the box out and take it back. he will come back to see seven boxes of corn dogs and momentarily considers breaking up with you

does not need a treat as a bribe, but will definitely forgive your antics if you bought something from the bakery to snack on as you go home (especially if you did it without him noticing, considering the eagle eye he’s had to have on your cart the whole time)

just don’t have the nerve to complain about the crumbs in your car after that

Mammon

I would say to ask him to scan the area looking for dropped coins on the floor but he'd probably knock down shelves trying to look beneath them so....maybe don't?

also please keep an eye on him or he WILL be shoplifting. human jail is (probably?) a step up from demon jail but like. let's aim for no jail, ok mammon?

instead, give him a pre-portioned off list and tell him it's like a scavenger hunt. he'll scamper off to explore the walmart and his duty to keeping you happy has like a 70% chance of preventing him from stealing anything too important

make sure the stuff you put on the list is kind of hard to find but not too hard. you wanna keep him occupied without risking him freaking out because he can't find this super specific spice you want

either that or only make a really vague list like. tell him you need bread and he'll stand in the bread aisle trying to remember if you like white bread or whole wheat bread until you come to retrieve him

bring money for a treat. if it's near st patrick's day go in the seasonal aisle and hope they have chocolate gold coins

he's not too hard to deal with, but figuring out what's sneaky enough to put on the list is a chore of its own so going by yourself is less work anyway

Leviathan

taking him to walmart was your final fatal mistake

seriously? he has to go in? you could have just left him in the car!!

you take him intending to have him pick out some normie snacks (since you don't have any limited edition whatever-the-fucks in your house right now) but he looks so uncomfortable you make a detour towards the games

just leave him to play on the trial device and go pick out a few things for him to choose from when you circle back to him

arguable the least stressful trip for you until you have to wade through the pool of kids surrounding him and watching him play when it's time to pay and leave

you won't have to buy him anything but you will have to wait for him to finish the level he's on before he lets you drag him away. and he'll probably complain a little bit in the car about how terrible it was to go in in the first place, which a treat would help minimize.

so i guess just pick your battles with this one?

Satan

satan is a refined individual with startling amounts of self control. he does not need pointed in the direction of the books. he can entertain himself on a grocery run.

point him in the direction of the books anyway

their selection is always small (because it’s a walmart not a bookstore) and half of it is children’s anyway so he’ll probably wander off real quick

satan doesn’t need to be entertained, no, he’s past that. he needs to be kept on a leash

you have no way of knowing where he’ll end up. sometimes he’ll be somewhere that makes sense like in the stationary but sometimes you’ll find him staring at the paint samples like it’s a masterpiece in a museum or over by the fishing hooks reading up about local fish populations and how to get a fishing license and you’re just like “???? i’ve been looking for you for twenty minutes???? don’t give me facts about salmon???”

will ask you why you need to buy tires in the same place you get your food. isn’t that suspicious? what do they specialize in?

answer him only with the word “bargains” and he’ll stop asking once he understands or gets annoyed

you don’t need to buy him a treat unless he finds a book he wants. then come on mc, you dragged him out here and you’re NOT gonna let him get this one thing??

Asmodeus

he's fine with making an errand run with you actually!

he's up on the human world for you baby, just make sure to hold his hand so he feels appreciated

asmo is far too entertained with the concept of a walmart for his own good. don't go with him if you want it to be a quick trip because he'll want to go around the whole store

thinks at first that it's kind of nifty that humans just dump all the things they need in one store but is quickly turned off from the novelty when he realizes how short the distance is between the clothes and the nearest package of raw chicken

even if the selection is small, he will want to spend time in the makeup department. probably goes on rants about how he can’t imagine this quality of product is good for your skin

will still buy nail polish though if you let him

overall? not terrible to have around, but make sure you don’t have anywhere to be in the next hour when you take him

Beelzebub

pack a gallon bag of cheerios like he's a toddler and get ready to fucking book it in and out of there

you know how you should never go grocery shopping when you’re hungry? what were you thinking bringing Beel around??

another brother who’s good for reaching tall shelves if you need it

Beel also has this talent where he can just list off the ingredients you need if you happen to forget your list

if you want, you can distract him momentarily by just throwing out random dishes and he’ll get the ingredients right every time (even though they’re human dishes!!) but you’ll end up giving him like five different cravings by the time you leave

only take him if you want to speedrun grocery shopping, because he will start eating food you haven’t paid for if you take too long

bring extra money for that too, just in case he gets caught :(

Belphegor

bringing belphie to walmart isn't a matter of keeping him entertained moreso than keeping him awake

which you will inevitably fail to do

so even if you only need like three things, get him a cart and let him fall into the basket

he’ll try to stay awake (and he’ll give very self-satisfied grins to the people who stare at him ((and especially the ones who say “wow i wanna do that”))) but he can only fight off his sin for so long

stop by the blankets so he can stuff a few soft things in (bc he’s gotta be uncomfortable cramped in the little basket) and he’ll make himself a tiny nest

the good news is you can put anything on top of him and he won’t complain. just don’t drop any gallons of milk on him or anything that’ll wake him up

go to a self check-out so the employees don’t yell at you

after you put your groceries in your car, just dump his ass on the pavement. he’ll forgive you if you bought him the blankets.

[tryingmyves]

MHA | The class 1A boys ’ Starbucks orders and their reaction to you remembering it

A/N: bit of a bland prompt, but I’m having a fun time writing for it! I intend for this to be a series so if you like this one, stay tuned for more. Links to previous parts of the series available below.

Series will include: Tenya Ida, Shoto Todoroki, Izuku Midoriya, Hanta Sero, Denki Kaminari, Eijiro Kirishima, and Katsuki Bakugo

Izuku Midoriya - Izuku takes his training very seriously and by extension, his diet and what he puts in his body - if he’s going to master All for One he needs to get his body in perfect shape - and if he’s going consume a lot of calories it better be katsudon - therefore he’s not much of a Starbuck’s fan - it seems expensive and a bit to overhyped - i mean, it’s just coffee after all and he’s always thought it was kinda of bitter - but you do know Izuku drinks a lot of tea, it seems All Might is inviting him for a cup every few days - drink of choice: venti iced green tea - it’s refreshing and tasty, without causing a sugar crash part way through the extra training he does after a day of classes - the world-renowned U.A. sports festival was only a few days away and Izuku was nervous about the event - he had been cramming even more extra training than normal into his schedule in order to prepare - he asked you to meet him after school so he could practice a new move he wanted to try with the comfort of a spotter nearby - you agreed without much thought, his tenacity always inspired you - he didn’t just want to be the best, he worked for it - constantly - you raced to the nearby Starbucks as soon as the bell rung, knowing you had 30 minutes until you were supposed to meet Izuku on the practice field - you got your usual order and plus a venti iced green tea - Izuku has been working so hard, but he would always think he could be doing more - that’s why you decided he deserved at least a little treat - you couldn’t get him anything too ostentatious or tell him how inspiring you find him without distracting him from his goal - so you headed to meet Izuku armed with an iced green tea meant to convey your emotions about him… to him… - you tried your best to ignore the fluttering in your stomach as you approached him on the field - he was currently flipping through the latest notebook in his library of hero notes but as soon as he saw you approaching he flashed his dopey smile and waved - you met him with your arm extended, offering him the tea - “Hi Deku! I figured if you’re planning on practicing a new move you should be sure to stay hydrated.” - his boyish grin briefly morphs to a look of surprise, but he’s quick to regain his composure - as he takes the beverage from you his calloused fingers softly graze the tender skin of your own, causing the kaleidoscope of butterflies to spin in your stomach once more - “This is great, Y/N! I didn’t realize you noticed how much I like green tea. Thank you!” his response the sweetest mix of excitement and sincerity - without realizing it you respond, “I notice a lot of things about you, Deku.” - your eyes widen as you register what you’ve said but Izuku is too preoccupied short-circuiting to notice - “You do?! I mean - I notice things about you too! But I just didn’t think that someone like you would be interested enough in someone like me to notice things about me. But I mean - I’m happy that you do! Notice things, I mean.” - you can’t help but let out a laugh, one of both amusement and relief - you sigh sweetly at the nervous boy in front of you, willing your checks to return to their original color - “Well um,” you begin, “let’s see this new move of yours! I’m sure it’s something amazing.” - “Oh right!” Izuku responds, one hand rubbing the back of his neck - you and Deku spend a few hours polishing his newest move and guessing what the sports festival will entail - he even gives you a few ideas on how to improve your own quirk - as the sun starts to set, he walks you to the bus stop - “Thanks again for helping me. And for the tea,” he says. - he opens his mouth to say something more but closes it again - he opens it one last time after a moment and says, “well I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N!” with a smile, walking away without fully turning his back to you - “Yeah, see you tomorrow, Deku!” you say with a smile of your own - it took the whole bus ride home for the butterflies in your stomach to settle

[moonchildsaurora]

Darling, Dance for Me?

✤ sniper!San x female exotic dancer!reader ✤ genre: Mafia AU // 30% fluff, 60% spice, 10% platonic flirting with Woo  ✤ t/w: mentions of guns/shooting, mentions of alcohol, mature clubbing themes, highly suggestive in the second half (but not smut), rated M  ✤ count: 2k+

a/n - this was suppose to be for Valentine’s Day but, oh well! Enjoy some spice with one pink haired Sannie, coz we all know even though he looks soft. . . .he’s just a devil in disguise. This is probs my most suggestive writing till date as well, it was fun and am looking forward to writing more spice in the future hehet 💙

✛ play these vibes: BOBBY - ‘DeViL’, Sunmi - ‘Black Pearl’, Kai - ‘Mmmh’ ✛

“Mother told me, never to dance with the devil, So I danced for him instead.”

Cherry rouge.

Not your usual go-to, but a special occasion calls for some special exceptions. And damn did you look like fine wine tonight. Giving your styled curls another spritz of hair spray, you took one last inspection in your vanity mirror.  

Work was throwing a Valentine’s event and thus you found yourself having to dig through the back of your wardrobe to find a suitable outfit for tonight. Bold burgundy lace hugged tightly around your body replacing the mellower neutral tones you’d wear on any other night. Your roommate had even shoved a pair of thigh highs and heels on you to match the garter.

And cherry lips to bring the whole look together.

“You’ll thank me later! Hell everyone in the club would, for presenting god’s gift to them!”

You had laughed at her supportive enthusiasm, waving her away with embarrassment though you greatly appreciated the pre-shift hype.

When you headed for the kitchen, you could hear the TV in the lounge and glanced to see your roommate watching the evening news. She turned to call out for you but stopped mid-way upon realising you were already out of your room.

“Damn girl…you’ll sure be breaking hearts tonight with that fit!!” she yelled-gasped, brows waggling for a cheeky added effect.

“Well that’s no good. Dancers are supposed to be Cupids of the night, maybe they should’ve given me Aphrodite instead.”

A smile tugged on your lips as you saw your roommate falling back on the sofa snickering. Grabbing the bottle of Ten to One from what you both named ‘The Life Juice’ shelf, you started to fill your rose gold hip flask with the white rum. The debonair bartender at the club would usually be more than happy to concoct you a cup of much-needed poison to get you through the night. However, on such a busy event, you might not even have time to swing by the bar – so plan B was in order.

Also, whoever thought to invent garter pouches was a genius in your eyes. The amount of times you had snuck in a sip or two up on the podium without missing a beat or being noticed had to be one of your greatest feat till date.

Except maybe for the one who bought said pouch and flask for you. Seeing the shadow of their pleased smirk whenever you donned on something from them never failed to coax the goosebumps across your skin. Perhaps that garnet embellished choker would be the icing on the cake then. You made a mental note to put that on before you headed out.

“Hey honey…”

The tone of your roommate turned a little more serious.

“On the news just then, another one of those random sniper attacks happened along Soleil Street. Shit, that’s only two streets away from the club.”

The city has gotten used to such news every now and then. All leads of the serial sniper always went cold, not that they left behind any substantial traces for the authorities to begin with.

The law wasn’t the only ruling force in the area. Everyone knew that.

So long as one didn’t attract the wrong attention, they’d be free to go about their business.

“I’m dropping you off, are you ready to go?”

“Wait! It’s alright, I don’t want to trouble you.”

Your roommate gave you a look before swiping her car keys from the counter. “What would trouble me is not knowing whether you’ve made it to work and back safely. Now c’mon, the night is awaiting that cute booty of yours!”

“Yes mum.”

How lucky were you to have an angel for a roommate?

“Give me a heads up if you intend to bring anyone home tonight yeah? I’ll be sure to vacate the apartment before any sinning begins here.”

Or not.

A euphoric buzz filled every corner of the club tonight. Whether it was due to the special occasion or not, everyone was getting drunk off the atmosphere. The bar was a never-ending fountain of liquid luck and smoke veiled corners of the venue where patrons dealt cards and wits. A sea of bodies dominated the dancefloor, curling around one another in ecstasy as the thumping bass set the rhythm for them.

The centre podium was where the real magic unfurled.

Up on there, you felt powerful. Up on there, was your domain to rule.

Long have you enticed all those who returned back to ‘The Blue Butterfly’. So close, yet so far, for most could only have the visual satisfaction. Of watching you, along with your fellow dancers weave around golden poles and offer hands to those who sat in plush velvet chairs closest to the podium. Only to sashay away the last minute.

How bees are drawn to nectar and moths to light, the people keep coming back.

Tonight the club was decked out in a more sensual feel to fit the Valentine’s vibe. Long drapes of rose silk hung around the podium and you used those to accentuate the flow and movement of your body curves. The silks caressed the bare skin not hidden underneath your outfit and you pretended to take shy peeks around the fabrics at the audience. Sending a lucky wink or flying kiss their way.

In the middle of a mid-air twirl, you saw a familiar figure heading towards your side of the podium. You slowly lowered yourself back down to the floor, using your legs to wrap around the silks as leverage. Not missing the opportunity to be playful – you mimed shooting an arrow towards the club’s top croupier.

Wooyoung instantly clutched his heart with his hand that wasn’t occupied with holding one of Mingi’s own cocktail infusion. Letting out a hearty giggle, you slid over the podium floors to the edge where Wooyoung had propped himself up on.

“Don’t you look simply irresistible?” he crooned at you.

You could’ve said the exact same for him. All fitted to a tee in Givenchy with a classic choker that demanded attention for prominent collarbones.

“Now, how may I be of service to you tonight handsome?” you spoke over the music.

The youthful charmer leaned in towards you, shaking dark wavy strands out of his eyes. Eyeing his cotton candy pink drink, you ducked your head and took a few sips from the straw before Wooyoung drew it away. It tasted vaguely like pink lemonade with hints of vodka and vanilla.

“Ah ah, this isn’t for you poppet. Besides…” he tipped your chin back up with two fingers, “…wouldn’t want to waste your appetite before your main course tonight, would we?”

That made you perk right up.

“V.I.P Room Aurora has kindly requested for you. Drinks have already been sent up and the room’s been booked for the whole night.”

Not that booking was really needed since it was your room. It was just for formality.  

Wooyoung helped you off the podium and smoothly guided you through the crowd, placing you in front of him so as to avoid being grabbed by uninvited hands from behind. You both stopped at the foot of the polished glass stairs that led up to the V.I.P guest rooms.

“Off you go now! Oh and try not to make too much of a mess for our cleaners, they really ought to get a pay rise from some of the things they’ve witnessed in those rooms.”

You would’ve kicked Wooyoung for his brazen tongue, but you did well to remind yourself that would be rather impudent on your part. Whilst you have a jovial bond with him, it still doesn’t erase his high-standing status within the inner circle. You knew better than to cross that line of respect.

“Won’t make any promises I can’t keep, Jung!”

You left him with a soft pat on his cheek and ascended towards your utopia that awaited.

Swinging the golden embossed doors open, sultry melodious tune of a saxophone greeted you. Like molten dark chocolate, it was rich and tantalizing. The crystalline blue hue of the room’s lighting was fitting for the slow jazzy blues.

A spacious circular sofa curved around a glass table in the centre, providing a perfect view of the bejewelled podium. The wide one-way windows were especially designed for privacy. You could spectate over almost the whole club below, something you quite enjoyed during your breaks. The countless types of people that you observed stepping into your world; from the timid newcomers to the seasoned hedonists and the stories they brought with them of their journey to ‘The Blue Butterfly’.

But there was no time for that tonight. Not when you see broad sculptured shoulders that your hands have meticulously memorised the planes of – right in front of you.  

Still clad in his all-black incognito leather fit, you couldn’t help but stay by the door to appreciate his form. A huge bouquet of ivory and deep red roses sat on the glass table with an open box of what you suspected were chocolates inside. A loud pop of the champagne bottle went off. You bit your lips when you saw his toned arms flex as he gripped the bottle in one hand and tipped a stream of golden bubbles into two flute glasses in the other.

As the music picked up, you decided it was time to make your presence known. Walking with confident steps over the velveteen carpet you went to wrap your arms around his cinched waist. Resting your cheek on the cool leather vest of his back, you took his scent in.

Smoke and city musk lingered around.

You figured he must’ve come straight from his assignment. What better reason to use than to spoil him extra as post-work relaxation? His hand came up to wrap around yours and you felt the dancing of lips leaving petal kisses across your knuckles.

“You stink…” you mumbled lightly against his back.

San let out a low chuckle before setting the champagne bottle down and turning around to snake both arms around you. Calloused hands from the years of gripping guns instead of supple flesh imprinted their warm touch into your skin.

“Oh? Then I’m sure you won’t mind helping me freshen up, right Princess?”

“San!” you squealed when you felt him deliberately rub sweat against your neck before attacking it with more love bites.

“You taste like sweet temptation.”

You arched your neck out of habit when you felt his tongue swipe across it. Teeth bit down lightly around the garnet choker San bought for you for Christmas.

When you felt hands travelling down west towards your garter, you gave San a light shove backwards to the sofa.

“Not so fast, Choi.”

His predatory feline eyes took its time to rake down your body, committing every inch to memory. You made a show of bending over to grab the two champagne flutes off the table, the sharp intake of breath behind you made you preen with pride. You took your seat on your throne, not at all surprised to feel how much pent-up tension San had through the tight leather.

Clink. A toast made for the love of two.

“Happy Valentine’s, darling.”

“Thank you, San. You sure know how to spoil a lady don’t you?”

“Only the one who’s sniped right through my heart.”

Oh the irony.

You smiled when he pulled you close and claimed a proper kiss, whispering a, “You sap,” against his wind-chapped lips. Tasting the fruit acidity from the golden bubbles as you both exchanged kitten licks.

San’s rouge-stained lips chased after yours when you broke off from the kiss to place your champagne flute back down on the table. Hands anchoring your hips in place as you reached to pluck a couverture chocolate-covered strawberry from the box. Turning back round to San, your lips formed a small pout noticing that his freshly dyed hair was still hidden underneath his cap.

He let you discard it behind the sofa and you could’ve sworn he purred with satisfaction when you ran your hands through his cotton candy pink strands. Hands gave your bottom a firm squeeze and San begun to run his fingers along the hem of your lace. The husky vocals from the record player drifted back, interlacing with the saxophone.

That was your cue.

“Eyes on me.”

You held San’s gaze, fire reflecting fire. The strawberry gets slipped past the seams of his lips and all the while San chews intently, his eyes never wavered. He’s got his precious pearl all to himself, just the way he loves it. And you have the city’s most lethal hitman watching your back from dawn to dusk. San was the dangerous game you played, only to win the safest love.    

“Darling, won’t you please dance for me?”

“With pleasure, Sir.”

[gatortoe]

How to make a weighted plush furby (1998 / 2012, boom)

(This tutorial is generalized for both the 1998 and 2012 / furby boom so it will not include process pictures nor will it detail how to close up the faceplate or ears on your furby. I will however provide links to some tutorials for getting you to the point where this one picks up below. Make sure you keep the base of your furby as it will be important later.

