#just the way they start trying to sort through all the hurt and trepidation between them

[obae-me]

Tainted Reflections- CH 11

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Be Not Afraid 

MAJOR Warning: The title is a lie, do be afraid. This Chapter contains Blood, Death, Violence, Gore, Body Horror, Disturbing Imagery. 

As Always, Read Safely. 

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“I don’t like being back here…” A casual kick sent a rock tumbling over the ground, ending up in some poor sod’s lifeless side. 

“Hm…” 

“I wish I were back home...with MC again. Knowing Belphie, they’ll just sleep, and sleep, and nothing will get done to restore them to their glow of health!” Another stone went flying across the air, landing decently far from its starting point. 

“Mmhm…” 

A little pouty huff. “Satan, are you listening to me?” 

The blonde-haired demon raised his gaze from the body he was observing on the ground. Annoyed, he glared. “No. I’m doing what we came here to do. You shouldn’t just be standing there looking pretty, either!” Although telling Asmo to do that would be like telling a fish not to breathe in water. Except there were actually plenty of Devildom fish that…not the time to get into that. He stood, dusting dust and dried blood off his hands and onto the fabric of his pants covering his knees. Asmo just pouted again. 

So, here they were, back in the warehouse, mucking around trying to look for clues amongst the supposed junk and corpses still littering the ground. For him, a playground of mystery and opportunity, but for Asmo, probably nothing more than a dismal mess. But he went about nonetheless, tuning out his brother’s cries about the state of things, of his nails should he touch anything, of the things he had the potential to step in. However, he knew better than to assume the shallow reasoning behind Lust’s trepidation. If Satan was being entirely honest with himself, he didn’t want to be here either. A heavy fog of disquiet seemed to fill the spaces between boxes and aisles. Whether it was simply the state they had all seen their human in, or the lingerings of something darker, well, that remained to be seen. The Prince and the Devildom could be assured, though, that he would pick out and sort through all the information and knowledge this warehouse had to offer. 

“Where do we even start?” The fifth-born’s slender fingers poked his own cheeks in thought. 

Satan looked around. “From the beginning. I believe the best order to go about these things is to take photos of everything the way it is, to preserve the scene. Then we can go about moving things to look for clues.” 

A little puff from Asmo’s rosy lips, but he knew better than to complain vocally any further. At least, not right now. One more swift kick to rubble, and Asmo won this little game of his that he’s been playing against no one but himself. He stepped over a body and started back towards the entrance. Satan followed, taking out his device. 

The strategist and self proclaimed detective extended his pointer finger, gesturing towards the side walls. “It’s best if we split up. Work from the outside in, and meet in the middle. Take pictures of everything, even if it doesn’t seem important, and at different angles too. I’ll take this side.” He gestured towards the right, and then without any more words, they went their separate ways. 

It was rather mindless work. Step. Picture. Turn. Picture. The warehouse was lit with the flashes of two different cameras. It felt both like a single second and a lifetime before they reunited at the back of the warehouse. The both of them fell silent as they turned in unison towards the opening they’d all discovered at the back, where the human had been trapped. Satan slipped back inside the room. This...needed to be documented too. Asmo remained in place, turning his head away. As Satan snapped some more photos, he couldn’t help but think. How long had MC been there?...Waiting...wondering if they’d ever be found. They’d been so hurt, and...His arms lowered as he tilted his head towards the floor. He suddenly crouched. 

“What? What is it?” Asmo must’ve been pretending not to look, but couldn’t help but peek anyway. 

“They were hurt…” Satan muttered. 

His brother tried to speak, but a short choked squeak came out of him. Asmo cleared his throat. “Yes, we know that already, Satan!” 

“There’s hardly any blood on the floor.” Wrath got back up to his feet, coming over to grab Asmo’s arm, yanking him inside. Of course, there were several cries of flirtatious annoyance, but they were ignored. Satan pointed to the ground. “The floor is mostly clean. Shockingly clean. We saw how wounded they were, so why is hardly any of it on the ground?” 

There’s clear discomfort in Asmo’s body language as he talks. “They were probably moved here from somewhere else, Satan. I don’t think it means much of anything.” 

“But, if they were hurt outside the room and moved in here, then there would be some human blood outside here, right?” Like a trail, or a track, or anything along those lines, but there was nothing out there but demon blood amongst the dirt. 

“I wasn’t paying that much attention on my side, maybe there’s something over there, but…” Asmo lost his train of thought for a moment. “I’m not lingering in this damp room any longer, it’s already affecting my skin.” He slipped back out the small pathway they’d made. 

He’d put a pin in it...but he’d read lots of books and seen more crime shows than any one human could watch in their entire lifetime. Of course, he’d hardly call himself a professional, but he knew what to keep an eye out for. Blood is one of the most important clues a crime scene can have...so it’s odd that there’s hardly any of it in here...It's like someone else was aware of that fact, trying to leave as little clues as possible. Following Asmo’s footsteps, he ducked out of that space. “So, now that we’ve got the initial scene saved, we can start going through things. You like unboxing things, so why don’t you start opening the crates?” 

The younger one blew out air from pursed lips to push his hair from his eyes. “I doubt this will be as fun as makeup boxes…” 

Complaint disregarded. “Remember to take more photos of the box initially, then when it’s been opened, the contents or lack thereof inside, basically everything. We want it all documented. And we should probably make a list of everything we find.” Satan curled his fingers around his chin. “I think I remember seeing an office on the higher floors. If I can find an invoice or a ledger, we can cross-reference our discovery to see what doesn’t match up.” 

After all those words, Asmo seemed to be a lot more interested with what he was told to do. “You do all that, and I’ll just tell you if I find something important, okay?” The demon of lust headed to the first box, a heavy dramatic sigh leaving his chest. “I love being me, but what I wouldn’t give to be Belphegor right now…” 

The first step onto the crisp snow made a noise loud enough to send birds scattering...if they were able to move that is. Quiet. Ghastly quiet. With no wind to blow, and no atmosphere to fill the space, it felt like every move you made was as raucous as a gunshot. Belphie came up behind you, somehow much lighter on his feet than you despite carrying all the supplies. The pack on his back was filled with anything he felt you would need. “Ready?” He asked, the breath that escaped from his lungs fogged up the air, quickly freezing mid-motion, slowly fading in place until it was gone. 

The long black peacoat you had found hanging on an old-fashioned coat rack downstairs was clearly not tailored to you, sagging off your body in awkward parts, making your movement rather clunky, but keeping yourself warm was a higher priority. You pushed apart the fabric to feel your hip, jostling the hilt of the dagger Ikito had so kindly left you with. It was hanging from one of your belt loops, devoid of any fitting sheath. It would have to do. In the coat pocket, you felt around carefully for one of the objects you’d taken from the attic. You pulled it out, settling it in your gloved palm- which did fit you luckily, the gloves, but had a few weathered holes in them. It was one of the mirror shards, wrapped in bandages. Belphegor had destroyed it, yes, but the magic seemed to still be semi-functional. You could hardly blame him for breaking it. How many times did you wish you could do that yourself, hoping to shatter Ikito in the process. Despite that, you still took a piece. You freed it enough to look at the reflection. It flickered in between empty rooms, the images blurred, nonsensical. You sighed, wrapping it back up and settling back into the sown-in pouch. On your other side, you’d taken the letter from Singrid. There wasn’t exactly a demand for it, or even a want, but...something told you it might be wise to have it on hand, and after the experiences you’ve had, you would start to trust your gut instincts. Slung across your body was a satchel, the only thing Belphegor would let you carry in your still weakened state. Inside was the mirror. You had managed to pick it up easily, no curse or strings attached. No thriller-like hidden traps that would bring a blade down from the roof or entrap you in steel. Not that Ikito could’ve done anything magical to it, but it was odd that it was unprotected. Demonic magic was impossible here...Did Ikito rely on that so much? Well...you had everything you needed. A weapon, your spite and determination. “I’m ready.” 

Sloth nodded. “Alright.” There was a small flicker of worry, of exhaustion. “Let’s go.” He took a few wary steps, but then reached his arm back, taking your hand. 

So you began walking, ignoring the pain in your body, the fear in your mind. Step… by step…by weary step. 

“Kind of incredible how easily you adapted, huh?” The question that rang in your mind was not your own, but rather, a memory of Asmo, admiring you from across the table. You all were supposed to be studying, yourself, Asmo, Levi, Satan, and Solomon. 

“I believe it's a natural thing humans do to survive. They’re capable of acclimating quickly to their environment,” Satan so-matter-of-factly stated. “They don’t have the power often to change their situation, so they change themselves to fit their surroundings.” 

Levi put down his D.D.D. finally. “All the greatest characters learn to adjust to their new lives! They can jump right in and make it through any situation! Just like the main character of That-One-Time-I-Ended-My-Normal-Life-To-Save-A-Stranger-And-Now-I’m-The-Hero-Of-This-New-World!-Oh-And-I’m-A-Slime!” 

“This is reality,” you had to remind them. “I just figured fighting against it wasn’t going to do any of us any good.” A shrug, but even though you had acted indifferent, it was nice to get praise despite having your normal life uprooted and being described like a fascinating species in a nature documentary. Here settles a human. Observe as they struggle with ridiculously difficult demon numerology questions. 

The other human grinned. “Regardless, I have to agree with Asmo. Not every human could quickly get used to being around demons like this. Remember that. If you’re ever in a tough situation, remember that you’re stronger than anyone thought you would be.” 

At the time, it had seemed like a cryptic and cheesy line, one that came out of nowhere, something that typically happens for a reason. You hadn't even thought of it once after it happened, but perhaps the place you were in now poked at it enough to have it bubble to the surface. It was a pretty grim truth if you were being honest. Adapt or die. You’d forgotten that’s how humans lived. Being surrounded by the realms most powerful demons didn’t exactly give you a complex, but…you supposed you had believed you were…safe? Untouchable? Powerful in your own right? And now this whole thing forced you to face the ugly truth. You were only human. Yet…that memory added a bit of fuel to your fire. Because you were human, Ikito underestimated you…He’d regret that. 

You felt your hand get squeezed. Looking up, you noticed Belphie had stopped, so you halted your progress as well. The both of you were now at the base of a few trees, at the edge of the clearing, staring at the entrance to a dark and frozen forest. That cry could be heard again…louder. It sounded like an animal but also an instrument…but also several other things. It made your head swirl just trying to think about it. An unusual, unnatural note. Melodical, but haunting. Belphegor squeezed your hand once more. “Stay close to me.” Your only response to that was a harsh swallow and a nod. 

In a few strides, you both were under the shade of the crooked branches and pines, the misty haze from the cold stuck from swirling around your ankles. “What’re we looking for-” You shuddered. “...Exactly?” 

“Dunno.” Not exactly a phrase of confidence. “But we have to check things out. We’ll go a certain distance, and if it seems like nothing, we’ll turn back and prepare to go a different direction.” He dropped his hand from yours for just a moment to rub your shoulders to warm you up. He opened his mouth to say something, but dropped that as well. 

So, you both started moving again, leaving footprints and little trenches in the snow where you dragged your feet instead of picking them up. The further you both trudged into the woods, the darker it became. Little glimpses of shadows shifted from the corner of your eyes, but every time you turned your head, there was nothing but emptiness. Maybe you were going mad? Not difficult to imagine after everything you’d been through, and everything you anticipated could happen. But then amidst the crunching beneath your feet, a louder snapping sound echoed through the trees. Splintering wood, the cracking of many branches, and the bone-chilling cry. The party of two froze. While you had yet to see the evidence to back up your claim, you couldn’t help but let the truth you had come up with settle in the bottom of your stomach. Whatever it was had knocked down a tree, torn it to shreds even. And was much...much closer. 

You had been known to have your fair share of idioctic ideas excused away by some supposed boldness or curiosity...this was not one of them. “Belphie...I don’t want to go this way.” 

But your partner in this world was a bit distracted, stuck in place for a moment like the rules of this preserved world had seeped into his bones. But he was still breathing, blinking, animated. “It sounds familiar…” 

Familiar or not, anything that had the strength to destroy the bulky frame of a solid and frozen oak tree was something you did not want to meet. “Let’s-” 

Belphie grabbed you, moving so fast your vision was a blur. A bit of your body ached in protest but you didn't physically do anything to stop yourself from being whisked away to the side. He held you close, hiding you both behind a tree. Not the safest hiding spot all things considered, but the only option you had. All you could hear was his heart beat. Thump, thump, thump. 

…and then you heard a louder thump, thump, thump. That was not his heartbeat. 

Shortly after that, you heard more noises. Panting, running, a weak wheeze of a scream. Branches cracked. Whoever it was, it was in a panic. You leaned over to the side, peering around the corner of your shelter. Belphie gave you a squeeze, but you kept looking. Eventually he turned his own head. Someone slipped through the trees, stumbling, falling where you two had previously been standing. The first thing you noticed was the blood. The dark black ooze that ran through demon's bodies. It covered the ground where the character fell, spurting across the snow in dotted patterns. Your eyes panned up and instinctively you almost gasped. Belphie's hand covered your mouth to keep you from doing so.

Crimson colored hair spilled from atop their head, the length falling just above their shoulders. It was wild hair, only this time, not styled that way. Snow and frost and more blood matted the hair into messy spikes, one single long strand dangling between their eyes, brushing against their broken nose. The figure crawled forward, frozen fingers clawing through the snow to keep them moving. When they got to yours and Belphie's tracks, their eyes went wide. 

"Hey! Hey!" The notes of their tone cracked, broken, barely hanging on. Although they managed to scramble to their feet, following the tracks you both had made in the snow. 

But before they could reach you, that cry rippled over the three of you. Now that you were closer…it felt…warm, almost inviting at this distance. Like the sound of a mother humming a lullaby, or someone playing an instrument for others around a campfire. It kept changing in your mind every time you tried to recall what you’d heard. Then something followed the sound, poking through the thick shadows between the trees. 

It looked like just a mask. A beautifully made porcelain mask with golden painted lips, rosy cheeks, and a beaded headdress that curved outward near the temples with pearls dangling from its laced edges. Symbols glowed across the surface, illuminating the space towards wherever it was facing. It reminded you of the shining beacon of a lighthouse. You didn’t know much about what the symbols meant, but you had learned enough through the program to tell that it was angelic magic. It was gorgeous, although strange the way it seemed to hover on its own with no body attached, and no eyes could be seen in the holed out spaces where they should see through. And for a moment, mixed with the sound that almost fully assured you ‘be not afraid’ and the angelic symbols, you almost felt some hope. This was safe…Right? Angels protected…right?

Belphegor wasn’t breathing. 

“Help me,” the other demon whimpered, legs shaking so badly their knees were clacking together, almost unable to stand. They sobbed quietly, fearful for their life, a much different expression used by that face than any of the other ones you had seen before. The darker side of you felt justified. You were almost glad that that face looked so weak. That the lips that taunted you were quivering. The body that had beaten you was now broken in turn. But, despite appearances, this wasn’t Ikito, no. For a moment you had thought it was. The same hair, the same eyes, but this must’ve been his first victim. Even from the start the Ikito you knew wasn’t him at all. A lie. “Please, I don’t know what I’m doing here. Get me out of here.” Their body finally gave out, falling to their knees as their gaze stuck terrified at the mask. Then, either coming to the conclusion that the both of you weren’t going to help, or simply trying to give themselves better odds of living, the demon pointed to your hiding spot, gulping in air to put all of their energy into screaming from frozen lungs. “There’s two here! Get them instead!” 

Belphegor was shaking. 

The magic woven into the mask flashed brightly, casting down a spotlight on the demon who had just betrayed you. Then the mask approached, and it took you a moment to comprehend that it was not hovering, but simply attached to something else and extending. An elongated tendril covered in white feathers stretched out from its spot to position the mask right in front of the demon who was now quaking, staring it down. Then the ground shook as whatever this thing was began to move, revealing more of itself in pieces. Two large and curved golden blades took turns in pulling the creature’s body forward, reminding you of a praying mantis. As the two sharp front legs took their steps, cutting through the snow, it revealed more of its main body. A rather hulky frame emerged, pushing and bending the trees around it so it could squeeze through. It was covered in more white feathers, the plumes fluttering in individual directions, causing a ripple effect across its back. It had two back legs that almost resembled a bird’s in that it stemmed down from the feathers and had feet that branched out into three front toes and one back one. However, it appeared as if the feet were made out of tightly coiled golden vines, each piece constantly shifting and constricting to keep its shape. 

It was incredible. 

The neck recoiled, the mask moving away from the demon and curving its neck in the air like a swan’s. With a short movement, it raised one of its front legs and swiped. 

The other demonic prisoner in this place gurgled, tongue flopping out of their mouth as their jaw dropped in shock. It was not a second later till their head rolled forward, falling off severed from their shoulders as their corpse crumpled in the snow. The eyes kept moving, looking back and forth at nothing till they were still. They were gone. 

The creature used the same sharp limb to impale the recently deceased torso, curving the blade to lift it from the floor. With a trilling hum, it pushed itself upwards, propping itself up on its hind legs. Cold sweat and rising bile rushed through your body as the creature’s underside was exposed, revealing a slit running down from the base of its neck to its end. It opened, drool dripping through several rows of tiny razor sharp teeth. No time was wasted as the body was stuffed into what you could only assume was its mouth, the teeth closing around the demon, tearing their flesh apart in seconds. Black fluid sprayed in every direction, but despite the demon blood coating the ground and dripping off the tree branches, the creature remained a pristine white and gold. No unclean thing may enter the kingdom of God. 

After it had devoured the demon’s main body, it lowered itself back to all fours. It wasn’t until this point till you realized with horror that this wasn’t a dream. This was your new reality. The one that you had to attempt to adapt to…or perish. As the mask tilted in your direction, you came to the conclusion that trying to remain hidden was not an option. There was only one thing you could do. Run. 

You yanked Belphie’s arm harshly enough that his head lurched backwards. His legs apparently weren’t thinking the same thing you were. “FUCKING RUN,” you shouted, pulling him in front of you and pushing him till his legs had to move to keep him from falling. Finally snapping out of it, he cursed, grabbing your arm and dashing forward, practically dragging you. You kept up as best as you could, legs burning despite the cold. 

The monster’s neck curved around the trees, the mask and its light trained on you both, but then it honed its beam solely on Belphegor. Another noise came from it, the animalistic part rumbling from whatever served as its mouth. Then your ears started ringing, and the longer you listened the more the resonance began to warp, magic affecting your mind till you almost heard your name being called, possibly by one of the brothers. It was telling you to turn around, that it was okay. Fortunately, you’d gone through enough to tell when something was lying. Then it started running after you. It was slower luckily seeing as it was much too big to maneuver comfortably through the woods. However, it kept slicing at whatever was too much of an obstacle, gaining ground through sheer force. 

“What the hell is that thing?” You asked between heaving pants. It wasn’t something you recognized. Only nightmares could conjure a creature like those. 

Belphie tugged you as he took a sharp left, almost slipping on a sheet of ice under the snow, but regaining his balance and sprinting without letting the monster catch up. He was pale, more so than usual. The fingers grasping yours were trembling. “It’s a sin eater.” 

“A what-” you tried asking, but the sound of cracking wood was so loud you felt it bounce between your ribs. Then a heavy woosh swirled and disoriented the air around you as an entire tree flew above your heads. You both took to the ground, snow and soil sprinkling across your bodies as the tree’s gnarled roots landed just a few feet in front of you. The tree was almost upright again…till gravity pulled it down, branches approaching you both at a rapid rate. You hardly had enough time to comprehend that a tree was about to fall on you till Belphie pulled you away by the back of your coat. The tree’s final landing sent more snow puffing up into the air. You raised an arm to shield your eyes. When you lowered them, two empty eye holes were staring right back at you. 

“If only my brothers had the foresight of preservation, things wouldn’t be so damned difficult to find…” So Satan says, but he knew in the back of his mind he was just as blinded by wrath as they all were. It’s his sin for Diavolo’s sake, he knows what happens if it’s not controlled. What do you get when you multiply unchecked demonic rage times seven? You get a mostly destroyed office with dusty scrolls and tattered papers everywhere except where they should be. In any semblance of order. Did he volunteer to do this part? Yes. Did he love the thrill of finding evidence? Yes. Was he getting tired of sifting through rust and rubble to only find scraps of contracts and strips of blackmail letters? Absolutely. Even if the blackmail bit was intriguing, it had nothing to do with what he was looking for. Besides, blackmail doesn’t mean much when the workers are dead. If these demons laying around had been the ones that worked here anyway. That was a question that did spring to mind but didn’t seem to merit further looking into. Likelihood was, even if these weren’t the original workers, the probability of the ones mentioned in these notes and reports being alive and well were drastically close to zero. And if they were the previous occupants of this space? Now they littered the ground like the trash they deserved to be. However, despite how useless they seemed, he would not stray from protocol. Even the smallest tear of paper was getting photographed and saved. 

All hope was not lost. Under a bulking chunk of caved in wall was what looked to be the remains of a desk with drawers attached to the inner sides. The desktop had cracked clean in half and the entire thing was still splintering under the pressure, but whatever had been in the drawers should still be intact or at the very least legible. Hopefully… Satan approached the blockade, gripping his claws into the stone as he pushed the wall piece off the desk. A few weakened ends cracked off while the rest let gravity pull it down through the hole in the floor of this raised office, down to the main part of the warehouse. As it hit the ground, it sent a single tremor through the whole building. 

A worried face quickly changed to irritation as Asmodeus flew up above his spot amongst the shelves to flutter and land on what solid ground Satan had remaining up here. “Don’t do stuff like that without warning!” Asmo scolded. “What if you had hurt yourself or worse yet, hurt me?!” 

“You would’ve survived.” With the remains of the desk now freed, he stepped away from his brother to try to tear out the deformed drawers from their slots. “Did you find anything so far?” 

The demon of lust shuffled on the pads of his feet. The body language of disappointment. “Not much. Almost everything that I’ve opened so far has been completely empty.” 

“Really?” Satan couldn’t help but express his confusion, pausing his movements to ponder. So all these demons were camping out in a mostly empty warehouse? Why? Surely all those demons weren’t necessary to keep one human prisoner…as much as he hated thinking about it that way. They would’ve had a much harder time finding MC if they were properly hidden. Sure it took a while to find this place, but the building was still out in the open. Even if they were originally here to take things from the warehouse, why keep the human here? Things just…didn’t make sense. 

“...atan.” Asmo placed a hand on Satan’s shoulder and shook him a bit. “Satan, did you even hear me?” After the demon of wrath blinked a bit, Asmo shook his head, his question answered. “I asked if you had found anything.” 

Back to the present, Satan tore out one of the desk drawers and looked inside. There wasn’t much. A set of old keys on a single key ring, a few loose Grimm, two pens, and a little note reminding someone named ‘Olzak’ to ‘stop slacking and finish last week’s paperwork’. Satan chucked the drawer aside, the whole thing finally bursting into pieces as it hit the solid wall. “No, I haven’t,” he admitted. “Nothing valuable to us anyway.” The contents all plummeted to the ground at varying speeds, one of the pens finding the audacity to roll all the way across the dilapidated floor to settle against Satan’s shoe. Next one. Satan tore out the next drawer so aggressively, the handle popped off, forcing him to pull it out with his bare hands. There was nothing worth even noting in here! He was going to–

“Satan.” Once again, Asmo put his hands on Satan’s shoulder. It wasn’t until his brother did that Satan noticed he wasn’t breathing. Anger had a tight clutch on his lungs, every muscle so tense he could hardly see straight. “Breathe.” 

Being told to do something so simple like that wanted Satan to tear every strand of hair off of his brother’s delicate head. But he settled himself, painfully forcing air to enter his body. “I have to…I have to find something.” Typically, he adored any information even if it was ultimately considered useless. More often than not, it ended up being used in some fashion whether it be with tests or lessons or even as conversation starters. Plus, spiteing Lucifer by ‘wasting his time learning inutile facts’ always brought him joy. However, right now every miniscule pointless detail was pushing him one step closer to loosening the leash wrapped tightly around his fury. He works so hard to not be defined as his sin. He’s better than that–smarter than that. He should just be happy that MC is safe…and yet he’s still just so…infuriated. Every unanswered question chips off a chunk of his patience. 

“And you will,” Asmo assured him, using his powers for good and allowing his silver-coated tongue to persuade him to– as Mammon always so elegantly put it– ‘calm the fuck down’. “Diavolo sent you here with all your knowledge and know-how because he knew you would find something. So with your brains behind your pretty face, and my attention to detail behind my even prettier face, we’ll solve the mystery, okay?” Asmodeus smiled, the allure that naturally surrounded him allowed Satan to trust his words. 

“Okay,” Wrath nodded, the burning in his body ebbing. 

“So take it easy, break a wall if you must, but stay focused. I’ll head back to my search and let you know if I come across something more interesting than an empty box.” Asmo left his brother after giving a little pet to his head, leaving the platform with a graceful leap. 

After his brother departed, Satan shut his eyes and recited a segment of a poem that he had memorized. 

Peace flows into me

As the tide to the pool by the shore;

It is mine forevermore,

It ebbs not back like the sea. - Sara Teasdale 

He had to keep his head on his shoulders or else nothing would get done. With a firm tug, he set free one of the last drawers. This one held more potential than the last. It was filled with now-crumpled files that contained some more important documents. He started shuffling through them, skimming through them as quickly as he went through his books. He quickly stopped at a certain page when it caught his discerning eye. It was, as he had hoped to find, an item record. It contained the categories, brief descriptions, quantity, and label for each item they possessed. He studied one of the pages, one of the most recent documents according to the date. 

Weapon | Swords, Non-Enchanted | 4 | LD0015 |

Misc. | Seeing Orb, Fully Functional | 1 | ZB0167

Furniture | Chaise Lounge, Artifact | 1 | JA1384

Accessory | Amulets, Enchanted | 7 |  QC2926

Weapon | Daggers, Enchanted | 3 | LC0309 

Clothing | Armor, Chainmail | 2 | RA8071

Clothing | Cloak, Artifact | 1 | RB6832

Misc. | Book, Cursed | ZD0590

Consumable | Potions, Unlabeled | 12 | NA2608

Consumable | Potions, Labeled | 24 | NA2613

Furniture | Mirror, Artifact | 1 | JC4517 

Accessory | Rings, Non-Enchanted | 9 | QC2085

Misc. | Crystal, Enchanted | 6 | ZC9153

So there had been stuff here. A pretty substantial amount. Nothing extremely dangerous or groundbreaking, but perhaps someone else had felt there was a use for them. 

“Satan!” Asmo’s shrill voice reverberated around the warehouse. 

A little panicked, Satan rushed from the office back to the ground floor. Please don’t be something wrong, he thought to himself. He sped through the aisles till he almost ran his brother over, bumping into him in his search. “Oh, there you are,” Asmo sighed, voice a bit too calm for there to suggest danger. “I found something.” 

Satan allowed himself an exhale of relief. “Show me.” 

The demon of Lust led the way past the shelves, arms folded. It wasn’t long till he stopped and pointed a perfectly painted nail towards the ground. “See, I told you I didn’t search my side that closely…there’s your blood you were looking for.” On the floor was a little trail of crimson. Human blood. Only…it was…

“There’s no tails.” 

“There’s no…tails?” Asmo repeated, the constant smile that usually painted his face faded. 

“The blood droplets, there’s no indication of direction.” He moved his arms to gesture up and down the aisle. 

Lust deeply sighed. “I-I don’t understand, Satan, you say you need blood and I found you blood and now you need them to tell you what direction they went in? We know where they ended up, Satan, beaten in the back! But it’s okay, we found them! We don’t have to worry about them anymore!” It sounded more like he was needing to convince himself rather than Satan. “How is MC’s blood going to help us with the Old Council?” The tension in his brother’s voice revealed his hidden feelings. This was affecting him deeply. He never did like dragging things out too long. 

“Because it…it doesn’t make sense. If they were moving to and/or from the spot we found them, fine. That’s what’s expected. It’s normal. But the way these drops suggest, is that they moved one step at a time.” He approached where the trail was and stood beside it, holding his hand limply to the side like he could imagine MC’s being, the blood dripping along one of their curved fingers. “Like they waited for a drop.” He envisioned the crimson bead falling from their fingertips, striking the ground. “And then stepped again.” Satan took a little step forward. “And then waited.” He paused, waiting for his imaginary blood to fall. “And over and over again till the trail stops.” Turning on his heels, he faced his brother. “Like it was intentional. Why?” 

All Asmo could seem to do was shrug. 

Satan quickly stepped back, observing the shelf that the trail was by. Asmo hadn’t seemed to open any of these yet. He approached the crate at one of the blood trail’s ends, not able to tell where the start was. With a crack, he tore off the nailed down top of one of the containers. Empty…weird considering it had been nailed down. “You said almost every crate you found was like this? 

“Yeah. They all were sealed shut but empty when I opened them, except a few that just had normal junk inside.” 

