#missed a couple days but had to swoop in for the finish lest i be haunted into the new year

[mo-ok]

tokucember day 31 crossover

jan and his dad(s)

(one of the best robot songs ever)

[lizbotw]

Oikawa, Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma, and Nishinoya With a S/O that Has a RBF and Can Be Moody

Anonymous said:

Hi! Can you do Oikawa, Akaashi, Kuroo, Kenma, and Noya with an S/o that has a resting bitch face and gives off a strong “dont talk to me” aura when moody or tired?

hey! these took me a while to finish so i hope you like them ♡

Oikawa Tooru

He’s used to people praising his personality, all sweet words and thoughtful gifts. What he wasn’t used to was someone other than Iwaizumi blowing a fuse in response to his actions, especially if it was over something miniscule.

You had forgotten your water bottle in the gym after your daily P.E. class, but with your lunch period having already passed, you had no choice but to wait until the end of the school day to go pick it up, lest you get scolded by a teacher for “skipping class” and going to do something deemed “unnecessary” during their precious class time.

And so you impatiently waited out the last few classes of the afternoon before you hurried to the gym, hoping that no one had moved your bottle. (If you had to go run to the lost and found because someone had placed it there, you swore you would just about scream—you were tired and wanted to go home, plus the extra time spent going on a wild goose chase for the object meant you might actually miss your ride home if you didn’t hurry).

You shoved open the gym doors unceremoniously—after-school sports clubs were already gathering in the room for their pre-practice warmups—and you kept your eyes focused on the area in front of you, wanting to get in and out quickly.

You squinted a little at the familiar shape in your line of sight. Ah! There it is. In the distance you could make out your water bottle resting upon the same bench you had left it on, and you jogged over to it, swooping it up and slinging your backpack down and off of your shoulders in one movement. Your bag landed on the bench with a thump and the hiss of the zipper when you tugged the main compartment of the bag open were all you were focused on.

While you were shoving around a few books in your bag, trying to make room to squeeze the water bottle in, you failed to notice the intense stare you had earned from one of the very sports players you had ignored on your way in.

“Hey! Can I help you?” A chipper, smooth voice was the culprit.

You whirled around at the sound, water bottle half shoved into your already overcrowded bag.

Just your luck. The infamously chatty Oikawa Tooru had been the one to seek your company the one time you were actually in a rush. Resident pretty boy and captain of the volleyball team—of course you knew who he was.

His smile was charming and even in his normal workout clothes, you had to admit he still looked good.

And you also had to admit that while any other day this would have been a great conversation to have, right now you were so over it.

You ignored his attempt at conversation and focused on finishing up here and leaving, turning back to your bag and silently praying for the water bottle to just go in.

He was taken aback by your lack of response, but, never one to give up, he tried again.

Next to you on the bench, he gently placed down the small towel he had slung over one shoulder, along with his own water bottle, looking at you out of the corner of his eye as he set them down—he kept his grin on, although it was beginning to waver at your lack of reaction.

“This is the volleyball bench, so that’s why I was wondering if you needed something. We don’t usually let people stay and watch us practice, but you know, I’m feeling generous today so if you want to-”

You straightened up, backpack now firmly placed over your shoulders and water bottle secure inside. Your eyebrows had furrowed into an annoyed expression out of habit and thus an involuntarily glare was given to the captain. “Yeah, no thanks. I’ve got to go,” you mumbled, barely feeling like talking—seriously, how could someone have so much energy after school?

Oikawa watched as you left the same way you had come, confused and slightly appalled by your behavior. It took Iwaizumi giving him a firm punch to the arm and an order to “get back to stretching, dumbass, I’m not dealing with you pulling a muscle later and whining, I fucking swear,” to get him to go back to work.

Your interactions were minimal much of the time, but as though fate drew you together, you found yourself having many more similar interactions with the captain, much to your dismay. You didn’t hate him per say, but you definitely couldn’t stand his radiant, flirty personality when you already felt half-asleep after a long day.

First it was your friend leaving their water bottle in the same place you had and them begging you to go get it and give it to them first thing when you saw each other tomorrow because they had to go home right after school today for some reason.

Next it was someone forgetting their phone and you offering to go get it because they had done you a favor that one time a few weeks ago and you wanted to return it.

Then it was a whole textbook (what are you even doing with a textbook in the gym anyway?).

The cycle went on and on, and each and every time Oikawa was there, you used to his cliche conversation starters by now. It became a sort of routine, a game, and when your brain was clear from the throes of sleepiness later, you would mull over the interactions and realize that you actually enjoyed them.

It was quite the shock for Oikawa when he ran into you during lunch one day and you were bubblier than he had ever seen you (you were still filled with energy after a long night’s rest and school hadn’t sapped all of your vibrancy for the day just yet—plus you were excited that it was lunchtime), even being greeting him enthusiastically with a “Hey, Oikawa!” and waving to him when he had called out to you (he expected you to ignore him so he was frozen in shock for a moment at your display).

At some point, lunchtime hangouts between the two of you became the new routine, and from there the routines slowly continued to change and evolve until you two were miraculously dating. (The new routine was now stopping by the gym after school, even if you hadn’t forgotten anything there, to give him a goodbye kiss and a “Good luck with practice, babe!” before you headed home. The alternative routine was that you finally took up that offer he had made on that very first day about you staying to watch practice, and afterwards he would walk you home, you two stopping in a convenience store to buy ice cream before you got far. You both seemed the enjoy the latter a lot more.)

Oikawa, observant as he is, figured out that you become “pouty” when you were tired (you were sitting on his bed and doing homework with him when he announced that as though it was some sort of profound realization, and you hit him overhead with a pillow because why did you just described it like that, Tooru???).

He’s pretty good about giving you space when you need it, although most of the time, even if you’re sleepy or upset and don’t want to deal with anyone, he’s still liberal with the affection he gives you, knowing that you secretly love the attention. He just has to look past your sharp words to see what you really want and at this point you’re pretty sure he’s a mind reader.

When you’re not feeling tired and overworked, he knows you can actually be pretty sweet, so if he sees you staring off into the distance, your not-so-neutral resting face on, he’ll absolutely annoy the hell out of you because once you crack that million dollar smile? He’s done for (but he likes the pain of his heart beating wildly around you so it’s okay).

He’s just an absolute sucker for how angry you look most of the time but how you’re simultaneously the most supportive person he’s ever met underneath it all (in some ways it reminds him of Iwaizumi, although you’re less… prickly than Iwa seems to be much of the time; that and you don’t throw volleyballs at his head whenever he messes up a play during practice—most of the time that is).

Akaashi Keiji

The literal calmest couple ever that simply likes to stick to themselves—that’s the initial impression many have of you two.

That couldn’t be further from the truth though. Despite your outward appearance, you were quick to crack smiles around just about anyone (you got along well with Bokuto for this very reason), and Akaashi had proven to be unexpectedly playful at times as well (it was mostly around you and his team though, so that side of him was relatively unknown).

Akaashi wasn’t put off by how you appeared at all—that sort of thing didn’t really matter to him—and the faithful pairing up of you two together for a group project finally gave you the opportunity to talk.

He’s generally good with dealing with just about anyone, so while he was surprised once you started talking his ear off about the project, outwardly he didn’t so much as bat an eye, simply listening to you ramble on and responding when appropriate.

Once you two are together, quiet evenings become common, you most likely laying on his chest and scrolling through your phone while he holds a book above his head, the only noise being the flipping of the pages. Evenings like those are exactly what you need when you’re feeling overworked and want to snap at just about everything, and Akaashi is quick to soothe you—with even just a few words from him you can already feel yourself feeling better.

He secretly takes pride in the fact that others may look at your moodiness and intimidating appearance and shy away, meanwhile he’s able to actually understand you (also he has experience with Bokuto so literally just hit him with all you’ve got).

Together you two can seem pretty intimidating and unapproachable, but you also look cool as hell walking through the hallways side by side so it’s a necessary sacrifice.

Akaashi picked up the habit of taking pictures of you when you’re not looking because you look amazing with your neutral face and fierce expression, but also when you’re joking freely with him, eyes screwed shut and mouth open as laughter spills out, you’re simply stunning. He likes the duality and sees something poetic in it because of course he does.

He loves looking through his camera roll sometimes and just scrolling and seeing you simply minding your own business and looking out the window in one picture, but then getting up to all sorts of trouble in the name of fun in the next.