Note: The 1998s are easier to skin and prepare for stuffing then the 2012s but the 2012s are often cheaper. Consider your skill level (in my case patience) and financial situation before attempting this project as the plastic beans needed to give the furby extra weight are more expensive than the regular polyfill, and you can get a more polished look with a new in/with box 2012 furby. Or you can be like me and throw caution to the wind. Whatever works for you)

1998

2012/Boom

One of my favorite types of Furbies are those itty bitty spaced out furby buddies. For me they are too small to be much use for stimming and none of their face parts move but the bean bag center has always given these fellows a wonderful little bit of weight. This had me wondering if I could make a full size furby with a bean bag core. Turns out it is much easier than it looks and all you need is some extra fabric of any color, the base of your furby, some weighted pellets for use in your bean bag, and a small amount of polyfill. I personally used the polyfill plastic pellets since they were easy to pick up at my local Walmart. I'd recommend using whatever is convenient or cheapest but you can get heavier beans out there.

The first thing you're going to need is the furby you intend to to turn into a plush. This particular tutorial will work for any 1998 adult, baby or 2012 furby/boom. Be sure to keep the base as this will come in handy later.

Follow the respective tutorial for pushifying your particular furby up until the point where you need to begin to sew up the butt.

Set your furby aside for now.

Using scrap fabric cut two squares roughly the same width but never bigger than the base of your furby. Using the plastic base that came with them is a useful measuring tool for this.

Pin the two squares together and sew up three of the four sides. Make sure your seams are tight so that none of the beans can't escape their soul prison.

Invert the fabric so that your seam allowances are on the inside and add your beans, making sure to add only enough to give the bag shape and weight while still allowing it to deform and move semi-freely. Just enough for it to be a proper bean bag but not enough that you're making a mess when you're sewing it up. Beans do not compress like polyfill.

Note: It is not necessary to turn your bean bag inside out and use a ladder stitch to close it up if it does not bother you. The bean bag is going to be inside the furby and not visible but it bothered me so I chose to turn the bag inside out for a more finished look. Do what makes you happy in life, dude.

Once you have added your beans turn the bag sideways so that the seam is facing you and sew close across the top of the bag going across that seam. Once done you should have a functional bean bag perfect for pelting your siblings or giving your furby a core of beans.

And speaking of your furby, it's time to bring them back!

Make a "nest" for your bean bag inside their skull by laying down a layer of regular polyfill at the top of the head. If you have a furby boom I would recommend adding extra stuffing around the faceplate as this era of furbies have larger face plates that poke further into the middle of the furby then the original 1998s.

Stuff around the bean bag to your desired firmness and set your furby aside one last time. You will see them again real soon.

Again using your base trace a circle around it using your remainder scrap fabric. If you have a furby boom or 2012 and you have the original box you can use the scrap fabric in the top of the box to sew up the butt for a more polished look.

I would recommend giving yourself a large seam allowance and making sure your trace lines are clearly marked. It can be a little bit difficult to sew up the bottom but I find the best method is a combination of pins and ample ladder stitching.

Voila! You now have a weighted plush furby! Enjoy your very shaped friend and give them lots of pets!

(P.s If you use this tutorial and have any progress pics please send them to me so that I might include them in an updated tutorial. I will be sure to credit.)

[keilemlucent]

lavender latte: iv

(T (for now!))

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

chapter 1   ||   chapter 2  ||  chapter 3  ||  chapter 5  ||

word count: 7.7k

sucks when things go south, huh. 

warnings: description of bodily injury, blood, mild? gore (it’s just describing injury), description of overstimulation, capital h and c hurt/comfort

------

chapter 4 :’^) thank u for all of the love so far. i appreciate. every. single. one of. u. bottom of my lil rat heart.

this chapter was nearly split, but giving y’all a cliffhanger seemed mean  

this the turning point and set up for the rest of the story so buckle up and enjoy ;^)

|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

Things between you and Hawks didn’t change too much, not externally anyways. Both of you still continued to indulge your feelings, even if you desperately tried to ignore them. 

You continued to honestly spoil Hawks in lavish drinks of many sensations. Truthfully, you loved nothing more than seeing his face as he sipped at your new creations, watching the curiosity and pleasure spread over his features made your heart soar in your chest.

And Keigo continued to bask in your company. The drinks were always amazing, but the chatter and discourse between the two of you was what he loved most. Or, maybe it was his learning of you through watching your small gestures and cues. His analytical, interpersonal skills were, for once, being put to a use that didn’t involve espionage or deception.

It felt cleansing.

Despite these quietly greedy interactions, there was a great deal of repression between the two of you. Aimless flirting aside, squishing any growing feelings caused you both a great deal of strain. It worked, avoidance, for a while anyway. It wasn’t without consequences, but they wouldn’t get nasty until later.

 One of the most apparent tolls was Keigo’s physical state. Having to actively ignore and quash his feelings for you caused such a deep amount of emotional turmoil. It made him ache all over. This was in addition to an asinine amount of extra hours he was spending staking out the villain syndicate that was indeed in the neighborhood of the tea shop. 

(He wouldn’t admit it, but he was being overly diligent in scouting out the organization's doings. They were very close to you and your home, and the thought of you getting caught up in anything to do with his profession fucked him up on-premise alone.) 

The combination of both physical and mental exertion made him messier than ever. It physically clouded him a lot of the time. Exhaustion had well and truly seized nipping at his ankles and proceeded to fully rip a chunk from his skull.

Keigo had yet another long day, dawn until at least midnight, no matter his aching body.

He’d be listening in on out some sort of meeting between the villain syndicate and one of its allies, some more reclusive group of villains from the far-off mountains. Neither organization was particularly noteworthy, but they did have some nasty criminal connection that needed to be monitored. That meant a late night for Keigo and an even greater need for caffeine. 

He paid you a visit in the early morning. 

 The moment Hawks came through the door, you lit up, beaming from behind the counter.  

The shop was empty, just having opened a few minutes before he appeared. The only sounds were the hum coffee machines, quiet music, and the tapping of your own tinkerings. Normally, there’d be more bustle, but you were alone in the din of the shop. 

“Hey, angel,” He flashed you a winning smile, sliding down into his usual stool and propping his elbows on the counter. “Where’s the calvary?”

“Oh, the other openers?” You jerked your thumb to the door. “Running late. They all stayed up late working on a project for school, so I took one for the team and am manning the ship alone for this first bit.”

You sighed, looking quite tired yourself.

There was mutual recognition of your twin state, though it wasn’t verbally regarded in any way. 

Hawks was far better at hiding his poor health from you, but that didn’t stop you from seeing the pinholes in his facade. You’d gotten better at it with time. 

“What can I get you today, Hawks? Inspire me.” You set the glass on the counter between the two of you, gesturing to the expanse of the coffeeshop. “It’s just you and me today, so I can go all out.”

“You don’t already?” Hawks chuckled, running a hand through his hair with a sigh.

“I try,” You shrugged. “I really do my best work for you, whether you’re a glorified guinea pig or not. Gotta serve up the best for my best customer.”

On any normal, Hawks would’ve bantered right back at you, keeping you on your toes with quick words and wit.

That day?

He just laughed, something weirdly neutral, almost off-putting because you knew it was manufactured. 

You opened your mouth, brows furrowing. You wanted nothing more than to ask ‘hey, are you alright?’. 

But, that would’ve broken some of your own, mentally-imposed boundaries. It hurt, to just laugh with him, but it was all you would let yourself do. 

“So,” You broke the air with words as opposed to giggles. “What would you like?”

Hawks hummed, “Surprise me.”

“... Like, fully?”

Hawks nodded, slowly. 

 Keigo, in a movement of full vulnerability, (he told himself it would just be for a few minutes), laid his head on his folded arms, “Go wild, angel. I trust you. Make me anything you’re feeling. Wing it, no pun intended.”

 You blinked at him, nodding. His sudden, almost submissive action surprised you. Something in you ached, seeing him so worn down.

You channeled this feeling into a desire to make him top-tier drink. 

Reaching into your apron, you fished out your idea notebook. Many had been crossed off over the many weeks (months now?) that Hawks had been visiting the tea shop. You fairly consistently wrote down new ones, so there were always options, but on that day, none appealed to you.

Your gaze flickered back to Hawks, watching the soft movements of his breath through the tight fabric of the back of his shirt. 

You needed to make it extra good, help shake Hawks from his stupor. 

 You’re gonna wing it.

You’ll make a feel-good drink.

 It was your only self-imposed criteria. 

 You hadn’t ever made Hawks a drink without a concept and feeling beforehand, so the concept of not having one seemed novel.

You activated your quirk and began.

“How’s your day been?” Hawks called from behind you, words muffled.

 Keigo still didn’t look at you; resting on his arms allowed him a little bit of a reprieve before his grueling day. He’d take it. Hearing your voice would make it that much better.

 You described your day with a decent amount of detail for how much it hadn’t gotten started yet. Hamming up the detail meant more time for you to craft the drink. Your mind spun, grasping onto pre-existing, mental abstracts in your oddly calm headspace to create something tangible. 

Though your quirk was activated, you weren’t really identifying a feeling specifically, rather just letting your quirk draw from whatever material you had laying around in your brainscape at 6 AM on a weekday morning.

You pulled as many espresso shots as Hawks usually liked (maximum, five, you refused to give him more than that in a single drink), pouring them into some steamed oatmilk and several other ingredients you had mixed into a cup. You tapped some cinnamon on top of the foam, polishing everything off with a dash of sweet cream.

Carefully, you set it between the two of you. Hawks hadn’t spoken since you had begun to make the drink, so oddly silent. 

It almost made your skin itch, his lack of response. You reminded yourself with quick glances that Hawks was very obviously out of it and exhausted. You were sure that without the concealer he wore under his eyes (a secret he revealed to only you), he’d have purple circles punched from how overworked he was.

You hoped your drink would be enough to brighten up his day. 

You bit your lip as Hawks raised his head, blonde waves more unruly than normal. A small, lopsided smile stretched across his face as he sat up, grabbing the drink and bringing it closer. He had learned long ago to allow them to cool. 

 “Sorry for not being as peppy as I normally am!” It was almost imperceptible, the off-kilter tone in his voice. 

You caught it but said nothing. 

He sheepishly rubbed at the back of his head. “Been running on empty it seems, angel.”

“Then take some fuel, bird boy.” You nodded to the foamy drink. “When are you supposed to be done today?”

“Late, like late. Early morning, probably.” Hawks sighed, taking a sip.

...

As the liquid coated his mouth, Keigo’s mind seized.

 What.

What the fuck.

 Any and all thoughts he had disappeared. They were incinerated from his mind by the drink’s heat. 

A sun-scorching sensation like he’d never even known tore through his body. 

It was so different from the other ‘warm’-toned drinks you’d made him in the past. The flavor and feeling filling him up was nothing like the hearth-like drinks you had made prior. You had treated him to plenty of beverages that felt akin to open flame, warm blankets, a cat purring over your chest, a candle on a cold night—

But, nothing even close to this.

This was such a strong feeling that if he was a less trained man, his eyes would’ve rolled back in his head. If he’d been standing, he was sure his legs would’ve been visibly shaking, probably given out.

Sure, the feeling was abstract, not as concrete as your other drinks but it was ineffably strong. 

 It felt like the flutter you caused in his stomach, but somehow all over and inside of him.

It was the heat in his cheeks when he saw you, but reaching from his toes to the skin of his scalp. 

It was the shock in his throat when you smiled so honestly at him, now forcing his hands to twitch around the cup. 

The consuming sensation was all of that goodness and more, magnified and exponentially deeper and marvelously burning.

It was hot, fiery as it ripped through him, completely unignorable. But, it was also soft, colored with the earnestness that he admired about you so much—

Oh.

 It clicked as the sensation stirred in his stomach, fluttering to a point of near nausea. 

It was you. 

 The moment he realized it, that all of that sensation was you feeling, as you had made the drink, something began to broil in the apex of his chest, rolling and all-consuming.

His mind stalled as he took it all in, taking another sip. 

The feeling washed over him again, equally as wonderfully crushing.

“Soooo,” You drawled, setting a jar next to you on the counter, beaming him a smile. “What do you think? Gimme your judgment, bird boy.”

Keigo struggled to keep his face neutral as he quickly searched yours. 

Even in his state, it was clear that there was no deception or riddle laced into the creaminess of the drink. The expectancy in your face was derived from admiration, not waiting for the punchline of an unfinished joke.

 “It’s warm! Like, in your stomach.” Hawks looked down before taking another sip, the even smile on his face not wavering for even a moment. “What is it?”

“It’s a miel,” You tapped the jar next to you, pointing at the amber goo inside. “This is some wildflower honey from the owner’s sister’s farm, right outside the city. We have a bunch of extra stuff, so there’s no better time to make a honey-based drink.” 

Hawks eyed the steam, “What goes into a ‘miel’?”

Watching Hawks’ shoulder go slack with the next chug he took, you hummed, “It’s a latte, so espresso and milk, then it has the honey in it which is what makes it a ‘miel’. Topped it with some special sweet cream, a bit of cinnamon. My extra touches in it as well, just based on my quirk.”

Hawks met your gaze, his eyes softening with what you could’ve sworn was desperation, but was quickly swallowed up but stoicism, “And what was this drink’s inspiration?” 

You laughed, shoving your hands in your apron from the typical anxiety, though the feeling itself was somewhat normal and thereby dulled, “It didn’t have one! I just winged it, like you said. My quirk was activated though, so it was just sort of the concept of what I was perceiving and feeling, I suppose.” 

There was a pause as you waited for Hawks to speak. 

He didn’t.

 Keigo stared down at the drink, then you. 

Holy fuck.

This was ambient? 

The sensation that made his toes curl and every part of him yearn to reach out to touch you and give all of himself to you—

It was unintentional?

The feeling was familiar, one that he had organically all the time when thinking of you, being with you at the teashop. It was the one that he shoved down over and over again around you, yet craved more than anything.

And here you were, unknowingly returning it to him.

You hadn’t intended it to be shared and you had no idea you even did.

Keigo was one of the most perceptive people on the planet— he knew that many of the feelings between the two of you were mutual. As much flirting as there was, a lot of it was real from both of you. 

He just didn't think it ran this far deep.

(Mutually.)

 “What... What do you think it tastes like?” You asked, that nasty rot in your gut rearing itself as Hawk’s lack of response ate at you. You turned fully to him, actually taking him in.

 Keigo did what he was so skilled at doing—

Lying.

 Hawks waved his hands in front of him like he was trying to put out small flames, “Nothing bad! Promise, it’s really good! It tastes like how the coffee shop feels. Warm, comfortable. It makes sense that your quirk would reflect that.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, “Oh, good. I’m glad it's good.”

“Very good. I might have to put miels on my list of favorite drinks you’ve made me,” Hawks gave you a relaxed grin, standing and passing a wad of cash to you.

You didn’t expect him to be leaving so quickly, but he did say he was busy.

“Oh, hey, Hawks?” He perked up when you said his name, blinking at you. “I’ve got a project I’m working that I’m doing for the owner, so I’ll be here late. If you’re around, you’re welcome to come by after close if you want another drink? For your long night.”

Hawks softened for you like he so often had come to do. He fluffed up the collar of his jacket, wings ruffling up behind him, “I think I’ll take you up on that. I’ll have some ideas for you then too, how about that?”

 “Sounds lovely,” Your voice was like the honey of the drink, warm, sweet, and vibrant. “I’ll see you then, Hawks.”

“See you then, angel,” Hawks practically glowed as he walked from the door, the chime of the bell sounding with his exit. “I’ll text you when I’m close!”

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 Over the course of the day, an odd feeling grew in the pitch of your stomach. You did your best to ignore it. 

You alternated between serving customers and working on the ‘project’ the owner had saddled you with. Making centerpieces for his sister’s bridal shower was not something you should’ve been doing on company time, but they were giving you a handsome sum of cash under the table for it. 

You couldn’t complain too much, other than that it was laborious. Masons jars stuffed with wired lights and frosted glasses, tied with twine and ribbons were all to be prettily arranged by your hand. 

 During the middle of the day, you went back home, spending your time between shifts catching up on sleep and making some decent food.

The odd gnawing only grew in your stomach. 

 Keigo’s long day was wearing on, though somewhat uneventfully. Most of his patrolling time was the effortless thwarting of petty crime and easy rescuing. 

He even had the time to go back to his agency and snoop.

Because, for how lame his day was, the drink you made him (which he had greedily chugged all of shortly upon leaving the tea shop) caused him to think particularly hard about your quirk.

(As opposed to the asphyxiating awareness of your shared feelings.)

 He didn’t get it.

You’d managed to perfectly create a drink that communicated complex feelings. You’d told him in the past that it could be used for any sort of feeling as well, but you were so vague beyond that. You were abstract in the same way you quirk was.

So, he decided to abuse his power a little.

He decided to actually take a lunch at the agency, munching on takeout while clicking through the HPSC’s databases.

Civilian quirks, especially those that had never attempted to pursue any sort of career with them, weren’t documented incredibly well. Maybe a few details that were used in public research projects, but not much beyond that. He had hoped he could dig and find something that would assuage his curiosity and confusion.

He tapped your name into the HPSC’s hero-accessible database, scrolling and pulling up your file.

There was a picture of you, one from an ID that must’ve been a few years old. There were personal details Keigo wasn’t all that interested in, though it was neat to finally know your birthday. 

He clicked on the tab for your quirk.

  Quirk: Synesthetic Manifestation 

Description: Allows the user to materially manifest abstract, synesthetically-created feelings into reality. 

This quirk does not allow the user to alter reality, only tangibly create abstracts through the means at their disposal.  

Drawback: This quirk causes severe synesthetic overstimulation and appears to be activated unintentionally in instances that expose them to high amounts of stimuli. 

Quirk potential: 

 Keigo knew the concept of ‘quirk potential’ well. Most of the time, this portion on files was only filled out if the individual had ever trained to use their quirk in a profession.

Oddly, your’s contained a few details.

 The user showed high potential in initial assessments, but due to the nature of the quirk, its drawbacks, and its recorded usage, this user’s quirk is now classified as lowest potential.

 Keigo frowned.

All this just made him more confused. 

The file didn’t get into much more detail than you did. The only thing that was new information to him was that at some point you had tried to use your quirk in a training setting and that somehow got you demoted from high potential to lowest potential.

Keigo’s own quirk in the database was regarded as highest potential; you, at some point, were only a step down from him. Something knocked you down from pursuing quirk-based work, and based on your current employment at the tea shop, you never got up. Keigo figured it was the intricacies of your quirk that he didn’t fully understand.

He’d have to be a bit more careful getting any more information out of you, considering how much you disliked talking about it. 

Keigo continued to stew, finishing off his lunch while thoughts of you and your feelings danced across his mind. 

Though it was clear his adoration was obviously returned, it was much easier for him to muse over the nature of your quirk than the way he wanted to pull you over the teashop’s counter and kiss you breathless.

 You went back to work, a few chalky tablets of stomachache medicine in your tummy. They were all you could do to try and quell the twisting in your gut. 

 By the time you arrived back to start your ‘night shift’, it was late evening, the sun already having fallen into the horizon. 

Most of your time prior to closing was spent in the front, helping make drinks and clean up as you could. Part of you was actually excited to throw on some good music and grind after the tea shop was shut down for the night.

Also, seeing Hawks twice in the same day? Absolutely fantastic.

You wanted to try and make him a knockout drink, to make up for the lackluster one you’d prepared him earlier. Seeing his eyes get all gooey with happiness would more than push you through your night of work.

Your phone chimed a bit before close.

 [birdboy]: hey ;^) mind if I come by in like a half an hour?

[you]: yeah!! just call me and i’ll unlock the door for you

 Your closing coworkers giggled at you. They all knew that that big smile stretched across your face meant you were texting Hawks. You used to get a bit shy about it, but now you just gave them shit. He was your friend, right?

 [birdboy]: what if i like, hit the glass, like fly into it like birds do into windows

[you]: okay one- no, that would definitely shatter the windows and idk if i wanna deal with that AND you tonight ;^)

[you]: and TWO- are you speaking. from experience. about hitting windows.

[birdboy]: please dont @ me like this 

 You snorted. 

 [birdboy]: i had to pay off a tabloid who got it on camera bc it would ruin my brand

[you]: do u still have those photos

[birdboy]: ... maybe

[you]: hawks

[you]: gimme

[birdboy]: idk if i can my publicist will kill me

[you]: u hear what i hear?? a coward

[you]: how does ‘your brand’ feel about that

[birdboy]: ...

[birdboy]: gimme one of those honey sticks u have at the register and the pics are yours once i get there ;^)))

[you]: DEAL!!!

 You pocketed your phone in your apron, unable to stop the almost ridiculous smile that you wore.