Heading down to the other end, Satan took a glance at the number on the box before he opened it. It simply had a code on it in black lettering at the bottom. JC4517. Inside the crate was foam, the cut-out of a large rectangle. Whatever had been inside was gone.  

Biting his lip, Asmo peered into the empty boxes. “Do you think it means something?” 

For what they were here for, he wasn’t sure. What he did know was that it was undeniably strange. Something didn’t feel right, and this only further hammered that feeling home. “I think someone is messing with us.” 

[amaraudermind]

It's interesting the way people boil down Tim and Damian's relationship to a rivalry. Like, that they don't like each other and don't get on because they see themselves as pitted against each other, or they have the need to be better than the other and prove that.

Because, really, from what I've seen, that's. Not really the case almost any of the time?

Like, yes, when Damian shows up, he sees Tim as a rival. That's the obvious part. He tries to kill Tim because it's all he knows. That's how it works in the League. That's how he thinks he has to earn his place, because no one ever told him different. And I mean, even as they're fighting, it's clear Tim wants to be able to get that point across to the kid, but Tim isn't going to be able to. He's not going to believe Tim, because he's going to think Tim is trying to trick him.

And then I haven't read much between this and Batman: Reborn, sadly, so I don't have a great grasp on how they interact between there.

But for the most part, the interactions I know of between them often come down to Damian being an arrogant asshole, because he doesn't understand literally anything about people or the world or anything, and he's used to talking how ever he wants to people who he deems as less than him, and that's what he does.

(Not to mention the fact that there's no way Damian doesn't still feel threatened by him, because there still has been no one to tell him that Tim isn't his rival. Not like that. Not in a way he understands. His father clearly favors Drake. As does Grayson. Even his own grandfather sees Tim as a threat later, which can't help Damian's insecurities of not being good enough for anyone. Hence, even more arrogance as a front for that.)

But honestly, there's a bit where their interactions are different. Damian is still arrogant, but how he talks to Tim isn't malicious. Tim clearly doesn't have much attachment to his little brother, but he mostly just brushes off how he's acting.

It's not until Damian finds himself on Tim's List that we have another problem. That things are shattered between them. I don't even remember interactions between them after that before new 52 happened.

And Damian's reaction wasn't one of an assassin against his rival.

It was the lashing out of an (admittedly highly skilled and dangerous) child who just found out that someone they cared about had betrayed them.

Or in this case, that his older brother that he was trying to come to terms with knowing and being around doesn't trust him.

I mean, even him looking through Tim's files--yeah, he was looking at stuff that wasn't his. It was almost like he was acting like a kid intent on going through his brother's stuff because he's a little shit and wants to be annoying, wants to know what he's up to.

Kids do that! Damian, in his own way, is trying to--and starting to--act like a kid. Is trying to figure out having not just his oldest brother who's raising him around, but an older brother who's just. His brother. He's trying to figure out how to interact with someone who isn't in charge of him, but in some ways still has more authority than him. Who he isn't close with, but he's got ties to whether he likes it or not.

He's trying to figure out how to be a brother.

And Tim's too busy to notice that.

And then Damian finds out that this person, that he's trying to figure out how to be the brother of, doesn't trust him. And he's hurt. So so hurt. He's been trying so hard to figure it out--and sure, Tim hadn't really been paying attention, but honestly? Damian wouldn't have known if that were the usual response or not for siblings. His only reference point was Dick, and that dynamic was already so different between the fact that Dick was raising him and the fact that Dick’s personality was so different to Tim's. For all Damian knew, this was possibly normal.

Except it isn't, because Tim doesn't trust him.

And Tim doesn't notice when Damian's actions shift AGAIN, because he's still too preoccupied to pay attention.

Damian's hurting, and Tim doesn't get it. Because Tim hadn't been paying attention, and he's still convinced Damian doesn't care whatsoever for him.

Anyway, this is just how their relationship reads to me, at least pre New 52.

[lovetorn]

all for the game [dream]

Exy player!Dream x Reader

summary: dream runs into trouble when the florida falcons play the edgar allan ravens.

w/c: 3.4k+ :D

warnings: violence, blood, swearing, ha typical exy shit

a/n: an au based on my favourite book trilogy, all for the game. idea by 🍀 anon <3 i wrote this for my own enjoyment AHHAHAAH. if u don’t understand the rules etc of exy, it’s basically hockey, soccer and lacrosse meshed together, but if u have any questions, send me an ask!

—

Exy is a bastard sport, an evolved sort of lacrosse with the violence of ice hockey. Dream loves every aspect of it. It is vastly different from the usual college football, and it certainly gives you more bruises. Maybe a little too many more bruises. Played in a stadium, on a soccer-sized basketball court with plexiglass to protect the crowd, it brings Dream immense joy.

Scooping the ball into the net of his racket, Dream looks at the wall before he uses his body to launch the ball towards it. The ball is quick to bounce back and plop into Dream’s net. He adjusts his grip on the stick and tilts his head, deciding where his next shot should be.

“Dream?” The dirty blonde turns around and sees you push through the plexiglass door that leads onto the court. “Hey!”

Dream smiles from under his helmet. “Hi, Y/n!” You don't play Exy, choosing to watch your best friend from the sidelines instead. He grips the grate of his helmet and slides his head out of it, his hair sticking up in every direction. “What are you doing here?”

You throw your arms up. “Coming to see you practice the great sport that is Exy,” You laugh before spinning around and looking up at the highest seats of the stadium. “Haven’t broken a bone yet, I assume?” This made Dream laugh.

“No, not yet. Saving that for the game against the Ravens.”

Dream’s determination for Exy scared you a little bit—it was almost like he wanted to get hurt. “Easy, tiger. We all know what happened last time we played them. Never again, please,” You shake your head, walking closer to him. The last time the Florida Falcons played the West Virginia Edgar Allan Ravens, Dream got a concussion so bad he couldn’t walk for a few days. You had sworn they would pay for their damage, but Dream went against you.

Dream rolls his eyes, lightheartedly. “That’s the way the game goes, Y/n. No way you can stop it,” he said that back then, too. You throw him a glare before taking the racket out of his hand to gain his full attention.

“Just, please be careful.” You practically beg. Dream’s eyebrows raise slightly, surprised. He didn’t see that coming.

“Yeah, always,” He follows your eyes as they trace the scar that runs from his temple to the middle of his forehead. You sigh and pass his racket back to him.

—

The dark purple Edgar Allan Ravens bus pulls into the Falcon’s home stadium car park that Friday night. Fans from all over the state and West Virginia crowd the entrances and surprisingly, there are a lot more supporters in purple and black than green and white.

Dream looks down at his forest green Exy uniform and smooths out his jersey. He rolls his neck in a circle to release the building tension. A hand clamps down on his shoulder as Dream slips his hands into his green and white gloves.

“You’re gonna be fine, dude. We all are,” Sapnap says, although Dream can hear the waver in his voice. Dream shakes his head and Sapnap inhales sharply.

“Nah, we won’t be.”

Sapnap slides his hand off of Dream’s shoulder and turns around, probably going to the bathroom to calm his crippling trepidation. The locker room is silent as the team moves around, changing and preparing themselves for the game ahead. Dream tries not to think about the team on the other side of the stadium, who are most likely already warming up despite the game starting in an hour.

Dream opens his locker and fumbles around for his phone. He needs to know that you’re here. Opening his messages, he’s frozen from the notifications coming through.

I hope your little friend prayed for you last night.

You got lucky with that concussion. Take this as a warning.

Dream’s fingertips trail up to hover above the scar on his forehead. He clenches his fist and throws his phone back into the locker, not flinching when the dark green metal dents. Dream leans his head against his forearm that rests on the locker.

“Dream! Dude, calm down,” A voice calls from across the room. Footsteps come up behind him and Dream has to stop the tears collecting on his waterline. “It’ll be fine, Coach said he might put you on for one half.”

George’s comments do nothing to soothe Dream’s anxiety. Dream has told nobody about the threats he’s been getting for a few days leading up to this game. If he told you, he wouldn’t even be here. You.

Dream ducks down to find his phone. George furrows his eyebrows as he watches. “Wha—?”

Grasping his phone, Dream then stalks out of the locker room. He walks down the hallway towards the inner court, presses your phone number on his now-smashed phone, and brings it to his ear. Pick up, pick up. “Dream?”

The sound of your voice makes Dream exhale deeply. “Where are you?” He asks desperately.

Dream can hear the crowd chattering through the phone as he scans over the stadium trying to find you.

“Uh, section 4, row 38, where I am every home game. Why? Is everything okay?” The worry in your voice is evident and it fails to calm Dream down like he thought it would. And when he sees waves of purple instead of green, his anxiety grows.

“I—Y/n. I need to see you, I don’t—I can’t,” Dream screws his eyes shut and tries to breathe through his nose slowly.

“Dream, I’m coming. I can see you in the inner court. Stay there.”

Y/n hangs up after that and Dream looks at his phone.

Scared? A text says from an unknown number.

Dream presses his tongue into the inside of his cheek and blinks a few times. A knock on the plexiglass behind him startles Dream. He turns and sees you smiling. He lifts his hand in a small wave and you do the same, laughing at him. At least he has a way to take his mind off of the shit with the Ravens.

A bell signals the start of the line-up announcements and Dream throws his thumb over his shoulder. You nod, understandingly, and blow him a kiss. Dream smiles shyly, his cheeks growing pink before he turns to leave.

You make your way back up to your seat, your legs bouncing in anticipation as the Ravens walk on the court one by one while the announcer calls the line-up. Once the Ravens are in a line on the halfway line, the Falcons are announced.

Since teams are co-ed, the variances in heights differ greatly. The Ravens are much taller than a majority of the Falcons, which gives them an advantage, to an extent. Dream had told you that being shorter allows you to move around the court with more agility, but being 6’2’’, Dream chose to be a striker instead of a dealer or a backliner.

“Number 2, Dream Tucker.”

At the sound of your best friend’s name, you stand and cheer, earning a few dirty looks from Ravens fans. As the remainder of the team is announced, you grow more nervous than you thought possible. A warning buzzer sounds and both teams go back to their benches.

“Alright, guys, this is our biggest game of the season, again. The last game against these idiots wasn’t ideal, but don’t let that deter you from doing your best tonight. That goes for you too, Dream," Coach looks towards Dream and he nods. Dream draws his bottom lip between his teeth from under his helmet and looks down at the ground. Sapnap’s hand slaps Dream's back in support and then the rest of the team is in agreement.

At his teammates’ words, Dream huffs. He can do this. The starting team goes onto the court, the doors closing behind them with a thump and then the scrape of a lock.

Dream sits on the bench next to Punz and Liliana. They hear the buzzer go off again and then watch as Sapnap flicks the ball into the air and slams it with his racket. There’s a distinctive crack as both teams race off their lines to find their preferred place on the court along with the players they need to mark. Three bodies crash into each other and the ball pops out on the other side, rolling silently.

At the sight of violence, the stadium roars. A Ravens backliner throws the ball and it hits the plexiglass in front of Dream who jumps in surprise. The ball is picked up off the floor by another Ravens player. He throws it to a girl who is running across the court and it lands perfectly into her net. Dream sees Tegan bodyslam the girl into the wall, the glass shuddering under their weight and Sapnap throws his hand up in a thumbs-up at Tegan, who smiles under her helmet.

The ball sails high in the air and players push and shove each other under it. As it comes down, George gets pushed to the floor, skidding to a stop a few feet away. The Ravens striker looks George dead in the eye and smirks as he catches the ball. He then tosses it powerfully towards the home court goal and the Falcons' goalie, Gabby, hits it up the court and away from herself. Dream, Punz and Liliana cheer from their spots on the subs bench.

“Nice one, Gabs! Falcons down the court!” Coach yells through the plexiglass.

Dream wears a smile when he turns back to look at you. You grin back, give him a thumbs-up, and nod. That’s when Dream knows he’s ready.

But, ten minutes into the game, the Ravens break the Falcons defensive line. The ball slips through the gap between Gabby’s torso and racket and lands in the back of the net, the siren above the goal going red and blaring a high-pitched sound. The Ravens don’t hug or cheer and return to their places on the court. Their fans, however, throw insults and middle fingers up at the Falcons while screaming and hollering.

“Fuck’s sake,” Dream mumbles. Punz slaps his pair of gloves against the bench and Liliana shakes her head.

The game went on like this for the rest of the half—the Ravens scoring 6 more goals, the Falcons scoring none. At half-time, Sapnap throws his helmet on the floor of the locker room.

“I fucking hate these guys,” He curses, pacing around the room. Coach sits on a chair, his elbows on his knees.

“We all do, but complaining about it isn’t going to help us win,’ Dream says. “Coach put me on.”

Coach looks at Dream for a moment. The tension in the room is thick and Dream knows he’s pushing his luck by asking. Nonetheless, Coach sighs before nodding stiffly.

“Dream goes on for Peter, Punz on for Drew, Liliana on for Tegan.”

And so it’s decided. Dream’s thumbs fly across his screen as he texts you. You pull your phone out of your pocket at the sound of your text tone and see the message. I’m on.

You smirk softly at it and message him back before you tuck your phone back into your pocket. The warning buzzer sounds and then both teams are back on the court: the Ravens with a whole new line-up and the Falcons with their three new subs.

Dream’s heart pounds in his chest, sending shuddery heat through every inch of his body. He holds his breath in anticipation for the serve, and then it starts. The Ravens are clearly a lot more experienced than the Falcons, but that doesn’t stop the team in green from giving everything they’ve got.

The ball hits the far wall and comes soaring back, thanks to the Ravens goalie. Dream jumps to catch it before it can fly over his head and it lands safely in the soft net of his striker racket. He looks around for opponents and takes 7 steps of his allowed 10, and passes it to George who is open further down the court. George catches the ball, then twists and passes the ball across to Punz. His mark collides with him a moment later and George goes sliding, his arm out with his racket to help him balance. Punz runs down the court, stops, then throws the ball to Liliana. His mark slams his racket down violently on Punz’s in retaliation. The backliner shakes his head in annoyance and continues running.

Dream is already near the goal by the time it gets to him again. He gets the ball and only has two steps to aim and shoot before a Ravens player crashes into him. Dream hits the ground so hard, he rolls. But, the crowd holds their breath as they watch the ball sail past the goalie and into the back of the net. The siren glows red and all Dream can hear is his ears ringing. Sapnap runs up to Dream and helps him up, congratulating him in the process. Dream looks around confused before realising he scored a goal. The entire team rushes towards him, cheering and laughing.

“Good job, Dream! Let’s do that again!” Coach yells. Dream’s surprised he can hear him over the crowd.

The game starts again with Falcons serve. The Falcons’ are fired up and back in the game, even if it is 6-1. And as soon as George throws Dream the ball, he dodges his mark and flies up the court, unguarded and ready to score again. The Ravens’ goalie isn’t prepared for Dream’s throw and misses the ball as it’s thrown at him, making the score 6-2. The crowd gets impossibly louder and Dream looks up into the sea of people to spot you. The smile on your face gives Dream newfound confidence and then everybody is back at their starting positions.

The Ravens are angry, there’s no doubt about that. Sapnap gives the striker a boyish smirk and a snide comment, which Dream can’t hear. He guesses it pisses them off because the second the ball is thrown from the Ravens dealer, the striker goes straight for Sapnap. The younger boy is thrown against the wall of the court and continues to spit insults at the Ravens player, despite his situation.

“Sapnap! Get out of there, bro!” Punz yells, collecting the ball from the ground and throwing it back to Gabby to hit up the court. Sapnap laughs and shakes his head, his lips still moving. Dream sees, out of the corner of his eye, the Ravens player drawing his fist back before punching Sapnap in the nose. The Falcons fans in the crowd start booing at the unnecessary violence and the referees unlock the doors to intervene. Dream meets Sapnap’s eye and raises his eyebrows when he sees Sapnap laughing, blood dripping into his mouth and coating his teeth. The referees pull the Ravens striker off of Sapnap and give him a red card for throwing the first punch. The Ravens fans boo and start swearing at the referees, but their cries are drowned out by the sound of the home crowd.

Due to the incident, the teams are to go back to their positions to start the serve again. Now that the Ravens are down a player, Dream knows the ways to get around them, especially when Sapnap is unguarded.

“Dream!” Sapnap calls when Dream catches the ball. He spins around a little too quickly, loses his balance slightly but throws the ball anyway. As he watches it fly across the court, Dream feels his entire body get crushed against the wall of the court. His head rebounds off the wall from the impact. There’s a heavy weight that pushes him into it more and he can’t breathe. Dream flails his arms, drops his racket, and attempts to push the Ravens player off of him. There’s no doubt that Dream hit his head again. He knows he did. A helmet can only do so much.

Dream can only hear ringing in his ears as he feels the Raven get pulled off—and it isn't the same ringing he heard when he scored the Falcons first goal. He tries to scramble to his feet before he crumples to the ground. Dream blinks a few times, disorientated, but still fails to gain a conscious mind. His eyes start to close when he feels his helmet being tugged off and then someone’s slapping his cheeks. “Stay awake, Dream.”

Dream can barely hear the sound of someone slamming their fists against the plexiglass behind him and then the person in front of him nods. He thinks it’s Sapnap. “Come on, bro, it’s only a few steps and then you can lie down.”

Dream’s head lols to the side, eyes half-open and a lazy grin on his mouth. “Sappy,” he slurs. Sapnap lets out a laugh for the first time since his best friend got knocked out and smiles at him.

“Yeah, dude, it’s me. We’re gonna get you fixed up, okay?” Dream nods before he closes his eyes. “No, no, Coach!” The world fades out around him and Dream falls unconscious.

—

The light is so bright above him. Dream closes his eyes again after he opens them and groans softly. The sound is almost too quiet for you to hear, but you do. And when you do, you lift your head from where you were resting on the edge of his bed. The chair you are sitting in is uncomfortable, so when you stand up, your muscles ache. “Hey, baby, how do you feel?”

If Dream was fully conscious, he would have blushed immensely at the sound of the pet name, but for the moment, he feels like he’s in a dream. His mouth is dry and he struggles to keep his eyes open for longer than 3 seconds. “You don’t have to talk, it’s okay.”

Dream feels pressure on his hand and moves his head slightly to see that your fingers are wrapped around his. You hear him murmur something, and lean down.

“Hi,” He whispers. You furrow your eyebrows at his greeting and look him in the eyes.

“That’s all I get? Hi?” You let out a breathy laugh and use your other hand to brush his hair away from his forehead. But, Dream can’t feel you on his skin. He hesitantly lifts his other hand to touch his forehead and feels a bandage.

“Surprise! Another scar,” You joke. Although, Dream can hear the edge to your words. Your smile disappears from your lips and then you sigh. Your eyes scan over Dream’s face, noting the dull green of his eyes and the pale of his skin. “Oh, Dream. I was so worried about you.”

Dream opens his eyes from when they had fallen closed again and sees the silent tears dripping down your cheeks. “It’s okay, I’m here, I’m fine,” His voice is scratchy and the sound of the word ‘fine’ does not sound fine. You smile sadly at him, then huff, wiping at your face.

“I almost forgot…” You trail off, rounding the bed to the other side to pick up a bowl and a cotton ball. You sit on the edge of the bed and dip the cotton into the antiseptic. You turn Dream’s head slowly to get a better look at the cut on his cheek. You drag the medicine over the gash and watch as Dream doesn’t flinch.

Once you are done, you place both of the things on the side table of the medical bay in the Falcons home stadium and look at Dream. He gives you a lazy smile and his fingers twitch against yours. “Thank you.”

You nod, eyes wide. “Of course, you know I’ll always be here to clean you up.”

Dream can feel his skin heating up. You get a concerned look on your face when you see the rise in pink on his cheeks. “Oh my god, are you heating up? Do you have a fever?”

He wants to laugh so badly. “Y/n, I’m okay. It’s not a fever. I’m blushing,” Dream says bashfully.

You realise why and then grow embarrassed. “Oh.”

The air isn’t tense, but there’s something there and you want to stick around to find out what it is.

Feedback is always appreciated xx

[delimeful]

my virtues uncounted (6)

warnings: panic attack, fear, arguing

there will probably be an epilogue after this, but we're nearing the end of this story! :)

-

Virgil floated into consciousness with surprisingly little pain, considering the last thing he remembered was bleeding out from a stab wound.

He wasn’t entirely sure how the others’ returned after discorporating-- they weren’t much in the habit of randomly sharing vulnerabilities-- but for him, it was always rushed, his reformation slapdash at best. It was probably part of being Anxiety: he couldn’t stand the idea of being ‘out of it’ for long, not when anything could be happening to Thomas with his influence muted.

So, he would come back to himself with whatever injury that killed him barely knitted back together, and grit his teeth and bear it for the next few weeks while it slowly healed. One of his recurring nightmares was the Light Sides finding out about it, using it to keep him out of commission to ‘help’ Thomas. It seemed… less likely, after meeting them.

Meeting them. Right. He’d done that.

A low thrum of panic in his gut chased the lingering sleepiness from him, and he pushed himself into a sitting position as quickly as he dared, figuring that he might as well test the boundaries of his lack of stab wound pain before he snuck over to check that the core parts of Thomas had all made it through okay. Or before he encountered Remus again.

The first thing he registered was that there wasn’t any pain, none at all.

The second thing was that everything was proportionally huge around him.

The third thing was that these absolutely were not the Dark Side commons.

His heart rate spiked immediately as he whipped his head around, staring at what could only be the Light Side common area. He’d only caught a glimpse of it before, with the whole ‘bleeding out’ thing, and it looked impossibly different from where he stood on the living room table. Now that he was paying attention, he could feel the way Thomas was so much closer here than in the Subconscious, like the difference between shallow water and the depths.

He shook himself. Now wasn’t the time to get caught up in how much easier core Sides had it. There were bigger things to worry about, literally. He hadn’t discorporated, he was in the Conscious part of the mind, and he was tiny-- through no doing of his own.

Oh. They wanted revenge.

Virgil kicked away the assortment of tiny blankets around him and got to his feet, blood rushing in his ears. He’d been an asshole to them while they were stuck in the Subconscious, so they were returning the favor. Why else would they have healed him and turned him pocket-sized? It was the only explanation that made sense.

The commons were just shy of completely disorienting while empty, so he certainly wasn’t going to stick around for something as overwhelming as a Side to appear. He hurried to the edge of the table, eyeing the drop with no little trepidation. Was he lighter like this, or would he land heavily on the carpet below and break half his bones?

He shouldn’t risk it. No point in doing half the work for his captors.

If he could get a running start to the other end of the table, he might be able to make the jump to the couch, though. From there… maybe pushing a pillow to the ground. Could he even move a pillow at this size?

Another shudder worked its way through him, something small and terrified in the back of his mind shrieking at the way everything around him had changed. Had this been how the others had felt? He shook his head, stepping back from the edge and turning to face the other end of the table. He couldn’t freak out yet. Not until he was safe.

There was a distant phone alarm, the generic sort that Thomas had come to resent after using it for his morning alarm for months on end. Virgil felt a chill of foreboding pass over him, and a heartbeat later, he heard the telltale woosh of one of the core Sides rising up next to the table.

Their shadow fell over Virgil, impossibly large, and he bolted.

There was a voice, but he couldn’t pick out the words past the blood rushing in his ears, his own breathing, and the panicked rush of thoughts that came with picking flight. He focused on the jump ahead instead, the length of table ahead of him growing shorter and shorter until he was nearly to the edge, muscles tensed to leap.

The light around him being blocked out was the only warning he got before his view of the world was suddenly cut off. Half a second later, his momentum was halted by a collision with something soft, warm, and alive. He recoiled as sharply as he could, but there were already what could only be fingers curling around him, his stomach dropping as he was lifted clear off the table’s surface, his center of gravity shifting against his will.

If he hadn’t been panicking before, he certainly was now, his breaths coming shallow and shaky, barely bringing in any air as black spots started to dot his vision.

He was in someone’s hand. They could do anything to him, and he wouldn’t be able to do anything to stop it, would probably deserve it, but it would hurt and couldn’t they have just let him discorporate--

The low, calm voice that had been rumbling in the background paused for a moment, and then they were moving again, his nausea growing as everything moved too fast around him, like a car someone else was driving but a hundred times worse.

And then, abruptly, there was solid ground under his feet again. The hand opened around him.

Virgil dropped to his hands and knees immediately, pressing his forehead against the table to both quell his dizziness and find something to ground himself. He was hyperaware of the warmth emanating from the hand that still bracketed him on one side, like a shield or a threat.

The Side was still talking, though Virgil still couldn’t quite parse the words. Despite his incoherence, the hand didn’t even twitch, no underlying threat to whatever it was they were saying to him. His breathing settled a bit despite himself. The implied promise that they weren’t going to outright attack him shouldn’t have been so reassuring, but it was.

His head slightly clearer, he slowly pushed himself back up to sit back on his heels, looking up to see who had found him.

It was undoubtedly Logan, though he’d never seen those glasses and tie at such a warped scale before. He could have figured it out earlier, if he’d just been listening; neither Roman nor Patton tended to be so carefully enunciated with their words.

Logan’s words, right. He was counting, which confused Virgil for a moment-- was this an experiment? Something to see how long the local idiot spent caught up in a panic attack when he was supposed to be a survival instinct-- until he caught on to the way Logan’s chest rose and fell along with the numbers. A breathing exercise.

He was kind of surprised, in that pleasant ‘pessimist-proven-wrong’ sort of way, but it figured that the Sides up here would offer even their captive literal time to breathe. He let himself follow along with the pattern for a few more moments before clearing his throat roughly and forcing himself to speak.

“Hey.”

Logan paused, looking down at him. “Hello.”

There was a short, slightly awkward pause, in which Logan seemed to flounder while Virgil refused to apologize for being kidnapped and reduced to doll size, even if he’d just had a completely image-ruining breakdown over it.

“Are you alright?” Logan finally settled on, his gaze piercing as it swept over him as though searching for injuries. “I apologize for not warning you, but I needed to stop you from recklessly endangering yourself. I didn’t intend for my actions to trigger a panic attack.”

“Yeah, who would freak out over some little old thing like being picked up by a giant hand,” Virgil snapped back sharply, his sarcasm coming out a little less biting than usual after such a draining attack. “It’s not like I’m the embodiment of Anxiety or anything.”

“You are Anxiety, though.” Logan shifted, the motion jarring his hand slightly, and Virgil barely managed to contain his flinch. “And as such, I’m surprised that you would entertain the idea of unnecessarily trying to fling yourself off of a considerable height at your size.”

Virgil squinted at him, trying to figure out if he was serious. “Unnecessarily?”

“Clearly? I cannot imagine why your first solution would be to attempt something so risky, though it’s possible I’m missing some vital context,” Logan replied, his face scrunching up slightly in confusion. “Perhaps the others--,” he lifted a hand.

“Wait!” A surge of panic forced Virgil to his feet, but it was too late. The summons registered, and Creativity and Morality wasted virtually no time in rising up, both of them instantly looking to him instead of Logan.

“Anxiety!” they both cried, and they didn’t sound mad, but that didn’t really mean anything, did it?

They crowded forward, and Virgil couldn’t keep himself rigid this time, his whole body jerking back and bumping into Logan’s hand.The mixed signals-- hide versus get away-- left him frozen, cowering under that pitiful defense.

“Anxiety?” Patton tried, and the concern in his voice was enough to convince him to look up and meet the other Side’s gaze. “Are you okay, kiddo?”

“I’m stuck in a room with three giants, what do you think?” he spat automatically, his shoulders hunching up like they could protect him.

Patton’s mouth twisted in a sympathetic sort of way, and he moved to sit, scrunching his body down slightly so that he was more-or-less level with the table. “It’s all kind of overwhelming, huh?”

With a simple glance from the moral Side, Roman followed suit and Logan settled back on his heels, having already been kneeling. Virgil stared between the three of them, his skin prickling with nerves.

Behind him, Logan’s hand moved. Virgil immediately crouched, ducking his head down and lifting his arms in an ineffective attempt to ward off whatever was happening. There was a beat of silence, and when he glanced up, he found that Logan had simply retracted his hand, apparently convinced that Virgil wasn’t planning on a repeat of his escape attempt. Or that the three huge Sides surrounding Anxiety was enough of a cage in itself.

“We’re not going to hurt you, Jack and the Beanstalker,” Roman lied, doing an impressive job of sounding confused and harmless. “You’re not in the Subconscious anymore.”

A bitter laugh bubbled up in Virgil, one that he didn’t bother to stifle. “Yeah, right. I’m not an idiot, Princey. Remus got you all twisted up over what he did and I was an asshole and now you’re paying the favor forward, I get it. You don’t have to lie about it.”

The three of them exchanged complicated glances, ones that admittedly looked more upset and horrified than conspiring, but Virgil refused to buy the act.

“We’re not lying to you!” Roman insisted, making Virgil scoff. Patton’s face started to take on that kicked-puppy cast, and Virgil averted his gaze, feeling hot anger bubble up in him at Patton’s involvement. How was any of this right and moral?