He’d probably be embarrassed if you found out, although he quickly realized that he also likes to show you the pictures sometimes so you can see yourself exactly how he sees you, and you have to admit that some of the shots are breathtaking with how he seems to capture you in the perfect way (the lightning, background, and of course you all look amazing because he’s Akaashi and to him every detail should be just right, especially if it involves you) and when the pictures are paired together with the others, the contrast jumps out and you have to smile at that.

Kuroo Tetsurou

A mostly empty hallway, the two of you being the only ones there, was where it all started. An entire open hallway and of course, he still managed to bump into you somehow. (To be fair, you were tapping away on your phone, complaining to your friend over text about how you just wanted to go home already and take a nap because the test last period had been exhausting, and not paying attention to where you were going at all).

To his credit, he was quick to apologize, turning over his shoulder so you would catch his words, seeing as you two were walking in opposite directions. “Ah… sorry, I guess I wasn’t paying attention.” A light chuckle on the end tied up the apology nicely by adding a charming casualness to it.

You looked up from your phone with an annoyed expression, eyes narrowed, and sighed to yourself before you turned around to reply to him. “Maybe work on that next time,” you snapped. You were clearly exasperated and Kuroo was left blinking in bewilderment at the interaction.

You two were in the same class and although you knew of each other, you weren’t exactly friends—more like acquaintances, although Kuroo was wondering if he had missed the memo on when that title had switched to sworn enemies.

He decided to test this theory and tentatively bid you “good morning” when he got to class the next day. He had almost chickened out because you looked absolutely terrifying, almost as though you were going to bite whoever so much as glanced in your general direction.

Although you seemed confused at first at the fact that he was even talking to you, you gave a small, “Good morning?” back. (It came out as more of a question, but you know what? He’ll take it.)

Okay, so… you didn’t hate him? Or at least not as much it seemed?

And so Kuroo kept this up, always the first one to say “good morning” to you each day—it was sort of like a science experiment, him trying to gauge what you thought about him and test out his hypothesis (the mystery of that interaction in the hallway is what kept him at it, even as silly as it seemed).

You asked him at one point why he suddenly started talking to you and he quickly deflected the question, afraid you would catch onto his little research experiment, even as outlandish the possibility of that happening was.

Those were the first few interactions you two had and even now when Kuroo looks back on it he has secondhand embarrassment for his past self—what was he even doing?

Nowadays, now that you’re finally dating, he doesn’t question your moodiness, knowing that everyone has off days. He has also finally figured out that you two were never sworn enemies in the first place (although he thinks that this love story would have been way more interesting if that had been the case).

Whenever you’re staring off and looking serious, Kuroo loves to pinch your cheeks to snap you back to reality and even as often as he does it, you fall for it every time and honestly he can deal with the death glare you give him because then the small smile you can’t conceal comes out right afterwards (what he can’t deal with though is you withholding kisses from him because you said he didn’t deserve them after pinching you three times in the span of two hours, so after that one time you learned that that punishment was horribly ineffective because so clingy throughout it).

If you’re looking tired, simply down on your luck and annoyed at life, he doesn’t let it affect him and knows not to take it personally, slipping you a cup of tea to help you calm down and clear your mind, and sitting across from you at the kitchen table and watching you as you sip at the drink, ready to talk whenever you want. His affection is quiet in those moments, but you welcome it as much as you do his grand gestures of love—he always brings each type of support out at just the right moment and you find it hilarious that he had ever thought that you could hate him (you could never, not when he was like this).

Kenma Kozume

The fact that the first impression he had of you was that you weren’t in-his-face hyper was jarring enough—he was used to his teammates and their high energy shenanigans, so you were an anomaly in his eyes.

He wouldn’t exactly make a first move, or at least not for a while, but in class when he’s bored, head in his palm, elbow on the table, and drumming his pen against his desk absentmindedly, he would watch you out of the corner of his eye.

You confused him. You had tons of friends, Kenma knew that much about you, and he always overheard people talking about how much fun you were to talk to, yet here he saw none of that rumored playfulness. You were stone-faced as the teacher droned on, rigid in your movements as you copied down the notes from the board robotically.

Watching you write reminded him that he should probably do the same, but even as he went back to trying to focus on that day’s lesson and stared down at his notebook, you stayed on his mind.

He knew that not everyone always outwardly showed their entire personalities, but he had been watching you for what felt like forever and you never so much as cracked a smile. Surely that was unusual?

Kenma found himself itching to just walk up to you and say something—he hated not being in the know and… you seemed approachable enough. Even when he came to the conclusion to stir up a casual conversation with you to finally put his mind at rest, he was still surprised with himself when he actually did it.

He was even more surprised when you instantly brightened up when he talked to you, polite in your responses, yet not stiflingly so, the conversation flowing easily as you two jumped from one topic to another—he wasn’t even exactly sure what you two discussed, just that the words kept flowing out of him as he followed your lead, and for some reason he didn’t want it to end.

He’s not sure how it happened, but that one time conversation soon turned into multiple conversations and he found himself getting strangely attached to you, your excitable personality growing on him as time passed.

Kenma found it endearing how you could be upbeat and ready for an adventure most of the time, but that those times when you simply got tired or weren’t in the mood, you were the complete opposite, either wanting to talk to no one, or claiming that you wanted to talk to no one and secretly actually wanting someone to let you rest your head on their shoulder and just hold you (that’s what he was there for).

If he can tell you’re not in the mood to socialize, he won’t force you to do anything or talk about it if you don’t want to. He’s good at picking up the little cues you put out and you love him all the more for it.

Kenma knows what it feels like to just want some alone time, so it’s common for you two to just hang on in one of your bedrooms on weekends, each of you doing your own thing and not bothering one another. Sometimes one of you will just get up and move closer to the other person, cuddling up under their arm, and no words will be exchanged the entire time. (If you’re sitting between his legs while he plays a video game, he likes to lean down and give you a quick kiss on the forehead whenever he feels like it—come on, you’re right there, how could he possibly resist?)

Nishinoya Yuu

He’s used to Kiyoko outright ignoring him, and even any harsh words from her have him running to go tell Tanaka the “good news” about their latest interaction, so he wouldn’t be put off by your seemingly cold demeanor at all. In fact, he may be even more intrigued. He likes the chase after all.

You were sitting in class one day during a break, spacing off and simply watching your other classmates mingle around the room, and Nishinoya saw this as the perfect opportunity to talk to you, bounding over to you with a spring in his step.

He leaned down close to you, a mischievous smirk matching the playful lilt in his voice. “Hey, (Y/N)-”

He stopped short though when you turned to him smiling and returned the greeting without missing a beat. Wait, what?

In class you always looked bored out of your mind, or just plain angry to be here, unamused look in your eyes and the corners of your mouth downturned. He hadn’t seen you out of the classroom that much, or if he had, you had never been with your friends (so he had missed all the times when you joked around with them), either standing in the hallway alone waiting for someone and on your phone, or walking out of the school after class to head home and looking like you would absolutely fight anyone who prevented you from doing so. Even during group work in class, you were closed off—you had spoken the bare minimum during the majority of that one time that he had been paired up with you.

But now? You were a literal ray of sunshine. Nishinoya blinked at the sight, eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights—and then a giant grin spread across his face. He liked this.

His constant high energy is a great contrast to your sometimes “just done with everything” appearance (also school was absolutely tiring, so it was more likely to catch you in one of your sleepy, unenthusiastic phases than not during particularly high stress weeks).

He’s amazing at dealing with the times you just don’t want to interact with anyone besides him, never forcing you to speak if you’re tired and instead filling up the empty space in the air with his own words while you lean against his chest, you two on his couch and watching a movie during the weekend.

He thinks you’re absolutely badass and the fact that people are easily intimidated by you at first glance is just awesome to him like yes! That’s his baby right there! You should be scared! (But then, of course, people come to realize you’re actually a giant teddy bear inside.) He may or may not ask you to give Asahi some confidence pointers because you both can give off the same energy at times.

Even when you’re in a bad mood, Nishinoya is as vibrant as ever and has an infinite amount of energy and love to devote to you. Sit down with him and just vent all of your frustrations and he’ll make you feel better about everything, hyping you up if you display any sort of worries, and actually racking his brain for solutions to your problems if you ask for his opinion on what you should do (it’s adorable when he sits there with his thinking face on, going full on serious boyfriend mode).