Hawks made you uncomfortably happy. You knew that he didn’t feel the same, but he was still there. Even if you were just entertainment to him, you were happy to perform on any stage he was watching. 

As closing crept up, you shooed your other coworkers off. Most of the closing tasks were done, they could leave a few minutes early. 

As they began to pack up, chatting about some party that night, your insides twisted.

You squeezed the counter, rubbing your forehead while wishing your coworkers a good evening.

Weird.

 It was about then that things went to shit for both you and Hawks. 

 Keigo’s was supposed to be in for a hellishly long shift of surveillance based on the intel he’d received about the syndicate and its impending meeting. 

Apparently, that meeting was happening earlier, rather than later. 

The chaos started quickly, the meetup going from a strategic talk to an all-out fight between two groups. 

It spilled into the nearby streets, both sides unabashed in their destruction. 

 Perhaps, if Keigo had been faster (what a tall order, for the fastest man in all of Japan), things wouldn't have gotten so out of hand. 

But quickly, things erupted and the streets dissolved in mayhem as he dove and sent feathers flying.

 You stood by the front entrance, waiting for Hawks, idly sweeping. The cleaning tasks were almost done, the world outside was dark with the late evening.

You froze when the ground beneath your feet rumbled with revving engines, the air splitting with the sound of car horns and alarms. 

Everything that happened next moved so quickly, it was difficult to follow.

Windows began to shatter all across the street, near and far.

They cracked, spraying glass as a figure cloaked in black flew down the asphalt outside. A red barrage followed after it, nearly subduing it as it raced past the tea shop.

The massive glass panels at the front of the tea shop filled with frosty lines, just feet in front of you. 

It clicked for you a few moments too late.

Adrenaline shot through you, but it wasn’t enough. 

...

You weren’t Hawks, you weren’t fast enough to outrun much of anything, let alone quirk-shattered glass. 

You were just barely able to turn around before the spray of shards reached you. 

You would later be incredibly thankful that you wore denim jeans and a wool sweater that day. Without the thick fabrics, you were sure that you would’ve been shredded. The problem was your low-top shoes and thin socks.

Just as you turned, searing pain shot from the back of your left ankle. You urged yourself to forget the specifics, flesh-tearing, mind beginning to buzz. 

You just had to keep moving. 

Except, you couldn’t. Your left leg gave out with your next step.

You shrieked as you fell to the floor, barely catching yourself. Your palms smacked against the ground, pieces of sharpened glass driving into the flesh. 

You couldn’t help screaming, your voice mingling with the sound of alarms, cries for help, and the war cries of a nearby fight.

Oh.

You were in the middle of a fairly nasty villain attack.

...

So much for giving Hawks a better drink.

The mental joke seemed macabre, especially in your state.

 You willed with all of your might, for your quirk to not activate. Overstimulation was just inches away from your current state, the sounds outside the teashop boring through your skull like diamond drill bits. 

The pain that was radiating from your left leg was nearly unbearable, but you knew that getting out of the front room was imperative. 

How you managed to keep your injured leg straight, you’ll never know. 

You locked your jaw and pulled yourself along the floor, hoping that Hawks had this all under control. More people were bound to be hurt by the same sort of attack you got caught in, right? How many more folks had been sliced up like you? Worse than you?

 Keigo wasn’t having much trouble subduing the villains. They, of course, had no idea that he had been watching the syndicate for three-odd months. He knew their quirks, their tactics, their escape routes, everything. What he didn’t know as well was the other group’s specifics. 

From what he had understood before the fight, the two had somewhat friendly relations. Still, Keigo mentally kicked himself for not being more diligent in his gathering of intel. 

His mistakes aside, the much more pressing issue was the two-kilometer stretch of shops that were now collateral damage in what was essentially a mobile mob war. 

This damage included the tea shop.

When he’d flown past the shop, he’d only caught a glimpse of your face through the glass before it shattered.

You’d looked terrified.

Every part of him wanted to stop, dead in the air, rush in, and make sure you were okay, but he had to at least get things under control until more heroes showed up. Then, he’d be able to get to you. 

By the time Keigo subdued several villains of either group, more Pros had arrived on the scene. He sped off to the teashop far too quickly when he saw others gathering. It was an ill-advised move, but he was clouded by a different set of instincts than those cultivated in his hero training. 

The flight did allow him to fully take in the damage of the district, though.  

It was about as bad as it could be.

Whatever the villain’s quirk was must’ve shattered glass within a certain radius from his body, Keigo observed.

Thankfully, the villain’s quirk didn’t appear to affect anything past two stories of height, sparing all above it. Those panes and pieces that did shatter had sprayed businesses, restaurants, shops, and the street with shards of glass. Not to mention that they flew at the speed of projectiles.

(At the full-minded revelation that there was no way you weren’t hurt, Keigo felt his stomach flip and eyes burn.)

Keigo shuddered to think how bad the damage would’ve been if the encounter happened during broad daylight. 

 Keigo curled in his wings, dropping onto the floor at the front of the teashop through the broken window. 

He kept his expression somewhat neutral, though the scene before him tore at his heart in a way he wasn’t expecting.

The tea shop was destroyed.

The pretty, warm lighting fixtures had shattered, fine filaments exposed, and a few sparking. The glass jars on your wall of tea blends were broken, spilling leaves and dried herbs across the back counter. That wasn’t even to mention the layer of shards from all of the glassware stored around the coffee machines.

Seeing the destruction of one of the only places he had ever found real comfort in was awful, and it tore something hidden and vulnerable in his heart.

But far, far worse was the absolute horror that bloomed in his chest when he saw the sizeable spot of blood in the middle of the floor, smearing to the back doorway. 

“(Y/N)!” Keigo shouted, ignoring any stealthy elements and hurriedly following the trail.

“B-back here,” Oh, your voice was so weak. 

Keigo couldn’t make himself move fast enough.

 You’d managed to get yourself to the back, biting your lip so hard you were scared you’d break the skin. Part of you was lucid enough to know that making too much noise could be bad. Then again, the shop was supposed to be closed. Did anyone even know that you were there?

Hawks did.

You gripped at one of the edges of the stainless steel countertops, using all the strength you could muster to pull yourself upright. As careful as you were not to jostle your injured leg (that you still hadn’t looked at properly because you were terrified), the moment you bent it, you had to suppress a scream, turning it into a slow, nasty exhale. You let yourself sink to the floor again. 

Something was seriously fucked up.

 Then Hawks called your name. 

You were sprawled out on the floor, injured leg awkwardly turned and extended to prevent the pain from being made worse. 

The moment he saw you from the doorway, the remnants of his wings flapped, practically throwing him to the ground next to you.

The moment you saw him enter the back room, any and all fronts you had put on for yourself fell apart.

“H-Hawks,” You hated how small your voice sounded as you pushed yourself closer to him.

The details of him, how ruffled his remaining feathers were, how wide and scared his eyes were, how different he looked from the times you’d seen him on the news confidently saving the day, were lost on you. 

 Though, Keigo noticed your poor state easily. It was more obvious. 

He scanned your form with the trained precision he was known for. He took in the shattered piece of glass sticking from your leg, bleeding lightly. Your palms weren’t bloody, but they were dotted with shards of glass. 

He also noticed your panicked shaking and your unnaturally dilated pupils, beyond anything he’d seen while you’d made drinks for him. 

“Is your quirk active?” Keigo asked, pulling off his gloves and grabbing one of your wrists. He turned your palm, using two of his smallest feathers like tweezers to pick at the shards pieces of glass. 

“Y-yeah,” You replied, using the back of your other hand to wipe at your eyes. “It does this when I’m under extreme stress. I can’t turn it off.”

Keigo managed to laugh, relieved that the cuts in your hands weren’t that severe, “You just focus on me, okay, angel? That’s all you gotta do.”

 You nod, trying to hold your overstimulated mind back. It’s fruitless, truly, because the moment Hawks reminds you that he is, in fact, there, and that you are safe, you quirk-addled mind spasms. 

The awful mix of sensations whirled in your skull as you leaned forward, pressing your forehead into Hawks’ shoulder. In other circumstances, it would be a romantic gesture. But, the only purpose you had in the contact was hoping, praying, that the heat of his body would distract you from the swirling of sensations you couldn’t stop. 

In that mental soup, within the fear, intense pain, and loss, oddly enough, was the unignorable, pleasant feeling of being so close to him. It made your heart squeeze. But, it was a single spice of sensation in a foul-tasting stew though, and it was hard to isolate the good in the muck of your mind. 

You shook against him as sounds and pain blended inside your skull, thoughts becoming murkier and harder to understand.

 Keigo finished tweezing your other hand, that one worse off, and wrapping it in some gauze he had stuffed in his jacket.

His mind screamed for him to wrap you in his arms, to pull you close and keep you safe. It was all he could fathom doing, just nearly moving to do so—

That was until the popping rumble of a nearby explosion interrupted his thoughts.

You jumped against him, muffling a scream in his shoulder.

His heart ached.

 “(Y/N), I know this is all scary,” Hawks’s voice came through your sensational slurry. “But, I need to be back out there right now.”

“No.” Your mouth spewed with no discernable thoughts behind it. “Don’t leave. Please, don’t. Please.”

You caught Hawks’ wince, but barely. 

He was already repositioning you, scooting you under one of the countertops, “Angel, I’m sorry. I need to go, but I’ll be back. I promise.”

Your eyes screwed shut, vibrating in your skull as pulling your uninjured leg to your chest. 

Hawks looked equally as torn up about having to leave, brows creased with his lip worried between his teeth.  

Despite how messy your brain felt, you knew that you were beyond defenseless. Even if your mind could easily conjure up an infinite number of ways to bring a person non-lethal (and lethal) pain, you were turning to mush mentally and you had glass sticking out of your leg. You had no fucking way to create it with your body. 

Your back hit the wall under the counter and you managed to wrench your eyes open, taking in Hawks and his visage while you spun.

He looked so sad.

The feeling of mourning and fear spat so hotly in your mind, it was like you’d been intangibly burned by his expression. 

You choked on your own stored tears, reaching out for him.

He caught one of your hands, the wrapped one, and squeezed it lightly. 

Even with so few feathers left, Hawks plucked one, about the size of your forearm. He replaced his hand with the plumage. 

“(Y/N), I will be back. I promise,” Hawks (so weakly) smiled, trying to reassure you. “You snap that feather if anything changes, okay? If anyone comes into the shop who isn’t another pro, or if you start to feel faint. Do you understand?”

“Yeah.” You gritted out, somehow laughing. Your vocal cords rubbing together sends a wave of agony up the back of your neck, burying behind your eyes. You press your forehead in your bent knee. 

 With one last, fleeting look, eyeing your wound and remembering slate-colored eyes, Keigo took flight into the fray once more. 

Keigo hated leaving you. He hated it so fucking much. It burned him, felt wrong in every way. You were so vulnerable in your state. Both of you knew that without him there, you were entirely exposed and fairly defenseless.  

It perked up that protective instinct he’d repeatedly had towards you for months. It was probably something related to his avian mutation, but it was just blood-boiling need to keep you safe.

Yet, he just left you, wounded and mentally spiraling, in the middle of a destroyed building.

If he wasn’t trained so well, he would have acted differently. But, it had been burned into him time and time again what his needs were in disaster situations.

Neutralize, stabilize, clear out. 

Through his exhaustion, he fought and soared with all he had, fatigue forgotten and replaced by hot cortisol. He forced himself faster, zipping down alleyways and across rooftops at some of his top speeds. 

While Keigo tracked down all of the villains (he managed to miss the first time), he trusted that the other Pros could deal with the heavy collateral damage. He was number two, he could catch some organized criminals. 

Beyond his training, Keigo had an even bigger motivation. 

He could feel you.

The feather he left with you must’ve been pressed right up to your chest, maybe under your neck with the way Keigo could so intensely feel your breath and heartbeat. He could sense it gradually speeding up to the point of what had to be panic. If Keigo focused, he could make out your terror-stricken babbling.

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“This is fine.”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Hawks is okay.”

“He’ll come back.”

“He won’t leave.”

...

“Everything's gonna be okay.”

With that last one, your words gave out and it turned in gasping breaths. 

Keigo worked himself harder, striking down the last of villains with absolute precision, all distractions forgotten in the most pivotal moments of combat. 

The instant the villains were in custody, restrained, he was flying back towards the tea shop.

 You don’t remember any of this well. Your mind was liquified, your body throbbing in pain. 

It had been an incredibly long time, years since you’d been in any situation resembling a villain attack. There was no way to stop the synesthetic storm that was choking your mind. Every sensation was magnified, mixed with another, and shoved down your throat without any ability to change it.

A few minutes after Hawks left, giving you time to stew and roll, you spiraled more harshly.

When you realized how pitifully helpless you were, you fell away, pressing your wet face into the Hawks’s feather. Your vision muddled between black and red. 

You felt the cold of the blood wetting your pant leg.

Your wound is bad.

You hadn’t fully looked at it in awhile. 

Opening your eyes, you suppressed a wave of nausea at the small puddle of blood growing under the bottom half of your useless leg. 

The way the denim of your jeans stuck to your skin mixed with the smell heady smell of blood made you gag. 

You couldn’t keep it up anymore.

Letting your eyes shut, you sank down to the floor, cheek pressed into the dirty cement. 

You don’t know how long you idled, drowning in your mind’s colors and vibrantly violent sensations. 

You were only half-conscious when the feather pressed to your neck twitches.

 “(Y/N)!” Keigo shouted as he landed in the teashop, flying straight to the backroom, bypassing the mess of broken glass. 

His breath caught, seeing you slumped over.

“Fuck,” Keigo couldn’t stop the tremble in his voice as he noticed how much blood had pooled beneath your injured ankle. “Hey, hey, (Y/N)—”

He sure fucking sucked at admitting his faults, and recognizing the severity of wounds was indeed one of them. He didn’t usually stick around long enough to deal with casualties so closely. 

Keigo threw off his gloves, tossing them behind him without looking. 

“‘M fine,” You started to push yourself up, hissing at the pain that surged from cuts in your hands. “Brain’s mushy.”

“That all?” Thank god Hawks still managed to joke. The humor dashed across your vision like little sparks. You stifle a weak snort. 

 “There’s my angel.” Keigo was so relieved to see you conscious that he didn’t notice his own possessive slipup. “Are you lightheaded?”

Gingerly, he helped stabilize your body upright as you wrenched your eyes open.

“A little, it’s okay, this is what happens,” Your voice was so loud in your own skull, it hurt. Though, the pain of your words was only a prick in the wet dough of your overworked mind. Sensation was pain, rolling over you and making it harder and harder to stay lucid. 

 Keigo swallowed thickly at the sight of your fully-blackened irises. 

He needed to get you out as fast as possible, but that required assessing the gash in your leg. 

His gaze flickered to your ankle, “Can you move your toes?”

“I don’t want to.”

Keigo frowned, weakly, pushing you as upright as possible as you began to slip to the side. 

“Please, you have to try, okay?” Keigo begged, not noticing his own voice wobble. 

You shook your head, grabbing it in within its own motion. The dizziness made your insides knot and stick together. 

“(Y/N), please.”

You shifted your gaze to him, vision tilting as you did. 

The frown on your face split as you just barely moved your toes within your blood-soaked shoe.

The fresh pain, vibrant and boiling, cut through the fog like a heat-blackened knife. 

Your own fist flew into your mouth to mouth to suppress the cry that bubbled from your throat. You half-recognized it was the one holding Hawks’s feather. 

You couldn’t see the way Keigo flinched at the sound, immediatly trying to soothe the two of you. 

 “Alright, good, okay, you can still feel them,” Hawks managed to laugh, cutting into the miasma of your psyche. It was something light and airy, tasting like packet sugar on the sides of your tongue. 

Chasing the goodness of Hawks’s voice, you mustered up as much clarity as you could grasp, willing yourself into full sentences, “Hawks. I swear to fucking God, if you do not get me out of here right now, I will never make you a drink ever again.”

 Keigo blinked at you, nodding, watching your attempt to focus on him, though the fully inked irises seemed to refuse to stay put.

 So, this is what the file meant about the cost of your quirk. 

 “Don’t have to tell me twice, dove.” Hawks scooped you up before you could manage to put more thoughts together. A few of his feathers flew to stabilize your injured leg. 

His touch felt good, like incredibly good. Even as the crunch of his boots on the broken glass of the tea shop scratched at your inner ears and burned your sinuses, the heat and texture of his jacket caressed over your cheeks. His warmth tasted like honey and cream. 

Your head lolled onto his chest, idly playing with the filaments of his feathers that you refused to let go of. 

 (Keigo didn’t want you to, anyway.)

He couldn’t fly well, not in his mostly-featherless state, so he took to walking instead. He sidestepped as much glass he could, mostly watching your half-lidded eyes fixate on the feather you had pressed up to your face.

It was a weird circle, Keigo feeling your heat and breath so close, both on his body and on the sensitive plumage. Technically, he was doing his job, so he let himself indulge just the smallest bit in being so close to you. When Keigo squeezed you, nearly at the medic’s area, you tucked your face into his collarbones, breaths slowing from panic. You were even slack in his grip.

A paramedic rushed up to the two of you, guiding you to a setup stretcher and a waiting line of ambulances.

 “We can take it from here, Hawks, no need to stick around,” The paramedic’s voice cut through the air, dripping bitterness on your tonsils and iron nails in your lungs. 

Hawks set you half-down onto the lip of the vehicle, “Nah, it’s okay, I’ll hang out with them for a sec. They’re a friend of mine.”

He’d never said it before. That you were friends. 

Heat rushed up to your fingertips, sweetness washing over your wounded leg, topped off silken air settling around your ears. 

You’d drown in the sensation, a million times over.

 The paramedic ran off quickly, a man with a nasty head wound taking precedence over your leg (which seemed to have clotted somewhat with your somewhat more relaxed state). 

Hawks still didn’t leave.

Rather, he moved closer.

So did you.

 From your spot sitting on the edge of the ambulance, your injured leg was twisted and propped up while the other dangled off the edge of the vehicle.

Keigo was right up against the metal, allowing you to lean on his side.

“You good?” You asked him, bumping your leg into his lower back.

Keigo couldn’t help jumping. You’d never casually touched him. 

(He really liked it.)

Though the setting and circumstances were fucked, he figured it was okay. 

You were friends, right?

 Hawks wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pressing you into his side.

You took it a step further, wanting to simply soak in the amber, milky feeling of his touch. 

You squish your cheek low against his collarbone, drinking in the smell of his sweat, stale, spiced cologne, and rich, expensive smelling hair oil. 

The scents washed over your skin, rolling over your burning wounds like aloe and clean water.  

“Thank you.” Your voice is small and soft, kept gentle by your last sparks of lucidity. 

You heard Hawks chuckle, your vision swimming in honey and yellow with the sound, “Just doing my job, you know.”

“I mean, yeah,” You laughed too, pressing your nose harder into him. “But, it’s you, and I’m just glad you’re here.”

“You better stop being so sweet,” The hand around your shoulder rubbed slowly, up and down your spine, sweet spices and sugars dancing on the roof of your mouth. “Gonna give me ideas.”

The touch, something you craved and denied yourself, pushed you over the edge as his touch dissolved across your overstimulated mind in cresting waves of rushing, blessed heat. 

Finally succumbing to the flood of your quirk, drowning your mind in both agony and absolute calm, you muttered out the last clear thing you said that evening, “We always give each other ideas, silly.”

God, the many meanings behind your words spun and stuck in Keigo’s mind like the taste of the miel he drank that morning. They relentlessly clung to his psyche, wanting to know more. 

He stayed close while you were assessed and strapped into the ambulance. He sent a few of his last feathers to retrieve your jacket and purse from the wrecked shop.

All the while you clutched his bare hand, irises black while the whites turned bloodshot. 

As the ambulance drove off towards that public hospital, he could feel the steady beat of your heart through the crimson feather he made sure was tucked in your hand the moment he had to let it go.

He felt you squeeze it, and he wanted nothing more than to return the gesture a thousand times over.  

[obeyme-kaidii-writes]

mammon with a overly emotional MC? asking bcs I cry too much lol, the story would just make everytime I cry a bit better :))

Ok, first off anon, SAME. I also had a dad that thought crying was just women trying to manipulate men, so yeah, that was fun.