“I live with Deceit, you’re not going to fool me. Just get whatever you’re going to do to me over with,” he forced out, grimacing when his voice wobbled slightly at the end.

“Anxiety.” Logan leaned forwards, meeting his gaze with utmost seriousness. “Perhaps it will help if you understand our motives for your current state. Can you tell me how much you remember from our escape?”

“Remus found us and turned me into a pincushion,” Virgil deadpanned, a hand moving to settle over his gut. He knew now that he probably hadn’t discorporated, but he could still barely believe that there was no pain there. Core Sides could just do that? “And then you three decided to turn me pincushion-sized, I guess. How is that not revenge?”

“It was to save your life!” Roman cried dramatically, looking very put-out. “And to keep you from going back to the Subconscious and my brother, y’know, the guy who was tormenting us for fun!”

“To save my-- we can’t die!” Virgil snarled, pushing his complex feelings about Remus down in favor of twisting the fabric of his hoodie in his hands. “You trapped me up here, no room, no powers, no height, and you expected me to be grateful?!”

“We weren’t trying to trap you,” Patton interjected, looking between him and Roman worriedly. “And we aren’t going to hurt you, I promise.”

Roman, who had drawn himself up in outraged offense, visibly deflated. “Patton’s right. You know he wouldn’t lie to you about something like this.”

Virgil hesitated despite himself.

“The problem of your current stature is one that we know how to fix,” Logan took the opportunity to add, fiddling with his tie. “Once you summon your room to this level of the mind, you will be able to find security and power within it, and we won’t bother you while you recover your lost energy.”

“Woah, woah,” Virgil held his hands up to stall further explanation, feeling thrown off. “Who said anything about putting my room up here?”

Roman raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “What, you want to be that size around a vengeful Remus?”

“I wouldn’t be this size if you hadn’t meddled!” Virgil snapped, scowling fiercely

“We weren’t going to just let you die,” Patton burst out, looking downright distraught. “You saved us. You didn’t want to rise up and you knew it would make your friends upset, but you did it anyhow. It wouldn’t be right, to just… not try to save you back!”

Virgil gaped for a moment, his next prepared retort completely upended. “No, I… that’s my job. Of course I did that. You don’t owe me for it.”

“Anxiety, Roman prevented your discorporation because he wanted to help you. Not to repay a perceived debt,” Logan informed him, his words stiff but genuine.

Roman shot Logan a look, heaving a dramatic sigh before turning back to Virgil. “All of us wanted to help, Gloomy B. Jones. Who wouldn’t choose to revive a party member who nearly perished heroically on a quest?”

In what universe was Roman calling him a hero? Inside his hoodie pocket, Virgil pinched himself, his confusion rising when everything refused to turn out to be a dream. Even a terrible plot twist like that would be more understandable to him than whatever was happening right now.

For that matter, they couldn’t really be implying what he thought they were implying.

“You really want me to pull my room up here. And be a… a core Side.”

Looking from face to face, he found no trace of anger or mockery, only earnestness. A genuine offer. He shook his head, his heart somehow racing even harder.

“What about when I have to do the other part of my job? The part you guys all hate me for?” he reminded them harshly. “I bet you won’t be so keen on my presence then.” He could easily imagine how well that would go over. Could a Side be cast out from both parts of the mind?

Patton shuffled forward a bit, his hands flapping like he wanted to reach out reassuringly but knew that Virgil would absolutely lose his shit if he even tried. “It’s like you said, kiddo. You want to keep Thomas safe, and we want that, too!”

“You’ve more than proven yourself willing to compromise when it counts,” Logan said, and then added wryly, “Statistically, the three of us already spend a fair amount of our time arguing before we come to a decision anyways.”

“Seriously?” Virgil asked, and Logan gestured to the necktie emphatically.

“That’s right! You may be as contrary as your jittery little heart desires, and you’ll still be in excellent company,” Roman piped up, gesturing to himself magnanimously. After a moment, he let the posturing fade into something more serious. “Anxiety, we don’t have to agree on everything for you to deserve better. Won’t you at least give us a chance?”

Virgil scrubbed his hands through his hair roughly, turning away despite his misgivings. Apart from that first incident with Logan, they hadn’t grabbed him, hadn’t even touched him despite knowing that he couldn’t do anything to stop them. At some point between that first disastrous meeting and now, they’d stopped treating him like an enemy.

He’d have to go back down there and explain at some point, but he couldn’t deny that the idea of not being repressed was one that seemed almost too good to be true. Deceit wouldn’t be happy, but maybe this would be the proof they all needed, that separating the Sides and hiding some of them from Thomas wasn’t working as well as they pretended it did.

It could be an opportunity. It could be… good.

“Alright,” he said, turning back to where they’d all been waiting, “I’ll pull my room up. I’ll-- I’ll try. That’s the best you’re going to get.”

And as the others cheered or smiled victoriously, he felt like maybe it was worth a shot after all.

[yourheartonfire]

A depressed hero sits alone, gazing at a scrapbook full of newspaper clippings entailing his past battles and rise to fame, which all seem meaningless now as he considers retirement, he hears a knock at the door and finds his arch-nemesis, with a pack of beer and the goal of changing his mind.

Prompt courtesy of @writing-prompt-s

"No," the hero said simply and tipped back the bottle. He rarely drank, and when he did it was rarely beer - all empty carbs and wasted calories. Tonight it tasted amazing. He squinted at the bottle, looked over to his nemesis. "Are you doing that?"

"I'm doing nothing," the villain replied snippily. "Except trying to talk you out of the biggest mistake of your mistake-ridden life." They were on their second beer as well, and getting more drunk by the moment. Both of them with the power to level cities and both of them a pair of lightweights.

"My left hip hurts," the hero admitted. He shouldn't be confessing his weaknesses but hey, what did it matter now? "All the time. Sort of a buzzy feeling all the way down to the knee. Nerve damage, actually."

"Oh, boo hoo," the villain muttered, slumping dramatically across the hero's couch. "You're a little sore and you quit?"

"I have microtears in my ligaments, eight bones that hurt when it's about to rain." The hero put a smile on their face, an action so familiar it barely felt forced and false anymore. "There was always going to be a point at which my body just couldn't do this anymore. When I become, well..."

"A liability?" the villain finished for him. "Oh, don't look surprised. You know I know how you think. How you justify things to yourself."

The hero put his beer down and cracked his knuckles. "Are we doing this?" he asked, rising to his feet. "I thought this was some kind of twisted social call but if you wanna go a few rounds..."

"I'm not here to fight you," the villain said, kicking their shoes up on the hero's cheap Ikea coffee table. "I'm here to help, actually. It'll kill you, trying to work a day job, watching other heroes battle me."

"That's definitely not true," the hero muttered.

The villain put their drink down and leaned forward, eyes gleaming tiger gold in the lamplight. "Quit the Agency. Work for me."

The hero burst out laughing. The villain let him, drumming their fingers patiently. "Oh wow," he said finally, still gasping for breath. "Thanks. I needed a laugh."

"Not as a henchman, of course. I do know you better than that." The villain leaned back again. "On my legit side. I need a director for my community outreach and partnership program."

"That you run as a self-aggrandizing tax shelter," the hero fired back.

"Wouldn't you like to prove that? Get inside my organization, take me down from within?" The villain steepled their fingers, gazed intently over them. "All while using my money for the good of that public you claim to love so much. And using my health insurance! Did I mention my truly killer benefits package?"

The hero wasn't laughing anymore. "Why?" he said. "I mean, no, obviously no. But... why would you offer that to me?"

The villain shrugged. "Call it a race to see if I can corrupt you with money and power before you can find something incriminating enough to take me down."

"Bullshit," the hero said softly.

The villain's gaze drifted towards the scrapbook. The hero braced for mockery, but instead the villain picked it up, started paging through.

"They say you know a person by their enemies," the villain said, turning the pages gently. Lingering over the pages featuring themselves, of course. "Fighting you has challenged me. Changed me. Made me better."

"Like, a better person?" said the hero with trepidation. "Or better at being evil?"

"You've always underestimated yourself," said the villain, closing the scrapbook with a stroke of their fingers across the cover. Their voice took on a hypnotic quality. "You're much more than a pretty face and some truly impressive muscles. I haven't nearly finished defeating you yet."

"Stop that." The hero gripped the arms of the chair, repelling the brush against his mind. It was a weak effort from the villain, easily shaken off. "You can't reverse psychology me into joining you."

"But I'm not ready for our game to end yet," the villain cooed with mock sympathy. They flicked their hand and a creamy white business card appeared between two fingers. "Neither are you. Even if you aren't ready to admit it yet."

The hero clenched their fists, regretting those beers. "Time for you to go."

The villain smiled fondly. "You always have to do things the hard way." There was a burst of light behind the hero's eyes and he yelped as the image of the card, just a phone number and an initial, burned into his mind.

The villain stood, tucking their card away. "Keep the beer. I'll see you when you're ready."

In the end, the hero lasted 11 months before he broke down and called the number.

[missyasf]

Game Of Hearts

| 1 |

↳ Summary: Your life is in monotonous tones of grey, day in, day out. Nothing matters besides your sister, the only thing you remember is seeing fireworks before waking up to Tokyo abandoned . Soon enough you are properly introduced to the deadly Borderlands where you must fight for your life in Games to survive. When things can’t possibly get worse soon division arises and rivalries are made. No matter what though, you are constantly plagued by a blonde who, no matter how hard you try, just can’t seem to go too far without.

↳ Pairing: Chishiya/Reader

↳ Genre: Angst, smut, thriller

Word Count: 11k

___| Next

Trigger Warning: ⚠️ much like the manga/Netflix adaptation this will be a dark fic which includes mentions of prostitution, attempted murder, child ab*se, sexual harassment, heavy grief and attempted suic*de among other things. Additional warnings will be added for chapters when triggers are brought up. Please read with caution if these are triggers for you or just skip all together! 

Side mention: This could be considered a prequel to the current Alice In Borderland. I’m writing based off the Manga bc I was a glutton and couldn’t wait no spoilers will be present as of...

Escapism

noun

the tendency to seek distraction and relief from unpleasant realities, especially by seeking entertainment or engaging in fantasy ♡ 

You had known all about this during your short lifespan, as a child you’d often play pretend with your sister that you were movie stars living in a five star hotel rather than the shitty busted up apartment on the wrong side of town. Escapism came in, many forms. It was often a way for people to cope psychologically, simply because sometimes, facing the reality of your situation can be too much for one person to handle mentally. 

Or at least, that was the topic of your lecture today in class. The human mind always fascinated you. Even at the young tender age when your mom died and you watched your once cozy little family fall apart piece by piece until nothing was left in its wake. 

It was your fascination that drove you now for most things, why? Why, why, why? You always wondered what the motive was behind someone’s actions, not only thing but you wanted to  understand them better, to try and sympathize. You were already fairly intuitive in nature. It wasn’t difficult to read people. In fact your line of work made it easy, you’d watch a man who would be excited to be with you reach for his left finger as if used to touching something. A wedding band perhaps? 

The lowlife cheater was fairly common in a whore house after all. Or the man who had been pissy this morning behind you in line because you had decided to try something new on the menu and you weren’t fast enough, obviously because he was tardy and woke up late, his shirt unbeknownst to him was button the wrong way and his tie loose and even the way his hair fell were all signs of being late to work. 

It was the little things you noticed in people’s facial expressions, the way they moved and spoke. You could read people like a book, and sure sometimes it was useful. But you often wished you weren’t so perceptive. It drove you mad knowing when a potential love interest was no longer interested through a simple text or a friend not wanting to talk by their tone. Sometimes you wished you could just blot it all out, still, you lived like this day in and day out, you were used to this kind of thing and honestly. Friends? Love? Your gaze dropped a little to your feet, the pumps you were wearing a jet black and the heel too high for any respectable woman to ever wear. 

...It wasn’t like you ever had any of those in your life and you had struggled to come to terms with the fact that you could survive without that kind of support. Still...it made you envious, the couple happily holding hands on the sidewalk. The group of friends all laughing at a table while they studied. Oftentimes these feelings are muted, but when you’re faced with something you’ve always craved, those muted feelings suddenly become hyperactive in your mind. 

It’s pathetic, honestly. 

“How dare you! You disgusting slut!” 

In this moment however, you were brought back to reality at just what was happening, you squeaked loudly as you dodged the shoe the woman had thrown at you. This was all a regular occurrence, you had a lot of regulars who weren’t the most amazing people but hey, money was money. But along with them they also left a trail which their wives and girlfriends always followed. And then they always blamed you instead of their partner for leaving them for a prostitute despite you never having agreed to anything such as that.

It really wasn’t your fault, you were just trying to make a living while juggling with keeping up your own education, paying your fathers debts, rent and still somehow getting food on the table. What part time college job could provide that?

Prostitution wasn’t a job you would’ve gone into willingly but given the past and your trauma that was already laced in it you had been learning that sometimes because of the trauma we experience, sometimes people go back to that same trauma and actively participate in it as a way of feeling like they’re in control. 

That whatever happened before, would never happen again if you were in control. You weren’t sure if you qualified under this category, trauma came in many forms but the one most used as an example in your class was that a study showed that women who were assaulted often develop a kink for consensual non consent as a way of coping with what happened, except this time, it’s in a controlled environment where it can end the moment they want it too. 

Again, you weren’t sure you fell into this category, but you often wondered if your line of work was intertwined with your earlier memories when you were younger, if anything it brought comfort to you. Much of it, blotted out now simply because your mind couldn’t take it. Trauma expressed through amnesia was also much more common than many thought, and it’s so small, so easy to miss. After all how can you be aware of something if you have no memory of it anymore?

“Security!” Your manager screeched, two of the bodyguards were already between you and the feral woman who was ready to gut you clean as she screamed hysterically, her husband...your regular....at her side trying to get her to calm down only for her to come to her senses and slap him clean across the face. You didn’t condone violence, but he did have it coming...

You weren’t about to justify cheaters, you couldn’t imagine the hurt someone had to feel that not only did their partner cheat on them, but it was with someone...like you...You had been trying not to put down your job occupation, sex workers were just as valid as anyone else...you knew you would’ve thought this way if it was anyone but you in this position. 

You sighed as you ran your hands through your hair, watching the couple get dragged out of the tight space of the brothel, “Jesus christ....didn’t you say you stopped using perfume because of this?” Miki, your manager sighed as she crossed her arms. You didn’t want to say your manager was your friend but she was the closest you had as you’d often complain to her about most of your problems. Sex work often attracted broken people, it wasn’t something she wasn’t used to. 

“Yeah, but apparently he never got around to washing his clothes…” You wiped your mouth on the back of your hand, “Lipstick stain,” You glanced down at the ruby pink color that stained your skin now, “Fuck...that did hurt.” You rubbed your sore cheek that was still throbbing from where she had first slapped it when she ripped the door open of the room where she got to see with her own eyes you riding her husband. 

It had happened so many times now you weren’t even embarrassed about someone walking in let alone a partner. Miki gave you a lopsided smile as she patted your shoulder, “Guess that just pays for being one of the best here. Did you at least get paid.” 

You nodded, “Yeah, I always make them pay in advanced but I was hoping to get a tip afterwards...He was a lawyer so you know he had good money.” You sighed, crossing your arms, you were well aware of his partner because a lot of the time he didn’t even come in for sex anymore. It was funny how humans work. 

He often felt his wife was overbearing and you had suspected some sort of verbal abuse by the way he talked about her constant screaming. Truthfully, you don’t think he ever intended on cheating with her. He just wanted someone to talk to without being judged, you could relate with sympathy to that, but he unfortunately chose to walk into a brothel instead of a therapy clinic and this truly was the only inevitable outcome. Still, you hope if for anyone’s sake, he gets that divorce for himself. 

 “Hey I think I’m gonna call it a day. I need to get back to Nanami, she was wanting to talk to me about college applications.” You sighed as you rubbed your neck, ever since she had graduated high school she had been chomping at the bit to start applying for college, maybe to just get out of the house and into a dorm. You couldn’t blame her and if she did that it would lighten your load a little. 

Guilt washed over you at the thought as Miki chuckled, “They grow up pretty fast huh? My brother was the same way, except the moment he found out I was a sex worker was the moment he called me a whore and we haven’t talked since. That was probably about five years ago,” She crossed her arms as she sighed, “Crazy how the things we do for the ones we love, never appreciate our effort...I’ll see you tomorrow then?” 

“If I’m not bruising.” You offered a weak smile as you nodded at her before going back to your room to get changed. Truthfully, you much like anyone else, often wished you could go to a world where reality wasn’t a concept any longer. Where you could lay out in the sun for the whole day and just soak up it’s rays with no worries or trepidations. 

But sooner then later everyone had to face their fears. Even you, you supposed. But no matter how hard you fought your demons, they always came back tenfold. Again, you supposed your story was no different from tens of thousands, and yet you all live on regardless. Maybe it’s you who should be the one seeking therapy. Pulling on your jeans and the cropped top over your head before pulling the jacket over your arms and grabbing your bag. 

The walk home was as quiet as ever, your hood over your head and earbuds any unwanted attention, it wasn’t too late at night, only eleven PM and your work had just been getting started but that had ruined the night for you and besides, you had already failed a test today, you could use the sleep tonight. 

Occasionally you’d hear the sirens of  a cop car passing by or a bystander shout, nothing out of the ordinary in this neighborhood. Walking up to the apartment complex you pulled the key from your bag as you unlocked the door. Quietly stepping insides as you shut the door before locking it once more. Your nose wrinkled at the smell of stale air mixed with rotten...something…

If anything, you were always lacking in something, you had been so busy most of the day that you never had time to clean anything leaving the house in a horrible state. Not that you thought this was much of a house. 

Walking down the narrow hallway you opened the rickety door with a missing lock as you gave a brief smile to the small clump of bedsheets. Your sister was curled up and on her phone, eyes darting to the door with a hint of fear before she jumped up, “Y/n! You’re home earlier from night shift already!?” 

You offered a smile as you set down your bag and nodded, sitting down on the mattress that laid on the floor as you replied, “Yeah, a coworker needed the extra hours so I let them cover for me tonight. Besides, you wanted to talk about college applications?” Your sister was under the impression your late night job was bartending at some hole in the wall downtown, where in all actuality you just went there to drink a few days and talk to the loud and sometimes obnoxious, but good hearted bartender who loved talking about his nerdy underaged friends that couldn’t do anything beside stay and drink soda. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t think your sister would accept you, if she knew what you were actually doing. Fear, most times came in many different forms and this was one of them. You simply didn’t want to be judged, even by her. So nobody in your life truly knew who you were, and therefore, how could you hold the expectation for people to accept you into society if you were already self sabotaging yourself? 

All philosophy aside, you were simply a lost soul, looking for your way in the cruel reality called life. 

“Yes!” Nanami was chipper as always as she squealed, clapping her hands, “I…! I was thinking about applying to the university you attend! Maybe I'll get a grant and move into the dorms there? I already applied for several jobs, I’m just waiting on a callback!” 

You offered a small smile as you hugged your knees to your chest, “I think you’d like it there, there’s lots to do around campus. But what will you go in for? The only advice I can offer is be sure it’s what you want to do.” 

Nanami’s face faltered a little as she hummed, “Well...I thought maybe working with animals? I’d love to be an assistant surgeon in veterinarian? I know it’s a pretty...sad job but...I really like the idea of being able to heal such innocent things.” Your smile tugged into a gentle one at your sister. She was too tender for this world.

It had been your goal sense the day your mother died that you took care of your sister, it didn’t matter what happened to you. You could rot for all you cared at the end of the day, all you wanted was to look up and see your sister's smile and her happiness in life blossom. She more than anyone deserved it. 

“I think you’ll be great at it.” You encouraged as you rested your chin on your hand, always happy to see her bounce in excitement as you yawned, your body was used to your demanding schedule but it was always more than happy to welcome a few extra hours of sleep.”

Hearing the door loudly slam close caused you both to jump, Nanami hurriedly crawled back in bed, pretending to be asleep as you frowned. Your dad must’ve come back home from wherever he was. 

“Y/n! Just stay here! Can’t you talk to him later?” Nanami looked scared, she always did when he was around. But you weren’t about to stand down to the bastard any day of the week, you offered a weak smile as you replied. 

“It’s fine Nami, I’ll be just a few minutes.” You replied, you knew that she knew, that was probably a lie. But you’d try your best, for her sake at least. But somebody had to put this guy in his place occasionally and it was always you. It results in a lot of screaming sometimes, other times he’d break down in tears or on a bad occasion you’d get shoved to the ground, a few times hit. Nothing major. 

Walking out of the room you leaned against the wall of the entrance of the hallway watching your father stumble around in the living room, “Did you finally talk to the loan company?” You called out as you asked, not in a forgiving mood tonight. He had said he’d do this for two weeks in a row. The company that sank your whole family into the ground. The reason your mother couldn’t take it anymore and put a blade to her wrist. 

Your father stood up, looking a little wobbly, obviously drunk, “Now listen here little girl I don’t have shit to own to you or anyone else.” You sighed as you tucked your tongue into your cheek, annoyance flowing inside you as you straightened up. You weren’t going to be bullied into being scared of this guy. 

“Actually you do,” Your smile twisted into something more sharp, more bitter and sinister as you walked forward, “See, if you hadn’t of gotten involved in something shady like loan sharks we wouldn’t be drowning in debt and mom wouldn’t have killed herself because of you and both your daughters wouldn’t hate you. I know you drink away all our money in some pathetic attempt to escape from the cold reality that you fucked up your whole life and watched your family slip from your fingers while not even trying to do anything other then put us in further shit,” You closed your eyes as you tilted your head, “But the least you could do, is admit that. You owe us at least that for being a total fuck up.” 

You opened your eyes to find pure rage brewing in your fathers eyes as you smiled once more, this time a false sense of sickly sweet tone to it as you shrugged, “Or you could live in denial, at this point, there really isn’t anything you can do to get anyone back ♡ ” 

You had turned around, planning to tell Nanami that maybe she should go sleep over at a friends house today but you never got the chance, suddenly being slammed into the wall and flecks of spit hitting your face, “I am your fucking father! I deserve respect from you and your worthless sister! Do you know how much I provide for you both?” 

Anger splintered through your veins as you grabbed onto his wrists, his fingers digging into your neck as you squirmed, “Like fucking what!? A shitty broken down apartment that your vacant from because you’re too fucking ashamed of yourself to even look at us sober!?” 

Much like years in the past you weren’t surprised to hear Nanami cry as she rushed out of the room at the sound of you both screaming, “Stop!” She cried out, trying to break you both up, “Stop! Don’t fight! Why…! Why can’t we all just get along!” She sobbed only for your dad to shove her down making her curl up in defeat. 

Alarm bells were triggered in your head at the sight of Nanami on the ground, she had never actually gotten hurt while in your sight and it was triggering something deep inside you as you watched him stalk up to her. Your hands shaking and rage boiling in your mind as you grabbed the closet thing you could find. An empty beer bottle on the table. 

Your vision blurred and you don’t quite remember what happened other than glass shattering over his head and the brute force of you shoving something before blood was stained on your hands. 

How did you end up sitting against the wall? Why was there….blood on your hands…? Your fingers trembled at the metallic sticky substance. All you could hear were Nanami’s sobs and cries as she frantically pushed herself away from the body slumped on the ground. 

“You…! He…!” Nanami’s eyes brimmed with tears as you heard a loud boom making you jump, your eyes darting to the open window where….fireworks, big and bold crashed and crackled before you felt like you were sucked into a vortex making your whole vision black out. 

Your head felt fuzzy and there was ringing in your ears as you groaned, curling up into yourself as the darkness beckoned you closer before you forcibly opened your eyes. You were laying against the hardwood floor. Beams of light streaked through the window and you could see dust particles in the air against the shower of sunshine that streamed in. 

...Wait...Light? The thought had perplexed your head enough to make you push up from the ground, memories pulling into your mind as your breath became shallow, suddenly looking to the side where...you slumped against the wall. It must’ve just been a bad dream….your eyes flickered to Nanami’s curled up figure...a really vivid dream…? Something wrenched in your gut as you rubbed your eyes. What happened? “Nami…!” You whispered, forcing your muscles to move despite their protest as she whined. 

After another moment she reluctantly opened her eyes, flickering around before she suddenly scrambled up, taking a deep breath as if realizing what had happened before, looking towards where your dad once was she frowned, “...I...What…” She seemed just as perplexed as you and if her face was anything to go by, last night had obviously happened, “Is dad…” She looked at the absent place of the floor. 

Leaning against the wall your eyes darted around the room, “I guess so…” You silently felt relief at knowing your dad was still very much alive as you leaned back as you closed your eyes, trying to remember what had happened before everything went dark...oh..! The fireworks...had it been a celebration last night? Your brows pinched together, something felt...off...getting up you opened the door to the apartment walking out. 

“Y/n? Y/n! Hey! Where are you going!” Nanami called out, quickly chasing after you as you frowned, cars were parked odd and there was no one out on the street...as in...at all...Something was very wrong and you couldn’t figure out what. 

“Wow...it..must be a slow day…” Nanami felt a sense of discomfort at the lack of life as you both walked down the side walk, it didn’t just feel like a slow day it felt, apocalyptic. As if humanity just left on it’s own leaving nothing but an empty city behind. Cars were parked on the curb and a few even left in the street.

“No, it’s like everyone vanished...This is really weird.” You wrapped your arms around yourself as you frowned, looking around as you came closer to where typically it would be a booming part of the downtown but it was empty, just as everything before. 

“Well, maybe it’s a national holiday?” Nanami rubbed her head, trying to make sense of the situation just as much as you, surely everyone wasn’t...gone...right? She looked around as she bit her lip, second guessing herself at all the cars that were vacant, “Hey Y/n.” 

You paused as you looked at your sister, curving an eyebrow as she offered a weak smile, “What if everyone got raptured away like they talk about in christanity?” Your expression flattened as she giggled, obviously getting a rise out of you as you crossed your arms. 

Raptured? Where? To heaven? “Wouldn’t it be fire and brimstone then if that was the case?” Nanami pouted at your words as you shrugged, snickering yourself at her expression, the tables now turned as you sighed, “I don’t think there’s anyone left in Tokyo...I mean, it feels like...we’d have seen someone by now...right?” 

“Well…” Nanami frowned once more, a little disturbed at your words as she spoke, “There’s no way everyone could be gone I mean, where would they go? And how could we miss something like that...Maybe the police found us and now we’re under some weird simulation.” 

Chills spilled down your spine as you shoved her making her whine, “Don’t say that! That makes me feel all weird…! I didn’t…!” You cut yourself off, you didn’t what? Murder your own dad in cold blood...you looked down at your hands, they were free of any blood but it still felt like something like sin lingered. Like no matter where you went, it would always be stuck to you.

You didn’t like this, not one bit. Briefly you felt the urge to go hunt down your dad, he was a deadbeat but you would never...you’d never kill him....Right?

“Well…” Nanami hummed her eyes scanning ahead before they jumped to the mall that was up ahead, “Hey…! If nobody is here...maybe we could make use of it! Come on! Let's go!” You yelped at her grabbing your arm before dragging you ahead. Cars were all parked and yet not a single person exited through the mall's entrance. Something just felt off! You wrapped your arms around yourself as you warily looked around the empty mall, “Nanami I really don’t like this!” You looked around, concern bubbling inside you as she ran ahead into the store, digging through the section of clothes as she giggled. 

“Relax! I doubt any of this is real and even so…! Who’s going to stop us!?” She shrugged as she bounced in excitement, “Oh my god! I had dreamed of something like this happening! Now we can do whatever we want! Go wherever we want! Y/n!” She gasped with a smile, “Now we don’t even have to worry about money!” 

“We don’t even know if this is permanent.” You looked around warily, not partaking as she began plucking off the racks, “Regardless of what this is, I don’t like it. I want to go back home, our home. This just doesn’t…” You shook your head, “This just doesn’t feel right.” 

“Well you can feel that way!” Nanami clacked her tongue as she gave a childish smile, “But I’m gonna go through this whole store and get a new wardrobe so feel free to sit on the bench and tell me what you think looks good!” 

Looking away you sighed, unable to pinch the anxious feeling you had away as you sat down reluctantly as Nanami went into the changing room. Well...at least she was smiling and she was happy...With each outfit Nanami tried out and giggled, you giggled with her and maybe things weren’t so bad after all…

“What a perfect day.” Nanami hugged you close as she sighed, yawning as you looked up at the sky in awe, you had seen a single star while living in Tokyo before, but now it was filled with constellations and millions of stars that stretched for miles. You could stare at it for days and days. The sun had just set a little over half an hour ago and you were ready to retire and find something to eat at the apartment. 

You and Nanami had tried going to the food court but much to your dismay everything had been...rotten...soiled and ruined, meaning there was no point in trying to find anything there and you were getting really hungry despite devouring bags of chips you had both got at the convenient store, another thing that stood out to you was that there was no electricity...at all..