[ask-runaan-anything]

Tightly Knit: A Moonshadow Tale

Here’s my present for you, little shadows: a story of me and little Rayla, as promised. Enjoy.

Characters/Tags: Runaan, Rayla, chain-horn assassin elf, OC healer mage, hurt/comfort, Moonshadows gonna Moonshadow, assassin training, training montage, bit o’ magic, Runaan being Runaan, Runaan gets a childhood nickname, cute & sweet, soft, bonding time

Length: ~5k words

The spring morning’s light cast its rays through the intricately carved curls in the wooden dome over the Moonshadow training arena, patterning the pale dirt with curlicue shadows beneath the whitewashed dome’s interior. Runaan had been running training patterns with his fellow assassins since dawn, but when a pair of violet eyes peeked through the lowest carved curl in the dome twenty feet up, their young owner spotted him taking a rare break to discuss with them instead.

Runaan felt the weight of her gaze—and heard the soft sound of her little knees thumping against the wooden dome—but he pretended not to notice. Rayla loved to believe she could sneak up on him, and he found her attempts endearing. Though the children in the campus crèche visited the training arena twice a day to exercise and watch the adults train, Rayla still felt the need to escape and clamber up the dome’s exterior wall. But Runaan had been no less adventurous as a child, and he secretly delighted in Rayla’s determination to stalk him. She had a strong will like few he’d ever seen.

With Rayla’s parents on long-term Dragon Guard duty at the lair of the Dragon King, Runaan had been entrusted with her care, and he took that duty as seriously as everything else in his life. At the end of each day, he would collect her from the crèche, and she’d take his hand to walk home and immediately demand to know what he’d done that day. As they ate supper together in his quarters, she’d dance around waving her carrot-stick dagger, or deliberately drink her moonberry juice messily so she could show him a mouth full of bright red teeth. She’d launch herself at him from every available surface, always trusting him to catch her.

And he always did, with a laugh and a spin, before setting her safely down.

“You always catch me,” she’d say.

“That’s my job,” he’d always reply.

Until the morning came when he couldn’t.

“Let’s run secondary attacks again,” he said to his small cohort of trainees, “and then we’ll—”

“Runaan, watch this!” Rayla’s high little voice carried across the arena from a dozen paces away.

Runaan knew that crowing tone. His side tails fluttered as he jerked his head in time to see Rayla launch herself toward one of the horizontal training bars. She’d managed to squeeze through a curlicue in the carved wood and had flung her body at full stretch into midair.

Time slowed as Runaan’s heart rate skyrocketed. The assassin instinctively gauged Rayla’s trajectory. She would, in fact, reach the twenty-foot-high bar. But it was going to be close, and the bar’s diameter was made for fully grown hands, not Rayla’s.

She was going to lose her grip.

Her name got strangled in his throat. If he called out now, she might flinch, lose focus, miss the bar entirely. But every muscle in Runaan’s body tensed into action, and time caught up with him. “Call the healer.” His words targeted his fellow assassins, but his eyes remained locked on Rayla, and he darted toward the elfling before he’d finished speaking.

Rayla’s little hands clasped the bar. Her body wobbled, her legs flailed. Her weight pendulumed.

Her grip slipped.

Rayla tracked the ground with her eyes and tried to bring her feet around under her as she spun, but she landed badly. Runaan skidded to his knees beside her as she lay crumpled into a heap.

“Rayla.” He touched her shoulders and found them so tense that she could have been made of stone.

She was as Moonshadow as he was. She knew not to show her pain. But her body radiated it like the sun. She whimpered lightly. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, little shadow. I’m the one who’s sorry. I failed in my duty. I didn’t catch you.” He tried to help her sit up, but she only tucked herself harder around her left arm.

“D-didn’t want you to,” Rayla quavered. “You can’t catch me forever. I’m getting big.”

Runaan glanced up at the bar, eyed the gap between it and the edge of the filigree dome. Not big enough. “Let me see.”

“I’m okay.”

“You are not. You pinwheeled twenty feet down. You haven’t learned that move yet.”

“That’s a move?”

Runaan’s worries warred with his need for control. He held out his hands, indicating she should reach toward him for the standard injury tap test he’d taught her. “Show me you’re all right, and I’ll teach it to you.”

Slowly, Rayla sat up, her navy tunic dusted thickly with dirt the color of granite. She’d never hesitated to throw herself at him, reach for him, or toss whatever lay close to hand in his direction. But now, she did hesitate. She clutched her left arm against her chest. Runaan’s heart sank.

But bravely—foolishly—she mustered her courage and offered both of her arms toward him. Her right arm moved perfectly, though it was coated in dust. But her left had already begun to swell just above the wrist.

Runaan extended a single finger from each of his hands. He tapped one firmly against the top of Rayla’s right wrist. Her lips pressed firmly, but she kept her determined expression in place.

Then he raised his other finger over her broken wrist. And waited.

Rayla’s soft white brows twitched.

He raised his finger a little higher. Don’t make me do it, little shadow.

Rayla’s determination gave way, and she turned her face away from him with a small grimace of anticipation, though she still held her wrist out. It was as close to surrender as she was going to get.

A fresh wave of guilt washed through Runaan. His finger curled back into his fist. “Oh, Rayla.”

Instead of completing the test, Runaan scooped her into his arms and strode across the workout arena. Anghas, in his white robes, was just entering the arena from the practicum wing and hurried toward them.

Runaan bypassed the healer, heading straight inside, and Anghas fluttered along at his elbow. “What happened?”

“She broke her arm in a fall.” Runaan kept his eyes straight ahead, but Rayla helpfully raised her injured limb so Anghas could see it.

“Tap test?” Anghas inquired, his gaze on Rayla’s swelling arm.

Runaan blew inside the practicum wing and headed for the healer’s rooms at the center at full stride, his long ponytail fluttering in his wake. “Results were conclusive.”

Rayla glanced up at him through damp lashes, but she kept silent. She knew he hadn’t completed the test as was required. Runaan’s first concern was getting her treated, so he let her draw her own conclusions.

Runaan claimed the first of Anghas’s empty workrooms and set Rayla on the study table for Anghas to examine. The healer took Rayla’s arm in his gentle fingers, and Runaan stepped back to catch his breath.

He couldn’t seem to do it, though. His chest had gone tight.

He gave Rayla an encouraging nod and stepped outside for a moment, then slipped inside the next empty room. He leaned his forehead and his fingertips against the wall and closed his eyes, breathing deeply. The silver hair cuffs in his side tails tapped against the wall once and hung still.

He’d been so close to catching her. And he’d missed. His shaky breath hissed against the wall and echoed loudly in his ears, full of accusatory guilt.

Get it together, Quirk. His mother’s voice in his mind, his childhood nickname in that exasperated voice she always used. She had always picked him up, dusted him off, and put him back together. He’d never thought about how his hurts might have caused her pain, too. Perhaps she had been talking to herself as well as to him.

He nodded to himself, feeling his forehead rock against the wall. Remembered his mother dusting off the spiral twist in his horns with a gentle swoop of her fingers. Her encouraging smile.

Get it together, Quirk.

With a deep, steadying breath, Runaan pushed himself back from the wall and into perfect balance. He lifted his chin and headed back into Rayla’s room. This time, he stood behind her, resting a comforting hand on her good shoulder, and felt her relax under his touch.

Anghas gave Rayla a little cup of thick, spicy severcane juice for the pain. Then the Moon mage crafted a solid illusion of sturdy material to hold Rayla’s arm in place while it healed. The white tracery of the brace’s openwork pattern displayed the healer’s gift with art as well as medicine. He sent them home with a packet of herbs and a pouch of moonberries, as well as instructions that Rayla was not to spend her days at the crèche for a couple of weeks, lest she re-injure herself playing. “Rest and relaxation is what you need,” Anghas told her. “Your bone will knit and be stronger than ever. But it needs time.”

Runaan nodded, forming a plan, but Rayla’s little shoulders slumped.

Anghas told Rayla as she left, “You were very brave.”

That put a big smile back on her face. Runaan took her good hand as she cradled her broken arm against her chest in a soft purple sling, and he squatted down to look her in the face. Those big violet eyes locked onto his, still so trusting despite his failure. “The bravest Moonshadow ever. I should carry you home on my shoulders so everyone can see your daring fearlessness.”

Rayla looked down at her broken arm with a proud smile, but she got distracted by the state of her tunic. She reached toward the thick dust that still coated her, but Runaan’s hand shot out and clasped her wrist, not wanting her to jostle her broken arm.

“Leave the dust, little shadow. It proves you fought well today.”

“Okay, Runaan.”

With a smile, Runaan swiped a smudge of dust from the tip of her nose and swept her up onto his shoulders. He ambled toward the barracks, but he took a side trip to visit Mayr’s quarters.

The suspended assassin answered her door with a dark look and a sardonic tip of her horns, but she straightened up when she saw Runaan, smoothing the frown that wrinkled the delicate blue crescent on her forehead and brushing her long white hair back off her shoulders. It hadn’t been his fault that her name had been taken off the mission rolls.

Her gray eyes studied Rayla and her injury before drifting to Runaan’s face. “Aye, Runaan?” Her low brogue lilted with undimmed sass as she leaned against her door frame.

“I have a task for you, Mayr. Come to my quarters for breakfast in the morning. Plan to stay for a while.”

Mayr flicked her gaze up and down Runaan’s tall figure, and a smile finally teased her lips. “Well, that’ll set them talking.”

He couldn’t help the half-smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Then they haven’t been paying attention. Rayla needs supervision.”

Mayr studied the elfling on his shoulders, not unkindly. “And what do I need?” she bargained.

Runaan lifted his chin. “You need me to talk to the Justice Council for you about those horn chains.”

At that, Mayr’s pale brows lifted. Her choice of “noisy” personal adornment had been the cause of her suspension when she’d refused to take them off. They weren’t on the approved dress code list, and Moonshadows loved rules. But if Runaan spoke for her to the Justice Council—if he said the right words—she wouldn’t need to give up her decorative chains. A true smile crossed her lips. “Then I’ll see you for breakfast.” Her eyes danced up to Rayla’s. “Well fought, Rayla.”

Runaan felt Rayla sit up straighter at the female assassin’s regard. Mayr closed her door, and Runaan carried Rayla back to the quarters they shared, where he settled her in on her favorite big poofy purple cushion by the big window that looked out onto the communal gardens. She nibbled at Anghas’s moonberries while Runaan read her an adventure story, but she dozed off soon from the effects of the severcane, and her violet eyes slipped shut.

Runaan closed the book softly and studied her sleeping features. That strong little chin, so like her mother’s. Her father’s brows and cheeks. The blue marks that swooped beneath her eyes made her skin seem even paler as she lay nestled in the fluffy cushion, and her body had finally relaxed into childlike softness.

You’re not hard enough yet, Rayla. An idea occurred to him. He dropped a tiny kiss on her forehead and covered her with a blanket. With pen and paper in hand, Runaan seated himself on the floor next to her and began to sketch out his plan.

Mayr showed up the next morning right on time, bearing mangoes and apples. The three of them broke their fast together, and throughout their quiet conversation, Runaan never once heard her horn chains rattle. He gave Rayla a short list of instructions to follow while he was at the arena—no acrobatics, stay indoors, rest if you’re tired, listen to Mayr and also obey her—and caught Mayr’s eye as he headed out the door. She gave him a crisp nod and turned back to Rayla. Runaan studied her horn chains from the back for a moment, and then he left Rayla in her capable hands for the day.

But he couldn’t stop thinking about his little charge as the day wore on. Every time he caught sight of that twenty-foot bar, he saw Rayla’s tumbling fall again, heard her crash to the ground right at his feet. He couldn’t undo the past. But he had a plan to guard the future.

By lunchtime, he knew it wasn’t enough. He grabbed a couple of oranges and slipped out of the training campus, hoping to check on Rayla without disturbing her—or giving away the depth of his concern. Overt feelings were for Sunfires. He spotted a pretty purple flower, a shooting star, and picked it for her as he passed through the gardens that bordered the back of the assassins’ barracks.

At the window to the main room in his quarters, he looked in and spotted Rayla, asleep again on her the big cushion, her limbs lax in utter relaxation. He twirled the flower in his fingers for a moment, then reached in and rested it on the sill for her.

Mayr entered quietly just then, carrying a tray for Rayla’s lunch. He glanced up at her, and she paused. Then she smiled reassuringly and gave him a short nod. With a deep breath, Runaan pushed way from the window sill, nodded back at her, and returned to the training arena.

When he finished for the day and got home, tired, sweaty, and in need of a brush for his long, tousled hair, Rayla was wearing the shooting star behind one ear and a giant smile across her face. Runaan let his eyes rest on it for a moment so she knew that he’d noticed, and her smile widened further.

“You don’t have to stay tonight,” Runaan told Mayr.

But the suspended assassin was busy chopping ingredients for a massive salad. “Don’t take that tone with me, Runaan. I agreed to stay, and I will. Besides, I stalked the markets today. There’s no going back now.” She waved her knife at a variety of produce that clustered on a nearby kitchen counter.

“Apparently not, no.” Runaan cleaned up and redid his hair, and the three of them enjoyed another meal together. Then Runaan cast his eyes out at the gardens. Let himself be seen studying them.

Of course Mayr noticed. “What is it, then,” she said in an expectant tone.

He flicked his turquoise gaze to her. “How are your carpentry skills?”

Mayr raised her white brows speculatively.

An hour later, the two of them knelt in a small clearing in the gardens, hammering wooden beams together and burying their supports deep into the dirt while Rayla looked on in interest, holding her purple sling against her chest.

“What’s it for, Runaan?” she finally asked, seemingly unable to fathom why the two assassins would suddenly decide to build a series of horizontal beams at various heights radiating around a small patch of grass in the middle of the gardens.

Runaan hammered the last nail in place and stood, wiping his brow with the back of his wrist. He held out a hand for her good one. “Come and see.”

Mayr stood back with smiling anticipation as Rayla took Runaan’s big hand. He led her to the lowest beam, mere inches off the grass and half as wide as her foot. With a leading pull, he urged her to step up at one end. Then he folded her good arm atop her broken one, steadied her shoulders from behind, and gave her a tiny push forward.

Obediently, Rayla balanced her way down the beam. Near the end, though, she wobbled, tried to stay on, and failed, slipping off the beam with a small growl of frustration. Her violet eyes shot to Runaan, and she said what she heard Runaan say a dozen times a day in the arena. “Again.”

She hopped right back on, facing Runaan this time. Her balance flickered halfway along, and she threw out her right arm to balance with. Runaan shook his head and gestured for her to tuck it back atop her chest. With a glower, Rayla did so. And promptly wobbled off the narrow beam again. “Moon and Shadow!” she swore, shooting Runaan an impatient look. “Why can’t I walk on this stupid thing?”

A smile tugged at Runaan’s mouth as he admired Rayla’s determination. He gave Mayr a soft side nod, tipping his horns back toward his quarters, and she flicked an eyebrow back at him before heading inside. Turning his attention back to his small charge, Runaan said, “You rely too much on your arms. Bend your knees, use your legs. Feel your balance here.” He tapped her tunic just over her belly button. “If you can balance with your legs, you can use your arms for other things.”

Rayla put one foot back up on the beam before Runaan’s words sank in. Her eyes widened as she finally realized what he was up to. She turned and took in the variety of balance beams, the circle they formed, and whipped her little head back to face Runaan. “You made me my own training beams? So I can train like you do? So I can hop around with swords in my hands? Runaan!”

Her glee overwhelmed her pain, and she launched herself at him. Alarm flared in his chest for a split-second, but his instincts kicked in, and he caught her softly, spinning to absorb her momentum.

Despite his soft catch, she still jostled her broken arm a little. “Oof. Ouch. Thank you. I love it. Best gift ever. I’ll use it every day. I promise.”

He hefted her up higher in his arms and smiled. “Moonshadows never promise lightly. I expect you to hold to your word. And I’m not letting you train without me.”

A sassy smile overtook her features, and she lifted her chin. “Does that mean I’m the boss?”

He chuckled and set her down. “The day you stop asking if you’re in charge is the day you’re actually in charge, little shadow. Now. Up on that beam again.”

Runaan kept Rayla on the lowest beam, but he let her begin to sidestep, skip, and hop as much as she was able. She held her broken arm close and focused so intently that Runaan had to tell her to get off when the sun set. She fell asleep on his shoulder as he carried her inside.

Mayr handed him a bowl of cubed spiceroot when he returned from tucking her in. “Wore her out, did ya?” She tipped her horns with a smile, and her horn chains swayed silently.

His eyes studied the chains. He’d nearly sussed out her secret, but he replied on topic. “It’ll be harder to wear her out as she heals up, but I’ll do my best. Let her train with you as much as she likes during the day. I’ll work with her every evening. She’ll sleep soundly at night.”

Mayr stole one of his vegetable cubes and popped it in her mouth. “You’re a fine Moonshadow, Runaan.”

His turquoise eyes studied her face, and their corners crinkled just a little. Perhaps she did see everything he was really doing. For her, for Rayla. For himself. But as long as she helped him, it didn’t really matter. We are Moonshadow. “As are you.”

Her gray gaze danced across his features, and she offered him a subtle chin lift of approval. “You’ll make some handsome elf very happy someday.”

Now a real smile crossed his face. “So will you.” The tiniest flare of her pupils filled in the last blank for Runaan, but he kept her secret to himself. “See you at breakfast.”

The bright days of spring grew a little longer. The Moon spun across the velvet sky each night, and the evenings warmed. Runaan left something pretty on the sill for Rayla every day—a shiny chestnut, an agate, a blue river stone, once a sprightly moonfrog in a box—and plenty of bright, pretty flowers. He kept his mind on his work while he trained, even when the children in the crèche came out to watch the assassins at their practice. But the moment he was finished for the day, he turned toward home, declining all offers of drinks and camaraderie.

Mayr kept Rayla occupied during the day, sometimes on the lowest training beams, but often with entertaining studies. History, legends, dynamic physics experiments—aka shoving things off the edge of the table to study how they fell—and guessing games all kept Rayla’s mind as engaged as her little legs. But when Runaan came home each evening, Rayla inhaled her supper and began tugging at his hand to take her out to the gardens and train.

And train they did. As her arm began to mend and her legs grew stronger and steadier, Rayla followed Runaan’s direction to higher and higher beams, leaping and landing, trying to perch perfectly without a single wobble. Runaan called orders and pointed to her targets for her, and he followed her as if he were her own shadow. She slipped dozens of times. But he was always there to steady or catch her. After two weeks, Rayla’s arm was knitting together well, and her balancing skills had markedly improved, so Runaan surprised her with a new pair of slip-proof, knee-high boots. He and Mayr added rounded tops to some of the beams to simulate tree branches. Runaan could barely keep up with his little shadow after that.

The evening before Rayla was scheduled to return to the crèche, Runaan sat up late, carving a leftover piece of the balance beams into a small wooden figure for Rayla to use in future physics experiments. He was so focused on getting his own long ponytail carved right that he didn’t notice Mayr until she tugged on his actual hair, startling him.

He covered his tiny flinch by holding up the figurine. “What do you think?”

She leaned in to examine it, then she looked him in the eye. “’Tis a bit obvious, aye?”

He briefly raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes the illusion is best served by mirroring reality closely.”

“Best served for whom?” she asked softly.

Ah. Runaan studied the little archer in his fingers. “You’ve seen her. She has true talent.”

“Amazing how you saw that all along, isn’t it?” Mayr’s voice held a heavy dollop of sass.

“It shouldn’t be. I’m her guardian.” Before Mayr could prod further at his motives, Runaan played his trump card. “I’ll be speaking to the Justice Council tomorrow.”

“And you’ll tell them what?” Mayr dipped her horns to the side, making her illegal chains sway. Silently.

Runaan didn’t let them distract him as he held her gaze. “The truth.”

Her eyes widened in alarm, and he knew he’d been right about her.

He smiled reassuringly. “The only truth that matters, that is.”

Mayr took a deep breath as if to steady herself. “Which truth matters to you today, Runaan?”

The assassin looked down again at the small wooden figurine of himself.

Rayla was healing from her injury. She was learning strength and skill. He couldn’t be there to catch her every time, so he’d begun training her to catch herself. Training her to rely on him less. To need him less.

Mayr refused to give up those chains on her horns because they had been a gift from someone precious to her—someone an assassin was forbidden to share a life with. And they made no noise because they were only illusions. There was only one elf on the campus who had an artistic bent and enough mage skills to craft illusory horn jewelry: Anghas. Mayr was risking her career for love.

Runaan had offered her a bargain: help take care of Rayla while she recovered, in exchange for his word in her defense. He’d never said what that word would be, but now he could be certain: Anghas had crafted silent chains for Mayr not only as a sign of his affection, but to keep her safe.

The wooden figurine in his hand represented something similar between Runaan and Rayla.  He folded his long fingers around it tightly and met Mayr’s gray eyes.

“This truth, Mayr.” He tipped his horns, and his voice dropped. “You snuck up on me.”

His fellow assassin beamed.

Runaan scheduled a meeting with the Justice Council the next morning, where he thoroughly enjoyed pointing out that Mayr’s skill had enabled her to surprise him. With his own testimony, there was no need to complicate the matter by mentioning that the assassins’ dress code never addressed silent illusions, so Anghas’s name never needed to come up. The Council knew Runaan to be one of the most perceptive assassins they had. If he said Mayr could stalk him, chains or not, she deserved to be reinstated.

The Council pronounced their decision. Runaan left their chambers with a smile of triumph and stopped Mayr in the middle of campus as she was bringing Rayla to the crèche for her first day back.

Rayla looked up at his serious expression. “What’s wrong, Runaan?”

He kept his eyes on Mayr. “Someone’s out of uniform. I’ll take Rayla. You report to the arena in ten minutes. If you’re late by even a second—”

But Mayr flashed past him, wearing the biggest smile he’d ever seen on her, before he could finish his teasing threat. She pressed a hand against his arm and breathed a “Thank you” and then she was dashing toward the changing rooms.

Rayla worked her little hand into his gloved one. “That was very nice of you. You’re a good friend.”

Runaan walked with her toward the children’s rooms. “I didn’t do it for her.”

To his surprise, Rayla sassed back, “You kinda did.”

He looked down at her with a soft smile. “I didn’t do it only for her.”

“That’s even better. You’re a good Moonshadow, Runaan. The best Moonshadow I know.”

At the sight of Rayla’s upturned, smiling face, the last jagged corner of Runaan’s hard heart melted.

Rayla rejoined the crèche and eagerly came out to watch the assassins train again. Runaan made sure to walk over and chat with her every time. He asked her opinion on his technique, and she took him very seriously, offering her best critiques. The other children began to look to Rayla as a guide.

When Anghas declared her broken bone knitted entirely, Runaan gave her a bow and training swords—two matching swords, as all Moonshadows practiced with—and let her train as hard as she liked. And she trained hard. The summer passed, and winter spun by, and Rayla kept training. She grew like a weed. Her sass was the only thing that could keep pace with her hunger to learn. And Runaan indulged her every opportunity for both. They trained in the arena after hours. In the garden when it rained. In the forest when it snowed.

The next spring, Rayla stood a few inches taller and sported a leaner look, but the way she carried herself was nearly unrecognizable from the year before. Her confidence entered every room five steps before she did, and few secrets hid from her bright violet gaze.

One day, Runaan entered the training arena after lunch to find Rayla clinging to the lower edge of the wood filigree dome from the exact spot where she’d leaped the year before. He stopped, heart hammering in his chest.

The arena was full. Other assassins milled about, casting curious glances at Rayla, and now at Runaan, too. Even the crèche had gathered, ready to observe an afternoon session.

Get it together, Quirk.

The tall assassin took a deep breath and studied Rayla for a moment. She was still short, and that twenty-foot bar was still big for her hands. But she’d practiced on it for months. He’d taught her several dismounts, and she could land them all. She’d never tried to leap from the edge of the dome again, but he knew what she knew: she could do it.

Their eyes met.

Runaan held her gaze and strode out in front of the bar, silently marking her landing spot for her. He lifted his chin and gave her a sharp nod. She had trusted him for the past year. Now it was his turn to trust her. She had earned it.

Her grin was brilliant, and she launched herself toward the bar between them. Those powerful little legs gave her all the momentum she needed. Strong hands grasped the bar, and she swung herself around it easily. Then, under her own power, she let go, twirling through a series of show-off flips. Light as a leaf landing in the forest, Rayla dropped into a three-point landing right in front of Runaan.

Though he kept a straight face, his heart soared. She stood up, eyes gleaming with confidence. The children started hollering their amazement and appreciation. Several of the assassins nodded and smiled in congratulations, as well.

Runaan had eyes only for his little shadow, though. He had taught her how not to need him, and in the process, his heart had become tightly knit to hers. In true Moonshadow fashion, such a bond could never be undone.

He tucked his hands behind his back and smiled. “Well done, Rayla.”

 The End

[kewltie]

“It’s still not too late to make a run for it,” Heechul suggest slyly, his elbows resting on the table because he has absolutely no manners.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that and elbows off the table, please. How many times have Lady Haine had to yell at us about that already,” Donghae says snidely. He doesn’t have the time to entertain any of Heechul’s silly ideas, not anymore anyway, instead, he looks out toward the sky garden—lushes green, hanging waterfalls, and an endless stretch of blue that opens up above them. It’s a picture of serenity and quiet beauty painted with an array of sweeping colors from flowers at bloom.

If Donghae can ignore the shadow of Serpentine guards close by keeping an eye on him, one part deterrence and the other his jailer, it’s almost perfect.

Heechul scowls but removes his elbows from the table anyway because even when their wetnurse is currently buried seven feet under in Terra, the fear she had instilled in their younger selves is good enough for Heechul to complied even now.

Donghae lets the silent settle comfortably between them once more, they had known each other too long to have the need for words to bound them together, contents to relish this rare peaceful moment while they still have it with each other. Heechul’s presence here in Donghae’s wedding party is unnecessary; he isn’t Jeongsu who is master of diplomacy and negotiating or Kangin whose skilled on the battlefield will assure Donghae’s safety and that the wedding will go on unscathed but Donghae is quietly pleased that his cousin is here all the same. 

Let Jeongsu and the rest of the Avian’s council work out the diplomacy of having to arrange a hotly controversial marriage, while Donghae and Heechul enjoy this beautiful view out here without any of the thinly disguise politic hovering over them.

A gush of wind blows past time, ruffling Heechul’s hair and causing Donghae to shiver. Despite the beginning of spring’s spirited step into the region, the open air is cool and biting up here on Orion forcing Donghae to pulls his winter cloak closer. Heechul, annoyingly, remains unbothered as he pats his hair down again despite the natural inclination of their race toward heat and warmer weather.

Everything is different here in Orion, from the strange weather and stranger creatures that inhabit this space that Donghae is supposed to call home. He doesn’t know if he can get used to it, to look up and see the sun or moon above them, to plant his feet on the soil and know that this piece of land isn't anchored to the earth, and to look upon one of the shadows and see distinctly human figures with giant wingspan upon it. All of this while Donghae is several hundred miles above ground.

But even higher still, massive flying behemoths circle the floating islands that made up the Sky City of Orion—the living heart of the mighty and fierce Avian’s kingdom.

Donghae had only seen the legendary city in the old pages of history books and tall tales told to children to warn them to behave. “Be good my dear or a winged beast will swoop out of the sky and take you to their holy city where you will never be seen again,” Lady Haine said to the five years old Donghae, who looked so horrified by the thought of that he’d made sure to eat all his greens for that week.

Orion is a part myth and a cautionary tale, a paradise made by the terrors of the sky. But for all its beauty and allure, when Donghae close his eyes he sees the dim figure of a city cloaked in darkness and build in the belly of the earth.

Terra stands in stark contrast to Orion with it stone pillars that hold up the earthy roof over their head, the underground lake and rivers that are the lifeblood of their city, and their only form of light comes from the artificial fuse created by thousands of lamps that line their city and the living light gave off by the luminescence bugs. Terra is dark and grainy but life flourishes unrestrainedly and it is home to Donghae; he will miss it dearly.

Heechul suddenly perks up, eyes alight with another idea and Donghae knows he is already dreading what comes next. “We can steal one of their cute flying rodents—”

“They're called aroo and they’re not meant to ride on,” Donghae corrects because the journey to Orion took four and a half days even by the standard of their fastest komodos so he had plenty of free time to waste. Jeongsu had prepared a stack of books on Avian’s lore and customs for Donghae to read lest he offend his new in-laws by blinking or smile the wrong way but it was the long hours and idle curiosity that eventually led him to devour all the books he had in his possession.

“Whatever,” Heechul says, rolling his eyes. “If we leave now we can make it to the closest human town before sundown.”

“And what’s going to happen to the wedding then?” Donghae asks, deciding to humor Heechul’s madness this time around. “Who is going to replace me? Because Kangin is not going to be pleased if he has to chase us down the night before my wedding.”

Heechul hums thoughtfully. “We can offer up Kyuhyun instead,” he suggests, face completely serious.

Donghae raises a brow. “You think Kyuhyun will readily accept marriage to a stranger and live among a group of people we have hated and been at war with for over several hundred years? Nobody in their right mind would do it.” 

“Well,” Heechul says, stretching out the vowel pointedly as he stares at Donghae, “don’t we have one right here who did?”

Donghae makes a face. “I’m just finishing what Donghwa started. He’d always wanted to see this war come to an end and now that we have it, I want to cement that goodwill between our two races.”

Heechul slam one of his palms against the table harshly because he clearly hasn’t outgrown his dramatic flair since they were children. “It doesn’t mean you have to marry him!” he hisses. The glamor on his face breaks with his emotional outburst and sleek black scales appears around the corner of his left eye and stretches down to his cheekbone.

Donghae pointedly taps at his cheek to clue Heechul in and it takes a couple of seconds for Heechul to regain his composure again and for his scales retreat and human skin once more take over. He at least has the grace to look chagrin about having slipped his fine control and fall upon such animalistic instinct; they’re not like Avians who gave into their beastly side and shamelessly untethered their wings, showing exactly how different the two race view the other side of their humanity. More beast than human so are the Avian but the Serpentine hadn’t come this far to go backward. They cling to every visage of their human self because the Avian can sweep their wings across the sky and others would turn their eyes to it and call it beautiful but a glimpse of a Serpentine’s scale is akin to a demon.

Heechul mustn’t forget that and neither can Donghae.

Heechul coughs awkwardly. “Thank you,” he says, scrunching his nose and before Donghae can open his mouth and reply, Heechul plows through any further interruption and continues his lecture. “Anyway, he had terrorized our army for five years and kept Kangin and the Dragoons on edge and so paranoid that they only spoke his name in hush whispers and dying prayers. Donghwa was the only one who managed to keep him in check all these years but,” Heechul pauses, casting a keen look at Donghae, who now had carefully don a blank expression over his face to not give away any of his true feelings on the matter, “since he no longer here we were afraid he was going to finally make his way to Terra and raze it to the ground. Instead, he’d chosen to let the centuries-old grudge and infighting be buried and peace is now within our grasp. The King and Elders are all too happy to eat up this peace treaty knowing if they continue with the war we’re only going to lose but I don’t buy it for a second. It’s too easy, there must be more to this.”

“I think,” Donghae says slowly as though he is speaking to a small child, “after several centuries of war and seeing the people you love die in a conflict that you didn’t even start but you inherited from past generations, I would be tired of it as much as anyone and any mean to end a war that had plagued our people for so long is a small price to pay for everlasting peace. I know it may seem bizarre to you right now, even I can’t fathom the stalemate that we have, but quite frankly you worry too much. Everything is going to be fine.”

“Of course I can’t help but worry, you ignorant brat!” Heechul says viciously, nearly jumping out of his seat but the words that come out are lace with familial concern. “In what world is it sane and normal to see your favorite cousin is marrying the man who killed his brother?! That shouldn’t be a prerequisite for peace!”

Donghae’s eyes light up as the corner of his mouth twitch. “I’m your favorite?” he asks.

“You knew that already,” Heechul snaps but his anger is already deflating as he settles back down in his chair.

Donghae really did, but, “It’s nice to hear a verbal confirmation anyway,” he says, tucking a small smile between the pressed of his lips. Donghae was practically raised by his wetnurse and Donghwa when their parents died in another Avian’s raid, but Heechul was a strong presence in his childhood memories growing up. He was always there like an overgrown fungus but as much as Donghwa had held up Donghae’s world, Heechul had shaped it greatly. He is one of the few people Donghae will miss with an aching clarity when this is all said and done with.

Heechul sighs, sinking further down into his seat. “Tell me you want really want this. Tell me you’re not doing this to further your own agenda,” he says, and it almost sounds like a plead at this point. The crack of his cool armor reveals itself to Donghae. “And most importantly, please tell me you’re not going to do anything stupid.”

Donghae blows out a heavy breath. “I won’t,” he insists.

Heechul gives Donghae a considering look, scrutinizing every movement he makes and every facial expression he wears as though he can reach out and rip Donghae’s mask off and see through all the lies and plans he has been hiding. If it was anyone else Donghae wouldn’t be afraid and let them really look because Donghae’s secret is locked and stowed away deep within his ironclad heart. The only person who had the key to it is dead. Nobody can read him, nobody can touch him now but Heechul knows him.

Heechul knows him well, a little too well and he must not have forgotten the early months of Donghwa’s death when Donghae had locked himself in Donghwa’s room for days on end and refused to come out for nothing and nobody. Despair and anger had been his sole companions those two months as he was swept up in the grief for the beloved brother he had lost. He had cried and cried, cursed the name of the man who had taken his brother from him and sworn vengeance until his throat gave out.

Heechul had seen it all. He’d saw Donghae at his lowest point when hatred had burned itself deep in his heart because as a much love and entitled child of the Serpentine Royal Family, Donghae’s love is a heavy thing and Donghwa carried it effortlessly. Having lost his parents at young age, Donghwa had been Donghae’s everything. His parent, his brother, and his best friend all wrapped up in one singular being and Donghae knew love as it existed in a person and not within his heart. And in turn, Donghwa had spoiled him religiously and gave him everything he wanted and wish for.

For all the moment since Donghae has been alive, Donghwa had been with him every step and every breath. He had never known what it's like to exist without Donghwa by his side until now and as he found out it was a lonely and empty existence. 

He’d eventually come out of his catatonic state of mourning just in time for the King to select someone to consolidate the peace between their two kingdoms by marrying off one of their own to the Great Hero of Avian-Serpentine War, Lee Hyukjae. Donghae was the first to volunteer himself for the marriage much to the surprise and delight of everyone involved.

The spoiled and much useless nephew of the King had finally grown up and was now ready to fulfill his duty to his people and kingdom with a subdued maturity and a willingness to see peace bear fruit between two enemies. But the hatred wasn’t gone completely, it was only honed and sharpened as a blade that will bring Lee Hyukjae closer to Donghae.  

“I wouldn’t dare to jeopardize our hard-won peace for something as selfish and petty as revenge,” Donghae says solemnly, painting a carefully hurt and weary expression on his face as he wring his hands under the table. “I thought I have shown you and the Council these past few months that I have matured and outgrew my childish anger. I know Donghwa wouldn’t like to see me obsessing over his death so all I want to do now is to fulfill Donghwa’s last wish for peace and let his death be the beginning of something new and good for us all.”

Donghae had practiced his speech many, many times over the last few days but going up against Heechul’s keen eyes won’t be easy.

Heechul is silent and for once the silence between them is agonizing and suffocating as Donghe waits to be judged, then finally a drawn-out sigh leave Heechul’s lips and Donghae knows he had won the battle. “At least make sure to come back and visit us sometimes,” Heechul says, a tender and sad smile makes its way to his face. “Donghwa may be gone now but no matter where you are, you are always a Serpentine and a part of the royal family. You are always welcome in Terra.”

“I know and I’ll definitely come back to Terra one day,” Donghae says, and it’s another lie added to the larger pile still that Donghae had collected ever since he stepped out of his room, walked straight toward his uncle, and said, “I want peace.”

If it all goes well as planned then this will be the last time he’ll share the same space with Heechul before tomorrow night because since the moment Donghae had agreed to marry Lee Hyukjae, he knew it won’t ever stepped back to his home soil again. Even his family can’t save him from his crime of treason against the kingdom.

“Tomorrow will be a memorable day for us all,” he says, thinking of Lee Hyukjae and the dagger tucked deep in his wardrobe chest that he had taken from his family treasury; it’s a family heirloom that had passed down from generation to generation as a protection charm but this time Donghae will use it for another purpose.

On his wedding night, Donghae will betray Donghwa’s greatest wish and shattered the fragile peace that they all had been fervently wishing for in order to avenge his brother murder. He won’t ask for forgiveness because knows it’s too heinous of a crime to ever hope to be forgiven for but at least he hopes Donghwa will accept this final last selfish act of his willful younger brother.

[lovehotelreservation]

The Get Laid Cafe [2/3]

Summary: With no more fake Olympic gold medals or fancy yakuza briefcases to sell, the disbandment of the Phantom Thieves has been tough on your wallet–and your heart. Thankfully, a gig at one of Tokyo’s most popular maid cafe has helped to fill the void in both.

That is, until four of your former fellow Phantom Thieves return home to attempt to convince you to consider a different occupation, if not just different clients.

Namely them.

Rating: PG-13* (Rating will go up to NC-17)

Series Pairing: Akechi/Akira/Reader/Ryuji/Yusuke

Chapter Pairing: Akira/Reader/Akechi

[Part 1]

BACK AT IT AGAIN AT THIEVING CREMES!!!

; v ; Thank you all so much for your support and patience with this fic! I am really proud of what I was able to accomplish with this piece, and it elates me to no end to be able to share with you all!

As always, I truly hope you enjoy this lewd little tale~!

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A few days after your ruined reunion with Yusuke and Ryuji, you were readying yourself for your inevitable confrontation with Akechi and Akira.

Whether you were commuting to and from work, grabbing dinner with the girls--while trying to avoid bringing up your current predicament in fears of causing a rift between them and the guys--or even while you were working your shift, you were nearly constantly planning and preparing.

Would Akechi come in the early evening, charming your fellow maids with his disarmingly sweet smile and innocently asking if pancakes were served?

How likely was it that Akira would show up at night for your cafe's perfect imitations of Sutabaa's coffee drink menu?

While Ryuji and Yusuke didn't bring up your maid job anymore whenever they texted or called to ask what you were up to, you were positive that they had spoken to the former leader of the Phantom Thieves by now about what went down during your reunion. Likewise, you had no doubts that Akechi would've done some investigating on his own. Perhaps calling up Sae and steering the light-hearted discussion about his time in London to any interesting stories that Makoto may have been involved in--especially about her friends.

So focused on this ordeal, always hyper-vigilant of your surroundings, you swear you could practically see through walls.

So focused on the risk of either of the two showing up during your shift that you honestly forgot to consider they may show up afterwards.

As per your scheduled duties, you were responsible for closing up shop this evening. Twisting the keys in their respective locks, you were thinking about when Akechi and Akira were supposed to arrive back in Tokyo. From what Futaba had told you, the latter was due back in a couple days, whereas the former had texted your and your friends’ group chat yesterday morning to say that he couldn't wait to see you all soon.

You were left to wonder what time exactly he would be back, as that detail wasn't mentioned--honestly, however, you felt that was intentional, given the circumstances involving you.

And then the devil spoke,

"Mm, how fortunate this wonderful coincidence. It seems luck was on my side for me to have caught up to you."

The keys in your hand almost fell to the floor as you whirled around in utter shock. You were met with a charming and gentle grin, expensive casual wear of the latest trend, and the shine of a metallic suitcase.

"A-Akechi...!"

In that moment, you knew you were screwed.

You could see his eyes twinkle with satisfaction at your astonished reaction, all the while he chuckled with relaxed amusement. "It's good to see you too, though..."

His eyes trailed to the side, followed by his head turning the other way as he mused, "…it appears that we're not alone. And here I thought I had the upper hand."

While his voice remained lighthearted, you could tell there was an displeased tinge to the words he spoke.

There was only one person who could twist Akechi's charming demeanor and incite his more aggressive and competitive nature--the same one who had you gasping out in utter surprise and horror as you turned around.

"A-Akira!"

Forget screwed. You were fucked.

Having seemingly emerged from the shadows, he held a calm yet knowing smile, dressed in a well-worn but fashionable outfit assembled from sifting through Parisian thrift shops, and the glint that appeared not from a pair of fashion glasses, but rather the onyx irises that they framed.

One lithe arm raised in greeting, accompanied by a hum of your name, "It's been a while. Good seeing you." The same arm dropped slightly, instead drawn out to the side, as mirrored by its counterpart, a silent yet obvious request for a hug.

You didn't think twice.

The last time he held you was when you were sending him off at Narita International Airport, his embrace comforting as it was reluctant to let you go while you sniffled how much you would miss him. His palm rubbing up and down your back in a soothing manner was a sensation that still left you shivering.

This was the physical embrace that persisted in your fantasies of being held by him--or perhaps Akechi, Yusuke, or Ryuji after all four finished having their way with you. Though the outfits and context changed with each imagined scenario, the aftercare was almost always the same, save for when you pictured them in a more rough and ruthless mood.

You resisted from shuddering as you were engulfed by his arms, immediately feeling the body heat that you wished wasn’t obstructed by layers of clothing. The security in his embrace made you want to never be freed, wondering how nice it would be--or even better--if he held you like this as your lover instead of a friend.

"Aww, am I to be left out of your friendly affection?"

Akechi's voice was your liberator.

Snapping out of your reverie, you barely caught how Akira's already tight hold on you subtly constricted further. Still, worried about hurting the feelings of the other--even if his tone was teasing and his smile remained--you broke away from the embrace while you opened your arms to accept Akechi instead.

"O-Of course not, Akechi. Come here!"

From one cage to another.

Akechi was beaming while he eagerly scooped you against his chest for a welcoming embrace, but with your vision obscured, you did not notice how he and Akira exchanged narrowed glances. Yet another instance of their rivalry taking form even amidst the tight-knit friendship amongst the former Phantom Thieves.

In this instance, however, Akechi only saw Akira as mere backdrop, especially now that you were literally within his grasp.

"It feels so good to embrace you like this again," he sighed happily, drawing you further towards him while his chin rested on your shoulder. "Honestly, my arms were tingling after we parted in the airport. It was then that I knew I'd be homesick because of you."

Despite how you didn't want to pull away from Akechi much like you did for Akira, you drew back slightly at his words, your jaw becoming slack. "'Homesick,’ Akechi? ...Really?"

You both heard and felt the mild timbre of yet another pleasant hum, which only contrasted to the tightened grip around you while his eyes became half-lidded. Seemingly pleased at your struck expression, he then purred innocently, "Though things seemed to have changed with you since then, hm?" His head tilted to the side, the charming smile on his features remaining even as his more conniving calculating side revealed itself. "I wonder, will Akira and I be charged for hugging you since we're within vicinity of the cafe?"

Shit.

Akira chuckled from behind, seemingly closer than before. "And without any discounts at that too, right?"

The feeling of despair weighing you down could've made you plummet straight to the Earth's core at this point. As expected, Ryuji and Yusuke must have told Akira everything about your encounter. Not to mention, by the sharp and knowing look on Akechi's face, you already knew that he had done some investigating on your job.

You braced yourself for what was to come.

Putting on a teasing front to hide the anxiousness that was quickly running rampant through your entire being, you let out a small laugh while you slipped out of his embrace. There was no point in dawdling or feigning ignorance around these two, especially when they had you surrounded. "Sounds like you've been snooping around. As on point as ever, huh, Akechi?"

His expression became prideful while he cupped his chin, one eye shutting in a wink. "Even while preparing to return to Japan and assisting my professors--among the best lawyers in the United Kingdom, mind you--I certainly couldn't turn a blind eye to a cherished friend potentially being in danger."

"'Danger'?" You repeated innocently as you refrained from wincing. So that was the angle he would be going for, even if you were elated to hear him express concern over you.

"Lest you forget the issue with Kaneshiro and Makoto's friend. As amusing as they are, host clubs and maid cafes often involve trouble, especially with their employees. I do not want you to be harmed or get caught up in such a scenario, hence why I do believe this calls for a formal interrogation into possible prostitution at your workplace," Akechi went on, his tone sophisticated and concerned, even if his wording was purposefully phrased to get a rise out of you. "Your assistance would be of great value."

Having reconstructed his reputation as Detective Prince after Shido's downfall, he still had his influence over and connections with Tokyo's police force. And knowing him, he wouldn't refrain from making good on his bluff.

Despite inwardly seething, you did your best to retain your calm facade before him, even amidst the tense silence between you, him, and Akira, the latter of whom was as silent as ever. He was probably surveying the situation at hand to determine the opportune moment to swoop in to make his move.

However, you were adamant to not give him or Akechi the satisfaction of taking the upper hand, of taking away the distraction you needed to keep your desires in check.

This was mind over matter, and though this was both Akechi and Akira that you were standing up against, you reminded yourself of your success with Ryuji and Yusuke. Thus, with your reaction unfazed and unbothered, you shrugged with a sheepish expression. "Sorry Akechi, but all maid-related inquiries are to be handled at the cafe, whether through our site or through one of our employees. Though..." Your heart was pounding while you brought your hand up to run a hand through your hair, being mindful to make it look as flippant as possible, matched by the smile that tugged on your lips. "...for any after-hours activity, you just need to be willing to pay my fee."

The narrowing of his eyes was enough to make your knees nearly buckle. "So, you're refusing to help me with this serious offense?"

"Innocent until proven guilty," you briskly replied with a sharp tone. "After all, even you said this is mere speculation, a possibility of shadiness going down--not enough to convince a judge to issue a warrant, I’m sure." His teeth clenched in response and you couldn’t prevent your smile from widening in satisfaction as you felt a burst of confidence. "If you want to talk about London, fine. But if you try to ask about my job, it's gonna cost you."

"Is that so?" His tone held a sharp bite to it while his eyebrow cocked at your defiance.

Not backing down, you nodded as you continued, arms folding across your chest, "Are you sure you want to engage in suspicious activity on a hunch? Especially with all the effort you've put into scrubbing up your reputation, with the help of me and everyone else? I'm sure even you wouldn't want that, Detective Prince."

That did it.

Akira's silence was finally broken by an amused snicker, much to Akechi's blatant dismay if by the frowning curl of his lips and the shaking grip on his briefcase handle.

You went there.

You had to.

Now going on a high stride, you knew what to do next. Your lips parted to speak once more, your body slow to turn around. "And what about you, Akira?" You faced him fully, watching as his laughter quieted, his tranquil demeanor returning. "How are you going to try and get me to quit?"

He only offered you a half-hearted shrug. "I think from what I've seen just now, and from what I heard from Yusuke and Ryuji, you're pretty set on sticking to this job."

On one hand, you were relieved that he was laying off of you. However, there was also a pang of disappointment that he didn't seem to be passionate or concerned enough to urge you to leave.

At least, that was what it seemed to be initially.

Akira's expression grew serious, as did his tone while his gaze bore straight and deep into yours. "All I want to know is why--the real reason, not the ones you’ve been using as excuses to us and the girls."

Your composed--even cocky--facade finally broke with genuine confusion. "'Excuses'?"

"I know you," he affirmed, his tone leaving no room for argument. Noting the look on your face, his own broke into a grin in response.

"We know you," Akechi interjected, his tone rather tight at the thought of being excluded.

Your gaze shifted between the two, now feeling the heat of both their intense gazes focusing on you.

It made you wish they were looking at you this way in bed, preferably while you allowed them--and Ryuji and Yusuke--to do as they pleased with you.

However, not to get caught up in that fantasy, which would most certainly lead to your downfall, you faced Akira once again as you huffed, "Like I said to Akechi, if you want to hear anything maid-related, we can discuss things after payment."

"Is that how it's going to be then?" Akira responded, the tone less of a question and more of a challenge.

It was difficult to not shiver, but still remaining headstrong, you declared, "Yes."

The tense silence was at its thickest at this point, with the two staring unblinkingly at you, contemplating your words, your attitude towards them.

At last, the rigid atmosphere was broken once again by Akira's amused chuckle, "Mmm, very well." He took a step forward, his arms swiftly pulling you into a short embrace as he murmured lightly against your ear, "We'll be seeing you later then."

Almost immediately, you felt heat press against your back and a puff of air against your other ear, Akechi mirroring Akira's actions as he hissed out, "Count on it."

Then, as quickly as they returned to your life, the two left separately, both going in opposite directions, leaving you alone in stunned silence.

You couldn't even begin to imagine what might be in store.

The days that followed had you even more on edge than before, wondering when one of the four would show up again to dissuade you from your job, to just do something to you. Despite your tenseness, however, you didn’t bring it up to any of the girls, wanting to be sure that your actions didn't break up any friendships within the former Phantom Thieves.

But you knew Akira and Akechi.

You knew firsthand the extent of their determination and calculation.

And coupling that with their words to you that night, you knew they were plotting something.