I was in the middle of writing something else when I got your request and I just felt like I had to write something for you. (And myself, let’s be honest lol) I’ve never done a songfic before, but I couldn’t get this song out of my head and it just seemed to fit perfectly with the idea I had.

I hope you enjoy. ☺️

Emotional

Mammon x gn!MC

Words - 1804

Content warnings - light angst, lots of comfort and some fluffy cuddles

Prompt/inspiration - anon request, “Emotional” by Diana DeGarmo

NOTE - the original song uses the word “girl”, this has been removed in this story and replaced with [gender]

Summary - After a rough day at RAD, you hide out in your room while Mammon tries to figure out what’s wrong.

NOTE - lyric free version can be found here.

AO3

Today had been a long day. You couldn’t quite put your finger on it, but for whatever reason, anytime someone so much as looked at you funny, you felt like crying. The voices in your head whispering to you that they were watching you, judging you.

Mammon had tried on several occasions to pull you aside, but you successfully managed to slip away each time. Normally you were so grateful for his company, but today you just knew that if he asked you if you were okay you were going to lose it.

And you absolutely did not want to lose it in the middle of RAD.

You flopped onto your bed, now in the safety of your room, curling up on yourself and pulling your comforter around you. Finally you were able to let out all the stress that had been holding onto. And just as you started to cry, a loud KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK on your door shocked you back to your senses.

“Hey, open up! You’ve been avoidin’ me all day.”

It was Mammon.

Not even taking a moment to think about what you actually wanted, you snapped at him.

“GO AWAY.”

Sometimes I get emotional

Sometimes I do some stupid things

Sometimes I say

What I should just keep inside

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. Your tone was sharper than you had intended, but not only that, you didn’t really want him to leave. Part of you wanted him to wrap you up in one of his hugs and just hold you while you fell to pieces in his arms. However, you learned a long time ago that only babies cried. If you were strong, you wouldn’t cry so much. That crying was a burden on and an annoyance to everyone around you.

Sometimes I'm sad

'Bout everything

Sometimes I'm mad

And break some things

Sorry times ten

But you just got in the way

The silence that followed made your heart break. You couldn’t tell if you were more sad at the idea that you had hurt Mammon’s feelings or more hurt that he seemed to have just left you without even trying to figure out what’s wrong. If he cared, surely he would have been more persistent, right? And you knew that was a ridiculous thing to think, manipulative even, but you couldn’t help those feelings that coiled around your heart.

Don't give up now running away

I won't hurt you

Sometimes I'm just a pain

And that's the way it is

That's just the way I am

Resolving to spending the evening alone, you laid back down, curling up as small as possible once again. As your thoughts wandered, and your tears fell, you slowly started to drift off to sleep. You didn’t notice when your bedroom door opened. You didn’t notice the smell of hot chocolate wafting into your room. And you didn’t notice the dip in your mattress as someone climbed in beside you.

Sometimes I feel like crying

Laying down and dying

That's when I need you

In fact, it wasn’t until you felt an arm slip around your waist and a kiss on the exposed skin of your neck that you finally started to become aware of what was going on around you.

“Hey,” Mammon whispered as he settled down in your bed, spooning you from behind.

Your breath hitched, and you felt your body stiffen involuntarily. Why was he here? Had he seen your face? Did he know you had been crying? Tears silently slipped down your face again as you started to panic internally. What was he going to say when he realized?

Laughing's always easy

But sometimes I'm just scared

You'll leave me

That's when I feel

Emotional

“I ain’t goin’ anywhere until ya tell me what’s wrong.”

“I...umm…” you wanted to answer him. Make an excuse. Offer some sort of rational explanation for why you were hiding in your room and had been avoiding him all day. Something told you just saying “there’s something in my eye” wasn’t going to fool him.

“Tch, always gotta be so difficult,” Mammon said. You felt his arms release you as he sat up and moved to the edge of the bed. If you thought you had been anxious before when he was laying beside you, it was nothing compared to the feeling of him leaving, with the words “difficult” echoing in your ears.

You say I'm just impossible

Totally unpredictable

I'm just a [gender], get used to it

No big deal

“Here. Sit up.”

But before your thoughts got to turn too dark, Mammon was sitting beside you again. Poking you with his elbow as he nudged you in the back. So surprised were you to find that he was still there and hadn’t left, you turned around immediately to look at him.

Despite his dark skin tone, you could tell he was blushing, and even if you couldn’t, his refusal to look at you would have been more than enough to confirm that he was feeling embarrassed. Your gaze slowly traveled downward until it landed on the tray he was holding in his outstretched hands.

“What’s this?” you asked, puzzled at why Mammon was offering you a mug of hot chocolate, and what appeared to be...cookies…? Only they were slightly burnt, and you weren’t sure you recognized the ingredients he had added in lieu of chocolate chips.

“What’s it look like? I had some extra and thought you might want some. But if ya don’t appreciate it…”

Not wanting to discourage Mammon, you quickly sat up, wiping whatever tears remained on your face away, and took the tray from him.

“...thanks.”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye as you studied his gift, smirking at your response.

Once you were situated with your back against your headboard, you placed the tray in your lap and Mammon sat down beside you. He grabbed his mug of hot chocolate, taking a sip as he waited for your reaction. He was pretty impressed with the results of his baking skills, and was certain the treats would put a smile on your face.

You can't change me

Why would you try (Why would you try)

(You know that I) I'm no angel

But I can make you smile

You reached for one of the cookies, a soft smile playing on your lips as you took a bite.

“So? How was it? Good right?”

When you didn’t answer, Mammon gave you another nudge with his arm.

“Right?”

Without a word, you returned the cookie to your plate, picking up the cup of hot chocolate instead, taking a deep gulp in an attempt to cleanse your palate.

“Mammon...honey...that was awful…” you looked at him over the rim of your mug, taking another deep swallow. At least the hot chocolate was delicious.

“Whattya talkin’ about?! They’re perfect!” Mammon replied, quick to shove what remained of your first cookie into his mouth. You continued to watch him while sipping on your beverage, slowly now that the initial foul aftertaste seemed to have been gone.

You tried your best to hide the smile that was threatening to spread over your whole face as Mammon froze mid bite, glancing at the plate of cookies, then at you, then back to the cookies, before finally chugging down what remained of his own mug of hot chocolate, desperate to rid his mouth of every last crumb.

When his mug emptied, you offered him your own, laughing at his reaction.

“Shaddup,” he snapped, eagerly taking the cup from you and polishing off its contents. But he wasn’t mad. Not at all. He was relieved and overjoyed to see you smiling again, interacting with him and no longer pushing him away.

And that's the way it is

That's just the way I am

When he finished what remained of your drink, he took the tray from you, sitting it on the floor beside your bed, before turning back to you and wrapping you up in a tight hug. Now much more relaxed than you had been, you wrapped your arms around his waist, returning the gesture and burying your face in his chest.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“It's fine. Don’t worry about it,” he reassured you, “Are ya gonna tell me what happened now?”

You nodded against him, tightening your arms around him as you clung to him.

“I just...I don’t know...had a bad day, I guess. Everything made me just want to cry. And I know it’s ridiculous. I’m an adult. I should…”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Huh?”

“With cryin’. What’s wrong with that? Ain’t ya the one that told me it was ok to let it all out?” Mammon had leaned back now, resting against your headboard, pulling you up against himself as he began to rub your back, pressing an occasional kiss to your forehead.

“I...uh...well, I just...I’ve always been told I cry too much. I’m too emotional. Like little things that wouldn’t bother anyone, upset me. And I didn’t want to annoy you...so I…”

“Dummy. I dunno know why you’d think I’d feel that way. You never act like that with me.”

Sometimes I feel like crying

Laying down and dying

That's when I need you

Mammon gave you a reassuring squeeze, and yet another kiss to the top of your head. All you could do in response was hold him tighter, pulling your legs up so that you were practically sitting in his lap by now.

You weren’t sure why it hadn’t occurred to you before. You honestly never saw the connection. And if you stopped and thought about it, Mammon had easily cried more times in front of you since you had arrived in the Devildom than you had cried at all (in public or private) during your stay.

You always reassured him, and comforted him. You never laughed at him, or thought for one second that he was a burden for opening up to you. In fact, you never felt more loved than when he would let you see that sensitive, emotional, side to himself because you knew how much it meant that he trusted you.

Why did you ever think he wouldn’t treat you with the same love and care you had always shown him?

Laughing's always easy

But sometimes I'm just scared

You'll leave me

That's when I feel

Emotional

I won't hurt you (I won't hurt you)

Sometimes I'm just a pain

And that's the way it is

That's just the way I am

That's when I need you

Laughing's always easy

But sometimes I'm just scared

You'll leave me

That's when I feel (feel you)

I feel you

Sometimes I get emotional

[fukurodaze]

if i ever get lost

pairing/s: third year!haiba lev x gn!reader genre: fluff, romantic tension aka best and softest tension word count: 3.2k warnings: like, one curse word this was also requested by anon! “3rd year Lev w a reader who’s struggling to pass all their homeworks, projects and quizzes (bc they piled up their works ;;) while thinking of how should they study for college/uni entrance exams?”

special thanks to nat @natszoo​ and ellie @lcnelyinthesky​ for beta reading and helping me w this!! 

LISTEN TO: somebody loves you - jeremy zucker; glitter - benee

lowercase intended!

you throw your head back when you forget the term written on the flip side of the flash card haiba lev is holding. it’s a friday night, far past anyone’s bedtimes, but final exams for the first semester start on monday and you’re not sure where to start. haiba lev, being the person who has nothing better to do, agreed to come over and flip cards with random kanji, english, and biology terms on it.

lev might also be here because it’s an open secret that he’s liked you since first year, and you’ve never answered to his feelings, but you’re thinking friends for now - until you memorise all of this semester’s kanji, english vocabulary, and biology terms, that is.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of...”

lev gives you time to think, his wide eyes going between the answer on the card and your thinking face.

“shit, uh, the phospholipid bilayer is made up of two layers of phospholipids?”

“makes sense, but no.” lev answers, flipping the card to show you.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of a polar, hydrophilic area containing a phosphate group bound to glycerol, and a non-polar, lipophilic area containing fatty acids...” you read aloud, trying to memorise what’s currently going out your mouth, in one ear, and out again through another ear.

“you know, your flash cards are pretty comprehensive.”

you raise an eyebrow, “is that... a good thing?”

“i mean, yes and no,” he takes another sip of the tea your mom had insisted to bring to guests, “it’s harder to memorise, but it’s better for details. but-”

“but?” you watch as he takes another sip. 

“i think if you really don’t know where to go, just understand the basic concept of everything. for one - what is the function of the bilayer?”

“why do you sound smart?” you question, tilting your head jokingly.

“hey! i am smart! most times! with tests like these that have essay questions, you just gotta learn the basic concept of each term and connect them.” lev advices, recounting his former volleyball captain and nekoma high school alumni, kuroo tetsuro’s, words when lev himself was barely scraping past his first semester finals when he’d just transferred.

“easier said than done in two nights,” you slouch your head on your desk, “plus! it’s not just biology. or exams.”

if memorising all these terms in the span of two days sounds bad enough, you’re still crushed with the supplementary course work and projects due next week as well. 

you let out a deep groan. you’re so tired. it’s like biology information only comes up when you’re studying for english, biology only coming up for modern literature, and mathematics somehow being inserted into the little unknown kanji in modern literature. it’s all too much at once.

“it’s all too much at once, huh?” lev places his head on your desk, only a few inches away from your face. normally, you’d push him away, pull your head back up, or maybe even give him a light slap on a bad day, but today you welcome him. 

you nod, quiet. you haven’t been able to get a breather. it’s essay this, quiz that, lab report here, test there. your mind is blank.

now, lev sits back up on the extra chair from your dining room, “have you eaten dinner?”

“why are you asking... it’s like, midnight.”

“the question still stands.”

you sigh, “nope.”

lev hums. he takes a pen, then twirls it, like his fingers possessed polar magnets that somehow let the pens never fall from his hands. but it does eventually, and when it falls with a plastic click on your wooden desk, lev visibly takes a big breath and says, “do you want to get ramen?”

you exhale through your nose and smile. “are you asking me out, haiba?”

“is it inappropriate to ask you out now?”

damn this tall dork. come to think of it, he’s never actually asked you out despite the obvious ways he’d vouch for your attention in the past. you’re quite surprised, frankly, as he’s always been so loud in the ways he’s wanted to be with you but never really made it seem like anything was going to happen. 

but, hey, it’s late enough for you to put down your doubts about him away. after all, he’s been in your room for four hours, just helping you study. he wasn’t even studying himself - he just sat there, doing almost nothing. and for a guy like him, you wonder how he’s managed to keep there for so long.

“sure.”

lev’s eyes widen. “wait, really?”

“yeah,” you begin to set aside all your study materials, “we can go to a twenty-four hour place in the city, too.”

“alright! let me get you your coat!”

“my coat?” you raise an eyebrow when he hands you the coat you wear the most, feeling both flattered and slightly surprised that he recognises it straight away from your messy room. the boy comes to retreat his coat as well from one of the hangers in your room, and he even offers to get you your socks and boots.

“alright, alright, you don’t have to be that ready to go,” you joke. 

he makes sure there is no noise when you two walk out of your house, through the suburbs of tokyo and to the nearest train to the city. 

“aren’t you two a bit young to be here so late?” the shopkeeper, an old lady, mutters under her breath. you catch it through her croaky voice when you and lev enter the place together, but you pay no attention because all you care to focus on is the smell of broth and your empty stomach.

“for two, please,” lev says, undoubtedly hearing the woman’s remark, but answering with a smile. she smiles too, and so do you, and it makes you remember all the times he’s smiled and you’ve wanted to either punch him or hold his hand. 

today just happens to be one of those days where you want to hold his hand. you shake the thought off.

when you two are seated at the ramen bar, your head falls onto your palm, tilting back to face lev, his chin covered partly by his usual maroon scarf. you had whispered to him earlier on the train what you wanted to order, and lev quickly speaks to the waiter as your tired gaze rises from from the squiggly wooden patterns embedded in the polished wooden table to the boy that’s sitting right next to you. 

at first glance, you remember haiba lev’s face to be satisfying to look at. you remember when he had just transferred to your class in the first year, and you developed the annoying habit of looking forty-five degrees to the right every time you were bored in class, as you thought his face was much easier on the eyes than complex quadratic equations or japanese history. 

for a while you wondered if it was because he certainly looked different - not only was he practically a giant, but he had eurocentric features that stood out from the majority of the student body as well (it also didn’t help that he quite literally and figuratively filled any room he was in). though, maybe, after a while, when everyone got used to the sight of a new face, you kept your line of sight at a forty-five degree angle, just peering above his cheekbones. the same way you’re looking at him right now.

and really, the only word for it is handsome. dashing. good-looking. you’ve always known that, but now that you put it into words in your head, you notice the chiseled jaw, pointed nose and emerald green eyes feel a bit more-

“what you staring at?” his baritone voice cuts through your thoughts cleanly.

you don’t like where this conversation will go. “haiba, are you doing any college entrance exams?”

lev cocks his head to one side, thinking, before nodding, “i think i am. why?”

“how are you studying for them?”

lev clicks his tongue, and it brings you to surprise, “get your mind away from studying! we’re not here in the city at, like, one in the morning to talk about college entrance exams!”

you sigh, “okay, fine. but, still, answer my question?”

“i just do practice problems for twenty minutes every day,” lev shrugs, “okay, now, can we move away from studying?”

you hum lazily, watching as two bowls of ramen arrive at the bar. he had ordered what you told him you wanted to order, both bowls almost identical in smell, shape, size, and content. almost, because lev didn’t have any spring onions in his bowl.

“haiba,” you call, earning a quick call of your name in response, “do you not like spring onions?”

lev nods so obviously that he seems proud. his chopsticks mix the entire bowl together before picking up the half-boiled egg and eating the slice whole. when he swallows it down, he asks you, “you noticed.”

“i mean, yeah,” you reply, “why do you not like them? they’re like, essential.”

lev takes a slurp of his noodles, and then a spoonful of the broth, “i just never liked their texture - which is funny, since my entire family loves adding spring onions.”

now it’s your turn to slurp into your ramen, one bite turning into two, and two turning into the entire content of the bowl. lev seems to eat twice as fast, seemingly having a strategy to cooling down the hot noodles on his spoon while simultaneously folding a piece of pork charsiu in between the loops of each spoonful of noodles, making sure that the little wrap is bathed in a little bit of broth. you find yourself smiling at his act, almost like he has a system of his own when it came to eating ramen - well, he usually had a system of his own when doing just about anything.

the meal is quiet for the most part, with little mumbles of how your tea needs a refill and the ruffling sounds between sheets of tissue to wipe off the broth around your lips. it’s fulfilling, and the look on lev’s face says he’s happy too.

when you two make it out of the ramen bar, 1am feels the same as 9pm. somehow, you’re no longer the kind of sleepy you were when you were flipping through flashcards on your desk, and instead, you’re almost dreading to go home. you think it might also be the neon lights, but there’s some kind of electricity you’re not yet willing to let rest for the night.

luckily, lev doesn’t feel the need to rush. although his steps are big and his voice is loud, he takes his time when you two make the silent agreement to make the walk to the train station as long-winded as possible. his voice is lower, and softer, this time, and when he speaks to you about his friends from his old school, you convince yourself it’s the most interesting topic in the world - because it is. because it’s lev.

when he stops in his tracks, you stop too, watching him go into a small trinket shop you’ve always seen but never had the means to afford to go in. you reckon you might own something from this store, though.

“haiba, you like little trinkets?” your eyes scroll through the shelves of delicate and virtually useless items, eyes landing on a small lion cub made of clear resin with a small blob of gold floating in the middle of its clear body. you’re not usually drawn to any animal trinkets, as you’ve gotten used to decorative objects like bows or feathers or lace, but today you think about the lion cub. despite it looking severely overpriced, you take it in your hand anyway, not noticing lev’s figure coming right behind you.

“do you want that one?” you yelp in surprise when he says that, turning around to find yourself so close to him you could smell the dried raindrops on his padded coat.

“i’m pretty sure it’s overpriced. trinkets are usually overpriced anyways.”

“wait, let me check it,” you hand lev the trinket, “how much is your keychain?”

you furrow your eyebrows, “what?”

“you know, the keychain on the bag you bring to school.”

“oh,” you try to remember the time you had saved up for that keychain, “i think it was about three thousand yen? it’s overpriced. definitely.”

“well, this one’s only two thousand and five hundred. i’ll get it for you.”

“wha- lev!” you whine, “you’re going to make me feel bad- wait what’s wrong?” you see the boy freeze up in front of you, a big smile creeping onto his cheeky face.

he doesn’t reply for a bit, and you’re faced with raised cheekbones and a wide mouth. you try again, “was it something i did? or said?”

“you called me lev,” oh, you did. 

now his smile spreads from ear to ear, and it’s spreading to you. “you never call me lev.”

“huh, well.” you bite the inside of your mouth, “i guess now i do.”

it’s enough for you to let him spend over two thousand yen on a single trinket. you watch as he waits for the trinket to be wrapped neatly in pretty paper and put in a pink cardboard bag, its motif pretty enough to be its own product in the store. 

you stand by the doorframe of the store, mouth ready to open with the words ‘i’ll pay you back’. but it seems like lev had heard you from the future, and before you could do anything, he tells you, “don’t pay me back. this is my gift to you.”

“for exams?”

he grins. “you know, lev means lion in russian.”

the bell of the store rings as you two make your way out, this time really going back to the station. you answer with a ‘really?’ at his fun fact but you keep it to yourself that you’ve known ever since he first transferred and everyone had asked him about it. 