Looking back up to the sidewalk something caught your eyes...was that…! Light!? “Hey! Nanami look!” You shook her making her squeak as she looked up ahead, “It’s the hospital! They have electricity there which means there’s other people! Of course! Why didn’t we think to check essential areas!? Come on! Lets go! I wanna figure out what happened.” 

“Alright! It sucks that this is already over but at least I can finally charge my phone, the battery is pretty low.” Nanami nodded in agreement as you both made your way up the road. 

The walk wasn’t too far and you felt excitement fill you at the sight of the hospital all lit up as you walked into the entrance, a frown slowly setting on your lips once more as you walked past the receptionist desk and…! Oh there’s other people! 

You felt relief wash over your as you ran up, there were at least seven other other people here at least! “Hey! Guys oh my god. I thought everyone was gone! What’s going on?” You asked, smiling bright in relief that you and Nanami weren’t the only ones left behind. Was this some kind of evac point or…?

Silence ensued and you slowly began to frown as you felt everyone stare at you as if you were insane, “Um…” You wrapped a hand around your arm, suddenly feeling as if everyone knew something you didn’t, “What’s going on…?” You furrowed your brows as you tilted your head, unsure of why everyone was looking at you like this. 

Somebody looked like they were going to talk to you, a guy relatively around your age but a woman stopped him- his girlfriend maybe? “Stop, the less that know the better chance we have.” She said quietly though you still heard just enough. Fear twisted inside you as you took a cautious step back...The...the less you knew? 

“Wow, you guys are assholes,” A girl suddenly whistled out, she was sitting in a waiting chair, a cowboy hat on her head paired with distressed jeans and...a bikini top? Strange but you’d roll with it if it meant getting answers. She stood up as she offered a smile, “Akari, nice to meet ya’. You folk must be new to the Borderlands huh?” She jutted her bottom lip a little as you frowned. 

“Um I’m Y/n and this is my sister Nanami...?” You introduced yourself despite feeling confused as you raised a brow, “Borderlands…?” You echoed, what was that supposed to be? Other than Tokyo?

Akari gave a nod as she let out a brief chuckle, as if amused by your confusion but you sensed she had no real ill will unlike....your eyes checked to the couple that stood off in the corner on their own, “That’s what they call it here,” She nodded in affirmation as your eyes darted back to her in confusion, “To be frank with ya’, I don’t have a damn clue what's going on. Nobody does. But ever since you crossed the threshold there’s no going back, so I’ll be brief. We’re all considered outsiders here and we participate in games at venues such as this to extend our stay.”

Nanami and you looked at one another confused as Akari waved you over to the table in front of a TV, “Here, you’ll wanna put these on, it’s for the game.” She explained as you carefully picked up the metal bracelet, something about it felt ominous as you reluctantly put it on, jumping at the way it latched together and there was no getting it off now, “Word of advice, just don’t panic and you probably won’t die.” 

“What?!” You screeched as Akari smacked your back, panic evident in your voice as you turned around to face her making her laugh again, this girl was insane! She had to be! “You’re…! You’re joking!” 

Akari wrinkled her nose as she tilted her head, “Ah shit, I wish I was- Oh…! There’s the last player!” Just on que everyone turned to look at who had arrived, someone heaving breaths with their hands on their knees as if they had sprinted. You were mildly worried at why he seemed so scared but you had a feeling that was the least of your problems right now.

“Y/n what’s going on…?” Nanami frightened grabbed your arm as she hid a little behind you due to all these immensing strangers that looked like they were ready to feed you to the sharks, literally. 

The guy walked past you both as he put on his bracelet, your eyes sharp as you watched it latch together automatically, your gaze jumping to everyone's wrists to notice you were all now wearing one. The TV suddenly lit up. 

Game 

You squinted your eyes a little at the sight of the screen, just what were you about to unwillingly participate in…?

Difficulty: 5♣

“The game you will be participating in is, Monster under the bed.”

A playing card? Monster under the bed? Your brows furrowed as you looked at Nanami who shrugged a little despite her concerned expression, looking just as confused as you. You could’ve made a joke out of this, surely it would’ve been easier. Maybe everyone would bust out laughing and you’d be at the end of a poor joke but...somehow you felt that wasn’t the case. Thus paying very close attention to whatever was on this screen, 

“Everyone will be sectioned off into pairs by the number chosen on your bracelet, when the doors to the ward open you will have three rounds ten minutes each to figure out who is the monster under the bed that must be returned to its own, once the ten minutes is up you must hide before you are found. If the selected pair that is the monster is chosen correctly it’s a Game Clear.  If the monster is not found by the end of the third round or if the pair fails to hide it’s a Game Over.” 

Rules: 

Once the doors are open you and your partner must find a hiding spot by the time limit

Both partners must be hidden. If one is exposed to the monster it’s a Game Over for both partners

There will be an X marked on the ground to place the monster of your guess onto. 

You will have three rounds of ten minutes each to find the monster.

Any attempt to remove bracelets results in a Game Over

If the monster is not found by the third round a Game Over.

The only Game Clear condition required is for the monster to be returned by the third round.

What…

What!? 

“Now the game will commence, you have five minutes to figure out who you have been paired up with before the doors open.”

Your mind was blanking as you watched everyone look down at their bracelet, hurriedly you lifted your arm as your mind blanked 2 looking back at Nanami her lips were already quivering as she sniffled lifting her arm in defeat as your lips dropped open, 5.

“Hey! Guess you’re my partner!” Akari grinned as she wrapped an arm around Nanami who sniffled, “Oh…” She looked between you both, “Oh! Oh don’t worry! We’re not the monster so I’ll make sure your sister lives! You should go find your partner.” 

Your hands trembled unsure of what to do before you went to hug Nanami, “Whatever happens just stay calm okay! I need to go find my partner now!” You whispered, kissing her cheek as she sniffled while nodding. 

Everybody was shuffling around looking for their partner now, you passed by a few people, 4, 1, 3...did you even have a partner…? You scanned around, your throat tightening a little in panic, there had to be a mistake! There were only 8 people surrounding you- you yelped at the tight grip that suddenly held your arm forcing you to turn around to be met with a white hooded figure, a lollipop handle hanging and earbuds in before sighing, “So it appears I’m stuck with someone useless.” The man concluded as he stood up making you back away a little as your lips parted somewhat indignantly. 

How...how rude! You looked up, unable to fully make out his face but you could tell you didn’t like him one bit, “I’ll…! First of all I’m not useless! I’m just trying to understand what's going on! This is insane! We aren’t actually going to die from this, are we!?” Pushing his hood down you were immediately met with a snide gaze and cat eyes that leered at you like you were nothing more then dirt beneath his feet, long blonde hair pushed behind his shoulders and his bangs hanging low, suddenly a viscous side smile appeared on his lips, “Apparently so, otherwise I wouldn’t have watched half my last game get their brains blown out and the other half hung.” 

You reeled a little away from the blonde, your face dropped in semi horror, unsure if this was just a sick joke or he was serious. You searched his face a thousand times over, but for the first time in your life, you couldn’t figure out what his goal was. You couldn’t figure out anything about him, except he was exceptionally cold, “Well I don’t suppose I have much choice to doubt you,” He said with an annoying sing song tone as he rattled his wrist that showed the bracelet with a matching 2 on it, “My name is Chishiya, just stay out of my way and we’ll both live.” 

How arrogant! You scoffed as he walked past you, not the least bit bothered at your offense as you whipped around, glaring at his back. How come out of everyone you got stuck with the most…! Pompous! Arrogant! Ugh! You crossed your arms as you followed behind him, stilling secretly sending daggers into his back with your eyes as everyone shuffled into the ward. 

Hospital beds were scattered around the room, a few closets and one large vent at the bottom right corner of the room ahead. 

“Wait, what is this?” The first person to speak was a fair thin older gentleman, he appeared friendly as he observed the room around him, everyone looked around in confusion as you noticed what he meant. 

Any possible hiding spot was covered by either sheets of metal or locked tight...How were any of you supposed to hide if…!? The rules mentioned nothing about solving puzzles to gain access to a hiding spot!

“Forget that,” Another man said with a sneer he was broad and a bit older, well into his late twenties at least, perhaps a gym coach? Or maybe a wrestler of some sort? He looked like he could break you and nearly every other person in this room like a twig, “We need to figure out who’s the monster. “ He cracked his knuckles as you leered a little away and nobody spoke for a second. 

Of course, who would out themselves as the monster, more importantly, how does one even know they’re the monster? You could immediately feel tension rise as the previous, more patient man spoke, a little more collected, “How about we just check one another's’ watches! If anywhere it would show us on that! One pair should work on solving these puzzles here so everyone has a place to hide” 

“Unless the monster is among us and it sabotages us so we all die by the time limit.” The girlfriend crossed her arms as she darted her eyes around. Truthfully you didn’t know what to believe, the wording on the soundbox was rather confusing as to just what were you looking for. Was the monster supposed to be in the group or it’s own entity?

“If that were the case it would’ve showed up on our watches, which it didn’t. So that won’t work.” Chishiya spoke matter of fact, his tone cool as his eyes gazed across the room before he walked away from the group inspecting various hiding spots granted you didn’t think he was about to help anyone but himself, if anything you were at least lucky that him securing a hiding spot meant it was one for you as well. 

You looked at everyone in confusion, some arguing while others scattered to look for a hiding spot as the clock ticked down. You breathed in relief at the sight of Nanami and Akari both going for a bed to hide under. Your gaze finally found Chishiya’s form before following him, unsure of what you were supposed to do, if anything outside trying to figure out just what the monster even was. 

You glanced up at the digital clock that stood above the entrance you had just come in from, it was already a minute in before you searched the floor where you found a red X in the center of the room, that must’ve been the...what? Offering spot? You cringed a little at the idea. Looking forward you peered behind Chishiya’s shoulder deciding to not think about that, it seemed the metal sheet that had wrapped around the bed and was sealed to the ground was locked by some sort of metal device…? Contraption? Lock?

“Isn’t hiding under a bed a bit obvious…?” You frowned as you crossed your arms, unsure as you looked behind your shoulder once more to where accusations were already being thrown in the group. 

“The vent is a decoy to make you waste time, I already checked,” Chishiya replied, his fingers nimble as they rattled the metal, “And even if someone were to accomplish it in the time limit it’s the most obvious spot the monster would first check. Next would be the closet given it’s at eye level and the first thing one is drawn too when they walk into a room.” 

Your lips parted a little in surprise at his assessment...obviously he wasn’t just overconfident, “And why this spot?” If he had really thought about all this in less than a minute then...did he have a reason for this spot? You now found yourself, slightly less annoyed and a little more curious as to what was going on in his mind. 

“If the monster were to check a bed it would be after his eyes are drawn to the closet. Next in that line of sight would be the vent directly across it, which would be his next place to look if not his first and vice versa. The beds are all staggered throughout the room making them less conspicuous compared to the other hiding places, the bed on the far end of the room would be no good.” 

Your brows furrowed in curiosity at his assessment as you watched Chishiya blow a piece of hair from his face, wiggling out one piece of the knotted metal, “It’s too far from the entrance where as the one in the middle is by average the one most people would start with, where as the first? It’s almost too soon in the start to look there thus making it the safest.” 

“It’s them! They’re over there conspiring!” You both twisted around to watch the broad man point an accusing finger at you both as your eyes darted from him to the clock on the wall, which read at six minutes. A few other pairs, relievingly so was your sister had started working on a hiding spot while a few others stood around and argued. 

Your face coiled a little as you replied, not appreciating the accusation to such a baseless accusation, did they not realize the longer they argued the less time they had to secure a hiding spot? “Someone who’s terrible at playing the minority would often be the first to point fingers. There’s only six minutes left before the first round is over and we need to hide. But if you want to talk about this then sure,” 

You stepped closer as you crossed your arms, scanning over him before continuing, “Let’s talk about the chances of you being the monster, ever since you first came in you’ve been all twitchy and acting like something is wrong. Even when we first got paired up, you seemed a little panicked. Anyways,” You turned around as you spoke, “How do we know one pair is a monster and not one single person?” 

“Eh,” Akari sat on the bed that her and Nanami chose as Nanami fumbled to work out the puzzle, she had always been good at those! You felt assured as your heart beat frantically at the idea of them not being able to get a hiding spot in time, “Let’s all calm down,” She gave an awkward laugh, “This isn’t a hearts game, we shouldn’t divide our trust. This is a team building after all which means this game should be making us work together, the last thing we need to do is throw that away on our own accord.” 

“...Team building?” You frowned as you murmured having not been aware that this was some sort of game category...Hearts? Clubs? The memory of the playing card flashing on the screen appeared in your mind again, right...was that to stand for some kind of game genre? If Clubs stood for team building then...there should be no reason that the monster is any of you. Why would they even suggest that to begin with?

Then...what was the monster? 

“One minute remaining.”

The lights suddenly began flickering, “Got it.” Chishiya yanked the last piece of metal undone as he pulled the sheet of metal off, everyone was now scrambling and the few who had not done their puzzle were now panicking. Getting down you crawled under the bed, your back flat to the ground as you inhaled sharply as you noticed the lights beginning to dim, “This is...uncomfortable.” You mumbled, trying to ignore being pressed shoulder to shoulder with a man you didn’t even know besides him having a god complex, “We should’ve went with the vent.” 

“By all means, if you want to try and get yourself killed already. Go for it.” You turned to look at him, dark endless cat eyes meeting you as you harshly glared at him, why was he so condescending!? 

You were about to snap back something before you realized it was completely dark and the door slammed open causing you to jump. Was your heart always this loud? You could see the heavy boots step against the ground making you unsteadily inhale, swallowing as you closed your eyes. You could only place your trust that Chishiya hadn’t picked a horrible spot. 

More importantly your mind was plagued with worry for your sister, you had been so caught up you hadn’t even tried to help her yet...did she even…! You heard a sudden loud scream from two people causing you to stiffen as you looked up at the bed frame lined with wooden planks. You could only cower back down at blood suddenly painting the floor.

Your stomach suddenly churned as you covered your mouth. So he wasn’t lying. Chishiya however looked just as nonpulsed as he did when he first told you himself, his eyes blankly staring up at the bed frame as if this was just a regular game of hide and seek as people screamed as they were torn apart. 

Or that’s at least what you assumed it was. 

After an agonizing few minutes the doors finally closed and the lights flickered back on making you breath in relief as you waited a moment, could you even bear to face what was waiting on the floor? You winced a little before something caught your eye. What was with all this extra wood stuck in the frame? 

Chishiya had already gotten out from under the bed and before you suddenly heard a few girls scream, your sister among them making you puff and breath as you scrambled from beneath the bed.

Standing up your mouth agape at the horrid sight of the female and the broad male that had been too focused on accusing others, they didn’t have...enough time...it looked like they had been completely mutilated, blood pouring on the floor and the smell made you want to gag as you looked away. 

“Well, now what do we do.” Akari scratched her head, also not looking phased that two people had just been brutally killed. Your eyes stayed placed on the bodies before they slowly trailed to your hands, the memory of blood staining them still fresh in your mind. 

“Well we have to figure out where the monster is?” The girlfriend of the couple spoke up, she looked around somewhat suspiciously, “But I’m not sure where we could find it? Maybe it has to do with the bracelets? Maybe there’s a clue hidden.” 

“Oh what about in the cabinets?” The collected man from before offered as he went to search the cabinets, your frown furthered as you glanced around. Everyone was now getting along, still on edge but along at least. 

Chishiya only leaned against the wall, his hands in his pocket as he rolled the lollipop in his mouth, his gaze the same steely one it was before as if he had done his job in securing his temporary salvation and was now done. 

Or maybe he just didn’t know what to do? It was obvious his strength didn’t lie in teamwork, clearly. But then again, you weren’t sure what was going on, you couldn’t get a read on him. Crossing your arms you stayed beside him, your eyes briefly washing over your sister who was working Akari to dig through a desk together. 

“Cabinets and drawers are too obvious.” 

Chishiya’s eyes flickered to your figure, his expression just as cold if not...a little smug maybe? He said nothing in return as you continued, “If we’re looking for a monster, it’s obvious it’s a metaphor for something. Inanimate most likely,” Your eyes flickered around the room, inhaling sharply, why did it feel like the answer was right in front of you? 

Think…! You glanced at the clock, only six minutes left. The rounds were really short…! “It’d be something small and inconspicuous, something that’s in plain sight….but easy to miss...and the game said it was a pair which means there’s more than likely two.” 

“Three,” You glanced at Chishiya as he spoke, pulling the lollipop from his mouth, that permanent smug look on his face as he answered, “Two is what they want you to think and if you spend a round searching for each like they hope it’s game over by three.” 

You rubbed your neck as you frowned, “It’s already the second round and we haven’t even found one…” You glanced around before you suddenly perked up, “Wait…!” Getting back down on the floor you laid on your back as you pushed yourself under the bed, “Chishiya! Help me get this thing out!” 

Within a moment the blonde appeared as well, his eye sharp and keen as they noticed straight away what you were tugging at, “You think this is the monster?” 

You looked at him as you raised a brow, “We have less than four minutes left on our second round, you have a better idea?” Chishiya said no more but helped regardless, successfully with the both of you maneuvering it around from beneath the wooden boards you managed to get it out. 

Holding it up you looked at it, “It’s a poppet doll.” You turned to face him as you smiled in accomplishment, “They’re typically used as curses to place upon people in folklore. If anything is a monster, this would be it.” 

Excited at your first victory you pulled out from beneath the bed as you waved it up, “Hey guys! We need to start looking for something similar to this! If not a replica.” Everyone huddled around you examining the doll before the microphone sounded, “One minute remaining.”

Everyone had immediately scrambled back to their hiding place as you ran to the red X, placing the poppet on it, that's the reason that had to be there right!? You’d just have to see, hurriedly you ran back to your spot under the bed. Making it just in time as the lights flickered off. 

The door slamming open once more as you slowly inhaled, it had to work right? If not...then you were at a loss for what to search for and you were utterly screwed. 

The boots stomped against the floor past the bed as you closed your eyes, unable to calm yourself. After a moment you heard a screech and something rip open before screams followed making you jump. Chishiya’s eyes were on the feet that stood by the closet that had been obviously ripped open. 

You heard the sound of something wet and a gurgle before a body slumped to the floor and you could hear begging before something got snapped in half causing you to close your eyes once more...Did you make it angry!? Was that not it? Fuck. You had never felt this stressed before as it roamed around, passing in front of your bed as you tensed.

Was this your last moment alive? Truly? 

Much to your relief, the door closed once more before the lights followed, flickering on, relaxing a little you sighed as you reluctantly got out from underneath the bed with Chishiya to see what had happened. Much to your horror it was the man who had been so kind this whole game and his partner. 

The monster didn’t check anywhere in the first round, yet he did this round? You tried to block out the bodies slumped in the corner as you glanced at the red X, the poppet doll gone. 

“Why- why were they killed!” Nanami’s eyes began to water as she grabbed her head, “This makes no sense!” 

“If it accepts the doll that means we only need two more. What happened to them is irrelevant.” Chishiya stuffed his hands back into his pocket as you glared at him sideways, not appreciating his careless tone. You could deal with it, but you didn’t want your sister dragged into it. 

Grabbing your chin you thought about it for a moment, “Well...the game said to return the monster to its own and…” You glance down at the X, was there some kind of unsaid rule that if you didn’t get all three of them on the first try that it would start hunting down players? “How would a mother feel if they only returned one of its children?” 

“This thing doesn’t have feelings,” The girlfriend of the partners replied coldly, her eyes like steel of her own as she clung to her boyfriend, “It’s as he said,” She waved to Chishiya, “It doesn’t matter, we’ll be like them if we don’t figure this out.” 

You glanced around the room, “Tell me this, if it doesn’t matter, then why did they give us all these different hiding spots?” Everyone was silent, all eyes on you as if your question didn’t make any sense, your eyes flickered to the clock that was nearing eight minutes, you didn’t have time to monologue, “No think about it. The monster never intended to look for us- that was never stated in the rules. So why did they give us all of these choices if we only needed one per pair? My point being, if we found one poppet in our hiding spot then...You get where I’m going with this? Chishiya.” 

He glanced up at you acknowledgement as you curved a brow, your lips threatening to tug into a smile as you tilted your head, “How confident are you in solving that vent?” 

He glanced back down and for the first time, you watch a cocky wide smirk twist onto his lips, “You’re lucky to have someone as smart as me here to be able to open it.” You tucked your tongue into your cheek as in annoyance as he sauntered over to the vent already getting to work, “As for everyone else, we need to open up as many of these as possible to find the other two.” 

Everyone immediately scrambled to get to work, with only seven minutes on the clock this was...going to be difficult. First Nanami and Akari searched all the opened spots as you worked on another bed. Rubbing your head as muttered, “Shit...I never was good with puzzles.” You awkwardly hung your head in defeat temporarily, briefly letting your eyes shift to Chishiya who was fiddling with several locks, his gaze sharp and you couldn’t even imagine all the calculations going on in his mind. You were somewhat envious of what it would be like to be that perceptive to anything adhering to logic and solution. 

“Aha! Found one!” Akari yanked the poppet from the top of the closest as Nanami covered her mouth, looking like she was gonna throw up being so close to so many dead bodies. You ignored the grisly sight at the second victory of the poppet doll. Akari quickly placed it on the X as you began to work on the puzzle once more, looking up at the clock. Oh no...Oh no there was only three minutes left!

“Chishiya! Hows that puzzle coming along.” You called out, trying not to sound alarmed but you could see the clear cut annoyance on his face as he continued working through the locks, “If you’d like to help while struggling on a novice lock feel free.” He replied condescendingly, not appreciating the pressure. 

You rolled your eyes with huff as you finally managed to get it undone, feeling triumphant as you searched under the bed but there was no luck, “There’s nothing here!”

“Or here!” 

Several people called out as well as you rubbed your head, standing up, “If the only other place that hasn’t been searched is the vent then maybe there’s only two? It did say a pair.” You felt a lump of anxiety well in your chest at the sight of the clock ticking close to a minute and half. 

“Should we really take the risk?” The boyfriend asked as he rubbed his neck, concern on his face as he looked around, “If we’re wrong then we’ll all…” 

You hadn’t even thought of that…

“...! Hey.” You turned to Chishiya who seemed to be trying to get your attention making you immediately come over, if he was asking for you it’d have to be for something important given there was nearly less then two minute on the clock, “Hold this right here.” He immediately pushed your hand onto the lock right where he wanted it, “This is a two handle mechanism meaning that there needs to be two people unlocking it. Push down and out at the same time.”

“Hide! Everyone needs to hide now!”

The lights were beginning to flicker as everyone scrambled to hide, stress evidently put on your shoulders now more than ever. You could only hope he was right with your life on the line, “Now!” You pushed down on your side, the lock sliding as you pulled out, pulling a piece of metal holding up the lock directly out as Chishiya did the same with his side. 

The lock fell off as well as the metal of the gate of the vent, you immediately with no hesitation leaned inside it was dark and hard to make it out anything besides the steep drop off. So he was right, this was a waste of time for a hiding place. 

Looking down you caught sight of wood before laughing in relief, “It’s here! Wait shit! Chishiya! It’s too far down in the vent, you’re gonna have to lower me down to reach it. Time?” 

“Forty five seconds.” You felt unfamiliar hands on your hips lifting you up as you were lowered down, “We have time.” 

You squinted trying to see as you reached down, “Lower me further! I’m not quite in reach,” Your muscles began to ache in your shoulder as you reached harder, growling in frustration, “Time!?” You were lowered a little further, the wooden poppet brushing against your fingers. 

“Thirty seconds! Could you go a little faster?” 

“Could you lower me a little quicker- Ah! Hey did you almost let go!?” You snarled back, grabbing the poppet doll, giving a good yank as it lodged in between the crevice it was in, “Get me back up! I got it. Time!” 

“Twenty seconds.” Chishiya called back, pulling you up as you gasped, pain from the metal jabbing into your stomach evident as you were met with a darkening room. Setting your feet firmly on the floor your eyes flew to the flock fifteen seconds and your spot was all the way across the room….! 

“Where are we supposed to hide!? We can’t get all the way there in time!” You hissed out running to the X as you dropped the poppet down. The lights shut off as the final five seconds counted down and before you could do anything you were shoved to the floor as you squeaked. Your body throbbing in pain and your mouth immediately covered as you were met with the coverage of a bed but neither one of you were bold enough to try and scramble beneath it as the doors slammed open. 

Fuck.

Your whole body was tense as your eyes squeezed shut, you were just a little ahead of the X here, if this is all the poppet dolls...they’d have no reason to go further into the room...unless...Your hand squeezed tight around the wrist of the hand that covered your mouth as you tried to calm yourself at the loud thudded footsteps. 

It was quiet for a moment before you heard more walking before the doors closed. 

“Game Cleared”

The lights turned on as you fell limp against the side of the bed, Chishiya’s hand removed from mouth as you pushed your hair from your face, closing your eyes as you breathed in relief, “Holy shit.” Was all you could mutter to yourself, you had never been more grateful to breathe air in your whole life. 

“I guess you weren’t that useless after all huh.” Chishiya clacked his tongue as you turned your head to look at him, raising your brows as your face contorted into something between insult and amusement. 

You’ve only known this man for a half an hour and yet...something about his words, if you dug down deep past that smug expression of his, was this a compliment? Looking away you pressed your tongue into your cheek, trying to keep from smiling, “Yeah, and you’re still conceited and arrogant but, I guess you have a good reason to be.” You glanced back at him again but you could hardly hold his gaze, something in that brief moment was electrified between you both as you laughed somewhat sheepishly, closing your eyes as you looked away once more. 

What the fuck was even wrong with you? If this was back before today you would’ve totally kicked this guy in the balls and went about your day.

“Y/n!” You straightened up at the sound of Nanami’s voice, your expression brightening as you stood up, quickly running to her as you hugged her tight, “I can’t believe that just happened…” She whispered to you as she pressed her face into your neck. You couldn’t either but, you were thankful you had survived this game. Whatever it was. 

“Come on, let's get out of this room.” You tugged on her arm, no longer wanting to be in this death room despite knowing it was all over. Pulling her out you paused at the sight of the TV and a...register…? You bracelet unlocked as you took it off, tossing it on the table as you tilted your head. 

“Congratulations Game ''Clear ``.''

“...Now issuing visas to those who survived the game…?” You furrowed your brows as you glanced at Nanami who rubbed her head in confusion. You grabbed the receipt as you looked it over with a frown before picking up the 5 of clubs playing card along with it. Odd. 

“It’s how many days you’re allowed to stay now! Almost a whole week, that's a good score for a first game!” Akari called out as she patted your back making you jump a little. 

Almost a whole week…”Until we have to play again to...continue our stay?” You raised a brow, deciding not to ask what happens if you refused. While you had many questions, you had a feeling you knew the answer to that one. 

A part of you couldn’t even believe this had happened, or was it all still a dream. 

“Hey…! Sorry for all of that in there,” You turned to see...oh…! It was the boyfriend of the partner, the gifrlfriend stayed behind looking brooding, “I’m Ryu and that’s my girlfriend Hiroko I was...ah…” He faltered a little, rubbing the back of his neck as his gaze flittered to his girlfriend who was glaring him down, “You should stop by the Beach- I...I think you guys would make good additions! Bye!” He hurried not even finishing his original sentence before scurrying off making you furrow your brows at what he even meant. 

“The hell?” Akari raised a brow as she watched the guy run off, “Seems to me he wanted to chat more…guess we know who's really pulling balls in that relationship.” 

Nanami suddenly snickered, covering her mouth as she giggled, “Hey Akari! Why don’t we stay together! We did really well in the game together!” 

“Awh shit, if you guys really want me too!” Akari offered a quirky smile as you laughed, you had no problems with someone staying behind with you. Looking past Akari your smile faded a little at the sight of a white hoodie exiting the entrance. 

“Hey- I’ll be right back!” You pushed past the both of them who paid you no mind as you pushed out of the exit and down the stone steps, not sure why your feet were making you chase after such an egotistical man but…!

“Chishiya!” You called out, making the man pause, he turned around, pulling the earbuds out as he glanced up from his hoodie, raising his brows in acknowledgement, “Um…” Why did you even chase after him…? You stepped down the last step as you wrapped your arms around yourself. 

It was silent for a moment as you berated yourself internally for why you seemed so speechless all of a sudden. Chishiya however didn’t seem to mind, his eyes absent now as he stared up at the hospital, “I used to do my clinical rotations here.” 

You were broken out of your silent thrashing of internal humiliation as you raised your brows, lips parting in curiosity as you asked, “You were a doctor?” 

“No,” Chishiya snorted, that amused calico look of his on his face once more as he looked down at you, “I was a medical student. Training to be a doctor but that obviously didn’t happen…” His lips curved into a frown, his eyes cold once more as they looked back up at the building, “I came here tonight to see if anyone I knew would be here.” 