“yeah, and the thing’s a lion cub, so, it’s like you have me all the time!” 

you giggle, walking up the steps to the train platform. “you’re really something, lev.”

lev stretches his arms out, with long limbs you swear ghost your shoulder. you get that feeling again, in your hands, where you just can’t seem to understand why you want to take his hand in yours so bad, so you ask the boy if you can hold onto the bag with your trinket. lev passes it to you, and you hate how you would’ve liked for your thumb to graze over his thumb for longer. you hate it even more when he motions you onto the train, and in a blur, you take his arm, leading him to corner seats on the train. you feel your face heat up. 

ah, so that’s how it is.

now you’re conflicted. not that lev had ever made you feel uncomfortable - no, never - but you had never known how to return his obvious feelings. he would act on them, as always, and one day, as you fell asleep one day after final semester exams in the second year, leaning back into the plastic seat of a suburban tokyo metro rail (which lev thought was very dangerous), lev had muttered in the quietest and most subtle manner, ‘what do i do with my feelings?’

then, in a haze, with eyes barely open, you had moved your head from your seat to his shoulder, painting his cheeks red - dumbstruck. he thought you forgot about it the next morning, and you barely remember, so nothing happened afterwards. yet, when you think of him, you think of hues of orange peeling the sky into purple; of freshly washed school uniforms; of heads leaning on shoulders and fingers intertwined. you don’t know how to answer him.

with lev, there is chatter and laughter and blunt remarks that almost get him slapped in the face. still, there is a box, bigger than the bag your trinket is in, that contains words that you don’t think you or lev have ever said in pure daylight and wake. 

“hey, lev?”

you want to open that box.

“yeah?”

but you don’t know how to do it yet.

“the phospholipid bilayer is made up of a polar, hydrophilic area containing a phosphate group bound to glycerol, and a non-polar, lipophilic area containing fatty acids.”

lev exclaims a series of ‘oooh!’s in delight. 

“was that correct?”

“um,” lev gulps, “i think so? i mean- i think so.”

but you will open it, sooner or later, and it rings in your head when you step off the train and walk into the neighbourhood. right now, nothing is different - the air is not heavier, his eyes do not sparkle like love interests do in the movies, and you do not look through a rose-coloured lens. monday is finals, and the weekend is studying. you tell yourself this.

lev stops at your doorstep, and you almost feel a sear in your chest at the thought of him leaving for the night. 

“so, good luck with next week, y/n.”

you nod, trinket bag in your hands, “you too, lev.”

you find that your arms are opening up, a small pout on your face as lev comes to wrap his arms around you, coats shuffling against each other as you hold each other at three in the morning. 

when you pull away from the hug, you start to ramble a bit, scrambling for new topics to bring up in hopes of just a few more seconds with him - that, and trying to stop yourself from your newfound want to cup this boy’s face in your hands and kiss him square on the lips. you wonder if he would be good at kissing, and you wonder how much you’ll regret having these thoughts tomorrow. 

but even conversation dies when you know it’s getting too cold, so you bid your sweet goodbyes and promise him not to overwork; he reminds you that it’s better to do short but frequent study sessions than fewer and highly intensive ones. you nod, your boots heavy on your doorstep, the hushed sound of keys in doors slowly becoming the only sound you hear as you assume lev’s left already.

until he calls your name.

your head spins fast towards the boy, watching as he makes long strides to stand at your doorway once again, scarf prodding the tip of his nose, so close to your face. he’s red.

“during exams, or tomorrow, or studying for entrance exams- if you ever get lost-” he pants, and unties his scarf from his neck.

“you’ll find me, okay?” the scarf comfortably hangs around your neck now, covering your mouth. he pats your head twice. it’s warm - literally. 

you barely get the chance to say anything before he darts out of your house with a quick goodbye. you’re left confused, flustered, and excited at once, and this time, you think you might have the words as to why. 

you like to imagine you taste sweetness, see eyes that sparkle, and feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“it might not be so bad,” you whisper, looking down at the pretty little bag containing one unnecessarily expensive item lev had bought you.

right; you have feelings for him too. 

then you make up your mind: you’ll tell him next friday. and if your finals stand between tonight and next friday, then, all the more motivation to get through them, right?

you make sure to set an alarm for seven in the morning, kanji textbooks lined up for tomorrow. 

[higuchimon]

[fanfic] Osiris Red Hot Springs

i"Come on!" Juudai dragged on Manjoume's coat. Manjoume tried to pry him off but he wasn't having a great deal of luck with it. Juudai seemed more like an octopus than anything else, grabbing and insisting that Manjoume come along with him.

"What are you talking about?" Manjoume grumbled. He'd intended to stay in his room and get some rest. Unfortunately, he'd needed to go out and get food since Osiris Red didn't offer room service like a reasonable dorm. He'd barely started to eat what they'd served him - did it really count as food? - before Juudai popped up, babbled something about showing him the "hidden wonders of Osiris Red" and dragged him away.

"Didn't you hear me?" Juudai's eyes twinkled at him. Manjoume didn't think anyone's eyes could have twinkled, but Juudai's did. Not a single bit of brains in there, but plenty of fluff, and more than enough strength to haul him along to wherever Juudai wanted to go. "We're going to see the hidden wonders of Osiris Red! Have you ever been to the hot springs?"

"Of course I have!" Manjoume snorted. He would have crossed his arms over his chest if Juudai didn't have a grip on his arm. "The Obelisk Blue hot springs are some of the best hot springs ever!"  He would know.  He'd been to some of the most fantastic hot springs in all of Japan.  Obelisk Blue's springs ranked in the top five in his opinion.

"Not those!" Juudai waved his free hand dismissively, as if the Obelisk Blue hot springs weren't worth his time. Clearly he'd never seen them.  "I mean the Osiris Red hot springs!"

There were several springs on the island. Two for the Blue dorm, one for the Yellow dorm, and Manjoume guessed it wasn't such a strange idea that Red also had one. There were plenty of them on the island in general. There was even two in the main building itself, one near the infirmary and one somewhere else, for the teachers. The other hot springs were reserved for specific dorms. The one near the infirmary could be accessed by anyone at all, regardless of dorm. He'd visited it once or twice, but he'd always preferred using the Obelisk Blue hot springs.

But right now, Manjoume's lip curled faintly. "What's so special about that?" He could imagine what it would be like. Just because it was a hot spring didn't mean that it would be what he was used to - a beautiful work of art, with polished statues and spigots emitting a variety of lovely scents and soaps and lotions, with many helpful attendants who'd scrubbed his back, scrubbed between his toes, and offered a vast array of snacks and drinks to choose from while he'd enjoyed himself, as well as soft, heated, and scented towels. He'd spent many lovely hours in there, soaking up water and sunlight alike. It was even better than at home.  He was going to miss not being able to go there. 

What would the Osiris Red springs be like? Small, he decided, and probably dark. Busted light bulbs and it probably hadn't been properly scrubbed in a while. He'd seen the Osiris Red showers and they were tolerable. Someone clearly went to a lot of effort to keep them clean, though Manjoume had no idea of why. They were Red. No one would care if it all piled up. Someone probably just didn't want to go to the extra effort that would result by ignoring it.

Juudai kept on dragging him through the trees. Manjoume tried to get his arm free but nothing he did actually worked. He probably could have tried harder, but the farther they went into the woods, the harder it was to see where they were going.  He didn't have the faintest idea of where they were going and unfortunately, Juudai's grip on his arm was the only thing that kept him from being utterly lost.

"Where are you taking me?" Manjoume finally snapped out the question. He wasn't sure if he expected a proper answer or not.  "This isn't where the hot springs are!" Though to be fair, he didn't really know where they were. He just sort of knew they existed. But he did know they weren't half an hour’s walk into the woods!

"I told you!" Juudai declared. "It's the Osiris Red hot springs." He made a face, something like what Manjoume thought he looked like when Juudai turned up at his door.  "Not those tiny ones, though. That's boring."

Oh, no. Manjoume groaned quietly. Juudai was taking him somewhere else. No one else knew they were out here. Marufuji was busy studying - he needed all the help he could get - and Maeda was drawing or something. Manjoume wasn't at all sure why he was drawing, but because he was, it was just the two of them out here. That wasn't how Manjoume looked forward to spending any amount of time.

Before he could stop long enough to express his distaste for that, Juudai lifted a branch out of the way and Manjoume could see clear space beyond. After grass tufts catching his feet and twigs and branches lodging themselves in his hair, bugs helping themselves to his sweat and trying to do the same to his blood, he couldn't have been more glad to see a clearing. Instead of holding back, he surged forward, going past Juudai and stumbling to a halt.

"Here we are!" Juudai declared, spreading his arms wide as if to embrace the whole area,  and even worse, as if he'd invented this entire place out of whole cloth. "This is the official Osiris Red hot springs! At least as far as I'm concerned."

Manjoume slowly looked around. The hot springs on Duel Academia that he knew something about were all enclosed in buildings of various sorts.  They had windows and doors.  Obelisk Blue had rugs in the antechamber.

This place didn't.  This was a wide pool set beside some moss-covered cliffs. He could hear water falling from somewhere out of sight. Large rocks rose out of the steaming water and there was a spread of sand on one side that would do for a beach.

There were several rocks close enough to climb on and still be in the water. Manjoume looked all the way around as slanted rays of sunlight arched into the area, sending up sparkles from the water as they struck it. If he hadn't known better, he would have actually called it beautiful. But he wasn't going to call it beautiful if Juudai liked it.  Juudai didn't have taste.  If he liked it, there was clearly something wrong with this place.  Manjoume just didn't know what it was yet.

"You have got to be kidding me," he muttered, gripping onto the towel Juudai had tossed to him when first taking him on this wild ride. He knew his luck wasn't that good, though, not when Juudai merrily tossed his clothes off and died into the wide pool - perhaps more accurately called a lake.  He looked as if he were actually happy doing this, instead of being in a proper hot springs!  Had Juudai ever been to a proper hot springs?  Probably not.

There wasn't any soap that he could see. The only towels were the ones that they'd brought with them. Certainly not a single attendant to wash between his toes or wash his hair or do anything. He'd been getting more used to doing things himself and he rather liked the feeling that came with learning to do for himself.  His brothers would never approve. Yet day by day he cared less and less what they thought. There wasn't much that they could do regardless. Try as they might, they couldn't even cut him off from his share of the money. Their parents' will made sure that was impossible.

He could have bought all those cards that they'd wanted to give him. He could have bought virtually any card that he wanted - he tried not to think about their ill-fated attempt to purchase the legendary Gem Beast deck - but that didn't make a good duelist. He'd learned that the long, slow, and hard way. What made a great duelist was the ability to forge winning combos from nothing at all.

He was getting very good at that.  He was a good duelist.  He was going to be a great one.  He would be better than they ever dreamed of, and they would beg for his help instead of assuming that they would get it no matter what.  Even better, he might not give it to them. 

"Come on, Manjoume!" Juudai waved at him, pulling Manjoume out of his thoughts before he could fully be absorbed into his fantasy of his brothers begging for his talents. "Come on in, the water's fine! We can wash each other's back later!  I haven't seen the bear around here in ages!"

Manjoume snorted as he headed towards the water. As if he'd ever wash Juudai's back or let Juudai wash his own. One good bath and that would be it. Maybe a little sunning afterwards. He'd gotten a little paler on his trip up north.

But nothing else. He could learn things in Red, but this was only a single stopping point on his way back to Blue.

Then he stopped.  "Juudai?  Did you say bear?"

The End

Notes: No, Manjoume didn’t get eaten by the bear. Neither did Juudai. The bear is friendly.

[yahboobeh]

When the Clock Strikes Midnight

Happy New Year everyone! Here’s my NejiTen discord server Secret Santa fic for @giada-luna! FF.net | AO3

There were very few things to do at the hospital, and Neji could count them all on one hand. He thought he would have been used to it by now. He had spent most of the past two months in and out of the hospital between checkups and surgeries as his body slowly recovered from the multiple impalings that should have killed him. 

He mostly slept, breaking apart the cycle of visits from nurses and loved ones with groggy drug-induced naps. However, four days post-op meant his pain medication was replaced with something less addictive, making even napping a difficult way to adequately pass the time. Hinata insisted that Neji packed a book, but he’d made short work of that the first day the nurse had removed his IV (and, by extension, his pain medication). The tv on the wall was only good for the white noise, and even meditating was starting to feel monotonous. 

Luckily, tonight was his last night in the hospital, recovering from what was hopefully his final surgery. It was also New Year’s Eve.

As if on cue, Tenten was there, pushing the door to his room open, sporting a pink and white quiapo and smile on her lips. 

“Oh good, you’re awake!” 

He nodded and watched Tenten close the door and cross the room to the side of his bed. 

“New dress?”

Her face reddened as if she hadn’t expected him to notice, much less comment on it. 

“Yeah, new year, new me?” She chuckled awkwardly. “What do you think?” 

“I like it.” 

Her blush deepened, and she muttered out her thanks before shifting the conversation away from herself.

“Have you done your exercises today?”

Neji sighed before answering, yes. A nurse came by twice a day to ensure he was walking and practicing special breathing techniques to keep his lungs clear. Tenten knew this but continued to worry over his recovery consistently. 

“You did the breathing exercises?”

“Yes.”

“And the coughing?”

“Tenten.”

“Ok, but when did you go for a walk last?”

“Last night when you insisted,” he teased.

Tenten crossed her arms and huffed at him.

“That’s not funny. Sakura said it’s important for you to move.”

“I know,” he said with a bit more exasperation than he’d intended, “I’ve been through this countless times over the last two and a half months, Tenten.”

“I’m sorry,” she huffed, “forgive me for being concerned.” 

Neji sighed. They were both tired and stressed. Tenten came to visit him every day, and it didn’t matter if he was in the hospital or resting at home. She seemed to have made overseeing his recovery her primary job. Neji knew from Lee’s visits that Tenten was also fretting over Gai. He appreciated her concern and even felt guilty for being the source of her anxiety, but the constant worrying and nagging opened the door for more arguments. Neji enjoyed exchanging barbs, but Tenten was the last person he wanted to argue with.

“A walk sounds nice,” he relented. They walked every night, regardless of her questions and his answers. So, Neji began the slow process of sitting up. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did during his initial recovery, but his muscles still ached and protested from the exertion. 

The nurses made him keep a walker next to his bed to brace himself on while he got out of bed, but Neji hated it. It reminded him that he was weak, mortal, and very lucky. Tenten knew he hated the walker; Neji didn’t even have to tell her. It was one of his favorite parts of their friendship. They knew each other so well that they communicated silently. Tenten stood in front of him, offering out her hands should he need them. 

In front of anyone else, Neji would wave away assistance but not from Tenten. They gripped each other by the forearms, and Neji stood up. She smiled the whole time, and his heart fluttered. 

“Where should we walk to tonight?” she asked as they stepped out of Neji’s room and started down the hall.

“Have you eaten anything?” 

“Not yet.”

“Then how about the cafeteria?”

“Oh, are you offering to buy me dinner?” Tenten teased.

“Sure, just charge it to my room,” he joked. 

But he’d seen the glint in Tenten’s eyes at the prospect of a meal. He knew she wasn’t eating well. She looked thinner and tired. The war had been particularly unkind to Team Gai, and while Tenten carried herself with a demeanor that said ‘I’m okay,’ Neji could see the truth. He hated it. Hated that she was spreading herself so thin between his and Gai’s recoveries, that she only had Lee to train with, that she had seen so much and cried so little. 

“Let’s eat,” Neji confirmed. 

The walk was slow. All of his walks were slow. 

“How is Gai-sensei doing?” Neji asked. “Lee thought he was almost done in surgery when he was visiting.”

“Yes, he is doing well. He was in recovery when I went to see him today. I left when they moved him back to his regular room. Although I think Sakura gave him some extra medication to make sure he rests.”

“Ah, so I take it we won’t be seeing him tonight?” 

Neji paused to rest, and Tenten leaned against the wall.

“Lee and I talked earlier. Gai-sensei will likely be in and out of consciousness all night. We decided it would be best if we split up this New Year’s celebration. He’s staying with Gai-sensei, and I’m with you.”

“So we finally get a quiet and uneventful new year?” 

Tenten giggled.

“Just this once.”

They started walking again, quiet as they neared their destination. At the entrance to the cafeteria, Tenten continued the conversation.

“You know, this just means that next year Gai-sensei and Lee are going to go over the top to make up for this year.”

Neji rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the images of Gai and Lee’s potential outlandish plans. 

Tenten, at Neji’s quiet insistence, filled a tray with food. He had eaten earlier, so he prepared a cup of tea and purchased Tenten’s meal. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” she muttered while they scanned the room for a table.

“I wanted to,” he ensured. A wave of emotion hit him. He always wanted to do small things for Tenten, to repay her selflessness and kindness with his own. 

He knew she felt the same way he did, and Neji had resolved to tell her as much. It wasn’t a matter of if he should tell her, but when and how. 

Would she want a grand romantic gesture, or would she appreciate something more quiet and comfortable? He could easily imagine either scenario and felt overcome with indecisiveness and nerves. 

Tenten elbowed his arm, and he was back in the cafeteria. 

“Sakura and Sasuke are here!”

Neji gave a nod to indicate that joining them was fine and followed Tenten to the table. 

“Hey, guys!” Sakura, who had been hunched over a cup of coffee, perked up when she saw them. 

“Hey, Sakura! Do you mind if we join you?” Tenten asked. 

“Oh sure, I’m just on a coffee break.” 

Tenten set down her tray and glanced up at Neji. He shook his head, silently declining her offer for help. 

He winced as he sat down and let out a sigh before sipping his tea. 

Sasuke sat across from him, toying with his coffee. 

It was strange to see him without an arm. It made Neji’s stomach turn, and he wondered if it was similar to how Tenten might have felt when she saw him half dead. 

“How are you guys doing?” Tenten asked. 

“We’re good,” Sakura replied, “tired, but good. Things are starting to slow down, and Tsunade-sama is feeling well enough to help out here and there.” 

“That’s good,” said Tenten. 

“And I was just checking up on Sasuke’s… uh… arm… before my break, and here we are.” 

Sasuke polished off his drink and stood up. 

“Gonna grab another coffee, want one?” 

“No, thank you.” 

Sakura then jerked her chin towards them, ever so slightly. 

“How about you two? Need anything?”

“We’re all set, I think,” said Neji, “thanks.” 

Sasuke walked off, and Tenten instantly leaned across the table, her meal half-forgotten. 

“How are things going?”

“He wants to stay and keep me company tonight!” 

“Really?” 

“Yes! My shift runs late. Do you think he’s going to kiss me at midnight?” 

“Maybe! If he does you have to tell me everything!” 

Neji drifted in and out of their rushed conversation giving an appropriate nod or shrug whenever Sakura looked at him for reassurance or he felt Tenten’s expectant glances. 

Sakura excused herself shortly after Sasuke’s return and the pair departed the cafeteria. 

Tenten tried to push her half eaten bowl of fruit onto Neji, claiming she was full and he needed to eat more. 

She cleared their dishes and they slowly made their way back to Neji’s room. 

Neji sighed as he leaned back against the bed, the pillows and mattress taking over for his strained and sore core muscles. The bed was raised so he could sit up comfortably. 

Tenten stretched her arms and yawned before sitting next to him on the bed. 

She reached for the remote and turned on the tv. 

“Only three and a half hours left of this shit year,” she said, flipping through channels. “Do you know which channel is the news?” 

Neji shook his head. 

“There might be a list in the drawer,” he suggested. 

“Oh! I found it!” The local New Year’s Eve celebration show had started. Any other year they would be among the revelers in the center of the village enjoying the festival.

...the crowd is ecstatic tonight...eager to leave behind a year of death and destruction...hearbreak and loss....

“I heard from Hinata that they’re going to interview Naruto and Kakashi-sensei.” 

“Sakura mentioned that earlier today,” said Neji.

“It’ll be weird to see them on TV.”

Neji glanced over to his teammate, catching her eye. 

“I’m sorry you’re stuck here.” 

Tenten giggled and leaned her arm against his. 

“Don’t be silly. This is where I want to be.” 

Neji raised a brow. 

“In a hospital room?” 

“With you.” 

Neji felt his face flush and hoped she didn’t notice. Was this the right moment to speak up? 

“Besides,” she continued, “we can see the fireworks from your window.” 

Neji shrugged. 

“I suppose it’s a fitting end to this year.” 

Tenten smiled. 

“Yes. The year that we never thought would end. It’s been awful from start to finish.” 

“The entire year?” 

“Pretty much. I mean, there were some good things. But it was all just preparation for the war and then…” 

Tenten trailed off, picking idly at a loose thread on the blanket. She shook her head as if she was denying access to the dark place of her mind where those memories were tucked away. Neji knew that place well. He suspected everyone did. 

“It doesn’t matter. The further we move away from this year the better.” 

Neji chuckled. 

“Do you think that once the clock strikes midnight everything will suddenly change?” 

“Maybe, you never know.” She gave him another smile. “It doesn’t hurt to hope though.” 

Their conversation died down for a moment, picking up the familiar pattern of silence between topics. 

The television hummed with the activity of revelers and hosts entertaining the crowd as the last few hours of the year ticked away. 

Twenty minutes before midnight Kakashi appeared on screen to help ring in the new year as Hokage. 

...we’re ushering in the new year with an era of peace...

“I hope Gai-sensei is awake for this,” said Tenten. 

Kakashi was a bit awkward and unprepared, but if Gai was watching, Neji knew that the new Hokage’s performance could be discussed as nothing less than perfect. 

After a few minutes Naruto made his appearance. They listened for a bit before getting out of bed to look out the window. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Tenten reached into her kunai pouch and pulled out a small bottle of sparkling sake, “can’t celebrate without a drink.” 

“Don’t let Sakura see that.” 

“It’s a mini bottle and you’re going home in the morning. I think you’ll be alright.” 

She twisted off the cap and took a swig. 

“Although I got a twist-off lid so no one hears a cork pop.” 

She passed Neji the bottle and he took a drink. Fizzy bubbles rippled across his tongue, the sake dry and tart. 

They finished the bottle as the countdown to midnight started. 

...59...58...57...56…

The energy in the room shifted. Neji felt lightheaded with anticipation.

...41...40...39...38...

Neji remembered the question Sakura had eagerly posed to Tenten at dinner.

‘Do you think he’ll kiss me at midnight?’

And he knew that the moment was right. 

....27...26...25...24…

Neji watched Tenten watch the television. She was smiling, and Neji didn’t need his byakugan to see that she had relaxed. If it was the sake or the prospect of a new start, Neji wasn’t sure, but her aura of calm was contagious.

...11...10...9...8…

He looked back up at the television, where Naruto was helping lead the countdown.

...5...4...3...2...1... Happy New Year!

Neji could hear cheering from the nurse’s station as the first few fireworks went off. 

Tenten ignored the view of the fireworks show they had stood by the window for, turning from the tv directly to Neji, her smile wider.

“Happy New Year, Neji.”

His arm moved before he could register it, cupping her jaw. The smile on fell from her lips, and her brows furrowed with the confusion that played across her face. 

That was when he kissed her, soft and gently. He heard the smallest gasp between the burst of fireworks outside their window. Tenten’s lips were soft and tasted sweet like sake. She kissed him back and pressed her hands to his chest. Neji put his hands on her waist and drew her in closer. 

They were slow, sweet and unsure. His mind hummed, and his body buzzed. He wanted to pull her even closer and kiss her harder, but he was too nervous, and this was perfect.

Neji wasn’t sure how long they kissed for, but when they stopped it was nothing more than a brief pause, foreheads pressed together.

“Happy New Year, Tenten.”

[theguywithnonickname]

The Hexer ending songs - A Translation

So, since the polish Witcher series, known as "the Hexer" has been gaining some popularity, but the subtitled for some reason doesn't include subtitles for the songs from the ending of each episode, here is my personal translation of each one of these, with some sidenotes at the end. Now, this is mostly a literal translation, not a poetic one, so I apologise if the grammar is sometimes a bit off. I tried to the best of my ability, but it is very possible I screwed up something.

So, uh, let's go!

EPISODE 1 - CHILDHOOD And in the mountains, the quiet call of the wolf Gets lost somewhere in the storm It* probably also found out That you'll be a witcher Again the quiet voice of the wolf can be heard Like the call of a human Probably only it knows What path awaits you *Instrumental* And in the mountains, the quiet call of the wolf Gets lost somewhere in the storm It probably also found out That you'll be a witcher That you'll be a witcher That you'll be a witcher

EPISODE 2 - LEARNING And so happened what was meant to happen You won't change anything anymore Though the sun's light suddenly faded The sword has been doused in red Stand on the edge of the unknown Don't look back Go by yourself into the wide world The sword will show you the way

EPISODE 3 - HUMAN - FIRST ENCOUNTER It's high time to find out What no one will tell you That sometimes it so happens in life That human is the monster And now you fight With your own thoughts Because, after all, you're supposed to protect people From monsters

EPISODE 4 - THE DRAGON Like the stars above the road, your eyes Like a cup of pleasure, your lips So badly I want to see again today At least a shadow of my old love For a heart, like a beggar, is pleading* Lonely, it wanders at the crossroads And always when I only look at the sky I feel the starry chill of your eyes

EPISODE 5 - A SHARD OF ICE And though your heart burns She's not meant for you This is how blazes of hearts end With an ocean of parting Your fate is already written Your efforts are in vain Like a rock which upon being thrown wants to Find itself as a star in the sky

EPISODE 6 - CALANTHE Stay on the path of destiny And that is to fight Your sword won't know the taste of rust It'll shine with blood And one more right of yours It's the surprise Whoever opposes to it The sword is destined for them*

EPISODE 7 - THE VALLEY OF FLOWERS One can't escape from fate Nor from the memories If they want, they will get you Beyond seven mountains* What pushes you to go forward Always further and further? The more you look for your own path The harder it is to find

EPISODE 8 - CROSSROADS Tonight you won't see the stars That is a glow above Cintra It'll burn and show the world The world that will die Like a murder of black crows* somewhere The enemies are rushing You've escaped but your fates Are made* within you

EPISODE 9 - TEMPLE OF MELITELE To those who you love, the wicked fate Won't spare the suffering Now that they need you You're not there with them And if you only could know From where comes this unrest within you From where the dead stomping of heavy hooves Is rumbling with an echo inside your head

EPISODE 10 - LESSER EVIL Not all that shines golden is gold And (not all) submission is consent* Poisonous flowers lure us in With their fatal beauty Though you let yourself get fooled again Not all is lost Though the black apparition* of a bad dream Is embracing you in her arms

EPISODE 11 - JASKIER Suddenly it started to smell like the gust of Autumn With the cold wind, fled the meaning of words It has to be so, nothing can be changed By diamonds at the tips of your eyelashes Where you live, it's already white with snow Lakes and muds are glassy with ice It has to be so, nothing can be changed By the longing that is creeping in your eyes It smelled of the gust of Autumn With the cold wind, fled the meaning of words It has to be so, nothing can be changed By diamonds at the tips of your eyelashes Spring will return, the rain will flow on the roads Hearts will be warmed by the heat of the sun It has to be so, for there's still a flame smoldering within us Eternal flame, which is hope

EPISODE 12 - FALWICK And you're asking what you've done wrong You keep asking questions You want to cheat destiny And you're being punished Your fate is already written Your efforts are in vain Like a rock which upon being thrown wants to Find itself as a star in the sky

EPISODE 13 - CIRI (This song is the only one not sung by Zbigniew Zamachowski, Jaskier's actor) Don't call for help, it won't come Don't try to defend yourself, don't waste your strength It's undaunted, it's a chariot pulled by a hundred horses And you're riding in it

And even if you'd run from it You're chasing it And even if you'd hide You're looking for it And even if you'd pretend you are Blind to nudity and deaf to whispers

You won't escape from it

You won't defeat love You won't defeat love You won't defeat love You won't conquer it within yourself Know this You won't defeat love You won't conquer it

You'll put down every weapon When you see it

Though they say about you that you're made of stone Though your eyes saw everything When you see it in its entirety

Then You'll suddenly feel shy and know this It'll reach you

You won't defeat love You won't defeat love You won't defeat love You won't conquer it within yourself Know this You won't defeat love You won't defeat love You won't defeat love You won't conquer it within yourself Know this You won't defeat love You won't conquer it You'll put down every weapon When you see it When you see it When you see it When you see it When you see it When you see it

EXTRA ONE (I found another brief variant of "Jaskier's advice" in the soundtrack of the movie version. I don't think it appears in any episode of the series, though)

And you're ashamed of yourself* And what is this fight for? You can't escape from love, so Succumb yourself to it (The last line is then repeated a few times)

Additional notes: *It referes to the wolf specifically, not its call. The song uses male pronouns for the wolf, as in polish the word "wolf" (wilk) is itself considered masculine. *All the songs from the episodes 1-3, 5-10 and 12 follow this pattern of instrumental, reprisal of the first half and two repeats of the last line of the first half. With next variations of the song, I left the repeats out, since I don't think there's a need for that. (These songs are also officially titled "Rady Jaskra" - "Jaskier's advice") *There's a bit of untranslateable double meaning - "Kołacze", can mean a couple of things - knocking, begging for something, but it can also be used to describe a heart beating really fast. (In addition to "Bije" - "Is beating", in Polish, you can also say that the heart "puka- "is knocking") I wasn't sure which meaning of the word "kołacze" was intended, so I went with the version that makes the most sense, when translated into english. *As in, "They are destined to fall/die by sword". Probably refers to Calanthe's eventual fate and the fall of Cintra in general. *"Beyond seven mountains" is a common way to begin a fairy tale in polish. It's basically the equivalent of "In a land far, far away" (In fact, in polish dub of Shrek 2, the Far Far Away is translated as "Zasiedmiogórogród" - "Beyondsevenmountainsgard") I think it's especially relevant, given how most of the short stories in the first two Witcher books, which this show covers, tend to reference and parody various fairy tales. *Or ravens. Most dictionaries I've looked through state that both of these words can serve as a translation of "kruk". *"Dokonują się" is pretty difficult to translate literally. It can mean "are made", "are done" or "are happening". I went with the first one, since I thought it made the most sense, thematically. *The syntax is super ambiguous here, but essentially, the way this verse is a continuation of the first one, it reads as "Not all that shines golden is gold, and likewise, submission is not always consent", but the way it's phrased it seems to be giving the opposite message. That's why I put that bit in parentheses there, to make it clearer what this actually means. *The word used here was "mara". Now, "mara", has many meanings, including "an apparition", "a wraith", "a nightmare", "a bad vision", "a delusion", but most importantly, it's the name of an evil spirit from slavic (and nordic) folklore. Also known as "Zmora", a mara was a vile half-demon soul of a living person (usually a woman, the male equivalent of mara was called "dusiołek") who at night, would leave their host’s body, sneak into people's houses at night through keyholes and drink their blood while they sleep. Also they would tire out horses by riding on them during the night. Given how often creatures from slavic folklore feature in all the Witcher media, I wonder if this was an intentional reference. *There's an expression used here, which I don't think has an english equivalent - "Sam przed sobą wstydzisz się" - Translated literally, it means "You're ashamed before yourself", as in "your feel as an embarrasment to yourself, specifically." more of less. @abluescarfonwaston Tagging you as promised. Hope you find it helpful!

[anthropwashere]

Phic Phight: set the self upon the shelf

Prompt from @five-rivers: Jack and Maddie acquire the pieces of Freakshow's staff.   

@currentlylurking @phicphight

Word count: 3,841

=

In hindsight, Danny should have expected something like this to happen. He'd been on a good streak; a really good streak. No catastrophes, no explosions, no be-all, end-all ultimatums with terrible creatures trying to squeeze the life out of some poor schmuck trying to go about their day. Heck, aside from a few toothy Day-Glo bright beasties waking him up just shy of his alarm and the usual irritation of the Box Ghost haranguing the nearest postal office, things have been easy. There hasn't even been any test to stress out over. So with how his luck usually is, he's overdue for a bad day. 

Today's that day, turns out. It's just not so obvious as bad days usually go for him anymore. It's insidious, creeping, sly. 

Worst of all, his parents are the ones to blame, and they're not even trying to take Phantom apart molecule by molecule this time.

It's a Wednesday, as dull as any other Wednesday can be, when he unlocks the front door of FentonWorks, leaving it open for Sam and Tucker to come in after him. They're all in the middle of another round of friendly bickering, some he-said she-said I-read-this-article goofing with no stakes or real anger in any of their threats to shut the others up. They're just goofing. Danny locks the door once they're in, punches in the pass code on the panel his parents had installed a couple months back so the trigger-happy security system doesn't take umbrage with whatever-the-hell just strolled in through the front door. Tucker's managed to bamboozle the security somehow—Danny can almost follow along with the concept of coding if Tucker's in the mood to skip the jargon, but sit him in front of a command prompt with nary a word of English to be found and his whole brain just fritzes out in self-defense—and point is, the security recognizes Danny's not very human, but it does the software equivalent of a shrug and dumps the notifications into a hidden folder his parents would need to get real creative finding. 

He means to lead them to the stairs to dump their backpacks off in his bedroom before raiding the kitchen. The Box Ghost had decided to ruin lunch today instead of Algebra, like a jerk, and Danny's starving as a consequence of his sandwich ending up on the floor and burning up a ton of energy chasing the idiot around the entire school six times. He's trying not to laugh as Sam keeps up her rant on how unreliable sad nerds on forums are for relaying what cocaine-addled movie producers in LA may or may not have agreed to, when Tucker says, "Danny?"

"Yeah?"

"Where you going?"

Danny blinks. He's halfway down the stairs to his parents' lab. He didn't even notice. "Uh," he says, turning around. Sam and Tucker are still on the top step, raising identical eyebrows at him. "Sorry. Habit."

"BG can wait, dude. I didn't get to eat either."

"Ha. Right."

They go upstairs, Sam picking up her rant again on the second-floor landing. They drop their bags off in his room and tromp downstairs again. Danny flicks the light switch on as he passes through the doorway to the—

"Danny?"

He blinks. Halfway down to the lab again, and he'd been sure he was in the kitchen this time. He swallows, putting on a sheepish grin for his friends as he trots back up to them again. Tucker looks amused so he almost thinks he's gotten away without worrying them, but one look at Sam tells him to dump that hope in the trash and forget about it. Her painted mouth is downturned and distinctly worried. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he says. The funny thing is, it's not even a lie. "Why?"

She hesitates, then shakes her head. So he's not worrying her enough that she needs to make a parade of it. That's good. That's great. All he wants to focus on right now is microwaving the entire box of taquitos his Dad snuck into the grocery cart the last time his parents went shopping, and then eating it as fast as half-humanly as possible. 

Jazz comes home while they're all splayed out in the kitchen, poking her head in to say hi and ask if he needs any cover stories drummed up with lunch having been so chaotic. "Nah," he assures her, "I'll just dump the Box Ghost into the Portal after Mom and Dad go to bed. Thanks, though."

"Patrol tonight?"

"Always."

"Let me know when you head out?"

"Sure."

She smiles at him warmly, and not for the first time is Danny glad to have her in on his secret. She's overbearing and controlling and way, way too worried about rule-breaking, but still. It's nice. He trusts her, he loves her, and he gets no small amount of delight at having her in on all the ridiculous excuses he concocts for his parents. He has no idea how he managed so long without her helping him keep his secret. 

"Don't let him do anything stupid," she tells Sam and Tucker. Tucker gives her a mock-salute without looking up from his phone. 

"That's a tall order," Sam says with a roll of her eyes. Danny elbows her. She elbows him right back, and hers are sharp.

Jazz laughs so hard she snorts. It's a sure sign she's comfortable around Danny's friends, which is a lovely relief all on its own. For all that they don't talk much about not-ghost stuff, Danny knows she's struggled to make friends for a long time, knows she's lonely, knows she's just as happy to be included in all the Phantom business as he is to have her there beside him. She waves a touch sarcastically at them and goes off to her own room, presumably to be a good straight-A student and do all her homework for the rest of the month somehow. 

Whatever. Danny's got a full-sized mountain of taquitos to plough through and nothing the least bit life-threatening on his radar for the foreseeable future. That's as sure to change in the next five minutes as it always is. He's used to having a tight knot of panic clenched around his heart and/or the funny little cold spot where his ghostly core leaks through to his human side. He's always on edge, always ready for something. It's half the reason he can't remember the last time he got a decent night's sleep, too stressed to do more than toss restlessly in his bed until the wee hours, and the proper ghosts all seemed to have unanimously decided that five a.m. is the best time ever to come charging through the Portal to cause a little pre-dawn havoc.

"Danny?"

He blinks, and he's halfway down the stairs to the lab again.

He licks his lips, swallowing nervousness. He... he doesn't even remember leaving the kitchen. He looks over his shoulder to find Sam and Tucker up on the top step again, equal amounts of concern furrowing their brow. Down in the lab he hears his parents' voices, just low enough that he can't make out individual words over the heady thrum of the Ghost Portal. "Uh," he says.

"Something's wrong," Sam says. it's not a question.

"I'm okay," he says automatically. "Really. Not lying. Just... I dunno. Let's go upstairs."

They go upstairs. Danny plows through his taquitos as originally intended, relaying through rude mouthfuls that he really does feel fine, totally normal (for him, shut up Tucker). He doesn't think he's losing time or anything as worrying as that. He's just... going through the motions so much that he doesn't even notice when he misses his mark.

Sam and Tucker do not like the sound of that, but he convinces them to let it lie. His parents are probably just working on some new gadget. He'll take a look at the lab later tonight. It's not like it feels evil or anything. It doesn't even hurt, which considering the trend of ghost hunting gizmos they've drummed up the last few months is a welcome change of pace. It's fine, really. He's fine, really.

"If you're sure," Tucker says, doubtful.

"I am. Give it a rest, will ya?"

They do, and they reluctantly bunker down to make a decent dent in their homework so they won't have to worry about it in that anxious gray waiting after dinner with their families and before they can sneak out for patrol. Normal kids do their homework after dinner. Not them. They're halfway between valedictorian and delinquent in their habits, toeing the line between abandoning homework entirely and only keeping up with it as best they can to avoid any unnecessary eyes. Danny can't afford the extra attention. 

The afternoon wanes, evening looming like an executioner's axe—Sam and Tucker are all too aware of how long they've gone without a proper catastrophe too—and sooner than they'd prefer it's time to part ways. Sam and Tucker gather up their things and hide away their patrol schedules and the like in the hollow space in Danny's ceiling as per usual. Then the three of them tromp down the stairs again to dump their plates in the sink and pay lip service to a goodnight until tomorrow in case Danny's parents are around. They're not at first glance, or at second glance for that matter, but better safe than sorry. Danny starts to follow them to the door, uneasy of the doorway down the lab yawning like a mouth, and this time he feels it—

(come here)

—but there's nothing for it. Knowing he's being bidden down the basement doesn't stop him from swiveling on his heel to start down the polished stairs. It's only Sam's quick reaction that stops him only two steps down, her hand a firm vice on his bent elbow. 

"Yeah," he says, a little breathless with surprise. "Felt it that time."

"Only that time?" Tucker asks in a tone firmly detailing how little he likes the sound of that. 

Danny looks over his shoulder to nod at them both. "It doesn't hurt," he reminds them. "It's okay. I can handle—whatever it is they're doing down there."

"Tell Jazz," Sam says, which is surprising enough that Tucker gawks at her too. It's not like she and Jazz get along, after all. Danny promises, too surprised to scoff or tease her for worrying over nothing. Maybe that should've been a warning sign too.

He waves them off at the door, locking it and punching in the code again with a habit so well-honed he doesn't even think about it, and before he knows it he's blinking harsh neon green light out of his eyes. Down in the basement, and he only remembers walking down the stairs after the fact.

"Danny-boy!" His dad shouts with his usual boisterous energy from over near one of the examination tables. His mom's off at one of the far counters, bent over a heavily modified microscope. Both of them have their hoods up, and Danny has to swallow a shiver when his dad looms too close. Something about the goggles always reminds him of how a praying mantis' eyes bulge; charmingly goofy right up until it snatches its prey up in its scythe-like forearms. 

"H-hey, Dad."

"Whoa, is it that late already? Baby cakes, it's almost six!"

His mom straightens up with a murmured groan as her back pops audibly. Her red-lipped smile ratchets right up into something uncanny and wrong without her eyes visible to soften the bright flash of teeth. "Is it? Oh, hell, I completely forgot to take the hamburgers out to thaw. Danny—hi, sweetie—do you mind calling in take-out? Your choice." 

"Uh. Sure, no problem." Funny. Never mind the taquitos he devoured an hour ago, he's always on the cusp of starving. Ghost powers or puberty, or both. He doesn't know and it doesn't really matter so long as nobody notices how much he puts away without gaining an ounce. He casts a wide glance around the lab, feigning bored curiosity, hoping to find some strange new device with his dad's face stickered all over it that will explain this weird urge demanding he be down here—

—and feels his heart and core both stutter at the sight of what's laid beneath his dad's broad hands.

"What," he chokes out. It's all he can manage. His usual anxiety—something's coming, something will come for him, any moment now, any moment, soon soon soon—transmogrifies into a full-blown panic attack so fast he feels the air in his lungs literally, genuinely freeze. He clenches his jaw against the coughing fit threatening to expose him as wrong, pointing at the long black staff laid on the table instead.

"Oh, this? You're never gonna believe it, Dann-o." His dad beams at him, proud of his work and glad his son's taking an interest in it. "We got a call yesterday on the 800 number. Some hiker found this thing absolutely covered in little ghosts down in Little Grand Canyon and figured this thing oughta have a proper once over from us instead of being left to lie where the river'd dumped it."

"It appears to generate a frequency too high for humans to perceive," his mom chimes in, walking over to join them at the table. She shoos a small sparrow-looking ghost away with naked disgust curling her mouth; it goes sailing on stiff wings off to settle on a sturdy crate off in one corner, red eyes leaving streaking after-images as it twists and ducks its little head, taking in all the strangeness of the lab. Danny pretends as hard as he can that he can't hear it asking, where am i? where am i? 

"That's right," his dad confirms, plucking the staff up with a frivolous little twirl that has his mom swatting his shoulder with a laugh. "There must have been thirty birds and snakes and the like swarming all over this thing when we got there this morning. We had to melt the lot of them to get our hands on this thing, and we've got no idea yet what got them so interested in this thing."

"At first glance it's only a simple iron-wrought staff," his mom says, tugging it free from his dad's hands to display the detailed bat at its top and the glittering shards of crimson-colored glass running down its back. "But see this glass? There's a tremendous amount of energy emitting from it—harmless to humans, don't worry. But that bird's the seventh ghost we've seen since we brought this thing down here. Something about the frequency is compelling to ghosts. They have to come see what's going on. Although why they feel such a compunction or what this thing's original purpose was is beyond me...." 

In the back of Danny's mind he hears an echo of an echo of Freakshow's voice urging him on. (take it. bring it back to me. come home. come home to me.)

"Yeah," he manages thinly. "Weird."

They ramble on for a while, too giddy to have him showing an interest in their work to recognize that his interest stems from something adjacent to terror. He musters a rictus grin, nodding like some wall-eyed bobblehead toy when they look to him for input. All the while the beady red eyes of the bat on the staff burn his skin like lit cigarettes, like brands, like red-hot manacles he might not be able to shake this time.

(come here,) the staff bids him, its voice so gentle it could his own mind assuring him that this is the best idea he's ever had. (take me. bring me home. bring me to him. it will all be so much better once we're his again.) 

"Dinner," he chokes out eventually, backing away toward the stairs. "I should—order. Order. Dinner. Pizza?"

"Sounds good to me," his dad says cheerfully. "You know what I like."

"My wallet's in the kitchen," his mom adds.

(stay,) the staff says. (take me. bring me home.)

"Nngh," he says, nodding dutifully. He doesn't know who to. It takes far more effort to climb the stairs this time, his grip white-knuckled on the banister, his gaze reluctantly dragged away from the basement and up to the living room. Once there he blinks, feeling the tug of the staff fade to something slight again. He can ignore it up here, but now that he knows what it is he can't stop hearing-feeling it. 

(come here,) it urges. (downstairs. i'm here. take me back. take me home. come home with me—)

He slaps his hands over his ears (for all the good it does), and stomps over to the kitchen where the landline is. Pizza. He. He's gotta order dinner. His parents will suspect him if he doesn't do this one perfectly normal thing. 

He dials. He orders. He fumbles around his mom's wallet for her debit card. He manages a stammered apology to the person on the line, who laughs indulgently and tells him "No worries!" in a tone that says she knows how young he is just by his voice. Underestimating him. Simple human. Stupid human. He could show her how wrong she is. He should show her. Scare her. Make her scream. Hurt her—

He drops the phone, breathing heavily.

Shit. 

Shit.

"Hello?" The girl's tinny voice asks uncertainly, a hundred miles away at his feet.

He picks the phone up. "S-sorry. Anyway, the number's...."

He finishes the order. The girl on the phone tells him to expect the driver to arrive in about 45 minutes. He makes a few incomprehensible noises that might translate to something like a thank you if the girl happens to feel real generous. He's never calling this pizza place again.

Once the phone's back on the receiver he bolts up through the ceiling, straight up to the roof, past the Ops Center, up up up until he feels the final sticky thread of the staff let him go, until he's skirting the scraggly cloud cover and thinking clearly enough to realize he really ought to ditch visibility while he's up here trying to figure out what the fuck he's gonna do next.

Freakshow's in jail.

Freakshow doesn't have the staff.

Freakshow can't control him now. He can't. He can't.

It's the staff. Just the staff down there, and whatever about it that makes it so—intoxicating? Smothering? Comforting?

He's far enough away that it's easy to recoil from that. It's not a comfort. It's not. It's not easy, or gentle, or good. It's piano wire tugging on his joints, turning his mind to so much waterlogged cotton. There's no knowing what the staff would do to him without someone at the metaphorical wheel. Just because what he remembers from when Freakshow controlled him is a warm, soft cocoon doesn't make it right. He put humans—people—in the hospital. He stole thousands of dollars worth of jewelry from eight different stores in six days. He nearly killed Sam. 

These are things he knows because he was told them secondhand. He read articles, watched news reports, listened to Sam shakily try to convince him that she was okay, really, just as he'd done to her a hundred times before. 

But the truth of the matter is this: he has no concrete memories of that week spent under Freakshow's thumb. He remembers warmth, and rightness, and glee. He remembers feeling a good so giddy it might be better than any description of any drug he's ever heard of. He knows the comedown was hard, and disorienting, and cold, and that he couldn't shake the ring of Freakshow's laughter in his ears for weeks. He knows that the majority of him hated every minute of not being himself. He knows that nine-tenths of him still feels a touch unclean in a way he doesn't know how to voice to Sam and Tucker, to know that he did those things without any semblance of self, and that last little part of him reveled in just... letting go. Running wild. In doing things for the fun of it and not caring at all about consequences, because what did consequences matter to a ghost?

There's a very, very tiny part of himself that wishes for the freedom of that feeling. Yoked and manacled in the sticky, impossible-to-resist way of magic, but free from the burdens of Danny Fenton. No expectations, no future, no what-ifs, no curfews, no algebra. Just Phantom. Just free to do whatever he pleases.

Skittishly he looks down at FentonWorks a thousand feet below, unsure if he's put enough distance between himself and the staff, unsure if he can trust his own thoughts yet. He doesn't know. He doesn't think there's any way to know for sure.

What should he do?

What can he do?

Just being within easy reach of the staff puts prickles all down his spine, numbs his hands and feet and tongue. He broke it. That's how he got free of Freakshow. He dropped it to save Sam because she was more important, and it broke, and now he's free. He's free. He is.

Maybe the orb-thing wasn't the source.

Maybe....

He doesn't know.

He can't let his parents keep it. That much he does know. If they figure out how to utilize it, even at a fraction of what Freakshow was capable of, then there'd be no winning. Phantom could barely fight it with Sam begging for her life right in front of him, and that was with a stranger at the reins. If his mom or dad told him to come down to the lab and lay down on an examination table....

He can't.

He can't.

What can he do?

His hip buzzes, so unexpected he drops twenty feet before catching himself with a yelp. His first instinct is that it's an attack, and he switches to Phantom and throws up a shield faster than thought, twisting around in the dark trying to find the source, trying to see who's coming for his throat next—

It's his phone. A text. That's all. No more, no less.

He changes back, not trusting his shaky hands with gloves on. It's from Jazz, asking where he's at. He calls her back, and she answers on the third ring.

"Hey, Danny," she says, relief audible in her voice. "Was there a ghost?"

"Uh-uh," he says. "Worse. Jazz, I—I need a favor."

"What was that? You broke up."

"Oh. Uh. Hang on." He drops hundreds and hundred of feet in free fall, watching the Ops Center racing up to meet him, all its floodlights swiveling round and round on automated patterns. He halts on a dime, far faster than any human could endure, and feels only an irritating tug on his bones as he swivels to find balance again. "Can you hear me now?"

"Yeah, that's better. What's up?"

He takes a deep breath. "I need a favor. A really, really big one."

[lupinlongbottom]

Burning Bridges pt. 7

Neville Longbottom x Reader

Summary: Chaperoning a Hogsmeade trip wasn’t exactly on the top of (Y/N)’s list of things she wanted to do that weekend, but having Neville along for the ride makes it worth it. 

Word Count: 3.6k

Warnings: None

A/N: Oh boy oh boy! Hogsmeade fun! The plot? thickens. 

Part 1 … Part 2 … Part 3 … Part 4 … Part 5 … Part 6

__

The winter air had begun to dissipate, the sun shining brightly amongst the melting snow in Hogsmeade village. While it was late into February, many witches and wizards were hoping spring would be around the corner, but a ‘fool’s spring’ would have to suffice for now. They knew full well within the next few weeks, the harsh snow and winds would resume like normal, but it did not matter. Many students were enjoying the extra buttons undone on their jackets, a few foregoing mittens and scarfs.

“Remember, you’re a reflection of our school, please be advised to be on your best behavior,” (Y/N) gave a pointed look to two Ravenclaw boys, both snickering at her words. “Mr. Fairley and Mr. Espen, do I make myself clear?” The two boys stifled their laugh, eyes hardened towards the Professor. They nodded, mumbling something into their scarves. “Alright, then. Enjoy your afternoon.”

The students dissipated, running to and from their favorite shops, many favoring Honeydukes or Zonko’s. (Y/N) took a moment to glance over the straggling students, many of whom stuck to their respective friend groups. It was odd, watching the cliques grow and change over the course of a school year. While many friends stayed true to their group, it was obvious when one student was left out or pushed to the side. She knew better than to meddle, but understood that even Professors know more about the student’s social lives than she could’ve even comprehended when she was at school.

“Do you reckon Espen’ll listen to you?” Neville mumbled, stepping over to (Y/N)’s side, pulling her out of her trance.

“Hardly,” (Y/N) said, readjusting her dark coat. “Those two are menaces when they’re together. Flitwick says that they tear up the common room any chance they get, roughhousing.”

“Last week, those two tried pulling out the growing Mandrakes that my second year class had potted in the middle of their lecture,” Neville said, his face twisting in horror. “They’ve been maturing since the beginning of the year, their screams are getting quite close to being lethal. Had to take fifteen points from each of them.”

“For a pair of Ravenclaw’s, you’d think they knew better, But I suppose they think they’re too smart to get caught,” (Y/N) said, glancing up at Neville. He was wearing a puffy beige coat, fur—probably kneazle—lining the hood. He had chosen to wear his old Gryffindor scarf out, many students noting his old House, almost in disbelief. “Pulled out the scarf, huh?”

“Yeah,” Neville said, pulling at the end, “felt like it was as good of time as any to wear it out,” he nodded at (Y/N)’s scarf. “You didn’t wear yours?”

“No,” (Y/N) said, shaking her head. “I leave the House pride to the students.”

“Oh come off it,” Neville said, pushing her shoulder. “I know you’d love to wear your (Y/H) scarf out! You wore it all the time, matching with your headband. It became your signature look!”

“I thought my ribbons were my ‘signature look’,” (Y/N) smiled, pulling lightly at the dark green bow that settled in her hair.

“You can have more than one,” Neville said, shrugging lightly. “It’s been a while since we’ve chaperoned together,” he said, eyes fixed at the twisting street of the town. “Probably the first time since the beginning of the year?”

“I don’t normally chaperone,” (Y/N) said plainly, meeting Neville’s long strides down the cobblestone. She wasn’t short, by any means, but the Gryffindor was admittedly taller than her, causing a bit of a chase in her pace. “I normally prefer overseeing detentions instead. Maybe it’s because I can come to Hogsmeade at any time, not just when I’m supposed to make sure the students aren’t going berserk.”

“You’re here now, though,” Neville said, glancing down at (Y/N). “Why’s that?”

“Dunno,” (Y/N) shrugged, flicking her eyes up to him. “Maybe because this feels like a date, almost.”

“Y-yeah?” 

“Almost,” (Y/N) smiled, pushing her hands into her coat pockets. “But not quite. Cant exactly be all couple-y here, can we?”

It had been a little over a week since the two finally spoke about what they wanted to gain from one another, a longwinded road that ultimately lead them to their current space. No one else was aware of the change, however, as (Y/N) and Neville decided it was best to keep it under wraps, especially in front of students. The only other person to possibly know was Hagrid, who saw the two holding hands near his gardens, admiring the groundkeeper’s handiwork on his pumpkins. Hagrid didn’t mention anything, however, so perhaps he hadn’t really paid much attention.

“Right,” Neville nodded. “Not quite,” The two passed a little green building, sloping at the sides. Dogweed and Deathcap, a sign read in foiled gold lettering. It looked to be a Herbology shop. Neville stopped for a moment, eyes now glued to the display in the window. “Do you mind…?”

“Go for it,” (Y/N) said, patting Neville on the back. “I’ll take a quick lap and make sure no one’s died.”

“Thanks!” Neville said excitedly. He disappeared into the shop, a goofy grin plastered to his face.

True to her word, (Y/N) waltzed around the grounds, keeping a watchful eye out for any horseplay or bad behavior. She found herself seated on a bench near Honeydukes, listening to the giggles and squeals of the students within. It was comforting, almost, remembering what it was like years ago.

-

“They’re not that bad, Neville!” (Y/N) said, thrusting a little striped box into his chest. “Go on, then. Give it a try!”

“I don’t care for Bertie Botts…” he said, grasping at the carton. “You know I have rotten luck…”

“Nev, everyone has rotten luck with Bertie Botts, it’s half the fun!” She giggled, tugging her pink hat back to covering her ears. “You’ve missed out on loads of Honeydukes sweets last year, it’s ‘bout time you made up for it, yeah?”

“You brought me some sweets,” Neville said, recalling the various packages and gifts the girl had brought him. He wasn’t allowed to go to Hogsmeade after he misplaced the Gryffindor common room password list he had written. “I had some of your peppermint toads!”

“Still,” (Y/N) clicked, rolling her eyes. “Try it out! I didn’t spend six of my Sickles to watch you chicken out!”

“I’m not a chicken!” Neville’s ears went scarlet, fingers diving into the box. He grabbed ahold of two beans, one beige and one orange. “Here,” he threw the beans into his mouth, chewing quickly. His nose scrunched up, eyes snapping shut.

“Bad beans?”

Neville nodded quickly, finally swallowing the mush.

“What were they?”

“I think…” Neville took a moment, sticking his tongue out, letting it breathe. “One was marmalade, but the other…” he shuddered at the thought. “Tasted of vomit…”

“I’m sorry,” (Y/N) said, holding back a laugh. “At least the marmalade was good?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” Neville said, now shoving the box back into (Y/N)’s loose grip. “The vomit took over.”

“Well, when they say every flavor…” (Y/N) laughed, placing the box gently back into her rucksack, right on top of a new travel cauldron she splurged on. “Come on,” she grabbed Neville’s woolen-covered hand, pulling him forward. “Let me treat you to a butterbeer, to make up for the—uh—vomit!”

She had hardly noticed how his ears went pink.

-

“Butterbeer…” (Y/N) mumbled, glancing down to her snowy boots. “That sounds like an awfully good idea about now…”

Without a second thought, (Y/N)’s boots led her to the Three Broomsticks. The interior was as bustling as she had remembered from her youth, some students here for the first time. She had hardly found the time in her breaks to come down to the pub, visiting only once before the term had started. She placed herself at the counter, awaiting service.

“Well, if it isn’t little (L/N),” Madam Rosmerta gleamed, putting down a freshly polished stein. “Thought you’d be cooped up in those dungeons of yours, no?”

“Hello Rosmerta,” (Y/N) said, removing her heavy coat. She felt like she didn’t need it in this moment. “Caught me at a good time, the headmistress unlocked my cell for the day.”

“Always the jokester,” Madam Rosmerta said, clicking her tongue. “Firewhisky?”

“No,” (Y/N) shook her head. “I can’t stand the stuff, besides I’m technically chaperoning…”

“Ah,” Madam Rosmerta nodded, pouring a glass of butterbeer from the large oak barrel. “Butterbeer it is, then. Can’t let the kids have all the fun, right?”

“I suppose not,” (Y/N) said, smiling at the large pint before her. The sickly smell of butterscotch made her heart grow light, like a warm hug. She brought the foam to her lips, instantly feeling relieved at the taste.

“Nothing quite like it,” Madam Rosmerta said, watching (Y/N) take another gulp. “The memories associated with that drink. Probably my favorite thing about it, besides the taste of course!”

(Y/N) merely nodded, too focused on finishing her cup until the last drop passed her lips. She hadn’t intended to finish the entire thing so quickly, but the honey-colored liquid was too inviting to pass up. “Do you mind…?” She raised the glass to Madam Rosmerta’s eye line, watching her smile grow. 

“Not at all, sweets,” Madam Rosmerta filled the glass again, the foam almost pouring over the sides. “How’s life been for you, Professor?” Her last word dropped over the tip of her tongue languidly.

“It’s been alright!” (Y/N) said cheerfully, carefully eyeing her glass. She felt the burbling in her stomach, almost afraid to take another sip before it settled. “I love my work, I adore most of my students—”

“That’s the same schtick Longbottom tried to pass off on me last week,” the barmaid scowled, leaning on her elbows. “Wouldn’t tell me the truth, but he seemed rather ruffled as it were, so I didn’t push it.”

“Oh yeah,” (Y/N) nodded, “the wine he bought from you, it was excellent!”

“Yeah? Been sitting on those bottles for a while…” Madam Rosmerta said, idly glancing at the spare bottles under her bar. “I’m glad you—wait,” the barmaid’s eyes went wide, almost to the size of the pints before her. “You!”

“M-me?” (Y/N) stammered, slightly concerned.

“I knew it! I knew Longbottom was planning a date!” Madam Rosmerta said, practically dancing a jig. “He wouldn’t say much, said he needed it for a ‘special dinner’.”

“I—well—”

“No need,” Madam Rosmerta rose a hand, effectively shutting (Y/N) up. “Your pink cheeks give it away, sweets.”

It was true, (Y/N)’s cheeks had grown to a lovely shade of scarlet, much more than a glass of butterbeer could’ve given her.

“Oh, calm down. I revel in young love and romance,” she pointed to a table near the corner of the inn, two Slytherin girls were sipping their glasses and laughing. “Those two have come nearly every weekend. The one on the left always buys for her, I think it’s sweet…”

“Yeah…” (Y/N) nodded, her eyes glued to the foam atop her glass. “Sweet…”

“You were always so sweet on him too, you know,” Madam Rosmerta said thoughtfully. “Every time I saw the two of you together I hoped you’d hit it off,” she looked at (Y/N)’s timid posture. “I’m glad I was right!”

“It’s only been a week,” (Y/N) said, finally bucking the courage to look at the barmaid. “Besides, a lot has happened in the last five years for us to—”

“Wait!” As if by lightning, a thought struck Madam Rosmerta, leading her to fumble through the stack of papers nearest the bar. “You and him went to the Potter’s wedding, right?”

“Oh—erm—yeah, we did…” (Y/N) said, knowing full well what Madam Rosmerta was going to bring up next. “Don’t tell me that you—”

“I knew it!” She slammed the paper atop the bar, directly in (Y/N)’s eye line. “I knew that these were the two of you!” Madam Rosmerta’s manicured nail pointed at the infamous picture of (Y/N) and Neville, holding each other romantically close, almost kissing. “I recognized your dress from the photo before, and then when Neville came in the next day going on about his dinner…”

“Could you keep it down? Just a bit?” (Y/N) said, almost hissing. “No one else at the school knows, well, the students don’t, I should say. Can’t say much for faculty…”

“Ah, making it a bit more fun for yourselves? Keeping it in secret?”

“This is why I don’t come down here often, Rosmerta,” (Y/N) smirked, finally taking a sip of her second glass. “But, no. We just—we’ve been fighting for this for so long that it’s nice to have it be between just us for now, you know?” Another sip. “Besides, the students are terrible gossips…”

“I understand,” Madam Rosmerta said, sighing lightly. “I’m just ecstatic for the two of you, finding each other after all this time… Really gives an old lady some hope, you know!”

“I bet,” (Y/N) giggled, taking another sip of her butterbeer, reveling in the taste.

“Though, I will say, I thought that you and that Knight fellow were courting…” Madam Rosmerta said, trailing. “He frequents a visit every now and then. Talked my ear off about you.”

“Oh…” (Y/N) said, glancing down. “I suppose we were… ‘courting’, in a sense. Nothing official, really,” she shrugged, taking another sip. “If I’m being honest, he’s not really much who I thought he was. Said some… unsavory stuff after I… well, after I tried to break it off.”

“Ah,” Madam Rosmerta clicked. “It’s the ponytail. Nothing good comes from a guy with a hairstyle like that.”

“Rosmerta!” (Y/N) said, spitting out her drink.

“You know it’s true,” Madam Rosmerta said, shrugging. “He’s an odd fellow, but he’s a regular so I put up with it. Always goes blabbering about his Muggle hobbies and the like. Photography, flower pressing, and you, were amongst other things he’d go on about.” 

“He was into pressing flowers,” (Y/N) said, nodding. “Made me look at his various journals. It’s an interesting hobby, to say the least.”

“Still, Knight is an odd fellow, would bring his Muggle camera in from time to time. Small enough to fit in your hand, all ‘digital’. Muggles are so fascinating, I’ll admit,” Madam Rosmerta said. “Glad you got out of it when you could. You deserve better.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled. “I think so too.” 

__

“…really, you needed all of these?” (Y/N) laughed, noting Neville’s rather large parcel from his shopping trip. They had returned from Hogsmeade, warming up in (Y/N)’s chambers with a fire and fresh hot tea.

“Well, I needed a few more seeds for my next lecture and they were having a bit of a sale so…” Neville sat, twiddling his thumbs, now realizing the gravity of his haul. “It’s not like I won’t use any of it!”

“I know,” (Y/N) smiled, settling herself on the plush couch, closer to Neville than she’s sat in the past. It was strange, she noted, how comforting being so close to another person could feel. “You’re good about things like that.”

“Oh! Speaking of,” Neville leaned forward, rustling through his paper bag, reaching to nearly the bottom. “You had said a few days ago that you needed some more of this… so…” In his hand were a few sprigs of greenery, looking almost like weeds. “I’ve been trying to grow a small plot of it, but it won’t do you any good until it’s all grown so…”

“Dittany,” (Y/N) said, taking the handful of green into her own fingers, feeling the wax of the leafs. “Yeah, I needed a bit more for my demonstration on the Wigglenweld Potion for my first years—I had completely forgotten to pick some up!” She pressed the green clump to her chest. “Thank you, Neville. I appreciate it.”

“It’s not a p-problem,” Neville said, stammering slightly.

“Well, now I feel bad,” (Y/N) said, settling into her crevice in the couch. “I didn’t buy you anything…”

“You didn’t need to buy me anything,” Neville assured her, “it’s a gift.”

“Wait a second,” (Y/N)’s eyes lit up like a flame, hustling over to her kitchen cupboards. “I know I have some extra… aha!” In her hand was a fresh box of Bertie Botts, unopened and unassuming. “My mum sent me some a while back, but I haven’t opened them yet.”

“Bertie Botts? (Y/N), you know how much I don’t like—”

“Yeah, I know,” (Y/N) hummed, practically skipping back to the couch. “But being out today reminded me of the day that you—”

“Ate the vomit bean? (Y/N)…”

“Oh come on,” (Y/N) said, flopping back on the couch, a little closer to Neville than she had sat before. “I know it isn’t much, but please just,” she placed the box in his lap, “accept the box, for now. Consider it a placement until I can find something more suitable.”

“I told you,” Neville said, shaking his head. “I don’t need anything in return, the dittany was a gift,” He pressed the box back into (Y/N)’s hands, closing them tightly around the striped box.

“Fine,” (Y/N) huffed, removing the Bertie Botts from her grip. “Then… at least…” (Y/N) hesitated for a moment, almost unsure of herself. Leaning forward, she pressed a chaste kiss to Neville’s cheek. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Neville said, his ears turning pink. “What’re you going to do with the beans, then?”

“Dunno, eat them?” (Y/N) said, tone teasing. “Probably not for a while though, they tend to be more of a party game than anything. Not really planning too many of those of late…”

“I suppose not,” Neville chuckled. He glanced around the apartment, eyes scanning the surroundings. “Hey, where’s Edgar? He’s usually around, no?”

“I sent him out this morning, with a letter to my mum. She spoils him with mice and treats, so I don’t think he’d be on his way until at least tomorrow,” (Y/N) said thoughtfully. “You should see her owls, terribly spoiled, the whole lot of them.” 

“I can imagine,” Neville said, imagining a flock of rather round and near flightless owls. “I’m sure he’ll be around sooner than later.”

There was a slight tapping on the glass window, the sound of a small beak perhaps.

“Speak of the devil…” (Y/N) said, smiling towards the sound. She waved her wand, allowing the window to open. An owl flew into the living quarters, visibly tired. The near snow-white of her feathers shone against the firelight of the room, the ends of the feathers shining a bright pearl sheen. She was visibly not Edgar.

“That’s not Edgar,” Neville said, plainly.

“That much should be obvious,” (Y/N) said, cracking a grin. “She’s a barn owl like him, though. Young,” she noted the letter in the owl’s beak, accepting it into her hand. “That explains it.”

“What? Who’s it from?”

“Ginny,” (Y/N) said, glancing at the neat penmanship of the envelope. Rustling in her cabinet, (Y/N) pulled a small box out, prying a small brown tuft from the container. She passed the treat to the owl, patting her head lightly before seeing her off, shutting the window into the night.

“You keep—”  

“Mice?” (Y/N) laughed, noting the terror that flicked across Neville’s freckled face. “Yeah. I find it’s in the best interests of the owls who run the post to enjoy a nice treat for flying for so long,” (Y/N) said, placing the box back into the cabinet, filled with various potions ingredients.

“But… still. Dead mice?”

“It’s what they like to eat,” (Y/N) said, shrugging lightly. “I know Ginny said that Harry had bought another owl, I didn’t imagine she’d be so beautiful.”

“She reminded me of Hedwig,” Neville said, “she’d hang out in our dormitory sometimes.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) said, thumbing the envelope. “It’s unlike Gin to send an owl this late,” her eyes grazed the wax seal, a scarlet ‘P’ adorned the color.

“Shouldn’t her and Harry be on their honeymoon? It’s been a week since the wedding, you’d think they’d be living it up in the tropics or something.”

“Yeah, you’d think,” (Y/N) said, peeling the wax seal off the envelope, pulling the letter out. Her eyes danced across the lettering, looping with every stroke of the quill. “Harry was called on a last minute Auror mission, so they moved their honeymoon to a later date.”

“That’s unfortunate…”

“I’d say…” (Y/N) said, continuing to read the letter. She let out a small chuckle. “Poor Gin, she has to deal with the whole Daily Prophet fiasco on her own, she said she practically knocked down their office building.”

“Sounds like Ginny,” Neville laughed. “Probably gave them a piece of her mind, plus or minus a few hexes I’m sure.”

“Of course she did,” (Y/N) laughed alongside Neville, glancing back down to the note. “It says that she tried to find who was responsible for sneaking the photos—she joked about the one of us, I suppose I’d have to fill her in at some point, but I bet she already—”

(Y/N) stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes growing wide at the final words on the letter. She felt like she couldn’t breathe, like all the air was caught in her throat.

“(Y/N)?” Neville asked, his expression worried. “(Y/N) is everything okay?”

“She found out.”

“Ginny? She found out what?”

“She found out who took the photos, who sold them to the Prophet,” (Y/N) said, pressing the note to Neville’s chest. 

He opened the note, the words highlighted by the orange glow of the fire. Every other word felt useless against the bold lettering of a singular name.

Lancelot Knight.

__

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[darkmindsotome]

Frozen Jealousy

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss  

Pairing: Yuzuru Shiba X MC

Word count: 3,046

Warning: NSFW Smut 

Written by: darkmindsotome 

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. prompt #1: Popsicle licking 

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

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Frozen Jealousy 

It had been nearly a month or as a certain someone corrected me three weeks and four days since our last date that had been somewhere other than his place. Work had kept us both busy and I had just returned from a mission that took me to Hong Kong where I had to limit my contact with Yuzu to brief calls. Every time I heard his voice in my ear it made me miss him more. I missed his face and I could practically feel his breath in my ear as I struggled to remain focused on my job.

Now the moment was here where we could spend the day together and I was a bundle of energy. Hugo had given me a simple navy blue halter dress that buttoned all the way up the front. He had discovered it in a small boutique that reworked vintage designs and he said he simply couldn’t not get it for me. We ended up gossiping as he worked his magic styling my hair and doing my make up. In the end, it was almost as if he was more excited about this date than I was. Thanking him I made a dash from my apartment to our meeting place in town.

We said we would meet at a station and then I’d show him around the large park nearby, possibly go around some of its museums or the little zoo. I couldn’t help smiling thinking how adorable it would be to see Yuzu excited about one of the animals. For the length of time he had been in Tokyo it had surprised me when he told me he hadn’t seen much of it apart from the locations he went to for business. Although knowing my gorgeously intelligent boyfriend I really should not have been surprised that he had not looked into sightseeing as part of his relocation for work. He would have said it was an inefficient use of time that could be better spent further developing something at work and written it off as frivolous.

Speaking of inefficient uses of time, I checked my watch and realised that thanks to the catch up with Hugo I had left later than intended and was now running late. Knowing Yuzuru he was already going to be standing there waiting on me. His timekeeping was always impeccable and his schedules were so packed I had to book time alone with him. I shook my head and laughed at myself, what I once found to be so irritating was now simply one more part of the man I loved.

After passing through the ticket barrier I looked around and noticed him leaning against the entrance his hands holding his smartphone reading something completely unaware of the glances and looks he was receiving from the men and women passing by. His black hair shone in the sun like it had been polished and his earring twinkled. I smiled noting he had worn the outfit we had chosen together and not just appeared in his usual turtleneck and suit. The simple grey v neck t-shirt and buff tan leather jacket fitted him like they were custom made it was no wonder why so many people were checking him out. I swear he could wear anything and still look like a model.

“Yuzu!” I called out and waved to him. He turned his expressionless face in my direction slipping his phone into his pocket.

“You’re late.” His cold eyes scanned me like a laser. His voice was much softer than his words, not that I was going to point that out.

“I’m sorry I got held up at home.” Feeling terrible for making him wait even if it was only for a few extra minutes I gave him a rueful smile and apologised.

“Is everything alright?” He pushed off from the wall and came closer looking concerned.

If you had told me this cold, unapproachable and unreadable man could be like this I would have thought you were mad. Now though I knew all too well exactly how wonderful he could be. His words were much harsher than his actions, the chill of his countenance was still there but it protected a very sensitive and passionate man. My man.

“Yes, fine I was just catching up with Hugo and lost track of time.” Realising he had gotten the wrong idea I attempted to explain and was met with a partial sigh and a blank unreadable look after he schooled his expression.

“Mm. Come on let's go.” Yuzu took my hand causing my heart to skip a beat as he began walking briskly with me in tow. All I can say is thank god for training because if I was not an agent used to trying to run in heels, I would be in a lot of trouble right now. I wonder what got into him.

We went through the park gates and found a lot of people enjoying a relaxing weekend. When we had reached a quieter path that ran under some trees near a river he slowed his pace to match mine and stopped dragging me. The sun was high in the sky which felt wonderful but soon had us both showing the effects of the change in temperature.

I kept stealing glances at Yuzuru the fine mist of sweat glistening on his forehead and neck had my mind constantly venturing down the salacious path of remembering our times in bed together. The slip of our bodies together in harmony after becoming one and the way his hands never left me even for a moment as he stripped away my ability to think allowing me to only respond to him physically.

His eyes met mine and a small frown creased his forehead as he looked at me quizzically.

“What?”

“Nothing I was just thinking it's very hot out today.” I spoke quickly trying to ignore the ache that had developed inside me thanks to my rather vivid memory recall.

“Victoria said it is supposed to be the hottest day on record for the year so far.” He didn’t question my choice of topic, he just nodded in agreement adding to it by bringing up his AI invention. Knowing how he despises small talk I started to look around unwilling to test my luck further that he would continue to not notice my flustered state. There was a colourful sign for a small vendor that caught my eye.

“Hang on a minute.” I didn’t give him a chance to reply and darted off to get some refreshments for us both. When I returned, I had two popsicles in hand finding him waiting in the shade of some trees by the water and held them both out in front of him. “What one do you want?”

“I don’t mind I can just have the one you don’t want.” He shrugged as if he found this whole thing a bit pointless. To be honest, it annoyed me. He was so willing to try to please at times he ignored himself. I get he wants to avoid conflict and everything but there are times where he really didn’t have to worry so much.

“Nope, not happening. This is that ‘where do you want to eat?’ situation all over again and you said you would try not to do that again. You know you have preferences so pick one, I won’t be upset even its one I wanted.” I stepped closer still holding both popsicles out in front of me earning me an exasperated frown from him.

“You developed an annoying bug.” He still hadn’t moved to select one it was like he was stubbornly refusing to buckle to my simple demand.

“I’m sure you can find the solution later. Come on pick.”

“Fine.” He huffed and then took one of them from me waiting till I started to eat mine before doing the same. “Happy now?”

“Yep” I beamed a smile at him happy at my small victory.

“I really don’t get you sometimes.” He muttered a small smile playing on his lips that became wet as they wrapped around the popsicle. The flustered mess I was in danger of becoming before came back and hit me full force. The way his tongue came out just far enough to glide over the flavoured ice. How the natural fruit stained his lips in a new shade that had me wanting to taste them myself. I reminded myself that this was supposed to be a date and shifted my focus to my own popsicle hoping the cold treat would put out some of the fire growing in me.

We walked around eating the iced treats after a few minutes I felt something cold on my hand and realised mine was dripping. Without thinking I parted my lips and ran my tongue over the back of my hand chasing the liquid right up the side of the popsicle before putting it in my mouth to give it a hard suck in the hopes of removing enough excess juice from it to stop it dripping again.

I heard him stop in his tracks and when I turned to see what was wrong I nearly choked on the passionate look he was giving me.

“You did that on purpose.”

There was no time to react even if pulling away from him was the last thing on my mind. The sunlight vanished and I could feel the harsh bark of a tree against my back. We each still had hold of the sticks for the popsicles as he pressed himself closer. With the tree hiding us both he placed his free hand near my head effectively preventing escape, everywhere his body touched mine felt like burning.

“Did what?” I had a mind as to what he was talking about. It had only been a simple thing that had unintended suggestions attached to it but I couldn’t resist playing this deliciously dangerous game after being apart for so long.

“If you really don’t know then you’re even more dangerous than I give you credit.” Yuzu leant in covering my lips with his.

“Well, I am a dangerous woman after all.” My lower tone had the sweet kiss turn biting and passionate as his tongue ran along my bottom lip before plunging in to dance with my own.

Hidden from view we continued our little battle. Every kiss given was returned and every breath mingling became as hot as the sun. A soft thump on the ground gave us pause and I could see what was left of his popsicle had slid from its stick and fallen. Mine was probably not far behind it as the sticky sweet treat was melting much faster than before.

A wicked grin spread over his face, a look I knew all too well. It was part challenge part devilish as he took hold of my hand, now covered in melted fruit juice and began lapping it off my skin. I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he chased the drips with his tongue and paused only to give small nips and suckling on the inside of my wrist.

He looked at me from upturned eyes, those deep eyes of his drawing me into the bottomless void. Eyes I loved, the dry ice melting only to drown us both in passion. I started to become very aware of how suddenly restrictive this new dress was. My chest was heaving at the sight of the beguiling man in front of me all the things he was doing and all the possibilities of what I knew he was capable of.

“That’s it we’re leaving.” He stood up and pulled away from me, running his hand roughly through his dark hair giving it an unkempt look that was so unlike him.

“Where are we going?” I tried to pull myself together knowing that this was a public space and chastising myself for the fact I didn’t want him to stop.

“I’m fixing those bugs you developed right now.” He nearly growled as he struggled to keep his voice even and clear. I don’t think I’ve seen him like this before, the thrill of this new discovery had my heart racing even more as I allowed him to once more drag me along behind him.

The door to the hotel room that had been hastily acquired by the normally level headed Yuzu hadn’t even fully closed before I found myself locked in his strong arms. His mouth travelling along the nape of my neck as his clean scent like a winter’s night wrapped around me, claiming my senses.

“Mmm…. Ah… Yuzu wait.” I gave a small show of resistance that was certainly not up to my top-level agent credentials.

“Not happening I can’t” He was forceful and demanding, kissing me over and over alternating between soft and hard. His fingers roamed over my contours expertly hitting all the right places with just enough pressure to set my body purring like the engine on his beloved Bugatti.

“But…”

“You are far too good at generating a short circuit in me.” His voice was lower, far more sensual and his attacks were calculated. Not a single wasted motion, as to be expected from Mr perpetually logical with an eye for details and the skills to back up any action he desired.

“What?” Something was bugging me while I didn’t not want this to happen it just felt a little like something was off. Distractions in the bedroom are never a good thing, curse the mind of an agent and that dreaded gut instinct.

“I don’t see you for ages and we can only communicate via phone. That is fine work is work I knew what I was signing up for when I asked you to be mine.” He pushed me to the floor apparently the bed that was only a few feet away was too far. His fingers latched on to the buttons at the front of my dress popping each one roughly before exposing enough of my chest to push his hand up under my bra, cupping my breasts as his eyes burned with intensity. “But then you show up late and use another man as an excuse…”

“Wait! I already told you Hugo isn’t like that he’s…” My words were cut off as he squeezed hard on both my nipples at the same time causing my back to arch against the floor.

“Still a man. I suppose he picked this dress for you as well?” He moved his knee between my thighs with the little movement left to me I tried rubbing his leg with mine only to discover exactly how turned on he was and gasping. His hands don’t stop as they move to my back releasing the clasp on my bra and removing it skilfully as he shoved the top of the dress down to my hips. “And then you tease and torment me with that little display back there in the park.”

“Display?” It wasn’t fair he had me panting like an animal in heat, pinned beneath him and half exposed already while he had still failed to do more than shrug off his own jacket. I wanted him, I wanted to feel him. My hands travelled up to try to get a grip on his shirt to remove it only to be grabbed in his hands and have him guide them for me over the perfectly formed muscles of his stomach, pushing the fabric higher and higher until it was gone.

“You think I would miss such a thing? Or did you think I would be unaffected watching my girlfriend devour a popsicle so suggestively?” He was jealous and while it shouldn’t have been something I liked I actually did. A man of few words who showed even fewer emotions. Never said what he really meant and was hopeless with the human element in life. Yet here he was showing his raw emotions in front of me, my mouth watered as he dipped in to kiss me again.

“Mmm!”

He made quick work of removing my shoes and the rest of my clothing. I didn’t even notice him lifting me up to free the dress and underwear from my hips, my mind was in a total haze. He says I’m good at making him short circuit but honestly, when I’m with him it’s like a total system crash.

“You’re the only one that can make me feel like this.” Unbuckling his belt he slipped free of his trousers and took my hand once more guiding it over to rest on the throbbing hard length of him.

He hovered over me the heat rolling off him and over me making it feel like we were still outside in the baking sun. My hand travelled up his sides and found the same defined muscles on his back, drawing my fingertips over them as I tipped my chin to gain a kiss. As soon as our lips connected, I felt the familiar sensation of his fingers slide between my thighs. They alternated in direction and pressure targeting every nerve he knew would destroy me.

“Oh, God!” I cried out hips bucking against him making him groan into my mouth as he tried to reclaim my lips.

“Damn you’re sexy.”

“Yuzu?” We were both out of breath, panting and burning up. I could barely make out anything as my eyes started to burn with tears.

“I know.” Was all Yuzu said as he took one of my legs and placed it on his shoulder before plunging himself in as far as he could in one motion. “Ngh!”

“Ah!” The pressure from inside told me we were one and that was enough for me to start moving in time with him.

“Mmm ah MC!”

Our mingled breaths and voices filled the room with the scandalous noises of our lovemaking. I knew this would be the first in many rounds. We would talk and he would convince me, taking me over and over again. Matching his pace was all I could ever hope for knowing that this man was a human dynamo. I willingly gave myself over to the pleasure of being with him.

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