“Oh…” You looked away, feeling somewhat awkward and unsure of how to reply to him as silence took over once more beside the occasional rustling of the wind in the tree’s, the urge to speak overtaking you to the point you couldn't resist, “Chishiya...I…” You looked away, feeling somewhat bashful, “We...made a really good team back there.” You forced yourself to look up at him as you offered a bright yet subtly shy smile, “If you want...you could stay with us…?” 

Chishiya pulled the lollipop stick from his mouth, letting it drop to the ground as he spoke, “No thanks.” You turned to him in surprise as you frowned a little, you shouldn’t have expected anything less…

“Oh...I understand.” You offered a weak smile as he turned his back on you and began to walk once more, “I just have one more question,” You called out causing him to pause, “...Do you by any chance know about a place called the Beach?”

Note: Whew...! As a lurker in the Alice in borderland fandom I saw a lot of people complaining about the lack of Chishiya fics so I decided to volunteer myself and take on for the team to write a series for this little blonde fucker so PLEASE let me know your thoughts and I hope you enjoy!! Also

[starlight-starwrites]

MA’AM 🥴 if you write about armorless Din going swimming I think. I just might lose. my mind 🥴

jump in

din djarin x reader wc: 2.3k warnings: heights, deep water, there is just fluff and it is dumb soft note: keep! i am so sorry this took so long im sure you’ve forgotten this ever even happened but i said i would do it and finally here it is 😂

feat the gorgeous gif by @bestintheparsec that inspired it all

The rock is hard and rough under your bare feet, and it does nothing to encourage you. When you lean forward to peer over the edge below, you see Din’s form treading water some ten meters below you. Maybe a couple more. He holds onto a small raft with one hand where the kid sits, attention torn between splashing the water and looking up at you.

It could be done, you reasoned. You had just watched Din jump, throwing himself off the ledge and looking almost graceful as he dived headfirst, plunging into the depths before emerging at your side, hovering before giving you a wet kiss. Now all you had to do was jump.

You stare down at the both of them and the beautifully crystal-clear waters. Oh stars. It was a long way.

“Are you going to do it?” Din’s shout reaches you where you teeter over the drop, still debating. “You know you don’t have to!”

You can hear the taunt in his voice. When he had landed in the water, soaking both you and the kid, Grogu shrieked in delight while you cowered and grumbled about the spray. He had surfaced right next to you, bright eyes and the largest grin you’d seen on him in a long time. You’d praised him for it until he suggested you try the same.

Not a few minutes later and now here you stood, but with higher stakes. Of course he’d let you back out. He wanted to win.

“Shut up!” you yell back to him, cursing that you ever agreed to this. He made it look so easy, like it wasn’t really that high at all. It didn’t seem that high, not when you were still down below.

You curse him again, backing away from the edge and toward the slanting shale you climbed up.

“It’s okay, there’s no shame in backing out!”

Mother be damned, Din.

You stand back a few paces away, out of sight from the boys. You take a deep breath, ready to jump if only to prove him wrong. Blaster fire and dogfights didn’t scare you, a little jump shouldn’t either. You would be fine.

It’s important to be careful running barefoot on rock but you do it, carefully taking notice of every little detail. The dip in the ledge, the puddle of water, the perfect place to launch yourself and the speed at which to do it.

It should have been flawless.

To your credit, your form was impeccable for never having done this before. Din said it himself, though much later. You finally got out of your own head enough to do it, flying off the rock and flipping in the air. A real head over heels flip that you wish could have been caught on holo.

It’s a shame you have no blasted idea how to dive.

You hit the water with a straight back, the smack nearly bringing you to tears if not for the fact your head was already under the water, and you started to sink. It hurt. It really kriffing hurt.

But at least you won.

Din’s at your side in a moment, not hesitating to reach before you go any farther, pulling you back up to the surface with a strong arm. He still treads water even while holding you, another hand carefully reaching to steady the kid’s raft before continuing its motion.

“Are you alright?” His face is pulled tight in concern, wet hair pasted to his forehead. You appreciate how expressive he is without the helmet. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to it.

You wince when his hand grazes your back, but you brush it off, letting the cool water soothe the sting. “Fine,” you gasp, shaking your head clear of water. “I’m okay.” You grin when you realize exactly what you just did.

Din gently nudges the kid’s little boat forward, pulling you closer to his other side as he tries to bring you back to shore.

“Din, it’s alright, I’ve had worse, really,” you wrap your arm over his shoulders, “we can stay, he’s having fun.” Sure enough, Grogu laughs delightedly at the increased speed of his vessel, happy to enjoy the water from a dry spot.

Din stops, letting the raft slow to a stop too before looks over you. “Are you sure?” He reaches forward, water droplets falling from his fingers as he reaches for your face, pushing your hair back. The touch is gentle and affectionate, and you take a moment to catch your breath and clear your lungs. When you press a kiss to the palm of his hand, his lips part and you watch his eyes dart over your face.

You smile, finally pulling away to tread water on your own.

“Looks like you’re cooking tonight,” you say.

“Looks like I am.”

“So what’s it going to be? Ration packs are off the table.”

“Then you might have to starve.”

“The agreement was to cook, Din, not just open a package.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he smiles softly at you, slowly pulling his attention back to the kid. He’s been patient through your exchange, only threatening to jump into the water once you both look to him.

For a kid that hates getting wet, Grogu sure was hell bent on chasing anything that moved. When you had walked up to the sparkling lake, he spotted a small frog-like creature and immediately set off. He nearly got the three-legged beast before it leapt under the water, and your poor son fell in after it.

It must have been the most unpleasant experience he ever had with the small tantrum he gave, but apparently it was not enough to keep him from trying to enter the waves again. You had sat on the shore next to Din then, focusing on drying him off while Din fashioned the small raft. His mood has seemed to greatly improve since then.

“Maybe you can catch a few of those little frogs and roast ‘em.”

Din makes face, wrinkling his nose at you and pushes the kid closer to you. You receive him and gently slow him down, smiling at the boy as he giggles, before pushing him back to his father.

“I think only one of us would like that,” Din says, reaching to slow the raft once again, smiling when Grogu reaches for his face as he tries to keep his balance. He lets the kid float for a moment, and Grogu reaches to dip his fingers in the water before shaking them off to splatter across Din’s face.

You smile at their interaction, swimming over to join them. The kid finds a nice distraction while lying down on the raft, patting the surface of the water then aggressively trying to rid himself of the wet. You meet Din, and he easily wraps his arms around your waist while you wind yours over his shoulders. Your damp top sticks to you, your bare legs brushing against Din’s in the water.

It’s nice to be able to enjoy a moment like this, just the three of you in the middle of nowhere. The kid is happy to explore, and you’re just happy to rest in Din’s arms. You let your head fall to Din’s shoulder, watching your son as Din keeps the both of you upright.

“I knew you could do it.”

Din’s words interrupt your thoughts, but you don’t miss his teasing tone.

“Yeah? Then why would you take the bet?”

“Well, I didn’t think you would do it.”

You laugh, your head tilted back so you can feel the sun shine on your face and your chest press to his. He studies your face, a matching grin on his own. You don’t know what he sees, but he looks so much happier, lines erased, eyes finally rested. Your plan to take a few days to yourselves has done more good than he’d be willing to admit.

He pulls you close, eyes dropping down to your mouth. It’s easy to be called into the pull of him, always has. So as soon as you note the way he looks between your lips and eyes, you lean in, meeting him in a sweet kiss. His lips are soft, taste like the salt of the water. The two of you stay like that, floating and turning, holding tight to the other. You pull away slightly, forcing your eyes to open, only to be met with his smile again.

For just a moment, you let yourself get lost in it, the way he is still soaked from his jump, jaw unshaven for the past few days. His hair is getting longer now, and you think you might offer to cut it for him again. Or maybe you’ll let him grow it a little longer.

The kid coos, pulling both your attention back to him. He’s drifted in the time you were distracted and waves a long blade of grass at you he didn’t hold before. He almost looks put out as he sits on the little raft, not amused to be left to entertain himself.

Din sighs, a content sound, that pulls at your heart.

“Hold on to me,” he says, arms slipping from you even as you tighten your grip on him. He leans back in the water, you on his chest, and begins to swim backwards toward shore, pulling you with him.

You reach Grogu in less than a second, support his boat so he is pulled with you. Din continues to reach back, pushing the water forward to bring all three of you towards land.

“You’re a strong swimmer,” you note. He seems in his element, even if he wears nothing but an old pair of shorts. Free of the helmet, of the armor, there’s always been some trepidation. It’s gotten better with just the two of you around, but here, he really seems as though he is just himself.

“I should hope so, with all the training I did.” He grunts as he pulls you up, both of you finally able to stand waist-deep. The kid comes to float between you, and he stabs the water with his blade.

“You trained to swim?” You wonder how that would work. “Did you do that with the armor?”

“Sometimes,” he pushes himself back, finding a seat as the water reaches his chest. You nudge the kid towards him. “We did all sorts of drills but learning to swim is important. People think with the armor, it’s easy to drown a Mandalorian.”

He quiets after that, and you fall silent too. You remember the terror of seeing him prodded like an animal in his cage, certain he would drown if you didn’t do something. You silently thank his leaders for those drills.

“I assume that’s not the case with you,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

“We have to learn to swim in the armor. I was lucky,” he stops to smile at the kid, gratefully taking the grass he offers him, “I knew how to swim before I put on the armor.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, suddenly concerned. “What did they just put you in suits of metal and throw you in whether or not you knew how to swim?”

Din wiggles the grass blade above Grogu’s head, making the poor kid frustrated as he tries to grab it back.

“Din?”

He looks at you sheepishly. “That’s…not far off.”

“Oh Maker.”

“They made sure we were okay,” he defends. “The best way to learn is to do, so we did. It saved my life later.”

You shake your head, still a little shocked. “I can’t argue with that.”

You wade through the shallows, coming to sit in the sand next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. The sun is lower in the sky, just peaking above the mountains that rise on the other side of the lake. The breeze is warm, but you’ve adjusted to the cool water now, only slightly shivering when the air kisses your wet skin.

Din leans into you too, his free hand coming to rest on your bare thigh. He’s relented the grass back to the kid, who now quietly sits, twisting the blade into an attempt at a knot. He huffs in frustration, but you admire the way he furrows his little brow and only focuses harder.

You let your eyes wander up to the man you lean on, appreciating the curve of his jaw, the stretch of his neck, the way he fondly stares down at your little green gremlin who has now taken to shoving the grass in his mouth. You let a hand fall to Din’s thigh, feeling the muscle as you move your hand, appreciating the chance to touch his bare skin so easily.

He notices you’re looking eventually, turning to you with a quirk of his lips.

“What?”

You smile again, just happy to look at the way he looks down at you, brows pinched and small pout of his lips. You tilt your chin just a little, and his lips are on yours again. You kiss him softly, once, twice, thrice. You don’t tire of it, being able to share affection without concern.

“Oh nothing,” you whisper against his lips. “Just thinking about the gorgeous view.” His mouth curls into a bashful smile, and you don’t miss the tinge to his cheeks. “Also thinking about the gorgeous view scrounging up some dinner…”

Din groans, but when you both check on the kid, you see him attempting to shove anything within reach in his mouth. You laugh as you both move into action, Din coming to hold the child while you quickly pull the dirty object from his mouth. The three of you stand now, where the waves meet the sand at your ankles and the last rays of light warm your skin.

“Come on,” you say, letting Din pull you to his side as he takes Grogu up in his other arm. “Let’s see if you’re as good a cook as you are a swimmer.”

.

Tag list (message me to be added/removed!): @ficsilike-reblogged @perropascal @yespolkadotkitty @disgruntledspacedad @aerolanya @jedi-mando @pikemoreno @bitchin-beskar @mostly-megan @lv7867 @readsalot73 @sarahjkl82-blog

[sebbybooks]

Wreck My Daydream

Part Two

Sebastian Stan x Fanfiction

18+

Tagged🎄

@wayward-mikaelson

Cataglottism

(n.) kissing with tongue

I’m already wet and Sebastian barely even touched me.

I hardly gave myself a moment to be ashamed or even stir in the crass words I was using even if I had only thought them. Like a diary I suppose there was no need to lie to myself considering it was one hundred percent true. I, Nellie Lennox, was unabashedly met with unending desires that washed away my trepidations that led up to this moment.

In its place I felt this newfound sense of possibilities that I wasn’t actually making an ass out of myself with my sudden confession of feelings for Sebastian. In my defense I didn’t just wake up one morning after having some epiphany as to why I wanted to be with him. The thought of us together made itself at home in the back of my mind.

Almost like a what if. . .

However, I couldn’t help but be terrified of all the ways it could go wrong. What if I had made things weird between us forcing us apart? Life would be a bitter existence if Sebastian wasn’t around in some capacity. For the longest time I tried to find him in different relationships. It is a messed up philosophy, but it almost worked. Whenever things would get too serious it nearly terrified me. I was their someday and they were my maybe. I owed this last relationship that is still so freshly cut more than that.

I owed myself that.

On the unique and rare chance I somehow got lost in a very realistic maladaptive daydream, I’m pretty certain Sebastian wants this too. Just thinking about what he had told me seconds ago made my heartbeat drum to a dizzy rhythm. Imagining myself getting fucked to the beat of it was a completely different type of sensation.

Retraining my focus on the now I could see it in Sebastian’s face all the wheels going around in his head. Confusion? Uncertainty? Regret?

“You don’t get to do that.” I tell him. I felt like I was going to climb out of my own skin if he left me suspended in the silence for a second longer. Sebastian tipped his face closer to mine, our lips gingerly brushing against each other. Perhaps he was feeling ambivalent in regards of his feelings for me? After all this was sprung on him in the middle of the night.

Sebastian shook his head as if he was at war with himself. “I want to.” His voice was strained and dangerously low, like something was causing him utter misery being this close, yet not knowing exactly when to pull away.

“Then why don’t you.” I dared him.

I was growing impatient with this slow burn we had somehow started. I wanted to play with this fire. If I got burned in the end by his touch then so be it. At least I would forever be marked with a reminder of knowing that I at least went after something I wanted with no apology. I wanted to see how far he was willingly to go.

Sebastian removed his hand from the security of being wrapped around me. I feigned a disappointed sigh at the lack of contact. My entire body must have been on autopilot , because I didn’t recognize the position I was in. I practically sat in his lap with one leg wrapped around him and the other one mindlessly dangling over the bed. Of course the mind reader that Sebastian was naturally grabbed ahold of the side of my thigh and wrapped it around his back.

It wasn’t like I was naive to sex or never had my fair share of romantic conquest. Regardless of my experiences I still felt like a gigantic ball of nerves. The way he stared down at me with a heated look in his eyes as if he wanted to posses every inch of me. Hell, I felt like I could come undone from that alone.

The hand that was planted on my back slowly drifted downward trailing the curve of my backside gripping my ass through my thinly silk hunter green shorts that matched the top. Earlier I had berated myself for wearing scantly clad pajamas to bed. Now I am thanking my lucky stars I opted out of the option of wearing a red Christmas onesie that had polar bears wearing scarfs around their necks. They were ones my mother insisted the whole family wear.

If I had I probably would not have been able to feel his erection that was restrained in his sweatpants. Trying to situate myself closer I rocked into him slightly, massaging myself on him. My ears didn’t miss the subtle groan Sebastian let out from the feel of my weight pressing further into him.

His silence wasn’t lost on me and he still hadn’t answered my question so I did it again. I wanted him to say something. My nervousness abated at this point. I twined my arms around his neck, grinding myself against him again and again. All the while Sebastian watched my every movement with a hint of a star struck look in his eyes. The feeling was certainly mutual I was even shocking myself at my behavior.

“Nellie,” Sebastian finally says, voice husky. He usually only ever calls me by my nickname so I was more than sure that he was not fully himself.

“I’m a big girl Sebastian I can handle whatever you need to say.” I tell him, holding in my breath.

“Alright,” he said with uncertainty. “You and me, this, it’s not a good idea.” His tone was barely audible and even more so he sounded hurt. Everything in me froze.

“And why is that?” I asked him more confused than ever. Suddenly feeling absolutely self conscious as I over analyzed every intimate word I just shared with him. I was even more horrified by the fact that I was dry humping my best friend.

He let out a darkly laugh. “It’s pretty damn obvious Nells.” Sebastian says rather ominously.

“...It’s not actually.” For someone that wants nothing out of this, Sebastian was holding on to me like an anchor and I on the other hand just wanted to get away and sink.

Admittedly, I was losing this game of tug a war. There was only so much I was willing to endure even I had my limits. “You’re giving me whiplash Sebastian .” I tell him honestly, “ I’m not like those other girls you go for that are satisfied with you just dangling yourself in front of them like a piece of cake that I can’t have. I meant what I said when I told you I didn’t say it just to hear you say the same.” My voice could only rise so high in pitch.

I definitely didn’t want to wake up the upstairs guest that would love nothing more than to recap this conversation over breakfast. Then like an unexpected bolt of lighting startling you from a distance, Sebastian kissed me.

Sebastian

I am a selfish bastard.

My mind fell quiet when I looked at her. I wanted to swim in the serenity and peacefulness that was this smart, vibrant, sexy, and uniqueness this woman possessed. I only wondered even in the darkness could Nellie see my eyes as plainly as I can see hers. If so could she see the shame reflecting in them? I could feel the nagging weight of my conscience siting on both of my shoulders, arguing back and forth over what I should and shouldn’t do. It was kind of ironic that the devil in my ear insisted that I give in to the angel in my lap.

God knows I waited for her and that I would keep waiting if I had to in this lifetime or the next. It was always going to be Nellie for me. I wanted to tell her all of this, but the longer I held on to this slice of heaven I was given during this random hour. I also knew that this moment was fleeting. I basked in the way she looked at me, the way she held on to me like I was an object of virtue. I also got a sample of what it would be like to lose her the second she began to slip away on her own accord. So, I did what any poor fool would do in my position. I kissed her.

It wasn’t exactly suave or how I imagined it would go. My mouth sort of crushed against her unmoving lips in a rushed and unskilled manner. Frankly, I wasn’t sure what I was doing, I certainly could do a hell of a lot better than this. An yet, it was still like I predicted it would be, filled with pure unadulterated pleasure. Nellie’s lips were sweet and warm, exactly how I imagined forbidden fruit to taste like.

A perfect mixture of firm and softness that drove me wild. She flattened her hands on my bare chest as if to brace herself. Nellie pushed herself away, but her face was still so close to me. She didn’t speak and neither could I. I forced myself to look up at her and hoped that she could see I would do everything in my power to earn her forgiveness. That it was a mistake I will make right somehow.

“Nell,” I let out an exasperated breath. “ I have a need for you that goes deeper than just lust and I know that it will never truly be sated. The killer thing is I’m already at risk of losing you before I even had you.”

Nellie stared hazily up at me.“You already have me.” She whispered, our lips still grazing. Those four simple words set off a firework in me. This time when I kissed her our mouths came together like we needed to feed off of each other’s oxygen in order to survive. I’d suffer if I didn’t have it.

My mouth was greedy for hers, and I could imagine she felt the same. The moment I felt her lips slightly part open to let me in, less than a second our tongues slid together in a torrid and sensually slow pace. We kissed like a couple of eager teenagers. My heart threatened to leap from my chest when the tip of Nell’s tongue moved across my bottom lip. She tastes like gingerbread , mixed with some other divine flavor that I can only assume is Nellie. She arched herself closer into my chest and I could feel the points of her hardened nipples through her top. I seized the opportunity to press her body close because I needed more.

I wanted to feel the heat of her soft skin on mine. She returned her arms back around my neck tightly holding me in place as she angled her head kissing me back with the same ferocity. Deeply, and oh so thoroughly by the way she sucked on my tongue. I had a rough grip on her ass keeping Nellie steady as she straddled me. I was so damn hard for her. If my dick could get even harder it was bound to. Nellie did that thing again where she grinds down on my erection and I cursed at myself to not combust. I grabbed ahold of her hips guiding her to move faster, harder.

I kept telling myself to savor her, fucking take my time with this moment. I couldn’t just rip those tiny little shorts off and sink myself into her over and over until we’ve both had enough. But even then I would always need more of her. I wasn't a sentimental man, with Nellie I at least wanted to try. I wanted my first night with Nell to be a little less spontaneous than this. It wasn’t like I came prepared for festivities filled with endless fucks. Plus the added fact I couldn’t let things get too carried away especially since she still didn’t know what I have done.

Yeah, I am a very selfish bastard.

I didn’t want this to end. I wanted my mouth to explore every single part of Nellie. I wanted the taste of her to live on my tongue. I wanted to go as far as she and my consciousness would allow me.

“I need to touch you.” I panted, between every nip and kiss I left on the delicate area of skin under her jaw.

“You’re already touching me.” She says with a soft laugh, which was a melody to my ears. I was but at the same time I wasn’t. I needed to rid Nellie of any barrier that prevented me from branding her skin with my touch.

“This…off.” I tug gently on the bottom of her tank top before returning my hands to rest on her thighs, caressing them as I sucked on her neck for dear life. Going back and forth between grazing her neck with my teeth then licking over the area to soothe any imprint I’ve left.

Nellie crisscrossed her arms reaching for the hem of her top gracefully pulling it over her head. She purposely fell backwards onto the mattress aiming her shirt at my face. For as long as I’ve known Nell she was never one to be shy in her own skin.

“Imagine how unsexy that would have been if I hit my head on the headboard.”

“As long as you didn’t hurt yourself I would have just pretended that I didn’t see a thing.” I teased.

“Ah, to think they wonder where all of the good men have gone.” Nell scrunched up her nose pretending to be lost in critical thought.

I cock my head to the side. “Mm-hmm. Are you mocking me?”

“What if I am?”Her plump wet lips spread into a smile.

It was miracle I caught a word of what she said to me. I swallowed a groan as my eyes drift over the area of her body that was naked from the waist up. Nellie was clearly a stolen painting from the Louvre that I had no intention of returning. All I could do was stare.

With her legs still draped around me, my hands slide up the curve of her torso passing her ribs. I sensed that she was watching me, but I didn’t dare take my eyes off of her just yet. The pads of my fingers traced over to her breast and my mouth practically watered at the sight of them. She was ethereal.

“Don’t suddenly go mute on me Sebastian.” She let out a shaky breath.

I’ve heard her say my name a thousand times. Hearing her say it in this state created a feeling of warmth that filled my chest. I could only begin to imagine the different ways I wanted to hear her call out my name. My gift, my best friend, my Nellie. Those last words had a sting to them even as I thought them. Deep down I knew that was never going to be true.

I eased all the way down my tongue traveling around the dip of her navel. Creating a path up the center of her abdomen. I knew that Nell was extremely ticklish. The slightest form of contact would automatically turn her into a ninja. From the way she was pressing herself back into the mattress I knew she was trying her hardest not to flee. Of course I found it rather enticing so I made sure to spend extra time over the areas of her exposed skin I knew to be the most sensitive. Brushing the tip of my nose between her breast my mouth finally latched on to what I’ve been waiting for.

“So fucking beautiful.” I say as I graze my mouth over the stiff peak of her nipple. I was in awe over the ability that they simultaneously could feel hard yet felt extremely soft. I dragged the tip of my tongue around the bud of it in a languid movement before sucking it in deep. I loved listening to the sounds she made while I sucked and devoured as much as I could fit into my mouth. I wanted to hear a symphony of the noises that escaped from Nellie.

Going for one after the other not wanting to miss out on either. Nellie kept a limp hand pressed into my hair keeping me close as if I dared to stop.

Writhing underneath me Nellie gasped,“Touch me.”

Now she understood what I meant. My own body felt betrayed by my decision. I literally ached from pain and pleasure. Truthfully I wouldn’t opt for a better scenario than this. I would be more than gratified with giving Nellie an orgasm or two.

Still leaving featherlight kisses across her chest. With one hand I reach down and brushed along the dip of Nellie’s hip, then began to tug away at her shorts. To my surprise she was bare underneath. This was a new and uncharted territory we were crossing.

Tell me to stop, say that this is just the wrong time, tell me we would never work. Those words never escaped me, the sound of the goddamn doorbell intervened for her. My movements hesitated then shortly I picked up on inaudible chattering out in the hall. Nellie turned her head in the direction towards the door which I hoped like hell was locked. “Maybe we should go see what’s going on.” Her eyes widened.

“Or we could stay here and not shame the fact that I was two seconds away from wrapping your legs around my face while I tasted the slickness between your thighs. ” Nellie released a ragged breath and I meant every word.

To my dissatisfaction we were composed in under three minutes. I felt a strange sense of comfort and pride seeing that ever so often I’d catch Nellie looking in my direction smiling like she had some big secret she was bursting to tell. Which only made me feel like an even bigger asshole. The walk downstairs was surprisingly noisy. Someone had plugged the Christmas tree back up and there was a chilly wind breaking in as the front door came to an immediate shut.

Nellie’s parents were both moving around in a fast pace trying to find new spots to put a couple of suitcases. I had to swallow down a chuckle at the sight of their bold choice of pajamas. Nellie had already beaten me to the bottom of the staircase just as I rounded the corner of the spiral stairs.

“Cousin!” Vanessa squealed rushing over towards Nellie, who excitedly embraced her the same. They exchanged a few excitable words to each other that I tuned out. I was busy focusing on the six foot son of a bitch with a puppy dog expression on his face standing awkwardly behind them.

“Now you know Nells Bells you can’t have Christmas without good ole St. Nicholas can you?” She winked at a stone faced Nellie who just looked straight ahead at her ex boyfriend Nick. “I hope it’s okay I brought him over with me. I saw him at the airport dozed off in a chair.” Vanessa whispered as she leaned into Nell, like she just earned a gold star. Soon as Vanessa’s wild dark brown eyes caught ahold me I knew my bubble was about to pop.

“Something told me I was off the naughty list this year.” Vanessa bit at her glossed up lips and made a beeline towards me, wrapping her arms around my waist. She smelled like an overtly sweet perfume that tortured my sinuses. “Did you forget how to work a phone or what? I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. I miss you.” She cooed.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nellie watching the two of us. This was my punishment.

[moonlightserenadeeznutz]

Wake up sleepy head

Scorbus prompt from @abi-the-gay (sorry if I missed any details). Albus sneaks off to Malfoy Manor after a nightmare, and he and Scorpius get caught by Draco walking in on them asleep together the next morning.

A flash of green light exploded in front of Albus’s eyes, and her face... her face grinned right back at him.

She was holding something, no... someone. Her arms were wrapped around a blonde boy, long fingers creeping towards his neck, like vines. Scorpius. She had Scorpius. Albus tried to scream, to yell, to call out Scorpius’s name, but no sound came out. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t stop her from pulling out her wand and pressing it to Scorpius’s temple. Albus looked into the boy’s grey eyes, desperate and pleading. And all he could do was watch.

“Avada Kedavra!” Another flash of green light bursting into his bedroom as Albus suddenly lay awake, panting, sweating, terrified.

Scorpius. Where was Scorpius? Everything Albus had seen had felt so real, so vivid. His stomach dropped as he had the sudden, awful thought: what if it was real?

He sat up in bed, his mind running at a mile an hour. He had to see Scorpius. Now. Sending a letter would take too long. He wanted to see his... he wanted to see Scorpius.

It was still late, dark out. Everyone was fast asleep. No one would notice if he snuck downstairs and used the floo network to visit Malfoy Manor.

Albus didn’t risk turning the lights on; he knew his house like the back of his hand, so he managed to reach the living room fireplace with little mishap. Albus took a handful of floo powder from the pot beside the stokers. The fire had long since died out, but the coals were still hot enough for the powder to work.

“Malfoy Manor!” Albus instructed, as loudly as he could without alerting the rest of the house, which still left his voice barely above a whisper. He hoped he wouldn’t get splinched on the way there.

Green flames erupted around him, and he had to close his eyes; too reminiscent of his nightmare. Of Delphi. Of Scorpius.

Before he knew it, he was thrown out the other side of the floo network, regaining his balance on the polished floor of Malfoy Manor. It was dark. Quiet. Was that a good sign? Or a bad sign? Albus wasn’t sure whether he wanted to find out or not.

But he had to. He couldn’t leave without making sure Scorpius was alright.

And that’s when he suddenly realised: he had no idea where Scorpius’s bedroom was. And it was a big house. He could be searching all night.

Albus began on the next floor up, up the large, winding staircase. The first few rooms were rather sparse, uninhabited, and one of them- which made Albus hold his breath upon entering- was Draco’s room. Albus closed the door behind him as silently as he could.

He stood for a moment and pondered his next move, soon spotting a door at the far end of the hallway. As he drew nearer, he noticed some sort of trinket hanging from the doorknob, a kind of lucky charm perhaps. Scorpius was relatively superstitious. This must have been his room.

Albus slowly opened the door, his heart beating faster in trepidation at what he might find. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a figure underneath the covers of a bed, in the middle of the room.

“Scorpius?” Called Albus in a whisper. “Scorp!”

The figure moved, turned around, and switched on the oil lamp beside his bed. The light illuminated the faces of the two boys, and Albus was so relieved to see Scorpius alive and well- if a little perplexed- that he almost started shaking. Scorpius noticed his slightly panicked disposition.

“Albus, what are you doing here? What’s wrong?” Scorpius was clearly concerned, and Albus felt bad for waking him up. Of course it was just a dream, you idiot.

“I’m sorry, I just... I just had to make sure you were okay.”

“Another nightmare?” Albus nodded. Scorpius moved over and opened up the covers.

“Do you want to stay?” He asked, and Albus gladly accepted, thankful that Scorpius didn’t ask anymore questions, such as how he had got there or what the nightmare was about. He simply let Albus snuggle up beside him and settle into his arms, exhaustion washing over both of them.

“I can read if you want?” Scorpius suggested, a murmur in Albus’s ear.

“That would be nice.” Scorpius reached over Albus to pick up a book from his bedside table.

“It’s a muggle book,” Scorpius explained. “Rose sent it to me a few weeks ago. I’m already halfway through, but I’ll start again from the beginning.” Albus tried to listen, really he did, but as soon as Scorpius started speaking, his soft, calm voice meeting Albus’s ear, Albus immediately felt his eyes start to close.

“This Side of Paradise, by F. Scott Fitzgerald,” began Scorpius, and within moments, Albus was fast asleep.

————

The following morning, Draco was sat at the dining table in his dressing gown, sipping his morning coffee and reading the Daily Prophet. He was about to check on Scorpius, thinking it odd that his son wasn’t up yet. Scorpius was usually awake way before him, a morning person through and through.

Draco finished his coffee, folded up the newspaper, and began his ascent up the flight of stairs towards Scorpius’s room. Reaching Scorpius’s door, he knocked lightly, receiving no reply. Draco was starting to get worried now, so he allowed himself to enter.

His son wasn’t alone.

Scorpius opened his eyes as he entered, and froze. He tried to nudge awake the sleeping figure beside him.

“Al. Albus, wake up,” he whispered frantically. Albus? Thought Draco. Albus Potter? Albus groaned lightly, and mumbled something inaudible. Never had Draco felt so awkward in his life, and he coughed nervously, finally alerting the boy beside Scorpius.

Albus turned around- and Draco could see that it was indeed Albus Potter- and immediately turned back, facing away from Draco and burying his face in Scorpius’s chest, muttering something about not being able to deal with anything today.

“Dad, I can explain...” Scorpius began, but Draco interjected.

“How about I leave you two for a moment and you can explain downstairs.” Scorpius nodded gratefully, and Draco left the two in peace, heading back to the dining room and trying to process what he’d just seen.

————

Ten minutes later, and two fifteen year old boys were sitting awkwardly in front of Draco, both of them avoiding eye contact with him.

“So...” Draco began. “Are you two...?” He sort of gestured between the two of them, hoping they’d fill in the blanks.

“We’re together,” confirmed Scorpius.

“Right...” Draco didn’t know how to feel. He wanted to be supportive of his son of course, but a Potter and a Malfoy? Who would have thought it? It would certainly take some time to wrap his head around the idea.

“So that means you’re...”

“Gay?” Draco nodded. “Yeah, I am...” Scorpius finally made eye contact with his father, and Draco noted how terrified he looked.

“Alright. That’s fine, Scorp. I love you no matter what.” Scorpius looked at him disbelievingly, which sent a pang of hurt through Draco’s chest.

“Really?” He asked, hopefully.

“Of course! You’re my son, and I’m proud of you.” Scorpius smiled at him, clearly relieved.

“So how did you two... how did you two become a thing?”

“Oh, um...” Albus coughed nervously.

“Well, it was after the whole Delphi thing,” began Scorpius. “You see we... we had a lot of nightmares, and we would calm each other down.” Scorpius fiddled with his sleeves.

“Is that why Albus was here?” Prompted Draco. They both nodded in unison.

“Yeah, and we’d read to each other,” Albus continued. “Stuff that Rose would get from the library and lend to Scorpius.”

“And I suppose it just went from there. Started out as platonic, and... became romantic.”

“So you both knew you liked each other?” Draco knew he was being too personal, but this was the first time Scorpius had ever really opened up to him, and he didn’t want to waste the opportunity.

“I liked Scorpius, because he was nice to me, especially when I’d fallen out with dad.”

“And I saw Albus shirtless once, and I just knew-” Albus snorted, immediately stifling a laugh. Scorpius too was holding in a smile. Draco just raised his eyebrows, letting the two have their own inside joke, before continuing.

“Well, you both have my blessing,” Draco concluded. “Thank you for telling me Scorpius. Even if you didn’t have much of a choice.” Scorpius nodded in acknowledgement. “And, Albus. I take it your parents don’t know where you are?” Albus suddenly remembered what time it was, and his eyes widened.

“No, you’re right. I need to get back.”

“I’ll see you off,” said Scorpius. They all stood up. Albus left the room to return to the fireplace in the living room, leaving Scorpius and Draco alone for a moment.

“Your mother would be proud too, you know,” said Draco, his voice softer than before. Scorpius looked at him, grey eyes meeting grey. Draco hadn’t even noticed that they were almost the same height now. How had that happened?

“You really think so?”

“Of course. All she wanted was for you to be happy. And I take it you are?” Scorpius nodded.

“I am. Really.”

“Then she would be proud.” Scorpius smiled, paused for a second, and then closed the gap between them. For a few moments, they hugged in silence. Unfamiliar, but nice. Draco was glad to have his son back.

[seijorhi]

I love your writing and want to submit a request if they’re still open! A yandere Akaashi and Bokuto who’ve fallen for the same darling? Bokuto’s so eager to bring herhome, but Akaashi convinces him that they have to make preparations first. Then one day, Akaashi comes home to Bokuto with their unconcious darling in his arms. He just couldn’t wait any longer. Now they’re both freaking out because they haven’t prepared properly yet, but also so so happy to have their darling to themselves 😋

I love these two (and this request!!) so of course, bby!

Akaashi Keiji x female reader, Bokuto Kotaro x female reader

TW drugging, kidnapping

Jump the Gun

The sight that greets Akaashi when he walks through the front door is not the one he’s expecting.

Bokuto’s sprawled across the couch - that in itself isn’t all that surprising - but the figure that’s curled up beside him, head resting in his lap is.

Because you definitely shouldn’t be there - unconscious or otherwise. In fact, he specifically remembers having a conversation with Bo about how you being here wasn’t a good idea, at least until they had everything sorted out. 

Judging from the sheepish expression on Bokuto’s face as Akaashi quietly closes the door and takes off his shoes, a conversation that he hasn’t forgotten, but rather elected to ignore. He sighs. You look peaceful, as if you’re only asleep, dreaming of nice things, but Akaashi knows better than that. He doesn’t say a word as he crosses the apartment and drops into a crouch in front of the two of you. Long, pale fingers reach for you, knocking Bokuto’s hand away to brush back your hair, gunmetal blue eyes flickering intently over your face, your neck, searching for-

“I didn’t hurt her,” he huffs petulantly.

… No, he wouldn’t. Akaashi knows that. Bokuto is many things, impulsive being the first to come to mind, but he wouldn’t hurt you, at least… not like that. Still, a single brow raises as he shifts his gaze from your face to Bo’s. He can’t quite bring himself to stop touching you though - so he doesn’t, letting his fingers slowly trail from your temple down along the curve of your jaw, marvelling a little at how well his hand seems to fit there. 

“I thought we talked about this,” he says simply. His voice is even, calm - despite being tinged with the faintest hint of exasperation, but he’s thankful it doesn’t betray the way his heart is racing. From the feeling of having you so close, touching you like he’s wanted to for months, or the uneasy trepidation that’s gnawing at his guts - he honestly couldn’t say. “Why would you- we don’t even have a room set up, Bokuto.” 

Something a little like guilt tugs at his chest when Bokuto pouts again. “She was gonna leave, ‘Kaashi. Move out next week with that asshole friend of hers!”

The corner of Akaashi’s lips twitch downwards. He doesn’t need any reminders about which friend he’s referring to. They’ve only met him once, but each second spent watching him simultaneously talk down to you while pawing at you like an overeager puppy left an increasingly bitter taste in his mouth. That guy wants to be ‘friends’ with you about as much as he wants to take one of Bokuto’s spikes to the face. Of course, the fact that you’re so blissfully unaware of it doesn’t exactly help matters.

“… We’d lose her,” Bo continues, and there’s more than a nugget of truth in that. 

Akaashi lets out a low hum, his thumb brushing absentmindedly against the soft skin of your cheek. If you left… it wouldn’t change things - not for them - but… it would make them difficult. They’re so used to the casual, easy chats in the hallways, dropping by to borrow milk or ask if you were hungry because the pizza place ‘fucked up’ and delivered an extra (Akaashi knows you like Hawaiian, and tries not to judge you too harshly for it).

He might be inexorably in love with you, but he’s not delusional. 

You’re neighbours. 

The few minutes a day he and Bo get to steal your attention - it’s only because you live in the apartment next door. Well, that, and you’re far too polite and trusting for your own good. But as much as he’d like to believe there’s something deeper to it than that, that you feel even a sliver of the attraction they hold for you in return, he knows that you don’t. 

(Not yet.)

And it’s one thing to try and insert themselves into your life as your friendly next door neighbours, but without that connection between you, they’re little more than acquaintances at best. You might smile and wave if you passed them in the street, but if they tried to show up at your new place or offered to take you out for coffee, even you might start to get a bit suspicious.

Of course, it didn’t excuse Bokuto from jumping the gun - they could have at least talked about it first, but-

A wide grin slowly creeps across Bo’s face, excitement dancing in the golden hues of his eyes as his arm slips from the back of the couch to curl possessively over your waist. “I had to bring her home.”

The tension in his shoulders shifts at that, a weight lifting subconsciously. Bokuto’s boundless enthusiasm has always been infectious, and Akaashi can’t find it within himself to fight the small smile that curls at his lips. 

You just look so beautiful, lying in his lap. Content almost, though he appreciates that’s probably more to do with whatever drugs you’ve been dosed with than anything else. 

But this is what he wants. What they’ve both wanted for a long time. 

You were always going to come home to them, it might not be perfect and they might have to figure some things out quicker than he’d like but-

You’re home with them, where you belong. He can’t be mad at that.

He leans close, eyes fluttering shut as he brushes his lips against your softly parted ones - just for a second, just for a taste - and when he pulls away it’s with a low, appreciative groan. 

“We’ll make it work,” he says, meeting Bokuto’s eager gaze once more.

[sisterspooky1013]

Only One Choice, Part 2, Chapter 4

Read it here on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Finally, after fifteen minutes of staring at her mostly full coffee cup, Mulder tosses both their drinks in the trash and trudges back to the Hoover building. He had plans to work late, but seeing Scully makes focusing on work impossible so he goes home to lie on the couch and stare at the ceiling instead, replaying their one-sided conversation over and over. Upon reflection, he realizes that he didn’t speak a single word to her other than her name. He was paralyzed, his feelings for her in direct conflict with his desire to never again feel the way he felt after she left his apartment that final time. He wishes that he’d asked her what she wanted from him, why she was there.

The phone rings and he rolls off the couch to retrieve it from his desk.

“Hello?”

“Will, I’m surprised you’re home. I was expecting to leave you a message.”

He smiles at the coincidence of Valerie calling him at this exact moment; she always seems to intuit when he needs to hear from her. Like he does with everyone, he had directed her to call him by his last name when they met. She did so for a while, but when things took a turn towards the intimate she informed him that she could not call a man she was sleeping with “Mulder” and sought to find an alternate moniker, Fox being out of the question. He was Maverick for a bit, then Sly, and for a brief moment Doug (he was never clear on the origin of that one). Ultimately, she went with his middle name, William, and finally shortened it to Will.

“Oh, and why’s that? My bustling social calendar?” he retorts, finding his way back to the couch and sitting heavily.

Valerie snorts. “More like your hopeless addiction to work. How are you? It’s been too long.”

Mulder sighs. “I’m...okay.”

“That bad, huh? You wanna talk about it?”

He considers the question. Talking to his ex-girlfriend about another woman seems a bit uncouth. “I’m not sure it’s something you’d want to weigh in on.”

“Girl trouble, then?” she says with a smile in her voice.

“Something like that, yeah.”

“Spill it,” she demands.

He tells her everything, about meeting Scully, about getting to know her, falling in love with her. He spares some of the gory details on their sexual encounter and her visit the next morning. He finishes on seeing her that day, and the reason he begged off work early. This is the most he’s shared with anyone about Scully, The Gunmen being great friends, but not the sort you seek dating advice from. It feels good to get it all out.

“Damn, Will. That’s a lot. Shouldn’t you be happy, though, after seeing her today?” He can hear the crunch of potato chips as she speaks, ever the dedicated snacker.

“It was good to see her in a sense, but it also feels a bit like a step backward. Like I’ve lost progress in the effort to move on.” He’s lying down now, one leg kicked over to rest on the coffee table and Priscilla curled up on his belly.

“I don’t get it,” Valerie says deadpan.

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“You’ve been pining over this woman for the better part of a year, and she turns up to tell you she’s single and she realizes that she should have chosen you all along. That’s somewhat of a fairy tale ending, is it not? Aside from the whole cheating-on-her-fiancé-part, I guess.”

“No, Val, she said that getting involved with me was a mistake, which I already knew. If anything she was rubbing it in, which seems uncharacteristically cruel.” He runs a hand down Priscilla’s back and she cracks an irritated eye at him until he stops.

“Oh my god, Will,” Valerie replies, pulling the phone away from her cheek and sighing in exasperation. “You know, for all that fancy education your parents paid for, you’re really dense sometimes.”

“Well then by all means, enlighten me.”

“She said she ignored the signs and made the wrong choice. She’s divorced now. The marriage was the wrong choice, you dolt. That other guy was the wrong choice. The signs were telling her you were the right one.”

Mulder sits up suddenly, Priscilla clinging to his chest in a last-ditch attempt not to get dumped on the floor and piercing his skin painfully. She ends up on the couch beside him.

“How sure are you about that?” he asks, his heart starting to race.

“Pretty damn sure. The way you describe her, she sounds like a thoughtful person. I don’t see what motivation she’d have to reiterate to you that what happened was a mistake; she’d already made that clear in the first go-round. The only reason she’d want to say all that to you is if she realized she was wrong. She wanted to set the record straight, and apologize. Not for what happened with you, but for choosing the other guy.” He can hear the slurp of her eating something like soup in between sentences, the wet smacks making this revelation sound like an offhand comment.

He’s quiet for a long moment, replaying his interaction with Scully today through the lense of her wishing she’d walked away from Ethan, that she’d chosen him. He closes his eyes. Does he dare hope that Valerie is right?

“You still there, Will?” she asks impatiently.

“Yeah, yeah I’m here. I’m just...trying to wrap my head around all this.”

“Well, I gotta run, so hopefully you can do your ruminating solo. I didn’t even get to tell you the reason I called.” He can hear her up and moving about, opening and closing drawers and cupboards.

“Shit, you’re right. Sorry. What’s up?”

“I’m pregnant,” she says, and then waits a beat before adding “it’s not yours, if that’s where your brain is going. We haven’t slept together in almost two years, you may recall.”

“Uh, yeah...yeah I do recall that seeing as I haven’t slept with anyone in almost two years. Are you...should I be offering congratulations? This is a good thing?” He’s hesitant, unsure if they’ve reached a stage of life where a pregnancy is happy news.

“Yeah, it’s a good thing. I’ve been seeing this guy for a little over six months. It wasn’t planned, but we’re excited. The relationship is still pretty new, obviously, but I think I can see myself growing old on a porch swing with him.” There’s a smile in her voice, a dreamy contentedness that makes his chest ache. It’s the reason they broke up, so they might each have a chance at something like this. He hopes he’ll have his chance too.

“That’s great, Val. I’m happy for you,” he says with a tight voice.

“Thanks, Will. Sounds like you found your person, too. You just gotta go out and get her.”

“Yeah, I guess I do.”

“What does she call you, by the way?”

“She calls me Mulder.”

Valerie laughs softly. “Must be fate.”

———

The days since seeing Mulder have been dreary, both in terms of the weather and her mood. She has already lectured Missy repeatedly over her terrible advice to see him again, opening up fresh wounds and sealing shut doors that she had previously held out hope might open again. The morose look on his face as she admitted that she wished she’d chosen him was a kick to the gut. It was too late, far too late, and he wasn’t able to forgive her. Though it’s what she knows she deserves, it still hurts.

She sits in the clean and quiet autopsy bay, filling out paperwork that she tends to reserve for the end of her days. She’s been working more overtime lately, in no rush to return to an empty apartment and be alone with her thoughts and self recrimination. The idea of dating seems obscene, and yet she can admit that she’s lonely. But not lonely for just anyone; she wants only the one person she knows she will never have.

“Excuse me,” calls out a smooth baritone from behind her, and she turns on her stool to see Mulder there. His charcoal grey suit and white dress shirt stand in contrast against his red tie, one hand in his pocket in an attempt to be casual. The cool bravado she saw in him before is absent, replaced with something vulnerable and raw. She feels adrenaline rush through her limbic system, stealing from her the ability to speak.

“I’m looking for the pathologist on duty,” he continues, and she feels a rock in her gut. He had to come here for work, and see her again. She feels guilty for existing in a space that he is forced to enter.

“I’m the pathologist on duty,” she responds regretfully.

He approaches her cautiously, taking the stool beside her without invitation, and considers her for a moment. With a look of trepidation, he holds out his hand and she gives him a quizzical look.

“Fox Mulder,” he says, his green eyes so earnest and open. There is no anger, no resentment.

“Dana Scully,” she replies, her voice catching as she understands, slipping her hand into his.

They are starting over. A clean slate. A new chance to get it right.

“You don’t look like a Dana,” he says, and there’s just a hint of playfulness in his voice.

She laughs, her mouth smiling while her eyes glaze over with tears. Their hands still clasped, he pulls her close, her stool rolling into the space between his knees as he wraps his arms around her shoulders. She should be embarrassed by this unprofessional display out in the open, but the only feeling she can muster is relief at the smell of his cologne and the press of his chest into her cheek. How many nights has she mourned the loss of this? Hundreds. Perhaps last night will be the final time.

“Would you like to get coffee with me?” he asks against her hair and she laughs again, nodding as her cheek brushes his shoulder. “Are you free now?” he adds.

She pulls back and looks at him, his eyes shining back at her with hope they’d both given up on.

“Yes, I’m free,” she answers.

[pillage-and-lute]

The Courting Ways of Wolves (Part 2)

It’s back! Dumb boys in love! Also Grandpa Vesemir gets some feels and Geralt does some math. Part 1, (here) Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Epilogue

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Watching Winter at Kaer Morhen melt into early spring was always a beautiful process, but this year brought Geralt trepidation as well. Watching Ciri train had been wonderful, helping her learn the basics kept all the wolves on their toes, for the first time in many years actually thinking about motions that normally came from muscle memory. 

Yennefer had flourished into her role as “Aunty Yen,” not sweetly nurturing, the way one often thought about with children, but a clever tongue and tough love that Ciri, granddaughter of the Lioness, seemed completely at home with. 

Geralt was doing his best too. Ciri had started calling him dad about halfway through the winter, the first time happening at dinner and he’d very nearly choked on his ale. It sent something warm running through his veins every time, like good brandy that burned all the way down. 

He was trying, words still didn’t come naturally, but somehow Ciri always seemed to be able to see exactly what he meant. Maybe it was Destiny, maybe just a hurt, lost child clinging to whoever was consistent in her life, but Geralt hoped it was more. More than anything, he hoped Ciri truly understood how cared for she was, not just by himself, but all the wolves, Jaskier, and Yennefer.

Ciri had whispered to him one day, still panting after training, asking if he thought Yen would mind if she called her mom.

Geralt had replied that he didn’t think Yennefer would mind at all.

Yennefer came to him later, a tender look in her eyes. There was something, not fragile in her eyes, but Jaskier had pointed out in a marketplace once, a beautiful porcelain vase that had been broken and artfully repaired with gold. Yen’s expression reminded him of that. 

They sat for a while, then Yennefer said, “Will you be able to let go of her in the spring?” 

“Yes,” Geralt said, although he was less than sure that parting from Ciri would be so easy. “She needs you, and time away from me. And to be around women.”

Yennefer nodded, gave Geralt a pat on the shoulder, and left. Geralt stayed, cloak wrapped around him as he sat looking out over the walls. 

There was much that would happen in the spring, and his life, which had been pretty stagnant before, was changing more in these past few years than it ever had. He felt like Kaer Morhen itself, built to last and yet crumbling still, the weight of change and time and destiny tearing down walls. 

He watched the sun go down. 

Vesemir joined him, carrying two bowls of stew. Geralt took a bite of his and winced. It had been Eskel’s turn to cook. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Vesemir’s mustache twitch with a hint of a smile. They ate the oversalted meal in silence.

“You know,” Vesemir said, and in the starlight the crags on his face looked carved in. “I come up here to think too.” 

Geralt knew, but Vesemir wasn’t interested in talking about the battlements, he could tell. 

“I think, most nights, about the ghosts within these walls. All of the little boys who died so that the School of the Wolf could be.” The wind picked up, howling like, with an excellent sense of the dramatic, a wolf. 

“The Trials haunt me, Geralt. More than anything in my life, and it has been a long life indeed.” 

“You saved me,” Geralt said. “Saved Eskel.” But he too remembered the still bodies carried out and buried in the night. How few boys remained. Remembered the screaming in the night, unsure how much of the sound was torn from his own throat, and what came from his brothers dying around him.

“I let them put you through it twice. That wasn’t salvation, lad.” Vesemir sighed. “I couldn’t have put a stop to the Trials, don’t know if I would have if it were possible, there have to be Trials to be witchers, and the world needs us, whatever it may believe. But maybe there was a better way. A kinder way. You were boys, little lads who went through so much pain.”

Geralt was startled to see a tear fall down the craggy face, burying in the moustache. Witchers could cry, but it happened rarely, tears could blur vision in a fight, and only very strong emotion, the sort they had been taught to suppress,  could override the mutations. 

And then Vesemir put an arm around Geralt’s shoulder and gave him an oddly nice hug. It could have cracked a boulder.

“Someone should have held you boys more,” Vesemir said, a touch abashedly. They looked out over the walls some more and Geralt wondered if the conversation was over, but Vesemir didn’t take the arm away.

“Ciri called me Grandpa today.”

Ah. That would explain a lot. Watching Vesemir interact with Ciri over the winter had been a delight and a surprise to the wolves. He’d even sat her on his knee and told her stories of when Lambert, Eskel, and Geralt were young like a, well, like a doting grandfather. Jaskier had been enthralled as well, naturally, but seeing Vesemir so soft, and sometimes looking a little sad, around Ciri, had been an education for the men who would always think of themselves as ‘Vesemir’s Little Lads’.

“She won’t be a witcher,” Vesemir said. “Couldn’t be even if we would want it, and I never would.”

“No,” Geralt said.

No,” agreed Vesemir. They looked out over the darkened landscape.

“I never wanted a family,” Vesemir said after a while where their breaths hung in the air before them. “‘O course, witchers aren’t supposed to, but you’ve built a nice little family for yourself, laddie. It’s not as may be, not like you’d find in villages or in your pet bard’s fancy songs. But you’ve a brave and rather headstrong daughter, and she has a mum, and a dad, and two already very protective uncles.”

“And a grandpa,” Geralt cut in.

“And a grandpa,” Vesemir agreed. “But a family needs a little more than that. There’s gotta be someone to teach the lass how to love.”

Geralt was about to protest that he’d seen plenty of loveless marriages, but then considered the results in the children. Jaskier was one, he knew. The sort of lost way Jaskier sucked up approval, when they’d first met, the way he’d drank up compliments like a man with water in the desert, whenever Geralt thought on it there was a sort of humming ache. He’d consulted with Eskel on the feeling, concerned it was illness. Apparently, it was just what happened when someone you loved was hurting and it wasn’t something you could kill or fix.

“It doesn’t need to be romantic love,” Vesemir said, obviously seeing Geralt’s face. “And she’ll know how to love family fine, and how to love friends, as you and Yennefer figure that out between the two of you. But your bard loves you, and the way you love him can teach her how to love others and herself. And if Ciri has another dad maybe you can worry less.”

Geralt chuckled. Ciri could have fifty parents, and Geralt would still lose sleep worrying. Vesemir smiled back at him, eyes crinkling and moustache lifting like a bristle brush that had learned to fly. Then he slapped Geralt on the back, and Geralt, the White Wolf of Rivia, Butcher of Blaviken, the witcher who had twice survived the Trials, felt his spine compress like a spring and he was sure he felt a rib creak.

“Love Jaskier, lad. Hold tight to him. We rarely get good things.”

Then Vesemir walked back inside and Geralt stared after him. There weren’t many old witchers, dangers of the job and all that, but Vesemir was proof that witchers, like oak wood, only solidified with age. 

Geralt followed him inside. 

The next days passed in a flurry of activity. Ciri had been let off of training with the wolves to pack for her journey with Yennefer, and to be quickly given the rundown of the basics of magic. The wolves were packing as well, preparing to leave Kaer Morhen. In between final preparations and weapon repair, Geralt checked over The List.

The List was supposed to help him court Jaskier. It was the combined brainchild of everyone (except Jaskier, of course) at Kaer Morhen. More importantly, his intention to court Jaskier met with Ciri’s approval. 

When the day arrived, Geralt felt a curious lump in his throat. He watched Ciri say goodbye to Eskel and Lambert, the latter picking her up and swinging her in an arc, letting her joyful whoop echo about the courtyard. Then she hugged Vesemir, and he crushed her very gently to him. And then she turned to him and Jaskier. 

He was thankful that Ciri bade Jaskier goodbye first, watching the bard wipe a surupticious tear away as he held the blonde girl. It was Geralt’s turn and he didn’t know what to do. He cleared his throat.

“Follow Yennefer’s instructions,” he said. That didn’t seem like enough. “And don’t talk to strangers,” he said. It still seemed insufficient but he was out of advice so he stuck out his hand to shake. Ciri laughed and leapt at him, throwing her arms around his neck.

He held her there, reveling in hugging his daughter, his child surprise, who was so full of surprises and he felt, for the first time in many years, the feeling of rather full tear ducts. He blinked them away. 

“Good luck,” Ciri whispered in his ear. Jaskier wouldn’t have heard, but the witchers with their enhanced hearing surely had. Geralt nodded and set her down.

He coughed awkwardly and pulled out a little packet wrapped in burlap and some rough twine. Ciri beamed and pulled at the string so that the packaging fell away. A long piece of metal, bent into a thin U shape lay in his palm, the ends were surprisingly sharp. Ciri picked it up and examined it, then looked up at him questioningly. 

“Hair pin,” Geralt said gruffly. “For your hair. And stabbing.” He mimed a clumsy, underhanded stab. “Eskel helped me silver plate it. For monsters. But also men, if they’re close enough.” He trailed off, knowing he sounded awkward. Who gave a self defense implement as a gift?

Ciri beamed at him again. “I love it,” she said, also miming a few stabs. He supposed that as a parent he shouldn’t be so proud of the light in his daughter’s eyes when she talked about stabbing, but he was almost certain that she got that trait from Jaskier, who tended to get...pointed about disagreements in pubs.

Yennefer stepped forward and carefully took the hair pin from their daughter, swooping her silver blonde hair back into a twist and sliding it in place. She placed a hand on Ciri’s shoulder and smiled at Geralt, and he was reminded again of that vase, stronger and more beautiful for the cracks in the facade. She then gave him a quick side hug and and even one for Jaskier, and opened a portal.

Geralt stared after his friend and his daughter long after the portal closed, until Jaskier, hand wrapped in a heavy mitten, gently took his wrist. They waved to the other wolves, and left, Roach walking obediently alongside. 

And then it was just the two of them. Again. Just like the last twenty years. That thought occupied him as they made it down the Killer. The path down from Kaer Morhen was deadly, but that year Geralt made it down without thinking, keeping half a thought to Jaskier’s ambling form as he went.

How old was Jaskier? 

He’d been eighteen or so when they met. Eighteen plus twenty-two was forty. Forty wasn’t that old for a human but Jaskier didn’t look too much different than he had at...Geralt did the math. Twenty-five? But there were signs. A few lines here and there, although Jaskier was insistent about his skincare. A line of silver, just a few hairs, probably unnoticable except to Geralt’s enhanced eyes. He was aging better than a human should.

Or perhaps not. Time was tricky for witchers, never staying in one place, never knowing people long enough to watch them age, he didn’t really know what to compare Jaskier to. 

He did know how long humans lived though. And at the base of the mountain he came to a resolution, felt it settle in to his bones as deep as his mutations, deeper, even. 

Twenty years, or nearly, where he hadn’t known Jaskier. Twenty more where he hadn’t admitted they were friends, or that he loved him. Eighty years in a human life span. And Geralt would love Jaskier, and make sure he knew he was loved, for the next four decades, give or take. He looked at his companion, paused as they were to give their feet and Roach a rest. The weak, watery sun of the early spring day fell on Jaskier’s face, dappled through the branches, which as of yet held no buds.

He pictured lines appearing, laugh lines, smile lines, crinkles carving themselves into the landscape of the familiar features. He pictured silver through the hair, more, in thicker streaks at the temples. Geralt saw a lifetime, Jaskier’s lifetime, in an instant. Silver covered warm brown, strong legs grew shakey, lines crowned a forehead and swept about clear eyes. 

What would happen, Geralt thought, when Jaskier could no longer keep up? But Geralt knew what would happen. He’d take Jaskier to Kaer Morhen, or go with him to Oxenfurt, and spend his days with him. It had been a few short months since he’d realized he was in love with Jaskier, but that was only because Geralt’s skill with emotions was roughly similar to Jaskier’s apparent self preservation. Why had he let the lad talk to him in a pub? Had he loved him then? He remembered the shock of not being feared, of looking into clear, bright eyes and seeing admiration, the fierce protectiveness that had flared when he woke and saw the fool tied to him in an elven lair. Had it been love? 

Watching Jaskier whisper softly to Roach as snow melted around him, Geralt was sure it had been. Destiny, Fate, the two bit tart who kept fucking him over, had given him his greatest blessing in a form that Geralt, up until that very second had considered a myth. Love at first sight. Love had brought him Jaskier, and Ciri, and a fast friendship with the most powerful mage on the Continent. Love had brought him a family in the form of a wayward bard with bread in his pants. And Geralt had forty more years to cherish him. 

Step One the list had said in Eskel’s clear writing. Kiss his hand. Being mindful of Step Two, to mind his manners, Geralt crossed the clearing to Jaskier and took the thick woolen mitten in his gloved hand. 

“May I?” he said. Jaskier gave him a baffled look, but nodded.

Geralt pressed chapped lips to a palm wrapped in knitted wool, and Jaskier smiled, albeit a little confusedly. It didn’t matter. Geralt wanted to spend the next forty years wrapped in that smile. 

Then Jaskier asked him if he was feeling well.

[maydaymadier]

Time

[Disclaimer: I’m currently slightly more than halfway through the c2 finale and I’m going to try and avoid spoilers since well, there’s still like 3hrs of content to get spoiled on.  Will likely crosspost to my ao3]

“Time, it takes time, not days or weeks or years.  Time.”

Caleb Widogast was right, though to be precise it takes 100 consecutive days of inscribing a teleportation circle in the same place to make it permanent.  Nicodranas was the first teleportation circle Essek Thelyss finished.  100 days of pounding sun and coastal heat felt fitting to start his time.  He had his trepidations about better acquainting himself with Yussa, less so with Ms. Lavorre.  The Nein asked why he needed to make a teleportation circle in Nicodranas, they already had access to Tidepeak Tower’s.  ‘Yes, however, we will not have to give anyone advance notice to use our own.’  

Jester made something of a habit of bringing him a new parasol or sunhat each time she visited, even brought him tinted glasses she found once.  If he knew she was coming he’d make sure to wear one of them.  

Each time he ran out of chalk he’d wrap himself in illusion and teleport himself to Zadash.  Meanwhile, the stores in his towers grew dust-laden, his absence from the Dynasty more suspicious, and he bought his chalk from Enchanter Sol.  The Mighty Nein were a family, regardless of any distance, and he had the means to make distance mean nothing.  So Essek Thelyss carried on.  And on the hundredth day, he stepped into a circle in Nicodranas and stepped out in the Blooming Grove.

He was invited in for tea, as expected, and accepted as was polite.  The next day he found the spot behind the temple where the grass had been flattened by the circle delivering him and started his next hundred days.  He ‘compensated’ for his intrusion with his floating meditative guard each night.  Caduceus seemed to pick up on what he was doing faster than Jester had, by a thin margin.  The remaining Clay children would poke their noses in once and a while, curious about their drow visitor they’d only met briefly before but they remembered him helping garden after Ikithon set the temple ablaze.  They would offer him a plate at meals, he insisted on using his own rations in a strange dance of hospitality and being a polite guest.  

At one point, after finishing the day’s circle he considered venturing through the Savalirwood to Glory Run Road, find Mollymauk’s grave.  But it felt disrespectful to Kingsley somehow in a way he couldn’t articulate.  If he were to be more dramatic it felt like an invasion of privacy to the rest of the Nein as a whole, intruding on a moment on a place where they were unknowing adversaries.  So he kept inscribing circles in the grass and sometimes he found fresh chalk in his component pouch.  On occasion, Caduceus found saplings and cuttings of Xorhasian plants on his windowsill.

On the hundredth day he stepped into the circle in the Blooming Grove and came out under Caduceus’s tree in the Xorhaus.  He was far more careful with this one.  The Xorhaus was sparsely used, bordering on abandoned at this point, more than ready for the Nein to inhabit it once again.  Beauregard, oft accompanied by Yasha, used it the most for when they visited Rosohna on Cobalt Soul business.  The Bright Queen had been more than amenable to working with the Soul once she knew they were dismantling the organization that had stolen the beacons.  

Though it took three days before Beau realized he was working on making a circle on the roof, pruning away his extra time by trying to tame the garden, clad in his rose-patterned gardening gloves, what with his lackluster previous experience.  She offered to go bring him chalk from his towers, anything else he might need that he’d left behind when he was posted in Eiselcross.  He accepted the offer, to eschew suspicion, asking for some simple components that filled any wizard’s pouch.  Sooner than later, soon enough Beau couldn’t knock the truth out of him (not that she needed to do that or would, he was growing increasingly susceptible to disappointed stares from his friends) he stepped into the circle in Rosohna and stepped out in Rexxentrum.

His skin crawled and felt like it would slough off with each passing day.  He wasn’t so bold at this point to attempt and make a circle on Soltryce’s grounds but he did take pleasure in chipping away the next hundred days in the courtyard of Trent Ikithon’s now abandoned tower.  It was a joy, absolutely cathartic tearing apart what little remained hidden away of the bastard’s stores.  The most valuable and precious artifacts and components were hidden in ways only an archmage would even know about or know how to unlock.  Malicious clumsiness might have gotten him to break an important, now inert, magical tool or two as he rummaged through the tower for chalk.  

Though one day, he noticed an owl perched in a tree, watch him for an hour, disappear for a few minutes, reappear, so on and so forth for the whole day.  He had a good idea who the owl was but she never watched him again after that.  If she wanted to know what he was doing here, fine.  It wasn’t like either could rat out the other without drawing unwanted attention to them both.  So on the hundredth day, what little remained of Trent Ikithon’s personal study even more thoroughly destroyed, he stepped into the circle in Rosohna and stepped out.

Essek chipped away at the for now final circle under the watchful light of Pelor.  Passively, the part of him that absorbed every ounce of knowledge, regardless if he cared or not, wondered what the connection may be between whatever the Luxon is and the Dawnfather.  Just a fun little thought experiment to occupy him while he worked through the next hundred days.

By the end of Brussendar, with Highsummer fast approaching, he’d decided that he ought to have brought at least one of Jester’s hats.  Though more importantly he’d decided that the thought was silly and any connection between the two deities must be entirely aesthetic.  Nothing he didn’t already know but what else can a wizard do but overthink?

It wasn’t the same level of festivities he’d heard about with Harvest’s Close but Highsummer seemed to be the close second in Blumenthal.  He sat, disguised in the shade of an oak probably as old as he was and simply watched from afar.  Somewhere in the crowd, he saw a flash of copper.  Tried not to think to much of it.  Red hair seemed slightly more common in this corner of the empire.  He caught the sweeping arc of a long, striped scarf being tossed over a shoulder.  A leather coat dusting at the ground (though he had looked so good in purple).

Caleb Widogast stepped out of the crowd and sat under the oak with him, “I suppose a criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.” “I suppose I have,” Essek stared at his feet. Caleb offered him some sort of sweet roll wrapped in paper, “I was not talking about you.” He ignored the comment, “How long has it been?  Since we last spoke.” “Four hundred and eighty-six days.  About a year and a half to be informal,” he just set down the roll next to his hand when he didn’t move to take it. “I keep thinking one day it will have been enough time.” “Looking for the specific number will drive you mad.  Are you just going to keep making circles across Wildemount until you feel that you’ve atoned?” Essek took the roll but only held it,  “I know that I cannot make up for everything.  What are you doing here, anyways?” “I have been trying to convince myself to visit.  Maybe try to pay my respects if I can stomach it.  The others had already told me what you were doing, but Astrid told me where you were going.  Figured now was good a time as any,” his expression darkened, the reality beyond the afterglow of a hard-won victory whispering into both their ears. “I-,” Essek started. “Did you know I was from here before you picked it or did you just want to taunt Rexxentrum by hiding in their breadbasket for a while?” Caleb stared him down. “I knew.” “Alright then.” “I hope I have not intruded in some way by coming here.” “I suppose we were both curious about the echo.  It’s right up your alley, prodigious dunamancer and whatnot,” Caleb glanced back up at the revelers before turning his attention back to him “I would not discount your own skill, you’ve picked up dunamancy quite quickly and with a level of skill I have rarely seen.”  Maybe they can just talk about magic. “Danke.” There was an uncomfortable pause in the conversation.

“When do you think-?” Essek tried asking. “I don’t.  I will not pretend to know when enough time will have passed for the past not to hurt us anymore, Essek.  And counting it in teleportation circles will not make it go any faster,” he said, though with the crushing sadness to his eyes of a man who wished he were wrong. “I am trying to make it easier for us to see each other,” he said with easy authority. “It is much easier to see each other when we don’t run off to the four corners,” Caleb added on with a tired chuckle. “What are you implying?”  Something caught between excitement and unease hit him. “I can stay.  Help you finish the circle here, we can leave, make another.  As many circles as we want.  We can have the continent at our fingertips.  Maybe even go back to what remains of Aeor in Eiselcross.  Devexian couldn’t have been the only mechanical inhabitant.  For all we know there is a city of automatons underneath the ice now,” Caleb got more excited and dreamy as he went on, the unbridled excitement of a mage faced with knowledge. “That sounds...nice...,” Essek trailed off, trying to sound as neutral as he could manage. “Do you want that, Essek?”

It felt like the word was tearing its way out of him, “Yes.”

[milstrim]

Comfort in My Shadow

Chapter 2: Right Through You

By @iwritedumbshit for @iron-mum

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Minor Pepper Potts/Tony Stark

Characters: Peter Parker, Tony Stark, Pepper Potts, Ned Leeds, James “Rhodey” Rhodes

Summary: Soulmates are definite in the universe. Nobody knows exactly why they exist, or what dictates who is bonded to who, the only thing known is that they are never wrong. But Peter’s not so sure about that.

Living at the group home had taught Peter a lot about laying low and how to stay alive when nobody cares. But he’d always clung to the hope of the shadow at his feet reflecting his soulmate that had watched over him for years.

Typical that his soulmate is actually a superhero that Peter is convinced shouldn’t want anything to do with him. Maybe, just this once, the Universe was wrong.

But Tony Stark is desperate to prove that it is right.

Ch 1 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

---

"I'm sorry." It was the last thing Spider-Man said before he swung away, swallowed by the darkness of an alleyway. It was a whimpered choke. Fearful.

"No! Wait--" Tony tried to call, but it was too late. The man was gone. No. Not a man. A fifteen year old. Tony glanced down at his shadow and then back at where Spider-Man had disappeared. Spider-Man was his soulmate. And he was fifteen. Tony had to catch himself against the wall as his chest squeezed painfully tight and his throat closed up in panic, barely managing to mutter out, "Jesus Christ. Fifteen."

That was horrifying on an entirely different level than what had just transpired. Not only had his soulmate flinched away from him and then run off the first chance he'd gotten, he was swinging around the streets of New York and putting himself in danger and he was a kid. Did his parents know? Maybe that was why the kid had run off so quickly. He'd freaked out so horribly when he'd realized the time that Tony had to blink away the horrible memories of his own father with his backhanded slaps and harsh words that had stung even more.

Tony sucked in a cold breath as he stared at the spilled hot chocolate mixing with his own dropped coffee. How often had Spider-Man been hurt? On the street or at home? Suddenly all Tony knew was terror at the implication and newfound knowledge of just exactly who his soul was connected to. Just who the shadow that had been with him for fifteen years really had been. And all he knew was the horrible guilt that he clearly wasn't what his soulmate had been looking for. Could soulmates be wrong? Knowing himself, it was possible.

The mechanic shook his head furiously, forcing himself to stop leaning on the wall and take a deep breath. He'd found his soulmate--sort of--and he wasn't about to just let them go that easily. If he could just have one good conversation, preferably without that mask, about their connection, everything would be okay. Or, it could at least be resolved. If the kid didn't want to know him, didn't want to be his soulmate--well...

Tony sniffed, snatching the cups off of the pavement and throwing them in the trash. He'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

Tony began to make his way back to the tower, his steps slow and stumbled, eyes fixated on his shadow whenever it came into view. After a few minutes, the hood disappeared and fuzzy hair took its place. Well, now he knew why his shadow always looked like they were bald in the afternoon and at night.

"Friday," Tony started, his glasses lighting up at the call of his voice. "I need a full search of the city. As in-depth as you can get it. Follow Spider-Man, look for his identity, and focus on kids born on August tenth, 2001."

"There are six hundred thirteen people born on that day currently living in New York."

"Okay, filter out for boys in Queens. Between 5'7" and 5'9."" He paused, thinking about the fingers that he'd seen through Spider-Man's gloves. "Lighter skin, too."

"I have forty-two possible matches."

"Well, it's better than six hundred," Tony sniffed. "Keep an eye on them, and keep a special eye on Spidey. If he looks like he's in a situation he can't handle, alert me. Or just tell me the next time he pops up."

"Of course, sir," Friday agreed. "What shall I file this under?"

Tony mused for a moment. "Create a new file, and place it on my private server. Name it 'The Itsy Bitsy Spider.'"

Hopefully he'd have a face to that protocol soon.

 ---

  Peter stumbled up to the front door of the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys, his breaths quick and furious as he scrambled for a decision. After escaping from Mr. Stark's disappointment, he'd fled across the bridge and eventually found an alleyway to change into where his spidey sense had finally calmed down. Cameras were following Peter now wherever he went as Spider-Man now, he was sure, so he'd had to be painfully and slowly careful. Finding an alleyway out of the sight of any cameras had been simple enough, but it would be relatively easy for Mr. Stark to triangulate his location, so Peter had changed and thrown on a hood and forced himself to become lost in the New York crowd of people on the night shift or party-goers higher than a kite.

So far, the teenager thought he'd managed to get away with it, but he'd have to be more careful about when he went out if he didn't want Mr. Stark to find out who he was. The man already seemed disappointed to find out his soulmate was Spider-Man, he couldn't imagine what realizing it was actually Peter Parker would do to him.

Peter swallowed down the trepidation that bubbled under his skin in boiled anxiety as he shuffled in front of the door to the group home. Maybe Mr. Fowler hadn't realized he was late and he could try and sneak in through the window instead of being caught outside the door. Then again, if he did know, he was likely waiting for Peter to slip in that way and catch him red-handed. The real question was what would end in less punishment?

The teenager's musings were cut short by a spike in spidey sense and the wrenching open of the chipped red door, bringing with it the dangerous stench of stale beer. Mr. Fowler's displeased grin froze Peter to the floor in terror until an outstretched hand reached out and gripped his arm in a vice. "You're late."

Peter held back a wince as he was pulled in through the door, forcing himself to stumble along as the door was slammed shut behind him, rattling the old building. Mr. Fowler dragged him towards the dining room as he rushed to apologize. "Sorry, Mr. Fowler. I--I didn't mean to! I just got caught up on the subway and my phone died and--"

"I've heard that one before," the man snapped. Peter's jaw clamped shut with an audible click. He bit his tongue to keep his feeble excuses from escaping as he was pushed into a chair roughly. The man's hand gripped onto Peter's shoulder painfully tightly, but the liquor on his breath kept the boy glued to the chair more obediently than anything else. "Now where have you actually been, Peter?"

"I-I didn't mean to be late," he tried again. "I was just--"

There was a harsh smack to the back of his head, whipping it forward. Peter winced, but it didn't really hurt, so he forced himself to sit still. He was fine. Mr. Fowler couldn't really hurt him, and even if he did, it didn't matter. Peter would heal. Every bruise he'd ever gotten here had always been gone by the morning.

"Enough with the excuses, Pete," Mr. Fowler ordered. "I just need an answer for the report now that I have to write up your next strike."

Peter flinched. The system at the Queens Pinehill Group Home for Boys was extremely strict. Three strikes and you're out. Peter already had one strike when Mr. Fowler had caught him sneaking an extra snack after dinner. He'd been drunk then too.

Four strikes meant that Peter would be moved to another home for "troubled teens." That he'd attend another school and have to forge a new system of being Spider-Man. And, most importantly, it meant he'd be leaving the younger kids here to Mr. Fowler's wrath by themselves. Peter was the second oldest at the group home of six. Jeremiah was the oldest, but he'd be aging out in barely a month, leaving Peter to try and take care of the others, all no older than twelve.

Peter would heal, they wouldn't. It was as easy as that. But it didn't seem like Peter was going to escape this strike and that he'd have to be careful about even thinking about patrolling for a few weeks. Then again, with Mr. Stark possibly looking for him, maybe it was for the best. And it would just be for a little bit. Just a little bit.

There was a horrible shiver up the teenager's spine, and Peter had to force himself to stay still as there was another slap to his head, this one harder than before. He bit his lip as Mr. Fowler leaned in closer, the staleness of liquor on his breath making the boy's nose crinkle in barely concealed disgust.

"Listen to me when I'm talking to you, son," Mr. Fowler sneered. "Failure to do so can end in another strike, y'know. Two in one day and you'll be shipped off to Jersey tomorrow morning. So?"

Peter took a deep breath through his nose and grit his teeth. He knew what the man wanted to hear. What he wanted to put in Peter's file. It seemed to be a personal pleasure of his to fuck with his file, and all the other boys' really, as much as humanly possible.

"I was out goofing off with some friends. We were smoking and throwing cans at cars and I lost track of time."

Mr. Fowler tutted. "So irresponsible, Pete. I will have to write that up, y'know, and you'll receive the usual grounding. One week. Now why don't you go and head to bed?"

It wasn't a question, so Peter stood shakily and forced himself near the stairs, knowing better than to ask if he'd get some kind of food before he went to sleep. He wouldn't be getting any dinner for the entirety of his grounding anyway. Peter was lucky that he got away without any bruises, instead only escaping with a dull pain in the back of his head.

He slipped up the stairs and into the room he shared with Jeremiah and Tim. Jeremiah had his back turned to Peter, clearly just fixed to keep his head down for the next month, but Tim was sat up straight in bed, bright black eyes staring at Peter in awed worry. The teenager forced himself to look away, instinctively turning to his dull shadow but snapping away from that as well to stare at his bed instead.

"Go to sleep, Tim. You have school tomorrow."

"But, Peter--"

"Go to sleep, Tim," he said again, a little more forcefully this time. Tim stared at him for another painful moment before slipping down under his covers and turning to face the wall opposite Peter. It dragged a stone of guilt into his stomach, but Peter just couldn't at the moment. Even as he changed out of his ratty clothes into even rattier pajamas, the new knowledge of who his shadow really was wouldn't leave.

Peter turned the light off in the hall and closed the door to him and the other boys' room, grateful for the first time in his life to see his shadow disappear. He knew he was being just a little ridiculous, it wasn't like Mr. Stark hated him or anything, at least, Peter didn't think he did. But, well, the teenager was exactly that; a teenager. One that was poor and alone and had superpowers that he used to do little good deeds around his neighborhood. And Mr. Stark was Mr. Stark. The universe had to have been wrong this one time.

And what was worse was that Peter had just run away. He'd acted like an overdramatic romcom character when discovering that their soulmate was the quarterback they hated or something. It was possibly the worst part of all of this.

Peter kept in a sigh as he dropped onto his old mattress, pulling the lumpy covers over himself and squeezed his eyes shut in a half-assed attempt to bully out the pain of hunger in his stomach and the ache of undeserved longing in his heart. He so desperately wanted to be able to know his soulmate, but there was no way that Mr. Stark would be excited to actually know him. Besides, Mr. Stark pushed the Accords, and Peter was an unlicensed vigilante on the street. It was the man's job to find out who he was and turn him in.

Being soulmates didn't change that, even as his vision flashed to show a dark and fancy lab. Well, now he knew why his soulmate had always had such nice stuff.

 ---

"You what?"

"I found my soulmate," Tony snipped. "Keep up, honey bear. You're losing your touch, old man."

Rhodey ignored his comment, still staring at Tony from where he sat on a box in the Avengers common room that was probably filled with either dishes or Avengers gear. Tony passed the colonel a horribly green smoothie that he accepted without complaint, still staring at Tony but this time with a wide smile on his face.

"You really found him? Just walking around Manhattan?" Rhodey asked.

"Well, technically someone was trying to kidnap me, but sure."

"I'm sorry. What?"

"Relax. Everything turned out fine since my soulmate showed up."

Rhodey gave him a look, eyes glancing from the billionaire to the short shadow on the ground. "Your soulmate who is fifteen, saved you from a kidnapping?"

"Well, yeah. But he's got superpowers, so I don't think it was much of a sweat for him."

"Super--who the hell is your soulmate? Is this Twenty Questions? First guess: Ant Man."

"Hardy har," Tony joked. "No, not Lang. It's the spider kid."

Rhodey paused. "You have no idea who he is, do you?"

Tony shrugged, twirling the straw of his own green smoothie for a slight distraction from the fact that his soulmate had flinched and then ran away from him. It had kept him up with an anxiety-filled kind of drive as he'd tried to pick out which of the kid's was his little shadow. He'd only managed to weed out a few of the kids of the forty-something.

"No. He, uh, ran away. Friday's on the job looking for him right now, but he's a slippery one, 'cause, uh, no luck so far."

"I'm sorry, man," Rhodey apologized. "That sucks. Do you...do you know why he ran?"

"Something about a curfew."

"Then maybe he'll be out soon looking for you. Once school is out for the day, of course."

"Yeah. Maybe," Tony agreed, but he thought differently. The shake in the kid's voice, the flinch as he'd ducked away from Tony's hand, and the horrible defensive tenseness when he'd looked away from their switched shadows to look at him. He didn't think Spidey was exactly thrilled, or that he'd be looking for a way to tell the billionaire exactly who he was.

"Any flashes?" Rhodey asked. Tony hummed in confusion. "Since you realized you were soulmates?"

"Oh, uh, just a room last night. I don't know, it was pretty hard to make out." Tony had turned off all the lights in his lab once he'd arrived in it, hoping for some kind of flash of where his soulmate was. It had been reassuring to see the connection still intact, but it wasn't like the dark and bare bedroom had been much help. "I think he has siblings or something. There was another bed in there. Oh, add that to the search engine, Friday."

"Of course, sir. Now down to twenty-eight kids."

Tony smiled. Maybe he was actually getting somewhere.

  ---

"You what?"

"Shut up, Ned," Peter shushed, curling forward in another sit-up to hiss at his best friend who was staring at him in amazement. Ned didn't seem deterred in the slightest, but at least his voice dropped to match Peter's hushed whisper.

"I can't shut up. I'll never be able to shut up again! You met Tony Stark last night! This is the greatest day of my life."

"It really wasn't that big of a deal," Peter lied. He had conveniently left out the part where the billionaire was his soulmate, and considering Ned's reaction of his just meeting the guy, Peter was going to keep that to himself for the time being. Or forever. Whichever came first. Ned continued to stare at him in astonishment, and Peter relented as he curled up again. "Okay, it was pretty cool. He bought me a drink."

"What, like a beer?"

"No, Ned, a hot chocolate."

"Ohhh. That makes more sense."

"Yeah," Peter agreed. "And keep it down. Please? I don't need anyone thinking I drank last night. Mr. Fowler already put a new load of bullshit on my record and you know all the teachers get updates on the shit I do."

Ned's eyes darkened. "He gave you another strike?"

"Yeah," Peter panted, curling up faster as anxiety pumped underneath his skin. "My fault. Stupid. Shouldn't have been late."

"How late were you?"

"Like, ten minutes I think."

Ned spluttered, "But it was just ten minutes!"

"Mr. Fowler's a rule stickler," he half-truthed. Ned didn't need to know how shitty his group home leader was. "I'll just have to be more careful for a while and get back on his good side." Like Mr. Fowler had a good side. "It'll be fine in another week or two."

Ned clearly wanted to protest more, his friend was always so suspicious of Mr. Fowler and so insistent that Peter should just tell the man that he was Spider-Man and that he was helping people. Well, Ned thought they should tell everyone that he was Spider-Man, clearly thinking that it would help him get away with late assignments or missing curfew, but really it would only succeed in him getting arrested. Besides, now that Mr. Stark might be looking for him, he was determined more than ever to keep his identity safe.

Coach Wilson passed by, complementing, "Looking good, Parker."

Peter slowed down, faking a tired grimace and just wishing with every fiber of his being that PE would be over soon.

"So I guess that's a no on Liz's party, then?" Ned asked. Peter turned away from watching Coach Wilson walk away to stare at his friend.

"Liz is having a party?"

"Yeah? She talked about it last decathlon practice. Were you not paying attention?"

"I guess not. My bad," he mumbled. "Is it tonight?"

"Yeah, but you're probably in trouble aren't you?"

"Yeah," Peter agreed, thinking about the dinner he was going to miss tonight. Then again, if he went to the party, not only would Liz be there, but there'd probably be some snacks too. "But my curfew doesn't change."

"It doesn't?"

"I don't think it ever will. Like I said, Mr. Fowler is a stickler for rules, and the curfew is his favorite. It's completely unmovable in his mind."

"Weird."

"Yeah. He's pretty strange," Peter agreed. "So, what time tonight?"

"Seven, I think. And anyway, remember my idea about telling everyone that you're--"

"No, Ned. We're not telling people that I'm--" he lowered his voice dramatically, "--that I'm Spider-Man."

Ned pouted. "Fine. But could you, I don't know, appear as Spider-Man?"

"What? Why?"

"C'mon! Think about how cool it would be if you dropped down and were like, 'Hey, Ned! Whattup? Where's my buddy, Peter? 'Cause we're besties and I'm a cool superhero!' Wouldn't that be cool!?"

Peter stared.

"Ned, literally no one cares about Spider--"

"Now, see, for me, it would be F Thor, marry Iron Man, and kill Hulk," came the voice of the girl's sitting on the bleachers. Peter and Ned turned to listen.

"Well, what about the Spider-Man?" Charles asked.

"It’s just Spider-Man," Betty replied. Peter raised an eyebrow at Ned in a way that meant, See?

"Did you guys see the bank security cam on YouTube? He fought off four guys," Liz argued, her voice climbing just a little higher. Peter's eyes widened.

"Oh my God, she’s crushing on Spider-Man."

"No way."

Liz shrugged, tugging a strand of hair behind her ear. "Kind of?"

Peter turned back to Ned. "Yeah. Okay, sure, I'll bring the suit."

  ---

"Thank you, Mrs. Leeds!" Peter called, waving at the woman through her beat up green Toyota. She waved back at him and Ned with a cheery smile.

"See you two boys later! I'll be back at nine to make sure you're home on time, Peter."

"Thank you!" he said again as she drove off.

"Bye, Mom!" Ned said. There were a few looks sent their way, but Peter didn't really care. Even when Flash liked to humiliate him in front of the other kids at school, Peter never felt more than surface level embarrassment. He was past the point of caring about high school drama, but Ned ducked his head nervously, readjusting his new hat. His friend turned to him and whispered, "Dude, you have the suit right?"

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Peter gestured to his backpack. "Yeah."

"This is gonna change our lives," Ned squeed as they stepped up the driveway. Liz had a large house on a well-lit street in the suburbs. He could see even more colorful lights inside, just as bright as the music was, and anxiety rolled in his chest. He didn't care about what other people thought of him, he really didn't, but he couldn't stop the nerves at such an unfamiliar environment.

Peter stared down at his shadow on instinct, searching for comfort in the familiar fluffy hair. Catching himself, he forced himself to turn away and stare forward as he stepped through the door behind Ned.

He almost stumbled back as the noise hit him. There was the movement of chatter and the blaring of shitty and loud music. Peter stared as some girls walked past, swallowing nervously as his gaze went from them, to Flash DJ-ing, and then landing on Michelle, who glared at them as she spread jam on a piece of toast.

"Can’t believe you guys are at this lame party," she said. Peter frowned in confusion.

"But you’re here too," Ned said, confused hesitation taking up his voice.

"Am I?" And then she stalked away. Peter and Ned glanced at each other in confusion.

Ned recovered first, tapping his backpack. "Okay, anyway, we’re gonna have Spider-Man swing in, say you guys are tight, and then I get a fist bump or one of those half bro-hugs and--"

"Oh, my gosh!"

Ned was cut off as Peter turned away from him to look at Liz. Redness flushed onto his cheeks as she approached them with a wide smile and a red cup in her hand.

"Hey, guys. Cool hat, Ned."

"Hi, Liz," Ned said with a wave.

"Hi, Liz," he said, cursing himself as his voice broke immediately.

"I’m so happy you guys came. There’s pizza and drinks. Help yourself."

Peter's stomach rumbled at the thought, but he forced it down with a smile and a warbled, "What a great party."

"Thanks," Liz smiled. There was the shattering of glass, making her turn sheepishly. "Oh, I... My parents will kill me if anything’s broken. I gotta--"

"Yeah."

"Have fun," she said, hurrying away. Ned turned to him furiously, gesturing to where the senior had left.

"Dude, what are you doing? She’s here. Spider it up."

Like a flip had been switched, Peter remembered that Iron Man was probably looking for him. No way he could get away with showing himself at a high school party. This would be all over social media in barely an hour. "No, no, no. I can’t... I cannot do this. Spider-Man is not a party trick, okay? Look, I’m just gonna...be myself."

"Peter, no one wants that."

"Dude," Peter snapped, but even as he walked away, he knew it was true. He thought of the image of Mr. Stark's face when he'd realized they were soulmates.

Now more than a little out of it, the teenager finally made his way through the house, searching desperately for wherever the pizza was. He didn't make it very far down the hall when there was the screech of his name over a microphone.

"Penis Parker, what’s up?!" Flash yelled over the microphone. People turned to stare at Peter and Ned, sneers or sympathetic smiles decorating their faces. Peter tensed, glancing over to Ned. "Thought you were stuck at the group home! And didn't you know you were supposed to dress nicely for a party?"

Ned gave Peter a look, and that was how the superpowered teen ended up on the roof in his shitty superhero costume with his mask in hand as he chewed his lip in jittered fear.

"Hey, what’s up?" he said in a deepened voice, grabbing his mask from the bag and straightening it out. "I’m Spider-Man. Just thought I’d swing by and say hello to my buddy Peter. Oh, what’s up, Ned? Hey, where’s Peter, anyways? He must be around..." Peter sighed, dropping his hands and digging his fingers into the mask as his brows furrowed. "God, this is stupid. What am I doing?"

Peter stared from the roof down at where Ned was waiting, looking around anxiously, his friend's shadow bright underneath the lights. He glanced out of the corner of his eye down at where his own was scrunched beside him, wondering what Mr. Stark was doing right now. Maybe he was doing cool Iron Man stuff in the lab he'd had a flash of. Maybe...maybe he was wondering what Peter was doing too.

Just as he was about to sigh about how unlikely that was, there was the sound of a distant crash and a plume of bright blue. He began to push himself up, leaning forward to try and get a better look at the thing as his senses rang.

"What the hell?"

Peter stuffed on his mask and swung away, making his way through the neighborhood. After running across an embarrassingly long golf course, the sprinklers biting against his skin with the freezing water, he finally arrived at where he'd seen the blue smoke. Spider-Man dipped himself low, clinging to a small bridge and popping his head around the corner.

There were three men, a broken down old car, and a classic kidnapper white van. Peter watched as one guy whooped at the explosion that burst out from the weapon in his hand against the car. The two other men cringed back as he flinched at the bright light. The man returned to the van, putting the gun down and grabbing another one. It looked extremely similar to the one that had been used against Mr. Stark last night.

"Now, this is crafted from a reclaimed sub-Ultron arm straight from Sokovia. Here. You try."

The guy passed the weird arm-gun to the man with curly hair, who examined it in confused disdain. "Man, I wanted something low-key. Why are you trying to upsell me, man?"

"Okay, okay, okay. I got what you need, all right?" the guy placated, moving back to look through the van. "I got tons of great stuff here. One sec. Okay, I got, uh, black hole grenades, Chitauri railguns..."

"You letting off shots in public now? Hurry up," the tallest one warned. He stepped up to the curly haired guy. The buyer, Peter guessed. "Look, times are changing. We’re the only ones selling these high tech weapons."

"Oh, so this is where bad guys are getting their stuff," Peter whispered to his shadow out of habit. He shook his head, glaring forward and away from where Mr. Stark's silhouette extended.

"I need something to stick up somebody. I’m not trying to shoot them back in time," the buyer complained.

"I got anti-grav climbers," the guy at the van suggested. That seemed to finally get the third man's attention.

"Yo, climbers?"

And then, of course, Peter's phone rang. Immediately guns were drawn, clicking towards the buyer as Peter tore his phone out of his pocket, almost swearing as he caught sight of Ned's caller ID and shutting it off.

"Okay, what the hell was that?"

"Did you set us up?"

"Hey, hey, man."

His senses ringing, Peter dropped from the bridge, catching the men's attention. "Hey! Hey, come on. You gonna shoot at somebody, shoot at me."

"All right."

The gun clicked towards him. Peter shot a web, tearing the gun away, and then ran forward. His senses spiked and then pain jolted through Peter as something bright smashed against his face. It launched the teenager straight into the leg of the bridge, the concrete crumpling under his force. He groaned in pain, forcing himself onto his elbows.

"What the hell?" he muttered. The revving of an engine tore his head to where the van was beginning to drive off. He shot a web to the back of the van, attempting to stick to the ground but only succeeding in being dragged away and onto the harsh road, eliciting a surprised yelp from the high schooler.

Spider-Man shot another web in an attempt to right his balance, gritting his teeth as the road tore at his skin. The van dragged him around, swerving intentionally and smacking Peter through at least five trash cans before finally losing him into a pillar of solid brick. He groaned in pain even as he pushed himself to his feet and shot another web. It attached to the door, ripping it to the ground with a metal screech. Peter threw his hands up in exasperation.

"Great! Guess I'm gonna have to take a shortcut."

Peter leaped over a car into a yard and then a few more yards. At least there was a cute dog, but he wished he'd had more time to play with it.

The superhero stumbled along after scaring a couple of girls--his bad, but they'd get over it eventually. Hopefully--diving over a fence and skimming over a pool in a crowd of people that stared at him in gawked surprise. He called, "Great movie!" before swinging up with a tree and landing just a little too hard on a nearby roof. He panted heavily even as he kept going. He caught sight of the white van.

"Almost got you," he said to himself. "Thought you got away from me, didn’t you? I got you right where I want you. Surprise!"

Finally close enough, Peter leaped from the roof. His spine shivered, his hairs raised, and his heart leaped in fear as metal claws clamped down around him. Peter screamed hoarsely, twisting in midair as he was propelled away from the ground at a frightening speed. "AgH! What the hell!!??"

Peter barely took in the large wings, instead focusing on digging his hands around the metal claws clenched around his ankle. Whoever the bird guy was, he certainly didn't appreciate it. Haunting green eyes met Peter's wide white. His heart beat rapidly. How high up was he? The ground below looked so tiny. At least there was water under him.

And then he wasn't so thankful as the metal digging into his feet released all of the sudden. Peter screamed as he fell, twisting in midair as he searched desperately for an escape. The water underneath him grew closer and closer and there was nothing for Peter to grab onto. Nothing to web. Oh no, oh no, oh no oh no oh no--

Peter slapped against the surface. All the air was forced from his lungs as he was carried under by the lapping waves.

 ---

  "Sir--" Friday started. Tony didn't look up from where he was writing out code that he'd been pouring over for hours, going through every idea and web combination imaginable.

"Please don't turn down my music, honey," Tony said, swiveling in his rolly chair and wheeling over to the table where the webs he was in the process of replicating were beginning to formulate. He was on his fourth attempt now, and he was getting close. "I'm working."

"I am operating under the Itsy Bitsy Spider protocol."

Tony readjusted his glasses, turning away from where he was stirring the sticky formula to glance at the hologram of the suit. He'd been wondering when the kid would show up again. He hadn't been out all afternoon. "Yeah? What's up?"

In response, Friday popped up a video. It was clearly shot through a phone, shakily recording the kid skimming off of a pool before launching himself in the air. It dragged an amused smile from Tony, but it dropped as the next video played.

This one was clearly a security camera from the suburbs. The video was only a couple seconds long as a shuddering white van sped past the house, smoke flying from behind it. There was a bright purple shot and then Tony finally managed to catch sight of the bright red and blue suit being dragged along. Tony turned to his shadow, staring at where the hood was pulled up.

"What the hell have you gotten yourself into now, kid?" he asked it. "How old is this video?"

"Barely a minute."

Tony glanced at the unfinished suit and then back at the video playing on a loop. He guessed the suit would have to wait.

"Get me Mark Forty-Eight and take me to where this video was taken. Quickly, dear."

The suit activated across the room, stepping out of its case and allowing for Tony to be covered by it. The screen lit up immediately, his path highlighted to where the nearest window had opened. Tony shot out into the New York night, his heart beating rapidly. The kid had to be okay, right? He probably dealt with weird shit all the time.

The thought didn't stop the mechanic from being nervous. The kid was fifteen after all. He wasn't exactly equipped for this kind of thing.

It took barely a couple of minutes for Tony to arrive at the street where the video had been taken. There was a burn mark on the road, but no Spidey, and no sign of that van. He hovered, scanning for where the kid could be.

"Heat signatures, Fri. Give me something to work with."

His screen lit up, orange and red figures milling about in houses. There were a few people walking streets over, a car roving by slowly, a clash of body heat that made him think of a party, and a red dot hurtling out of the air ever closer to the river. Wait--

Tony fixated on where the red dot was slowly approaching the water, his heart pounding. "What is that? Friday, zoom in."

The video clipped towards the red dot, and Tony gasped as he recognized a body twisting through the air. And not just any body.

Spidey.

His thrusters whined before forcing the suit forward towards the dot that had disappeared from view. He turned in air, hovering over the body of water, before glancing down with a fearful swallow. A heat signature was illuminated.

"Kid," he gasped.

Tony dove down immediately and broke through the water's surface. It was dark underneath, but he could make out where the kid was. He wrapped his metal arms under the kid's armpits before shooting back into the blissfully cold air.

"I've got you, kid. I've got you."

Spidey didn't respond.

Ch 1 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8

[viseralantlers]

old friend (c!karl jacobs x reader)

takes place in episode 5 of tales ! The wild west one !

warnings: Injury, swearing, character death

Request: nope!

note: using Kit as the alternate name to avoid confusion and follow how the time travel thing works kinda !!!! If you don’t like it feel free to pick another one and fill it in ! I was mostly trying to keep it gender-neutral !! Sorry if it makes it difficult to understand : (

John led Karl around the small town to pick up people to help stop the hostile bandits he had the pleasure to meet when he first entered the saloon just a few hours ago. Now an eccentric band of characters were leaving William’s shop to head to their last stop, the bakery. 

“Alright, so this is Kit!” John spoke with a slight drawl as Karl watched hesitantly as a head peaked up from behind the counter that had been covered in fresh loaves of bread. Karl paused at the sight, it was y/n. It couldn’t be, they had died on doomsday. He felt frozen to his spot as he studied their every move. Karl knew deep down that this wasn’t y/n. He’d seen these past versions, relatives of sorts. of his friends, but he’d never seen anyone that had looked like y/n. It had always been sapnap or technoblade, it was as if y/n died not only in the present but in every past he traveled to.

“Huh” they said as they wiped the flour from their hands on a black apron that had been tied around their neck and torso, stepping around to the group. 

“Hey, Kit!” John was cut off as y/n jumped into a question.

“John, I thought you already picked up your stock for this week?”  John scratched the back of his neck feeling Percy’s stare digging into the back of his head due to his newly revealed spending habits. Y/n, now Kit, continued talking before abruptly pausing when they finally noticed the crowd that had accumulated in their small bakery. “What’s all this about?” They said with a hint of anxiety slipping into their voice.

“Nothing to be worried about!” Karl jumped into action at the sign of y/n’s trepidation “We just wanted to ask if you wanted to help us take down those old democrat haters.” Karl nervously laughed.

“Oh! Yea, for sure bucko, I hate those guys as much as the next one of y’all.” They smile, a steady joyful expression breaking their former nervous demeanor. Karl felt strangely sick at the sight, at how much it reminded him of his old friend, or more so crush, before their passing. Though he also noted the change in your speech as a strong southern accent slipped in every once in a while, even using the word y’all.

“Good to hear, Kit!” John said happily as y/n and William shared a small conversation talking about stock and sales in the recent weeks. Karl trailed behind the group as he watched y/n converse with the crowd, their face filled with a wide smile, even daring to talk with Crops as if he wasn’t a convicted cannibal. They seemed as kind as ever, as an addicting presence as they used to be when the two lived together in L’manberg.

“Hey Karl!” y/n practically beamed at him as he passed them on the wooden prime path as tommy affectionately called it. “Niki and I made this new bakery together wanna come check it out!” They singsonged already reaching to grab at Karl’s sleeve. They smelled like freshly baked bread, their face dusted with a soft blush from the exertion of baking.

“Yea, sure!” Karl granted them his hand letting y/n pull him in to waste an entire day tasting pastries and sweets. He went home that night with flour handprints on his back and a warm feeling in his chest. 

“Great shot!” Karl was pulled out of his trance as he watched Michael whiff the target by a few feet. Shaking his head he studied each member shoot with varying success. Though what really caught his eye was an aim that only rivaled y/n’s own coming from who John had called Kit, the baker that smiled exactly as y/n had every time he whispered a bordering on senseless joke into their ear on party island. He struggled to solidify the name Kit in his head as he watched Kit stick out their tongue as they focused their aim and hit a perfect bullseye. Kit smiled to themselves before they followed the party to the tents surrounding a warm crackling fire.

“Hey, Kit, right? Sorry I’m just never very good with names.” Karl said as he settled down beside the sweet-smelling baker. 

“Yep!” They chirped with a relaxed face as they studied the flicking fire as it reached up towards the open sky.  “Need something?” They asked turning to Karl. Karl blushed at the eye contact not knowing why he started the conversation in the first place.

“No, no, no,,, uh nothing, I just wanted to say good shooting back there I guess.” He laughed to himself playing with the ends of his sleeves.

“Thank you very much, kind stranger! Just a little hobby I picked up after they built that old shooting range. You know, I don’t think I ever caught your name back in my store?”

“It’s Karl.”

“Karrlllllllll” Kit drew out with a goofy face focusing on the l “Pretty name!” Karl felt stuck in time as the interaction mirrored one he had had with y/n.

“Kaaarrrrrrllllllll! Did I ever tell you your name is pretty?” Karl looked at y/n confused.

“No, but ,,,, I wouldn't quite call it that.” He blushed looking down at his feet. 

“I would.” y/n nodded affirmatively “cause it’s Karl, not Carl, it’s pretty,,,,,, your pretty,, really.” y/n laughed at they looked up at the lazily passing clouds with a gentle smile plastered on their relaxed face. 

Karl laughed away the small compliment after he looked back up into Kit’s e/c eyes as the group broke into talking about the coming showdown between the two sides.

“Kit, I think you should fight, Mason. You have the best shot out of us aside from me, of course.” Sherif Thompson spoke. 

“That’s okay with me! Anything to stop those guys from ruining my pastries really.” Kit said as their interest was engulfed by the warmth from the fire once again. Karl felt fear dig its way into his chest as he looked at Kit’s side profile remembering the last time he had seen them like this. 

“Karl go to your library, please. The grid can’t reach it” y/n called to Karl over the never-ending sounds of explosions and falling rubble. “I’ll be okay, I got my bow and my charisma.” y/n chuckled sadly.

“Come down with me! We can be safe together. This isn’t worth it, y/n!” Karl begged as he yelled over to their figure standing tall knowing they were on their last life, knowing that they were not going to go with Karl, knowing this could end in tragedy. Y/n turned  with fresh tears trailing down their cheeks. 

“This is my home, Karl.”

“I know.” Karl resigned to the fact that you weren’t gonna come with him. Weren’t gonna cower as L’manburg breathed its final breath full of smoke. “I love you.” He yelled as they gave a brave smile jumping down to join the fray. He had imprinted the side profile of their face as they stood solemn, lit by the cloudy sky and the flashes of explosions.

Suddenly it was high noon. Tension building in Karl’s chest as he called out the paces studying Kit walk away from Mason. The track record had been 2-0 he could only hope it would remain so positive.

1

Y/n had died from an arrow.

2

An arrow through the chest.

3

It had been thought to have been shot from Dream’s grid.

4

No one knew who did it. There was no way to know.

5

They bled out at the bottom of the crater,

6

alone,

7

As Karl huddled in the library,

8

Eyes shut tight.

9

Karl knew that in some twisted way, he might as well of fired that arrow himself. 

10

FIRE!

They both fell to the ground, Mason dying upon impact due to the arrow directly piercing his heart. Kit wasn’t as lucky, the arrow had hit it’s target, but not quite a bullseye, the tip was lodged into their upper thigh. 

“y/n!” Karl called out in a panic, the strange name not lost to the group around him. He rushed to Kit’s side as tears freely flowed down his face. “Does anyone have a potion?” Kit stared at him in confusion.

“Hey, I’ll be fine, not an artery or anything, just hurts.” they gave Karl a soft smile trying to reassure him of the small injury not being lethal.

“Yea, yea, sorry, I just.”

“y/n’s dead, Karl.” Quackity said as he walked into the secret room of the library that was hidden behind the bookshelf full of y/n’s favorite classics. Karl was frozen in fear as he studied Quackity’s face for any sign of this being some sick sadistic joke. He only found sorrow and loss.

“No, no, y/n, will be here any second! The fight is over, and they are okay, right? Right?” Karl begged Quackity as he felt his hands begin to shake, his breaths becoming ragged. Quackity sat down beside him letting Karl curl into his side. Karl hand’s gripped to his shirt as he sobbed. Quackity knew he couldn’t stop Karl’s pain, but he could comfort him through it.

“I guess, you just reminded me of an old friend.”

[ashintheairlikesnow]

May we humbly request Jake and Kauri spice with Jake letting Kauri lay back and relax while he makes him feel safe and good and payed attention to with him caring about what Kauri likes😌😭

CW: Consensual spice, probably rated R. Some discussion of past trauma/noncon, some crass flirty bits at the end

“This is stupid,” Kauri says, sitting up. His nose is slightly wrinkled and his curls are a wild riot around his face, and Jake thinks he looks like a painting of some sort of debased angel, bundled into the comforter on a hotel bed, leaving bits of grace everywhere he goes.

Jake doesn’t think shit like that often, and mostly he keeps it to himself when he does. Bad poetry isn’t something he’s proud of, although sometimes it pops into his mind. 

He thinks it now.

“Seriously. Just... let’s just do the normal stuff,” Kauri says, a little uneasy. Normally Kauri blooms with eyes on him, is a bright and shining blur on the dance floor, a surprisingly deep laugh in the corner at a bar, sparkling blue eyes trained on whoever he’s set his sights on.

But things are definitely different now. And it’s Jake who has his sights set on him.

“If you want to, sure,” Jake says easily, sitting down at the edge of the bed. Kauri’s fingers fiddle nervously with the comforter, one of those thick fluffy blankets in every hotel in America, indistinguishable from one another.  “But I want to try this. I know it’s not what you’re used to. If you don’t want to, no problem, we won’t. But you know pretty much everything I like-”

“Yeah I do,” Kauri says, teasing slightly, glancing up long enough to give Jake the slight, sincere smile he’s hoping for. Not his wide false assurance, not papering over fear. Just genuinely a little nervous, and letting Jake see it. 

“Right. And I don’t know much about what you like, what you want.”

Kauri frowns, just a little, picking at a loose thread. “I want what you want.”

“No, you don’t.” 

Jake’s words are gentle, barely breathed reassurance, and still Kauri looks at him with furrowed brows. What matters is that he’s not hiding it. What matters is that he’s letting Jake see his trepidation. “Or I mean-... you have your own wants, Kauri. There’s parts of you that will feel better, to you, than other places. I’d like to try and learn them.”

Kauri’s pause draws out between them with tangible weight, but he doesn’t look down this time. 

“You can say no,” Jake reminds him, reading the slight tension as easily as he ever has the smile. “Say no, at any time, and it stops. Immediately. No cajoling, no begging, no manipulating, nothing. I stop and we watch some TV and order a pizza and just, like, hang out in bed and that’s that. Okay?”

Kauri licks at his lips and looks at the TV - playing some nonsense show on the Food Network neither of them cares about - and then back to Jake. “No hard feelings?”

“None.” Jake leans over, and carefully lays his hand over Kauri’s. Kauri’s fingers are thin and nimble, long when compared to his height, and a little cold. But he flips his hand over under Jake’s and grips on.

“Yeah,” Kauri says, after a pause. “Okay. I can say no, if I want.”

“Yep. Any time you’re feeling anything less than enthusiastic ‘yes’, say no and we’ll take a break or stop. Agreed?”

Kauri, who knows just about everything you can do in bed and who normally doesn’t shy from describing those things to anyone who asks, is a little flushed, embarrassed at the idea of being the center of attention that is focused on pleasing him, rather than using him.

Jake is careful. He waits for Kauri to think it through, and really - he got the hotel room just for fun, just to get out of the house for a couple nights. Pizza and TV and snuggling in bed is just as good for him as anything else could be. 

Kauri’s eyes search his - blue on blue, always - and he must read the sincerity there, because finally he smiles, sincere and sweet, and says, “Okay. Um. Yes.”

“Lay down for me,” Jake says, giving his hand one more squeeze, and watches Kauri shift onto his back on the bed, curls splayed out around his head like a halo. 

Jake starts with simple kissing, hands to his face, knees on either side of Kauri’s hips, leaning over him as they pull the comforter over the both of them, the AC running with a low hum against the window, the sunset settling a gleam of orange and red along the gray-beige walls of the room, cutting streaks of light over the bland corporate artwork in cheap frames on the walls. 

Kauri hums into the kiss, content with it, and Jake lets himself luxuriate in the warmth and press of soft skin to his, the answering tongue that meets his own, finally the soft, sweet sound that Kauri makes unconsciously. Not a performance, not put on to show someone how much fun he’s having - just Kauri actually enjoying the sensation.

Only then does Jake move, shifting his weight onto his elbows, one hand lightly curved around one thin shoulder, trailing kisses to Kauri’s cheek, grazing teeth along the line of his jaw. It’s all careful, nothing too much, nothing painful.

If Kauri were to say, I’m not trained for pain, that would be all the no Jake ever had to hear. He’s heard it from a Kauri scared of other men more than enough. If he can help it, those words will never be aimed at him.

Kauri’s breath hitches when Jake’s mouth presses lightly to a spot just under his ear, thin skin of his throat. Jake pauses, breathing warm air on the spot, feeling Kauri shiver and the way his hips shift unconsciously. 

“Good?” Jake asks, carefully. 

“G-Good,” Kauri whispers, and his hand slides up over Jake’s bicep, his shoulder, up his neck and around behind his head to run those thin fingers through Jake’s short hair. He rolls his hips again, and turns his head to the side. Jake catches the smile on his face. “Do... do that again.”

Jake lowers his head, and feels the slightest pressure of Kauri’s palm against the nape of his neck, pushing him back. 

He lingers there for a while, in that spot, and then moves to Kauri’s earlobe, to the shell of his ear, licking over the small black stud that Kauri got with Chris a few months ago, then back down his neck and over to the other side.

Kauri tips his head back, baring his throat to Jake’s mouth, and both hands find their way into his hair when Jake kisses the twisted, pale scar across his collarbone, the visible sign Kauri will always wear that he once decided it was better to risk death than spend his life locked away.

How you can make that choice - to lay out a trash bag and dunk a knife into boiling water and hold it over a flame, how you can with determination remove something that was forced into you by trained surgeons, how you can bleed and bleed and keep running - and not see yourself as brave, Jake won’t ever know.

But he can appreciate the goddamn courage it took for Kauri to open the car door and run.

And he can lick along the edges of the scar with all his adoration and awe on open display. 

Kauri’s soft, quiet hitches of breath move into low sounds, not quite moans, quieter than that. Acknowledgements of pleasure, given not as performance, but in the quieter way that Kauri has when he’s feeling something for real, and he’s not falling back on trained responses to show it.

“Good?” Jake asks, again and again. He asks it over Kauri’s collarbone, and down his chest. Kauri says yes to the scar, and maybe, maybe n-not to sensitive spaces on his chest. 

“No?” Jake looks up, then, sees Kauri’s eyes on his, watching him with fervent intensity. 

“Not no,” Kauri breathes. “But maybe not, um, not there-... Owen u-used to-... to make it h-hurt-”

“No is good,” Jake reassures him, softly. “You don’t have to justify it, Kaur. No is good.”

Kauri swallows, hard - Jake watches his Adam’s apple shift and move with the effort. Then softly, he says, “Um, n-no, to there.”

“Gotcha. No problem.” Before he can try and take it back, Jake shifts back and away, and moves further down. The stomach is a good place, he discovers, and the hipbones are, too. Kauri’s hips are more rounded than they used to be when he lived entirely on one or two meals a day, tops. He feels stronger, now that he’s not running. His body feels less fragile, less like Jake could crack it apart without knowing simply with the touch of his hands. 

Kauri’s hips move upwards in a rolling motion, searching for the direct friction that Jake has so far denied him. His sounds are getting louder, but in a way that isn’t purposeful or carefully constructed. Jake nuzzles into the seam where thigh and pelvis meet and hears a high-pitched whimper of pleasure, his own body stirring in response.

Jake looks up, resting his chin on Kauri’s stomach lightly, feeling the fingers tighten their grip in his hair. The comforter is over him, and when Kauri glances down, he laughs out loud at the sight of Jake looking up at him from under the blanket.

His laughter is so fucking gorgeous.

“How often do you laugh, during?” Jake asks, and one of his hands shifts down so he can run it slowly up the hardness he can feel growing, pressing into his chest where he lays over Kauri. 

“Almost never,” Kauri breathes. “But you look fucking ridiculous.”

Jake grins, bites his own lower lip, and catches the sparkle in Kauri’s eyes, real and infectious, comfortably wanting. “Do I, now? Hm, maybe I should get up-”

“Don’t you dare get me all worked up and stop, jackass,” Kauri says, groaning as he drops his head back down. 

“Green light, then?” Jake asks, and Kauri blinks and raises his head to look at him again.

“What?”

“Do I have the green light, so far? Am I good if I go down on you, Kaur?”

Kauri blinks at him, openly baffled. His thumbs massage just behind Jake’s ears, a deeply, gently pleasurable sensation. “I don’t-... no one’s ever asked me that.”

“Well, I’m asking. Green means go, red means do something else, or nothing at all, and either is good. Is it okay if I go down on you?”

Kauri looks at him in silence for another long moment, and then he smiles. “Um. Yeah. I want you to.”

“Really?”

“Really.” Kauri considers, and then he relaxes under Jake, hands moving back into his hair. “Um. Green light, Jake.” His hands start pushing Jake’s head down. “I want you to.”

Jake smiles as he moves down to take Kauri into his mouth.

Then-

“Hey, ow! Teeth, Jake! Teeth!”

“Sorry.” Jake kisses at his hip sheepishly. “I’ve only gone down on like... three guys ever, and two of those guys we were not sober at the time. I don’t think I’m very good at it.”

“Well, if you had told me that before...” Kauri laughs again and then braces himself up on his elbows, watching Jake look up at him from under the blanket. “Okay. Listen. I want-... I want to tell you what to do.”

Jake breathes out, his own body lit up with desire at Kauri’s husky deep voice, and at the reality of what he’s saying. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I want to-... I want you to go down on me. That’s what I want. I’ll tell you how to do it. Okay?” Kauri’s voice tips into hesitation again, at the end. 

Jake looks up at him - blue on blue, always. “Only if you want that, Kauri.”

“I do. I, um. I do want that.” Kauri smiles at him. “I want-... I want to tell you how to make me feel-... I want you to know.”

“Green light?”

“Green light,” Kauri says, softly. “I love you, okay?”

Jake moves up to kiss him in a rush, and their sort of bump from it being unexpected, and Kauri laughs into the kiss, and Jake could do this forever. “I love you, too, Kaur.”

“Good. You should, I’m amazing-”

“You are amazing.”

“Stop. I was kidding, Jake.”

“I’m not.”

“... just get your mouth back between my legs so I can show you what to do.”

Kauri’s hands are back in his hair, and Jake has never felt happier. If Kauri is an angel once brought low by desire, Jake is a man whose never-ending anger has been undone by love.

He doesn’t think bad poetry often. He thinks it now.

With the weight and heat of Kauri in his mouth, though, even bad poetry falters and all that’s left is his knowledge that he’d be happy to hear Kauri laugh in bed and tell him what to do for the rest of his life.

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary