#muse : link ;; i tried carrying the world but i only have two hands

[gwinnetts-archive]

// my muses braska (final fantasy x) and link (ocarina of time/majora’s mask) now have fancy bio pages!

if you’re familiar with their canons, they won’t tell you any new information, but they’ll explain my portrayals of them. braska is a minor character, and link is a silent protagonist, so i wanted to make sure i laid out where i got my interpretations from!

[peachesandmilktea]

𝔐𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱'𝔰 ℭ𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢 - ℭ𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 1

ꜱʜɪɢᴀʀᴀᴋɪ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Chapter 2.

Shigaraki Tomura is King. Villains won, heroes are no more, and there isn't a soul in the world that's more powerful than him. It would have stayed that way, if only you hadn't kissed him.

TW : Blood, Torture, Degradation.

AO3 Link.

The first time you met Shigaraki Tomura was something out of a fairytale.

You came down, tumbling from the sky, falling right into his open arms. The world seemed to pause as his gaze dove into yours, confusion swarming in his irises, determination filling your own. He didn’t know why he had caught you, or even why he kept you in his embrace as you took a deep breath, heart beating loud as a thunderstorm. And yet, he held you still, gloved hands firm on your arm and in the crook of your knees, carrying you like he would carry his bride, if he ever had one.

A wingless angel, he thought, looking right into your eyes.

The man I want dead, you mused in your thoughts, gaze diving into his.

Had he realized what you intended to do, he might have stopped you. But how could he predict anything from a girl who had fallen from the sky? He was still somewhat stunned by your presence, by the soft warmth of your arms and thighs under four of his fingers, by the smell of rain and dust that emanated from your hair as he wondered what he was supposed to do, if you were friend or foe, if a wingless angel could even be considered in these terms.

You took advantage of his confusion. Cradled his face gently between your palms.

Kissed him softly.

And smiled when he started coughing up blood.

12 hours earlier, Resistance Headquarters, Bakugo’s Office.

“That’s the dumbest fucking idea I’ve ever heard,” Bakugo said with a snarl.

You gave a kick on the leg of the chair he was sitting on, and he let out an angry hiss, baring his teeth at you. Just like a dog, you thought, an amused smile on your lips.

“It’s the best plan we’ve ever had, you mean. It can’t be too difficult, I just have to kiss him.” You raised a hand, your index finger softly brushing against your bottom lip in a faint imitation of a kiss. What would it be like to kiss Shigaraki Tomura, King of Villains, the self-proclaimed ruler of Japan since the fall of the heroes? You’d bet he was a bad kisser. Not that you’d had much experience, but, well. You could just guess, looking at the guy.

“Yeah, you kiss him, and you die, dumbass,” Bakugo retorted, annoyance made clear in his tone. “He’ll kill you before you can even blink.”

What a killjoy. You simply shrugged.

“Probably, but that’s a risk I’m willing to take, Captain.”

The use of the nickname seemed to calm him down a bit, as you knew it would. Not to mention that it would be unfair of him to outwardly reject your plan simply because it was risky. Bakugo took risks like he took breaths, always jumping in the heat of the battle, relishing in the thought that death could barely brush against his soul with its crooked fingers, never quite managing to grasp him. It was like second nature at this point, something he did without even thinking. Most of the time, you found that hot-headedness to be quite charming, but now, it was your turn to play with death.

Whether you won or lost didn’t matter, but you’d make sure Shigaraki wouldn’t taste victory either.

Death would grab him alright.

“And what do you propose, Princess?” Bakugo asked, his elbows now resting on the desk between the two of you. He was thinking about it. Considering your little plan. You tried to hold back the triumphant smile that pulled at the corner of your lips, but it was no use.

“I’m more of an evil enchantress than a princess, don’t you think?”

“Got it, Maleficent,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “Explain your stupid plan before I start losing patience.”

30 seconds after the kiss, Shigaraki’s estate, Tokyo

When Shigaraki dropped you, scarlet blood running from his scarred lips to his chin, you felt other, different hands catching your body, ungloved ones that were burning against your skin, weird staples catching at the soft fabric of your dress. The device you’d used to warp to Shigaraki’s location (with a little mistake regarding the height, you reluctantly admitted) fell from your pocket, breaking in a thousand pieces on the ground.

There was your escape. Damn it. Bakugo was going to murder you.

If the villains didn’t do it first.

“Who the fuck are you?” Dabi snarled, his hand glowing with blue flames almost close enough to lick at your face.

As the grip of his other hand tightened on your throat, menacing, threatening, you contemplated on what would be the best answer you could give him. A hero? You sure weren’t, not with that kind of quirk. Your worst nightmare? Eh, too dramatic. A member of the resistance? While that might be the truth, it wasn’t memorable enough for what might be your last words.

You wished he would kill you quickly, sealing both your fate and Shigaraki’s.

Once your heart stopped beating, the mission would be a complete success.

So, you did your worst.

“Eh, aren’t you Todoroki Touya? You look just like your brother.”

You welcomed the darkness that filled your vision, and drowned into nothingness with a smile on your face, the taste of victory sweet on your tongue.

Sometime later, in a damp basement of the League of Villains’ headquarters

A four-fingered slap, harsh enough that it would leave a mark on your cheek, startled you up. The same ungloved fingers then caught your chin, the grip so mercilessly tight that you could already feel bruises starting to form.

So, you weren’t dead.

Instead of receiving the sweet release of death’s embrace, you were tied to a chair in a tiny room that smelled like mist and dust. Next to you, on a shiny clean medical trail were aligned various tools and instruments that you could only guess would be used to torture you until you spilled everything you knew about the resistance.

As if you’d betray your comrades like this.

Snitches get stitches, don’t they?

Shigaraki still held your face in his deadly fingers, dried blood lingering on the corners of his mouth, pure rage burning in his crimson gaze. You tilted your head slightly, biting into his hand until the metallic taste of his blood filled your tongue. You had hoped he would lose control of his quirk and decay you in a few seconds, but he simply let go of your chin, a hiss of annoyance crossing his chapped lips.

If only he could kill you quickly.

“Do you have a death wish, you dumb whore?”

You blinked, suddenly hopeful.

“I do, actually.”

Not that you were a dumb whore. But well, would it matter once his five fingers closed on your throat? How satisfying would it be to watch him kill you, all while knowing he condemned himself to a slow and painful death in the process?

His eyebrow twitched as he took a step back, surprised by your earnest answer.

“Ah, don’t worry, you’ll probably die soon,” said another masculine voice from behind you, his tone almost soothing in the way it confirmed your impending death. “We just need to get a few answers from you first.”

Mr. Compress.

The older man took a step towards you, appearing by your side as he studied the many torture tools disposed on the medical tray under Shigaraki’s annoyed gaze. A scalpel, pincers, a blowtorch, long needles among other things you didn’t even recognize. An icy shiver ran down your spine at the sight; were they planning to use those on you? Alright, alright, alright. No matter how fast your heart was beating, threatening to burst out of your chest, no matter how harsh you bit your lower lip, blood dripping on your thighs, no matter how overwhelming your fear was, drowning any other emotion in your mind, you wouldn’t give in.

“Don’t go easy on her, Compress,” Shigaraki ordered, a disgusted wince on his scarred lips as he looked at you. “Make her suffer.”

What a jerk.

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, rivers of fresh blood started running down his pale chin, another deadly coughing fit taking a hold of his throat, invisible needles piercing all over his heart in his tightening chest. You didn’t care for his pain, and chose to simply glare at him as he leaned against the tray to keep himself from collapsing.

Good. His state would only be getting worse from now on.

Shame you wouldn’t be alive to witness it.

“First question,” Compress started, a faint hint of worry in his voice as he glanced at his companion. “What did you do to him?” He marked a pause, grabbing a shiny scalpel from the tray, before adding: “Please avoid any lies. Shigaraki possesses a truth detection quirk, and we would be forced to punish you should you try to hide anything from us.”

That was an easy one. You wanted Shigaraki to know exactly what was going to happen to him.

“I used my quirk,” you replied, a triumphant smile on your lips. “I cursed him.”

“You damn witch,” Shigaraki hissed between his blood-coated teeth.

His hold on the tray he was leaning against slipped between his fingers and he collapsed this time, as another coughing fit started burning holes through his lungs and throat. From the sound of the pained whimper that escaped him, you guessed that each coughing fit was worse than the other, weakening him at every insult he dared throw at you.

Maybe he’d pick up the hint, eventually.

“May I ask what your quirk is?” Compress inquired, calmly helping Shigaraki get back to his feet. The leader of the League of Villains glared at you in the process, but kept his mouth shut this time. Good, maybe that jerk was finally learning something.

“Well, do you know any fairy tales?”

Compress almost seemed offended you’d ask.

“I am a performer,” he replied, as if that fact alone answered the question.

You decided to indulge him, accepting his answer with a nod.

“My kiss isn’t the true love’s kiss you hear about in fairytales. Mine is a hate kiss. Instead of breaking a curse, it is one in itself, eating up at the victim until there’s nothing left of them.” You turned to Shigaraki, an innocent smile pulling at your lips. “Death comes after six months of pure agony. You’ll feel your organs melting inside you, your flesh burning as if it were constantly on fire, your thoughts swarming in your head to the point you’ll slowly fall into insanity.”

Then, with the possessor of All for One gone, the resistance would take back the country.

Even dead, you’d win.

Shigaraki caught your throat in a four-fingered-grip, obviously struggling to hold back his murderous urges. He still needed other answers, after all. Maybe he was still hoping that you were lying, despite one of his quirks confirming that every single one of the words that crossed your lips was the truth. Or maybe he was waiting for you to tell him that there was a way out of this, that he’d be able to save himself.

If he still had hope, you would crush it.

“Once the curse has set, even taking my quirk or killing me won’t stop it.”

Eraserhead had tried, once, to undo the consequences of your kiss. No matter how long he looked at you or at your victim, irises glimmering a pretty pink color, the effects didn’t go away. It had been an accident, at the time. You hadn’t really wanted the poor guy to die. But this time, when hatred for Shigaraki filled you whole, burning your insides faster and more violently than a summer forest fire, you could only hope that the effects would be even stronger, and that they would consume him just like anger consumed you, until there was nothing left of either of you.

You weren’t lying. Shigaraki used his coat sleeve to wipe the blood off his face, glaring at you as if hoping he could kill with a single look.

“Is there a way to undo it?” he asked, his usually raspy voice made even weaker by the pain still burning through his throat.

You hesitated. Opened your mouth, closed it.

“No, it’s irreversible,” you whispered at last.

This time, Shigaraki smiled, teeth still red with blood.

“Liar.”

You heard the clicking of the metallic torture tools beside you, and an icy shiver ran down your spine.

“I am very sorry, but you have been warned that you’d be punished should you try to lie,” Compress apologized, always so polite. His calm tone didn’t make anything better as you eyed the knife he held tightly in his gloved hands. Fear clawed at your chest, and Shigaraki coughed a bit, but not enough for Compress to stop.

“Carve my name into her skin,” the leader of the League of Villains ordered. “And then, she’ll explain how to get rid of this damn curse so that I can decay her.”

You had only a second or so to brace yourself before the blade started cutting through the flesh of your forearm. Blood, blood, blood. It was everywhere; on the soft fabric of your dress (your favorite one, you’d chosen it for your death day), on the damp floor of the basement, on your tongue as you bit your lip to keep your screams from escaping the warm comfort of your mouth.

Hot, burning tears rolled down your cheeks as Compress made it through the first character. 死, Shi, for Shigaraki. You knew what it meant. Death. So many strokes, so many carvings in your flesh, every single one more painful than the other. Then, once this nightmare of a letter was done, he stopped.

He stopped, because Shigaraki was crying tears of blood.

The Villain King didn’t even seem to realize it himself. Seeing Compress stare at him, Shigaraki finally raised a hand to his face, brushing his digits against the wetness on his cheeks. His eyes widened when he saw crimson stains coating his fingers, an horrified wince pulling at his chapped lips.

He used these same fingers to backhand you so violently you thought the hit would knock you out.

It didn't.

“Tell me how to undo this, you dumb slut!” he ordered, almost screaming, little drops of blood mixed with spit splashing all over your face as he spoke.

You’d rather die than tell him, you’d rather have the rest of his name carved up your arm than give him any hope for escape, for a chance at salvation.

And yet, even if he knew how to undo the curse, there was no way he could. No matter his hundreds of quirks, no matter his incommensurable power, no matter his thirst for blood, Shigaraki Tomura wouldn’t be able to fulfill the condition required for his survival. He’d have to feel death slowly grab at his soul, pulling him towards hell where he belonged while his body painfully burned through your curse. There was no way he could avoid this fate.

Telling him wouldn’t change anything, anyways.

And if you were to die soon, you wanted to see all hope crumble in his mind first.

“There is only one way to undo the curse,” you said, voice weakened by both the pain devouring your arm and the anger that burned through your lungs. “And you can’t use a quirk or anything like that to fulfill that condition. If you try, it won’t work, and you’ll die in six months anyway.”

He didn’t reply, waiting for you to keep going

It was the truth, and he knew it.

You let another few seconds pass, silence settling in the damp basement as you relished in his rage, in his despair. You could almost taste his hatred on your tongue, and you delighted in the sweetness that filled your mouth at the thought that you held his fate in your hands, just like he held everyone else’s in his murderous palms.

This time, you had the power.

And you’d bring the King of Villains to his knees.

“The only way for you to be free of the curse is if I fall in love with you.”

The knife fell from Compress’ hand, filling the silent basement with a harsh cling that echoed in your ears as it hit the ground. And yet, no protests arose, no one called you a liar, no one punished you for the words that had crossed your lips.

Because Shigaraki Tomura knew that it was the truth, and that you had just condemned him to death.

______________________________________

and it was in this moment that Shigaraki knew: he fucked up. This is my first multi-chapters fic!! I have a few ideas but I didn't outline anything yet because I LOVE taking inspiration from the comments, so please, spare a few concepts that you'd like to see in this fic. I try to vary the kind of reader I use in each fic/one shot, this one has 0 survival skills and is super hot-headed and impetuous but she still has a bit of a backstory so if you don't like her yet please don't worry she'll come around eventually (hopefully). And ofc I'll keep writing my usual one-shots all while writing this fic so you can keep requesting anything As usual please tell me your opinion, it means the world to me <3

[maximoffsworlds]

Not while I’m around

Summary: When a thunderstorm rolls into town, Wanda comes to the rescue.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Warnings: None, just fluff.

A/N: this is the first piece of Wanda fic I’ve written that I’ve been brave enough to publish 🥺 I hope you like it. Also, if anyone else can tell me how to cut this into a link to shorten your pages, please do 😂

You had only been dating for two months when Wanda had come to your apartment, knocking on the door before twisting the handle to let herself in. You had told her early on into your relationship that she was always free to let herself in and you loved that she felt comfortable enough with you to do just that.

“Y/N? I brought dinner,” she calls out, closing the door behind her with a smile, kicking off her shoes. To her dismay, there was no sign of you in the living room, nor in the kitchen of your open plan apartment.

You’d yet to meet the rest of the Avengers. You knew of their reputation, and although you’d been scared to admit it to Wanda when you had first gotten together, you had told her one early morning as you lay with your head on her chest while the sun rose that you were intimidated by them. What if they didn’t like you? What if they didn’t think you were good enough for Wanda? What if they felt the need to abolish you from her life in one way or another.

Of course, she had reassured you that there was no way that would happen: that they were her friends and they’d love you - and she had put you at ease, you’d both agreed to wait just a little longer. Besides, it meant that there was still time for Wanda to keep you for herself - and she loved that too.

Setting the bags of takeout down on the kitchen counter, a frown creasing her forehead as she turns around, wondering where you had gotten to. She had texted you to tell you that she was bringing food, and although you had read it, you hadn’t replied. But the read receipt told her that you knew she was coming over.

“Y/N? Are you home?” She calls out, this time heading towards your bedroom. The door was open and your bedside table was on, casting light and shadows simultaneously against the magnolia walls of your rental property.

It had gotten dark outside early as a storm had rolled in across the city. Rain pelted against the windows while the wind howled, and it had been storming for the past hour or so. “I’m sorry I’m a little later than I said I’d be. Traffic was crazy out. You’d think it was the end of the world, and not a little storm,” she chuckles to herself, before turning out of the bedroom and glancing at the bathroom.

Again, the door was slightly ajar, but all the lights were off. Instinct should have told Wanda that there’s no use checking the bathroom, and yet, she found herself pushing the door open.

Her eyebrows raise as she switches on the light, her eyes landing on you, curled up in the tub.

“Honey, why are you in an empty tub in the dark?” She asks, crouching down at the side of the bathtub with a concerned expression upon her face. “Are you okay?”

You didn’t have to answer verbally. A roll of thunder growled across the night sky, followed by a flash of lightening. Your whole body jumped, causing you to hit your head on the side of the tap. If you weren’t trembling before the impact, you were now.

“Are you scared of storms?” Wanda asks, immediately reaching forward to rest her hand against the side of your head.

Shame washes over your body. You’re way too old to be cowering at the weather. Mentally, you know this. But you can’t help the fear that has you trapped within its vice-like grip.

“I’m not scared, I just-“ you began, before being interrupted by another roll of thunder.

Before you even had a chance to say another word, Wanda had risen to her feet, scooping you up and into her arms, carrying you bridal-style into the living room, where she had set you down on the couch.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed, y/n. All fears are valid, and you can always tell me what and how you are feeling. There’s no shame in that,” she says, shaking her head. “Give me five minutes and I will be right back,” she says with a smile, before shrugging off the long cardigan she had chosen to wear. Delicately wrapping it around your shoulders, she places a kiss to your forehead. “There, it’s like a hug from me. It’ll keep you safe until I’m done,” she says, before scurrying off to your bedroom.

Wanda isn’t gone for too long - maybe ten minutes or so, when she comes back to you on the sofa where she finds you pulling the cardigan tightly across your chest. Your knees are brought up to your chest and your forehead rests upon them while you tried to drown out the sounds of the storm outside.

There was no way Wanda was going to explain to you that lightening can travel through plumbing during a storm - and that was why she had lifted you out of the tub. Instead, she taps your shoulder gently and takes your hand, leading you back to the bedroom.

You stayed close to Wanda as she walked before you, your body huddled close to your girlfriend and your grip holding her hand tightly, squeezing it every time you heard another roll of thunder.

It’s absolutely stupid for a grown adult to be afraid of a storm. She’s going to think I’m an idiot.

“I’m not going to think you’re an idiot,” Wanda tells you with a smirk, turning to look at you as your eyes widen. You still hadn’t gotten quite used to the fact that she could read minds - and you often forgot it too.

She kisses the tip of your nose and smiles, before leaning to kiss your lips softly. “You’re adorable. And I’m going to show you that there’s nothing to be afraid of,” she tells you, before she pushes open your bedroom door.

Inside the room, your bedroom looks almost unrecognisable. Sheets and linens had been draped from the ceiling to both walls. Your bed faced the windows in the room, and your bed had been lined with a cacophony of pillows.

Wanda had built you a fort.

Not only was it a fort, it was a fort adorned with fairy lights and the Chinese take out she knew you loved from that place a few blocks away.

“Come on, y/n. Climb in,” she says, releasing your hand only to climb onto the bed, patting the space besides her until you quickly followed. The scent of her perfume on the cardigan she had given you earlier had already helped to relax you, but there was truly no better feeling than of Wanda’s arms circling you protectively.

From where you both lay, you had a great view of the city. It may not be dark outside because night had fallen, but the storm had brought its own darkness in early. “Nothing is ever going to hurt you, y/n. Not while I’m around,” she tells you, allowing you to nestle your head into the crook of her neck. When she feels you flinch with another roll of thunder, she chuckles to herself. “We can watch the storm together and you’ll see,” she tells you.

“You’re laughing at me,” you say, a little timidly. This was the reason you never told anyone about your fear of thunder and lightening. This was was a fear that is traditionally rooted in children under the age of ten, and you had passed that marker decades ago.

“No, baby. I’m not laughing at you,” Wanda promises, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. Her hand smooths it’s way up and down your back gently as she watches the storm outside.

“I’m laughing because of the circumstances. You know of Thor, right?” She asks, looking down at you, and watching as you nod your head quietly. “Well…he’s known as the God of thunder. Well, his name means Thunder. Legend has it that lightning was created by him using his Mjolnir - or so I’ve been told,” Wanda explains.

Lifting your head curiously, you raise an eyebrow towards the redhead. “So you’re telling me that all of this is caused by Thor having a tantrum?”

“Well, technically thunderstorms are caused by the atmosphere being unstable - when warm air exists underneath colder air,” Wanda begins to explain, stopping only when she sees you frowning.

“I think I prefer the idea of Thor having a temper tantrum,” you admit, setting your head back down on her shoulder before wrapping your arm around Wanda’s waist.

Her fingers play with the ends of your hair as she hums a soft melody for a moment with a smile on her face as she relishes the comfort of you snuggling up to her.

“If you prefer, you can always tell our children that Uncle Thor is having a tantrum if they’re scared of storms,” she muses quietly, bringing a smile to your face.

Wanda wants a family with you.

And you want a family with her.

And in years to come, whenever there is a thunderstorm, you’re no longer afraid. Not when you’re cuddling your wife and three children beneath a blanket fort in the middle of your living room.

Suddenly, storms aren’t that scary anymore.

[arrowflier]

Omggg my heart is aching with the small Mickey and Ian one 😭😭 please do a part two fuckkkk

I’M SORRY ANON BUT LOOK LOOK I FIXED IT.  Moved this to the top of my prompt list so I wouldn't leave you hanging.

Part 1 if anyone needs their heart broken before I make it better.  The parallels will make more sense too.

--

It's early on a Saturday afternoon when Mickey sees it. 

They're over at the Gallagher house, watching Franny while Debbie works and Liam studies upstairs.  Mickey has just finished chasing Franny around the house in a rousing game of liquor store robbery and collapsed on the worn sofa next to Ian, letting the other man drape an arm over his sweaty shoulders.

"She wear you out?" Ian asks, amused, as he turns down the volume on whatever comedy show rerun he was watching.

Mickey shakes his head, letting the movement tuck him more thoroughly into Ian's hold.

"Nah, just gotta give Little Red a break," he claims, but grins when Ian raises his eyebrows at him.

The both turn back to Franny, still zooming around the living room like a ginger Tasmanian devil, and Ian laughs.

"Yeah, looks like you really did a number on her," Ian quips, and Mickey elbows him in the gut.  Ian lifts him arm to grab Mickey by the hair, shaking him lightly.

Mickey smacks ineffectively at his husband's hand.  "Hey man, watch the..." he trails off.

Because from the corner of his eye, he can see what Franny is up to.  She’s bent over a box Debbie had brought down from the attic that morning, digging through old toys and papers, pulling out an old, raggedly, doll.

A doll that looks oddly familiar.

Mickey stares long enough that Ian notices, and releases him.

“Mick,” he starts, sounding worried.  “You okay?”

Mickey clears his throat.  “Yeah, yeah I’m fine,” he says, then, “where’d that old thing come from?”

Ian gives him a confused look, so he nods his head at the doll that Franny is now happily playing with on the living room floor.  She bends it’s limbs in all sorts of unnatural directions as they watch.

“Oh, that?” Ian says casually.  “That was Fiona’s I think.  Debbie lugged it around for a while too, back before she stole that kid.”

Mickey’s head snaps toward him.  “Stole the...” he shakes his head.  “No, never mind, I don’t wanna know.”  He sits quietly, feeling Ian’s eyes still on him, and thumbs the side of his nose.

“Why?” Ian finally asks, and Mickey huffs. 

“Not important,” he says, then stands abruptly from the sofa.  “Hey, why don’t we take the kid to the park today?”

Franny hears that.  “Park?” she asks excitedly, jumping up from the floor.  She runs over to Mickey, dragging the doll by an arm, until she can wrap her own arms around Mickey’s leg.

“Yeah kid, why not?” he offers, ignoring Ian’s confused face behind him.  “Go get Liam too, little Einstein probably needs a break.”

Franny eagerly runs off to do as she’s told, and Ian stands to move forward next to Mickey.  He wraps his arms around him from behind, loose but present, and Mickey leans back into it.

“What’s this about, Mickey?” Ian asks softly, but Mickey just shakes his head again.  

“Tell you when we get there,” he promises instead.  “It’s fine, Ian.”

Ian tightens his hold briefly, then lets go when the kids come storming back down the stairs, relenting.  He helps Franny into her coat while Mickey helps Liam track his down under a stack of laundry, and then they’re out the door, and off.

--

The route to the park is familiar.  They pass the building where Ian had pressed him against the wall in broad daylight to kiss the life out on the way to the L after a family dinner.  And the alley where someone had tried to mug them one night only to run away when he saw Mickey’s tats, leaving them both laughing so hard they had to hold each other up.  

When they got to the park itself, Mickey made straight for the bench where Ian had sat on his lap two weeks ago just to piss off some holier-than-thou, gentrifying housewife.  Franny and Liam immediately made for the playground together, but Ian followed him, sitting close at his side this time with an arm around his waist.

For a moment, they just watch.  Liam is helping Franny climb the jungle gym, no small feat considering that she still hasn’t let go of her new favorite toy: that dirty, torn, raggedy doll that Mickey had somehow recognized from twenty-odd years ago.

“So,” Ian finally starts.  “We’re here.”

Mickey hums.  “We are,” he agrees.  He leaves it at that just long enough to feel Ian’s chest heave in a sigh, then smiles and scoots even closer.

“You come here a lot as a kid?” he asks Ian, who’s surprised by the question.

“Uh, I guess,” he answers slowly.  “I mean, Monica brought us sometimes, but she’d kinda forget we were here, so we usually told her we didn’t want to go.”  He turns his gaze to Mickey’s profile.  “Why?”

Mickey shrugs.  “Met you here,” he reveals, and can tell by the way Ian’s arm stiffens around him that the other man doesn’t know what to make of that.

“No, you didn’t,” Ian disagrees.  “I think I’d remember that, Mick, come on.”

“Nah, I did,” Mickey insists, still not looking at him.  “You were like, a baby then, you wouldn’t remember.”  He knows Ian wants to respond to that, but he doesn’t let him, pushing on instead.

“Musta been you, Lip, and Fiona,” he tells Ian.  “All together over by that sandbox.”  He points at the broken plastic turtle that’s seen better times, now barely holding any sand at all.  “Your idiot brother stole that damn doll from her and ran.”

“Franny’s doll?” Ian asks, intrigued.  “How are you so sure?”

Mickey snorts, and finally turns to face him, one leg coming up onto the bench between them.  Ian’s arm falls from his back, his hand landing on Mickey’s knee, where his thumb starts to stroke back and forth.

“I’d know you anywhere, Red,” he shares.  “Your hair’s like a fuckin’ target man, can’t hide that shit.”

Ian blinks at him.  “But you said I was a baby.”

“You were.  Like, one or two, I guess?  But you already had the hair.”  Mickey reaches up with one hand, ruffles it through Ian’s close-cropped curls, and laughs when Ian goes cross-eyed trying to see what he’s doing.  “Even then I wanted to fuckin’ touch it,” Mickey muses.

Ian finally catches that hand and brings it down between them, linking their fingers.  “Why didn’t you?” he questions.  “I mean, I didn’t know you for years after that, why didn’t you come talk to us?”

Mickey’s lips twist.  “Tried to,” he admits.  “Well, sorta.  But Fiona was protective, and you started fuckin’ cryin’.”  He looks down, then back up through his lashes.  “Scared the shit out of me, man.  Thought I fuckin’ broke you.”  He shrugs.  “So I left.”

They’re quiet for another moment, before Ian breaks the silence.

“Too bad,” he sighs.  Mickey looks at him questioningly, and he grins.  “If I’d known you were that soft earlier, I might have made a move before you tried to kill me.”

“Uncle Mickey, Uncle Ian!” Franny shouts, interrupting their moment.  She runs toward them from the playground, Liam trailing behind her.

Mickey shifts to put both feet back on the ground, leaning forward to catch her as she barrels into his legs for the second time that day.

“What up Little Red?” he asks, but she’s too busy poking at the tattoos on his hand to respond.

He looks up when Liam answers instead.  “Time to go back,” Liam says, “I gotta finish that workbook tonight.”

“Says who?” Mickey asks, and Liam rolls his eyes.

“Says me, because I don’t want to do it tomorrow,” he responds, and Mickey mumbles nerd under his breath, but obediently stands and hoists Franny up onto his hip.

“Nooo, Uncle Ian!” she cries, wriggling, and Mickey scoffs as Ian reaches over to take her with a shit-eating grin.  

“Fine, take her,” Mickey says, “we all know I’m still the favorite.”

It’s Ian’s turn to roll his eyes, turning to carry Franny back toward the house.  Liam follows behind them, but Mickey lingers.

He looks out over the playground again.  He’s been there more in the last two years than he ever had been as a child, sat on that bench with Ian and run through the woodchips with Franny and even pushed Fred on the baby swings once.  The kid had smiled up at him like he was the king of the world, even fucking reached for him after.  It was a far cry from the days he prowled the edges, selling drugs and spotting targets for his pops.  Even farther from the days he had wandered back on his own when his mom wasn’t there, just hoping to catch sight of that splash of fire-red again.

“Hey Mick!” the owner of that red hair calls from behind him.  “You coming?”

Mickey smiles.  He casts one more look over everything, then turns.  Ian is waiting for him, Franny in his arms, Liam at his side, and Mickey goes to them.  They know the way home, but he’ll walk it with them anyway.

[pocketramblr]

oooo okay writing game - balter, linked universe, whichever character(s) who choose

Balter- to dance gracelessly, but with enjoyment

Ask game

"The others have a lot of musical instruments, don't they." The Champion mused as the two of them explored the caves.

"You mean how the Veteran could supply an entire orchestra twice over?" Link- Traveler, the others called him, but it was so hard to stop thinking of yourself by your own name. He had no idea how the princesses had managed it- snorted.

"Well, that too." The Champion nodded, then stepped out of the way of a large boulder. "But I mean, the Old Man's ocarina, and Sky's harp, and the Pirate's stick thing."

Link considered it. The Captain and Smithy too- did that only leave one? "I don't think I've ever seen the Rancher play."

"Oh, he howls."

Link stopped, and let the Champion take the next Keese.

"He what?"

The Champion looked back at him, brows knitted together. "Oh right, you- you and the Caption weren't there that night. Uh, it's a howling type of singing. They do it in Ordon apparently. It's called yodeling."

He remembered he and the Captain's detour to the Fairy Fountain, and was not quite sad enough to regret missing out on hearing something new.

"Shame. The Captain is probably glad for it though, imagine his poor ears."

The Champion agreed with a laugh.

Link caught his boomerang, and they kept waking on, silence light between them.

He'd miss it, when this journey was over.

"So, do you sing?" The Champion asked, and Link thought maybe he wouldn't miss it that much, actually, as his ears began to burn.

Bless the darkness of the cave hiding their color.

"Ah, not really." Not in this form, not in front of others. "I can carry a tune on my whistle, but that's about it."

"Oh." The Champion seemed almost disappointed with that answer.

Had he said something wrong?

What could it have been?

"Do you sing?" Link tried to keep his confusion from his voice, but it probably bled through anyway.

The Champion snorted. "Definitely not."

The silence returned, almost as light as it was before, until it wasn't.

"I can't play any other music either. I don't remember if I ever could."

Oh.

He wanted to take the whistle from his bag and give it to the other- the same instinct Link had had for years now, to part with a gift whenever he left a child or friend. The Hylian hospitality he'd learned after it saved his life on his first adventure long ago.

But his hands were full, and he could hardly teach the Champion how to play it without a second whistle, and it wasn't really something he knew formally anyway.

Not enough to teach.

A different idea stuck him like an Ache.

"Do you dance?"

"Huh?" The Champion looked like he was the one struck with no warning. "No, why?"

"Well, if the Rancher howling counts as music, I figure dancing does too."

"Oh. Probably, but like I said, no idea how."

"I can teach you." Link offered.

The Champion actually tripped.

Link took out the last bokoblin before it could capitalize on that opening, and sent a wave of fire to clear the last of the monsters in the cave.

"You can dance?" His formerly favorite exploring partner asked.

Like it was the most shocking thing in the world. Like they didn't all know the kinds of things and clothes he kept in his bag.

"I'll have you know I was brought up right, despite my best efforts." He sheathed the magical sword and put his boomerang away. Impa and Zelda Oriana had insisted on that, and learning to dance actually hadn't been so bad.

There were no fancy clothes or faraway nobels here to be the parts that were bad. So why not try?

"Where?"

"Why not here?"

"Now?"

The Champion looked dazed. Link would be worried about a concussion if he didn't know there was no cause for one today.

"Yeah. Here, I can teach you a simple one. You kick on your heal, then the other, the the first," he demonstrated with three kicks, then clapped his hands twice, "and clap. Then you repeat starting with you other foot, and just alternate like that."

The Champion gave him the same look the Old Man sometimes gave the moon- not completely trusting.

Link tried for his most earnest face, the one he made when talking to the Red Sisters about getting a healing potion.

Finally, the other nodded and repeated the meter Link had shown.

They'd make an odd sight, if there were anyone else to see. A sixteen year old Calatian heir to Hyrule, eons after his motherland vanished and his homeland changed forever, clapping his hands and calling steps as a Champion Knight both one year and one century older than him tried to dance along.

Magic brimmed under their skin, he could feel the similar lighting and protection and lift and healing that thrummed in both their veins, pushed as their hearts raced to keep up with their quickening steps.

Apparently, sharing the same hero spirit did not mean they were better at being in time with each other.

Breathing heavy- the Champion panting- he stopped. "Alright, good. So you do that like, eight or nine or ten times," no, it was probably an even number. "Well, eight or ten times."

It wasn't six, right?

The Champion huffed, but Link charitably chalked it up to being out of breath instead of doubting his instructor.

"And then, the next step,"

"There's more?"

"Just one!"

"I thought you said it was easy." He complained.

Link hadn't. "I said it was simpler. So, you take your partners arm like this, and spin while you step in- actually, just spin. Then you turn around and spin the other way. Then you go back to the first step."

They practiced that a fair while, and Link nodded. "Good. Ok, I'll play the tune on my whistle, you keep going!"

The Champion faired well until it was time for the partner step, and Link didn't move to help him.

He stared, waving his arms wildly to ask what he should do.

Link took a moment to wave his hand in a circle, and the Champion correctly read it as being told to figure it out solo.

The little spinning jump he did on his own could not be called graceful, or in time with the music, but it certainly looked fun.

He went back to the first step, and after one more set, Link lowered the whistle. He might not have been dancing, but he was just as out of breath for playing that long.

"Good job." He grinned, and the Champion's beam back was bright enough to light the cave on his own.

Which was useful, because they heard Wolfie barking outside irritably a few minutes later, and had to hurry back through the tunnels before they were dragged out.

[stiltonbasket]

Nielan fathers day prompt! Sorry if its late, but how about finding out they're going to be parents on Fathers Day? (mpreg, adoption, surrogacy, your choice).

anon: the first fathers' day after jingyi is born, modern lxc and nmj both set up a present for each other "from Jingyi." It's very cute. Baby Jingyi magnanimously chews on his foot and accepts giving two presents and meals.

this is for the art thief au, so lxc is trans here!

(ao3 link)

----

What should I give Xichen for Father’s day?

Nie Mingjue has been puzzling over gift ideas for the past two weeks, with no luck whatsoever. Jingyi is still too small to make them gifts, so he and Xichen use the occasion to exchange presents with each other and label them with their little boy’s name; Xichen probably picked out his gifts already, since he knows Nie Mingjue’s tastes like the back of his hand, but Mingjue keeps flipping through mail-order catalogues and crossing off their entire inventory as he goes.

“I have present,” Jingyi insists, as Nie Mingjue carries him down yet another aisle of their local department store. “A-Die, look!”

Mingjue looks. A-Yi is holding a six-pack of orange bath sponges, since Xichen mentioned that they needed some more earlier that morning.

“That’s not a Father’s Day gift, A-Bao,” Mingjue chides, kissing Jingyi’s forehead. “Last year, I gave your Ba a brooch with his initials on it, remember? It has to be pretty.”

Jingyi wrinkles his tiny nose. “Starfish?”

“Mm, the starfish brooch.” Lan Xichen has an impressive collection of jewelry, with most of it coming from gifts Nie Mingjue gave him over the course of their fifteen years together; and nearly all of the pieces are sea-themed to go with his husband’s wardrobe and his clear, moon-white skin.

Perhaps he could buy pearls, this time?

“A-Yi,” he says slowly, “what do you think about going to the discount shop across town?”

A-Yi is happy enough to go wherever his father goes, so Nie Mingjue drives to the discount store--full of discarded, overstocked, and secondhand merchandise from all over the city--and digs through the bins of jewelry until he finds an antique bracelet, strung with pearls carved into the shapes of starfish and clam shells. Jingyi nearly loses his little mind at the sight of it, and he squeals at the top of his lungs while Mingjue pays for the bracelet and bundles him back to the car.

“I know them,” he declares, when Mingjue gives him the bracelet to play with on the way home. “Diedie, it’s a clam!”

Mingjue glances up at his son’s reflection in the rearview mirror. “Can you count how many clams there are?”

Jingyi flings himself headlong into the task, counting twelve starfish and eleven clams, and then he peruses the Learning Reader books Xichen keeps in the back seat until Mingjue carries him into the house.

His husband runs to meet them at the door, and it is this, not the driveway or their well-worn doorstep, that means Nie Mingjue has finally come home.

______

To Nie Mingjue, stepping into his woodworking studio feels like stepping into another world.

It isn't that the studio looks very different from the rest of the house--in fact, Nie Mingjue had a tiny nursery built into the north corner, since he set the studio up with A-Yi’s needs in mind--but Mingjue feels different here, more sure of himself, and aware of his own thoughts and hopes as he scarcely is anywhere else. He had only to enter, and he was changed: his hands steadier, his heartbeat slower, and his mind somewhere distant and immediate all at once. It is here that he pays homage to his heart, his muse, and the dearest friend he has ever had, or ever will. It is here that he pours pieces of his love for his husband into everything he touches, and everything he makes, and emerges with pieces of polished art like testaments to the husband he vowed his life to. 

“That isn’t a metaphor,” Nie Mingjue said once, when Huaisang asked what he meant. Mingjue has carved everything from furniture to lamps into shapes reminiscent of his husband’s lips, perfected the stems of wooden sunflowers to match the sweet arch of Lan Xichen’s neck, and burnished every last one of his creations until they shone like sunlight falling on the apples of his husband’s cheeks. He etches A-Huan’s expressions into the faces of statues intended for the foyers of upscale hotels, and into a thousand quarter and sixth-scale figures commissioned by model collectors, since he rarely has any excuse to sculpt his husband directly. But today he does, so he sits down at his bench and gets to work with a block of oak and his favorite gouge and chisel.

He will love this, Nie Mingjue thinks, as two bowed heads and a pair of smiles take shape under his hands. This is the most beautiful thing I have ever made.

He glances over his shoulder at Jingyi, fast asleep in the glass-walled nursery with his feet up in the air, and turns back to the sculpture with his heart quivering in his chest.

______

The sculpture takes about a fortnight to complete, almost exactly the span of time between the day Nie Mingjue begins working on it and the holiday it was intended for. Nie Mingjue wakes up early on Father’s day, leaving Xichen asleep behind him, and bundles A-Yi out of bed and down into the studio. They wrap the sculpture up together in Jingyi’s favorite gift wrap, and then Nie Mingjue carries him to the kitchen just in time to catch his husband as he comes stumbling down the stairs.

“Good morning, love” Lan Xichen sighs, burrowing into Nie Mingjue’s arms. “What should we have for breakfast?”

“Eggs?”

For some reason, Lan Xichen shakes his head.

“Noodles, then?”

This suggestion is met by a drowsy nod, so Mingjue goes to the fridge to dig out  a few ingredients while Lan Xichen hops onto one of the bar stools with Jingyi in his lap. He chops the scallions and garlic for plain noodle soup around their son’s little body, leaving Mingjue to boil noodles in one pot and stock with soy sauce and sugar in another until three blue bowls of yang chun mian are steaming on the counter.

“Smells yummy,” Jingyi yawns, while Xichen spoons fresh green onions into his soup bowl. “Baba, feed A-Yi?”

“He’s forgotten about the presents,” Lan Xichen mouths, as Nie Mingjue tries not to snicker. They eat quickly, slurping down the noodle soup with cups of soy milk on the side, and then Jingyi scrambles to the other side of the room before running back with Mingjue’s wrapped box in his arms.

“Father’s Day gift!” he squeaks, wriggling like a happy worm as Xichen laughs and tries to remove the gift wrap without tearing it; because Jingyi never lets either of them cover gifts with anything but Pingu penguin-printed paper, and he cries if anyone rips it up in front of him.

Mingjue used the weakest tape he could find, so that Xichen could extract the box with the paper left mostly whole. He hands the paper to Jingyi, watching as his husband’s slender fingers close around the base of the sculpture, and then--

“Oh!” Lan Xichen gasps, pulling it all the way out into the light. “A-Jue, I--”

The sculpture depicts him and Jingyi at the beach near their house--in fact, at the same beach where Mingjue and Xichen first met. Mingjue was sitting on a sandy rock, catching his breath after running around behind a hyperactive Nie Huaisang all day, and then he looked out over the foggy water and saw what looked like a water spirit drifting out of the darkness in a rowboat.

He sculpted Xichen seated on that very rock, with his long hair tangling in an invisible gale, and a little heap of shells (the pearls from the old bracelet he found at the discount store) piled up in his lap. Jingyi is standing on the ground at his feet with a wave of seafoam brushing his ankles; and in his hands is a small pearly starfish, offered up to his baba as Lan Huan leans forward to cup A-Yi’s cheek in his palm. Both father and son are smiling, with heart-breaking happiness in A-Huan’s eyes, and sheer pleasure at finding the starfish in Jingyi’s.

Nie Mingjue looks up at his own flesh-and-blood husband, tearing his eyes away from the wooden figure, and finds Lan Xichen sitting there, frozen, with tears rolling down his face as he traces the tiny ridges and dimples of stone and sand and water.

“It’s beautiful,” he chokes, rounding the corner of the table to throw his arms around Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “It’s the most precious thing you’ve ever made, sweetheart.”

“The most precious thing I helped make is over there,” Nie Mingjue teases, tilting his head at A-Yi. “But I think this one comes pretty close.”

Xichen opens his mouth, and then closes it again; but Jingyi interrupts before he can say anything else, impatient to present his diedie’s gift from his baba.

“Now this one!” he shouts, diving into Xichen’s pocket for a small present in a wooden box, labeled with Jingyi’s name just like Nie Mingjue’s gift was. He all but shoves it into Mingjue’s hands, leaping up and down on the spot while he snaps the lid open--and then he screeches with delight as Nie Mingjue goes crashing to the floor, staring at the contents of the tiny box until his eyes blur over.

He had expected some kind of memento or trinket, like he usually gives to Xichen. But the box was so light, impossibly light--and it holds a pair of hand-knitted baby socks, set neatly on top of a black and white photograph with his husband’s name printed in the upper left corner.

Nie Mingjue has already been a father, already accompanied his husband through the endless doctors’ visits and checkups that came before Jingyi was born. He saved all of Jingyi’s ultrasound pictures, even the ones where A-Yi looked like a chubby white bean on the sonogram, and he stared at every photograph for so long that reading them comes as second nature to him.

"A-Huan,” he says, after a long pause. “Please tell me I’m not dreaming this.”

“You’re not,” Lan Xichen laughs, wiping Mingjue’s face. “I had my first doctor’s visit last week when you and A-Sang took Jingyi to the park. And the clinic ran a few blood tests just in case, so I already know it’s going to be a girl.”

“And you’re okay? Both of you?”

“Very okay, darling. I haven’t even had any morning sickness yet, and the baby’s perfectly healthy.”

Nie Mingjue only cries harder, at that; but Xichen is crying too, clasped in his arms while A-Yi climbs all over them, so perhaps it doesn’t really matter.

All in all, this is the sweetest father’s day he has ever had.

[thero0ks]

In This Life and In the Next

NSFW! Do not read unless you are 18+

Miche and Erwin smut ahead (you’ve been warned)

She wasn’t sure what came over her that day. Perhaps it was the near death experience breathing life into her once again. When the dust settled, and saw the look of fear on her comrades faces her feet started to move on their own accord. Miche gave her a curious look, and Hanji’s eyes shined with glee as she stepped forward to join her. Dancing wasn’t in either one of their job descriptions, but it quickly brought a smile to their faces. 

Erwin folded his arms with an amused expression. “There isn’t any music.” He stated bluntly.

“Sometimes you don’t need music.” Hanji replied, as her and Y/N linked arms spinning in a tight circle as delighted shrieks erupted from them. 

Nanaba shrugged, a smile spreading on her lips as she joined them. The stunned look on Moblit’s face as Hanji dipped him caused Y/N to burst into laughter. 

A small grin tugged at the corners of Levi’s lips until he caught Erwin’s knowing gaze. With a weak cough he stilled his face to the impassive expression he typically wore. 

“Oh Comanderrrrr!” Hanji’s sang, pulling him into a dance. Erwin was taken by surprise as his long legs scrambled to catch up to the brutal pace Hanji had set. 

*

**

Levi took a sip of his tea as the three recounted that day. “I’m happy you forced the Commander to dance.” Levi said with a sigh, “For once he didn’t look like he carried the weight of humanity.”

Y/N chuckled, “he even danced with me after Hanji had thrown him across the square.” 

Hanji gasped, “I did not throw him. I attempted to pull him back into me and he let go.” They stated with a laugh. 

“I only wish Miche had danced with you,” Levi said with a sigh. 

“He did,” Y/N said with a shrug. “Just not then.”

*

**

She recounted those late nights in his office. The candles had burned low, and all the piles of paperwork were finally finished. Another date night passed by as Y/N waited patiently for him to finish. 

His back cracked when he finally stood up. With a glance out the window his face fell. “I did it again,” he said with a sigh. “Didn’t I?”

Y/N nodded, but offered him a soft smile. “It’s okay Miche.” 

“Let me make it up to you,” he said softly, as he tugged her out of her seat by their clasped hands. 

Placing his hand at the small of her back he drew her in. Softly swaying in the candlelight the creak of the wooden floorboards were the only sound in the room. Hair framed his face as he gazed down at her, eyes full of adoration, and Y/N found her craving this simple intimacy that a date night couldn’t create. 

Miche knew it was the little things that warmed her heart. He never stopped thinking of small ways to show he cared. Even with his death he’d left small pieces of himself behind in the form of handwritten letters in the event he met an untimely end. 

*

**

“Miche did that?” Hanji exclaimed. Surprise evident on her face. “Would you two have walked away from all this?” 

Y/N shook her head. “Not until we could live in a world free of titans. We’ve lost so many friends.” 

“Remember when Moblit thought you blew up the lab?” Levi asked, turning to Hanji, soliciting chuckles from the other two.

*

**

The boom could be heard at the training grounds. Levi and Y/N’s heads snapped at the sound. 

A figure covered in soot ran across the grounds, “Levi! Y/N! Come quick!” Moblit cried. “I think Hanji blew herself up!”

The three took off quickly, motioning for the cadets to follow. Erwin emerged from the castle at the sound of all the ruckus. “What’s going on?” He inquired, falling into step with them. 

“Shitty glasses blew up the lab.” Levi grumbled, shaking his head. 

“Dammit Hanji.” Erwin muttered under his breath.

When they finally arrived at the lab they saw Hanji emerge from the smoke, coughing profusely. “Hanji!” Y/N cried, stepping up to help them out of the debris. 

“I’m okay.” They wheezed, breathing in mouthfuls of fresh air. 

The sound of ODM gear could be heard as Miche came into view. Cupping Y/N’s face his eyes ran over her inspecting her for injuries. “Are you okay?” He inquired, as Y/N nodded.

“I KNEW YOU WERE DATING!” Hanji cried. “Moblit my hypothesis was right!” They drawled on with a wild look in their eye. “I knew I heard you two getting it on last night!” 

Levi and Erwin’s head snapped to Y/N and Miche, who had the good sense to look embarrassed. “So that’s why I’m not seeing the pathetic longing stares.” Levi mused, folding his arms across his chest. “You two disgust me.” He added, turning to Erwin who rolled his eyes at Levi and Hanji’s antics.

*

**

“You really were perfect for each other.” Hanji said softly. “I always imagined you two having the cutest babies.” 

Y/N blushed, “we didn’t think this would be the life for kids.” 

Levi sighed, “you were both right on that.” The only true veterans left were Y/N, Hanji, and himself. The fear of how much longer their little group would stay intact brought fear straight to his heart. “Still it would have been nice to have a piece of Miche running around.” 

Y/N’s eyes weighed heavily at that statement. Levi knew she would have dwelled on the idea a lot, but he also knew she wouldn’t change that choice. It would have been selfish of her to bring a child into a life like this, and Miche and Y/N rarely acted on their own selfish desires. 

“Remember when Hanji got the Commander to play seven minutes in heaven?” Levi asked, an attempt to lighten the mood. 

“You mean when they forced us all to play?”

*

**

“We can’t let the cadets have all the fun!” Hanji exclaimed, pouring another glass of wine. 

“Aren’t we a little old for drinking games?” Miche asked pointedly.

Hanji waved him off, “it’ll be a fun bonding experience!” Grabbing a felt hat she thrust it out, “now everyone put something personal in it.” 

“Wait, that’s rigging it.” Y/N said, folding her arms across her chest. “You can just choose the item the person you want puts in. It’s not hard to guess an object by touch when you know what’s in there.” 

“You really want this to be random Y/N?” Levi inquired, taking a drink of the whiskey in his glass.

Y/N shrugs, “isn’t that how the game is played?” 

“Alright everyone close your eyes and I’ll get an item from each of you.” 

Hanji passed the hat around, and once all the items were in place everyone opened their eyes. “Moblit you draw first.” 

With a sigh he dug around in the hat bringing up an enamel pin that he couldn’t quite identify. “That’s my Titan pin!” Hanji beamed.

“Titan pin? That looks like hammered shit.” Levi stated bluntly. 

“I made it myself!” Hanji snapped back. Before pulling Moblit in the awaited closet. 

“Someone got a timer?” Miche asked, as Y/N flipped the hourglass over. 

“How far do you think Moblit’s gonna go?” Nanaba inquired, as Levi snorted.

“How far do you think Hanji is going to go?” 

Everyone laughed at Levi’s statement. “I bet Hanji doms hard.” Y/N added as a muffled ‘Yes section commander!’ Was squeaked out from the closet.

Erwin shook his head, “why on earth have you thought about that?”

Y/N shrugs, “I got a lot of time on my hands Commander.” Taking a sip of her wine she nodded at Levi, “that one has a brat kink.” 

Levi’s stare turned predatory, “mind your manners brat.” 

“Or what Levi?” Y/N inquired, smiling sweetly. 

Nanaba snickered at the Captain's cool expression, and her fellow squad members challenging stare. 

Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose, “please tell me you have not made assumptions about everyone in this room.” 

Y/N shrugs, “the truth is often shocking Commander.” 

Miche laughs, “Erwin’s definitely got an authority kink.” 

Y/N’s eyes widen, “that’s exactly what I thought!”

Miche gave her a high five as Erwin shook his head pouring another glass of whiskey. The closet burst open as Nanaba yelled time. Moblit stumbled out hickeys all over his skin, and a proud Hanji following behind. 

“Moblit...you okay?” Y/N inquired as he looked at her with a dazed expression before nodding. He looked like he was on cloud nine. 

“Who’s next?” 

Miche reached into the hat pulling out a flower pendant. “Nanaba.” 

*

**

“How did that feel watching him go into the closet with Nanaba?” Levi inquired.

Y/N let out a sigh, gripping the ceramic teacup. “We weren’t together at that time,” she stated with a shrug. “It hurt like hell though.” 

Hanji sighed, “that’s the reason I made everyone play the damn game to begin with.” 

“What?” Y/N asked, sitting up straight at Hanji’s revelation. 

Hanji nodded, eyes focusing on a knot on the wood table. “I always wanted you and Miche to get together.” Her eyes flickered up, “whenever you were around each other it felt so natural. Like breathing.”

“Regardless, whatever happened in that closet with Erwin?” Levi inquired, with a tilt of his head. A blush bloomed on Y/N’s cheeks.

“What we heard was….spicey to say the least.” Hanji added. “Did you fuck the commander in seven minutes?”

Y/N laughed, “well since Erwin’s gone...I suppose I can reveal all the juicy details.”

*

**

The item felt cool and smooth in her hand. Y/N tried to focus on it, and not Nanaba who was currently in Miche’s lap. The color drained from her face when she pulled the medal out. 

“Commander!” Hanji cried, their jaw hanging wide open at the pairing. 

Y/N stood up, and the rush of butterflies danced in her stomach. Erwin set down his drink, and she felt his large palm on her shoulder. Leaning down his voice was low enough that only she could hear him, “by the way you’re trembling I’d say you like it when someone else is in control.” 

That statement went straight to her core, as he guided her into the closet. The door closed with a click. Before her eyes could adjust to the light Erwin’s hands were on her. “Do you want me to kiss you?” 

Y/N found herself nodding enthusiastically as Erwin’s breath fanned her ear. “I need to hear you say it.” 

“Yes Erwin.” 

“That’s Commander.” He corrected.

“Yes Commander.” She breathed as his lips latched on to her neck. He peppered kisses along her neck, turning her head he captured her lips. His kiss was demanding, and passionate. His hands were the only thing anchoring her to her body. 

“How much do you want?” 

Intoxicated on his kisses her mind could think of little else than him filling her. “All of it.” 

“I like hearing you needy.” Erwin mused biting the junction between her neck and shoulder. “I can fuck you like this, or I can fuck you against the wall.” Erwin nipped at her ear, as she let out a small whine. 

“Against the wall.” Y/N pleaded, before remembering to add, “please commander” at the end. 

“Strip.” Erwin demanded, and she made quick work getting undressed. 

The racket coming from the closet came as a shock to the group. “Are they…” Moblit trailed off. 

“Fucking?” Levi supplied, taking another drink.

“Maybe they’re just making out?” Nanaba offered. “Y/N seems like she could be an...enthusiastic lover.” 

Hanji burst out laughing, “she probably told Erwin to blow her back out.” 

Y/N had no idea how much time was left as Erwin thrust into her. The stone wall he had her pressed against felt cool against her back, and the angle he was driving into her had her seeing stars. “Fuck Erwin, I’m so close.” 

“Look at me when you cum.” He ordered, gripping her jaw firmly. His demand was enough to send her over he edge, “fuck Commander” she cried. By the look in his eyes he was close behind. With a few more thrusts he stilled in her. Letting her feet touch the floor he didn't let go of her until he knew she could stand. Tucking himself alway he quickly helped her get dressed. 

As soon as Erwin had straightened her clothes the door flew open, and they both went back to their seats not sparing the closet or Hanji a second glance. “Did you guys just?” Hanji inquired.

“What are you trying to imply, Hanji?” Erwin’s stern expression shut them up. 

“Nothing Sir.”

*

**

Hanji leaned back with a satisfied grin. “I knew it.” 

Y/N shrugged, “the only other person who knew was Miche.” 

Levi shook his head, “of course that bloodhound knew.” Taking another sip of his tea, “let me guess. Miche decided to mark his territory?” 

Hanji’s jaw dropped, “did he?” Gripping Y/N’s arm tightly they were excited at the prospect of new gossip.

“He did.”

*

**

Eventually the party died down, and Y/N found herself in the halls next to Miche. Leaning over her she heard him sniffing. “You smell like Erwin.” He hissed. 

“Nothing happened.” Y/N said tucking her hair behind her ear. 

Miche gave her an incredulous look, “I can’t even smell you.” Shaking his head his fists clenched, “you can’t lie to me about this.” 

Y/N folded her arms across her chest with embarrassment, “so what? We’re two consenting adults.” She said simply, “you looked cozy enough with Nanaba.” 

“We didn’t even!” As the words escaped Miche’s lips his eyes widened, and he went silent. 

“You didn’t have sex?” Y/N finished for him. “Let me guess she sucked your dick?” She inquired, with a knowing look. Miche ran his fingers through his hair formulating his next words. A habit that was typical for the tall man. He was never quick to choose words. They were always slow, and calculated. 

“It was just a game.” He said simply. “It didn’t mean anything.” 

Y/N gave him a slight nod, “exactly. It didn’t mean anything.”

*

**

“Wait so you didn’t get together that night?” Levi sat his teacup down with raised eyebrows. 

Y/N shook her head, “I wouldn’t have felt right jumping from Erwin to Miche that quickly.” 

“Or Miche hopping for Nanaba to you?” Levi added.

Y/N shrugged, “we knew after parting that night we both felt the same way. We wanted it to mean something when we actually decided to pursue a relationship.” 

“When did you actually hook up?” Hanji inquired, resting her cheek against her palm. 

A small smile pulled at Y/N’s lips as she recounted the memory. 

*

**

“You wanted to see me Commander?” 

Erwin’s sharp gaze flickered up at her voice. Setting the pen down he leaned back in his chair. “Any potentials among the cadets?”

The chair squeaked as she took a seat in front of his oak desk. “A couple, but none that would get along well with Miche or Levi.” 

Erwin nodded thoughtfully, “perhaps I’ll give you a squad.” Shaking his head at the thought, “I’m sure Miche would be in my office first thing to complain.” Resting his elbows on his desk he seemed to be lost in thought. Y/N watched the wheels turning in his mind as silence filled the room. “I think another squad would be beneficial,” Erwin concluded. “There is something I need you to do for me,” he said standing up to grab a small packet of papers. Picking up his pen he made quick work of the forms. “Give these to Miche,” he said, handing them to her. The ink hadn’t even dried. “You’re officially a squad leader.” 

Y/N’s jaw dropped, “thank you Commander.” 

Erwin’s smile was genuine, “you’ll make a good leader.” He paused, debating whether or not to speak plainly. “If you could convince Miche not to storm my office that would be appreciated,” Erwin said with a chuckle. “He’s rather fond of you.” 

Blinking at Erwin’s statement Y/N wondered what exactly Erwin knew. Before she could ask Erwin chose to speak first. “Relationships between officers and their subordinates have always been frowned upon,” he began his tone delicate, treading lightly. “You are no longer a subordinate,” blue eyes held a hint of mirth in them. “You’re dismissed.” 

Before Y/N could respond he’d already turned his attention back to the mountains of paperwork. If she hadn’t been mistaken, Erwin had practically given her his blessing to pursue Miche. Tension in her shoulders eased. Thankfully their romp in the closet had not meant anything more then carnal desires to him as well. 

Leaving Erwin’s office she made her way down the hall to Miche’s. Lightly knocking on the door she heard Miche’s voice welcoming her in. Opening the door she found Miche squatting before the fireplace throwing another log on. Emerald eyes slid up her frame, and a pleased look came across his face at her presence. “Y/N, what can I do for you?” 

Thrusting the stack of papers into his hands she stuttered out, “the Commander has given me new orders.” 

Miche stood up stunned at her words, quickly flipping through them fury prickling under his skin. If this was Erwin’s way of getting closer to Y/N he was prepared to challenge his orders. “He’s given you a promotion?” Miche inquired, an attempt at keeping his voice even. 

“Yes, Erwin thinks we need a new squad,” Y/N explained wringing her hands. “There’s potential among the new recruits, but I don’t think you or Levi would care for them,” she explained. 

Sharp eyes observed her as she spoke. “He also mentioned that I could pursue a relationship with another officer this way,” bashful eyes flickered down as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. 

Miche froze at her statement. “That will be very convenient for the two of you,” his jaw was clenched tight as he tried to contain the jealousy that boiled in his blood.  

Y/N’s head snapped up at his statement. “Miche, I was talking about you.” 

Miche’s eyebrows rose, “me?” 

“Erwin didn’t want you busting down his door over this,” Y/N explained. “He was giving us his blessing as our Commanding officer.” 

Miche took a step closer to her sparks at the tips of his fingers as he reached out to touch her. “You want this?” He inquired, his large hand cupping her cheek.

“Ever since I met you,” she confessed leaning into his touch. Leaning down he pressed a kiss to her lips. Hands sliding down her body to lift her off the ground. 

Large hands gripped her thighs as he sat her on the edge of the desk. Groping the soft flesh his lips worked against hers. Fingers carded through his hair as he deepened the kiss. His tongue slid against hers, and she took the opportunity to suck on it. This only made him more eager, leaning into her as she pulled him closer. His hands slid up to her hips pulling her against his thigh encouraging her to grind against him. A soft moan escaped her throat as she rutted against his leg. “That’s my girl,” he murmured against her lips. Dragging his lips against her neck she felt him trail kisses to the crook of her neck. A sharp pain had her arching into him as he bit down. Nails dug into his biceps as he soothed the bite mark with his tongue. 

“Fuck you’re intoxicating,” he said inhailing her scent. Reaching for her ODM straps she quickly started removing them, and he made quick work of his own. Tugging at her shirt for approval she grabbed it by the hem peeling it off. Miche groaned at the sight of her flesh. Soft and supple in all the right places. Calloused fingers traced the plains of her body. Shuttering under his touch she tugged at the hem of his shirt feeling vulnerable under his gaze. Pulling his shirt off he let it fall to the floor somewhere at his feet. Removing the fabric covering her breasts his eyes were eager to drink her in, greedy for anything she was willing to give him. Her soft hands traced his stomach muscles, lust filled eyes taking in his pecks eager to watch them move under his skin. 

Her breasts filled the palm of his hands. The weight feeling like heaven in his hands. A sharp inhale ignited a fire in him as he brushed his thumb against her nipple. Sensitive to his touch he captured one in his mouth as he rolled the other with his thumb. Her hands found purchase in his hair as needy whimpers escaped her lips. “Miche,” she pleaded, as he released her breast to pay attention to her other. He’d pushed her back against his desk as he continued his slow ministrations. Pulling soft pleas from her lips he felt her hips wiggle desperate to grind against him. “I’m going to make you feel good baby,” he said, kissing her navel. “Can you be a good girl and sit on my face?” 

(E/C) eyes opened wide, as she nodded eagerly. Helping her out of the rest of her clothes she straddled his face. Engulfed in her scent he was desperate to taste her. Gripping the junction of her hips and thighs he pulled down so she was seated on his face, as he desperately lapped at her clit. Her juices were sweet on his tongue with a refreshing aftertaste. 

Gripping the edge of the desk she rocked her hips chasing that high. “Shit Miche,” she said with a blissful sigh. Slipping his fingers into her he started working her over to accommodate him. When he started sucking on her bundle of nerves the stimulation became too much. Clamping around his fingers, her juices coated his face and he made sure to lick up as much as he could. 

“Let me make you feel good Miche,” she purred as she settled between his thighs. Sitting up with his back against the desk to get a better view she gave his velvety head a few strokes before sucking him between her lips. Throwing his head back at the sudden suction. Eager to watch her lips on his cock he brushed her hair into his hands softly guiding her further down his shaft. “Fuck Y/N, just like that.”

Humming against his shaft his grip tightened on her hair. Heady eyes focused on the hypnotic bob of her head. The occasional “pop” when he slipped out of her mouth driving him wild. Long fingers reached between her legs to toy with her folds as she sucked him off. “I want to feel that pretty pussy wrapped around me,” he breathed.

Releasing him she climbed onto his lap, so she was straddling his hips. “You ready,” he asked, tucking a few strands of hair behind her ear. She nodded eagerly, “are you?” Giving her a deep kiss he murmured against her lips, “I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He confessed. 

“Me too,” she said, kissing the tip of his nose. 

Grabbing his dick she guided him into her. She was tight as he felt him pressing into her entrance. “It’ll fit,” she assured, dragging him through her slick. “I like the stretch,” she said with a groan as she finally sank onto his length. His fingers dug into the fat of her ass as she adjusted to him. His forehead buried in the crook of her neck as he tried to focus on anything but cumming. 

Slowly she started to rock her hips finding the angle she craved. “Fuck you’re tight,” he grunted feeling her walls grip him. “Touch yourself,” he commanded. Watching her fingers slip down her body to her bundle of nerves. Pupils blown wide he took in the steady rock or her body, the bouncing of her breasts and the ecstasy that was painted on her face. “I like seeing you get yourself off on my cock.” 

He felt her throbbing on him as her orgasm shook through her body. Gripping her hips he started thrusting into her to fuck her through her orgasm. Her soft cries carrying him further to his own release. Pulling out he came over her thighs. He had her hips in an iron grip as he came down from his own high. Sitting her down on the floor her grabbed a towel to clean her up. 

Her shapely thighs were still shaking from her orgasm as he cleaned his seed from her. Carrying her to the bed that was attached to his office he laid them both down, pulling her on top of his chest. Running his fingers down her back they let a comfortable silence fall as they basked in each other’s presence. 

*

**

Y/N made her way back up the stairs of the keep. Levi and Hanji had gone to bed a little while ago, and had left her to her own memories. Opening the door to the room she shared with Miche she’d expected to see him filling out paperwork at his desk, but found the room cold and empty with the ghost of his memory. 

Dragging her hand across the desk she hoped to bring that night back, but was disappointed to find herself alone. She thought back to what he told her.

“We’ll always find each other. In this life and in the next.”

[braiawrites]

Lost & Found

Summary: Admittedly, taking in a strange stray cat is not the brightest idea one might have when one lives in a world of faeries and magic and mythical creatures straight out of old wives’ tales. But no one told this to Jude Duarte, and so taking in that cat is exactly what she does... || From this prompt by @newblood-freya

Genre: Soft, Feel Good Fic

Words: 1862

Rating: sfw

Links:

Fic Masterlist

CHAPTER TWO

Prompt by newblood-freya

Read it on AO3

Writing Masterlist

Send me an ask!

***

Admittedly, taking in a strange stray cat was not the brightest idea one might have had when one lived in a world of faeries and magic and mythical creatures straight out of old wives’ tales. 

But it had been cold and rain had been pouring down in sheets, and the poor scrap of a cat had been huddled in a pathetic little ball among the trees of the Milkwoods, its pelt growing soggy in the onslaught. 

And if that weren’t pitiful enough, dawn had been creeping ever closer, and—while darkness was dangerous in the human world—nighttime in Faerie was quiet and as generally peaceful as it could get in a land where a wrong turn might spell death-by-endless-dancing. Yes, in Faerie, the darkness meant safety, whilst daylight brought dangers from stories untold. 

Consequently, when Jude had stumbled across the sopping black cat—literally, tripped over the thing, as it had lain in the dimming shadows—she had made the somewhat-horrible decision to have mercy on it. She was, regrettably, only human, after all.

“You look as lost as I feel,” she had admitted, crouched before the little creature, hand outstretched. It was staring at her with dark amber eyes, crouched low amongst the wet grass.

“Come now,” she coaxed. “I won’t harm you, little one.”

The animal had sidled up to her, somehow managing to seem hesitant and haughty all at once, and she had scooped it up and held it to her chest, wrapping her coat around its shivering body. 

She ran the rest of the way home.

~ ~ ~

Jude wasn’t entirely sure how Madoc would react to her bringing a cat into his house—she had a vague fear that he might view it as a meal, and a brief image of the lizardlike guard who had taken the tip of her finger for a snack flashed through her mind. 

She couldn’t leave the poor thing in the stables, lest the stablehands find it and kick it out, or one of the larger, carnivorous mounts decide to gobble it up, and so she slipped in through a servant’s door, pausing for a moment beneath the light of a torch set into the wall to peek into the folds of her jacket at the warm, wet cat huddled against her chest. 

“Alright in there?” she asked it, and smiled as the glowing amber eyes blinked back. 

Carrying her boots so as not to track mud through the halls, Jude tiptoed up the stairs to her room. She ducked into a guest room once, when she heard voices down the hall, but most of the manor was asleep by this time. 

As she snuck through the corridors, she felt, for a moment, like a normal human girl in a normal human world, perhaps creeping in late from a party.

“Sometimes,” Jude breathed, turning in to her room and closing her door behind her, “it’s nice to just pretend, don’t you agree?” 

The cat mewed, its little voice creaky.

“Exactly. You get it.” She plunked the creature on her bed as she stripped her coat off and slung it over a chair. The cat jumped down. It had left a little wet patch on her blankets.

“You poor thing,” she exclaimed, “you're soaking!” 

Grabbing a towel from the bottom of her wardrobe, Jude sat on the floor and pulled the cat into her lap. It sat patiently as she rubbed at its ears and shoulders, running the towel over its long, thin body. It closed its eyes as she patted at its soft cheeks.

“Cats are funny, you know,” she remarked to it. It opened its amber eyes at the sound of her voice, looking up to meet her gaze. 

“So delicate,” she scratched the animal on it's fine jaw bone with a single finger, “and yet, if you were to fall out my window, you could walk away perfectly fine.” 

The cat gave what Jude could only interpret as an indignant squawk and dug its claws into the damp fabric of her leggings. 

“I'm not going to throw you out my window,” she laughed, stroking its soft head. “Don’t you worry your pretty little kitty mind.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, the only sounds Jude’s breathing and the cat’s rumbling purr as she stroked its drying pelt, until Jude began to shiver in her damp tunic.

The cat meowed, climbing off her lap and kneading its paws on her leg until she went to grab a dry nightgown, and then turning its back to her as she peeled her wet tunic over her head. 

What a strange cat, she thought as she shimmied out of her leggings. She smiled. They were already covered in cat hair. 

~ ~ ~

Being a human among faeries, Jude had to fight for each moment she spent on the Isles of Elfhame. She had long ago learned that knowledge, while dangerous, was also powerful, and she had made it a priority to know what she could about the goings on of the Faerie court. 

So, naturally, when the palace messenger had arrived with urgent news, Jude had taken it upon herself to learn what he knew. He’d refused to divulge anything to anyone except the General himself, and so Jude found herself crouching outside Madoc’s office, her ear pressed to the door as the messenger began to speak.

“What do you mean the prince is missing?” Madoc rumbled. His voice carried a level of concern that Jude could not believe was entirely sincere. 

“His Highness Prince Cardan has not been seen nor heard from in three days,” the messenger boy repeated. “High King Eldred wishes you to conduct a search.” 

Despite herself, Jude found she held a modicum of respect for the boy; she would have snapped something smart at Madoc’s senseless question, and probably would have received a threat in return.

She held her breath, listening for the Redcap’s next words.

“Where was he last seen?” Madoc sighed. “Or who spoke with him last? Do you have any useful information for me?”

“Only that he was last seen with a pixie girl during the Full Moon Revel four nights prior to this. The girl has been detained but she hasn’t spoken.”

Jude’s chest tightened at the thought of the insolent prince wandering off with some pixie. The girl had probably been tortured for information, although if it were up to her, Jude would have provided ample compensation to the girl for having spent any time alone with Cardan. 

Against all conscious efforts, the thought of the prince’s long, slender fingers sliding up her skin crept into her mind, accompanied by a picture of his face—his cruel mouth and his dark eyes—jeering down at her. Her stomach lurched and she wrestled the nauseating images from her mind.

Madoc’s armour clinked as he marched toward his door. 

Jude spun on her heel and ran. 

~ ~ ~

“Kitty, I’m back,” Jude called into the empty darkness of her room. She tried to pitch her voice softly, but her nerves were still frayed from the messenger’s news.

The cat slunk out from under her bed, a living shadow with bright eyes, and watched intently as she set two small bowls down for him against the wall. 

After dashing away from her foster father’s office, Jude had stopped by the kitchen to find some water and scraps of meat for her furry visitor. 

By the time she’d made it back to the relative safety of her room, the faerie boy had already left, as had Madoc. If he had caught any sign of her presence outside his door, he had either deemed it irrelevant or had decided he would deal with her later.

The cat mewed, stretching up to hook his claws into her leggings. He had devoured the meal. 

“Someone was hungry.” Jude gave a small laugh and scooped the feline up. During the few days he’d been with her, she’d discovered that she quite enjoyed his company. He was a friend she could confide in without worrying her secrets would get out, and more than that, he was a presence she could stand to be around.

Jude pulled off her boots and plopped cross legged onto her bed, cuddling the cat in her lap, stroking his silken fur. 

“Enjoyed dinner?” she asked him.

He said, “Mrrow,” and yawned in her face, showing off long, sharp fangs. 

“Oh, really? And how was your day?” she hummed, to which he grumbled in response. She liked to make idle conversation with the animal, as though she understood him.

“Well, my day was lovely, thank you for asking.” She thought for a moment. “But it was a bad kind of lovely. You know when you get a bruise and it hurts but you keep pressing on it because you like the pain? Like that, but opposite. Like the sun is making the clouds shimmer, and it’s beautiful, but those clouds are going to cause a flood. The sky is still lovely, but it’s the kind of lovely that hurts.”

The cat’s eyes were fixed on her, shining that bright amber as he stared in the way only cats could. It made her uncomfortable.

“No, I suppose I’m not making any sense, am I?” She pulled the cat onto her chest as she lay back, staring up into nothingness, and stroked his back. She pretended the deep rumble of his purr was the thunder of a summer storm, shaking the earth before bathing it in a warm rainfall.

“I’m worried,” she admitted at last, shattering the spell. “It’s been three nights since he’s been in class, and I wonder where he could have gotten to. Why he’s not coming—not that I care about him, specifically. I just like to keep an eye on what he does and the specific messes he decides to make.” 

The cat looked at her sidelong, his gleaming amber eyes pinning her with a look that she couldn’t quite place, although it was decidedly human. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” she scolded, although the cat, being a cat, did not heed her request.

She sighed. Outside her window, the sky began to lighten as dawn crept closer, the daytime sky stretching up to meet the stars through fog and wispy clouds. Her kitty snuggled into her, tucking his head beneath her chin.

“I wonder if maybe he’ll never come back,” she mused, watching as the first drops of rain tapped at the glass, sparkling in the lamplight. 

The cat purred, sounding as though he agreed, which Jude found unfathomably funny.

“I think you and I get along rather well,” she told him.

“Mrrmm,” the cat grumbled, patting at her face with soft paws. He turned his amber gaze on her and she smiled, scratching the cat behind his ear with one gentle finger. She felt warm and content, listening to his purr, feeling his small weight atop her chest as she breathed.

“Maybe,” she hummed, letting her eyes drift back to the rain outside, “we were meant to find each other.”

The cat’s rumbling purr echoed in the space of her room, and Jude felt like she was home.

***

A/N: Alternatively titled Catboy Cardan 2021 but I somehow I felt like that didn't fit the vibes... Anywhomst—thank you, lovely human, for reading my self-indulgent Jude Gets A Cat fic! It had no plot and I did not proofread it, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!! If you have the time, I'd love if you reblogged and left a comment to let me know what you thought. Thank you again for reading, lovely, and I send my best wishes your way!

(PS: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to or removed from my tag list!)

Tagging:  @stardustsroses @nahthanks @jurdanhell @my-one-true-l @thefolkofthefic @newblood-freya

[gwinnetts-archive]

// so, i have a fallout AU for my oot/mm link where he’s the lone wanderer. which leads to the question of... in that version of the fallout universe, are all the protag slots filled by different links? which link gets to be what protag?

in particular, botw link, because i secretly do have a muse for him. but like... he, specifically, is so hard to place? he has the cryo sleep thing for being a sosu. but he also has the amnesia thing and “was dead but then survived” aspect of the courier. (plus, just being a general wild cryptid that’s perfect for the courier.)

[rax-writes]

Full Circle

Fandom:  The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina

Pairing:  Nicholas Scratch x Reader

Warnings:  None

Notes:  This is based on a song that’s become popular very recently, so you could try to determine what it is as you read, if you want. I’ll link the song at the end in case you didn’t figure it out, or to listen to the song if you’ve never heard it. ☺

Being a hopeless romantic was practically a curse for a witch. Your kind wasn’t made for love. Lust, desire, sex – all of those things came easily for witches and warlocks. But love was a different matter entirely. You knew it was foolish to allow that particular emotion to creep into your heart, but all the mortal romance novels you’d read left you willing to be foolish.

A few months after engaging in a strictly sexual relationship with Nicholas Scratch, you confessed to him that you no longer wished to continue the affair unless he was willing to incorporate romance into the mix. He was hesitant at first, but didn’t want to lose the way your attention and affection made him feel important, valued, and cared for, so he complied. He took you on dates, bought you flowers every Tuesday, let you wear his jacket, cuddled together as you watched movies and read magical novels. He even wrote a poem for you, which he turned into a song with some assistance from the acoustic guitar he borrowed from the choir instructor. The dashing warlock swept you off your feet, and you had never been happier.

Then Sabrina Spellman came into the picture.

You truly had nothing against the plucky, young, promising witch. It was Nick who posed a problem. Ever since she arrived at the Academy, you felt him slipping away from you. He stopped buying you flowers. The dates became few and far between. He slowly took each of his jackets back. But all the while, he used that enthralling, silken voice of his to supply you with thinly-veiled lies of reassurance.

“There’s nothing between Sabrina and I, babe. And besides, she has a mortal boyfriend. Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, alright?”

It wasn’t long before his story changed.

“Being with you has been amazing, and you’ve opened my mind to the possibility of love for our kind. I love you so much, and I always will, but…. I won’t lie to you, there’s someone else. And I can’t, in good conscience, stay with you while having feelings for another person. That’s not fair to you. I’m sorry…. I’m so sorry.”

The contradiction of Nick’s lie of reassurance and his words as he crushed your heart never left your mind… nor did your love for him. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake how much your heart yearned for his touch, his kiss, his scent, his voice. It felt like a knife in the chest when you saw him and Sabrina together, shortly after the break up, and you weren’t the least bit surprised that she turned out to be the “someone else.” Nick constantly looked at her with more love and adoration than he’d ever shown you, and it never ceased to hurt.

Nevertheless, you did the only thing you could: you carried on. Ignored the pain. Shoved your unyielding love for him to the back of your mind. You continued your studies, and your dedication to the coven. You aided your cohorts, even Sabrina, in all of the coven’s efforts. Unfortunately, that included helping Nick become a flesh Acheron for Satan, then saving him, and watching from the sidelines as he struggled to cope with the lingering effects of being trapped in his own body with the Devil. Eventually, there came a time when the coven experienced a small dose of reprieve. Hecate became your new deity, the coven’s powers were restored, the Pagans had been driven out of Greendale, and all seemed to be right with the world. Drinking away your troubles, alone in your room with a hundred-year-old bottle of Scotch, had sounded like a fine way to spend a Monday evening – until Nick walked up to you, as you sat outside on the stairs of the Academy, enjoying the cool night air.

“Hey.”

One word. One, simple word was all he mustered up to say to you, despite the fact that it was your first private exchange since the break up. So, you merely echoed it.

“Hey.”

Nick just stood there, before joining you on the stairs, a few feet away from you. The two of you sat there in silence for several minutes before you became the first to speak again.

“Don’t you have some pretty blonde to be hanging out with right now? You know, the one who always made me doubt, yet you constantly assured me I had nothing to worry about?” you retorted, the liquor in your system acting as a conduit for your raw truth. You let out a dry, bitter laugh. “In all honesty, I suppose I can’t blame you for choosing her over me. She’s so much more powerful and skilled than I am. Now that I think about it, she’s the personification of everything I’m insecure about.”

Nick looked at you with sorrowful eyes, before looking away again, as if he couldn’t bear to look at you and see how much pain you were in, even after all this time.

“Sabrina and I broke up.”

The hot mess mixture of feelings that flooded you was practically dizzying. Admittedly, his statement initially filled you with hope. Perhaps this meant he’d give being with you another shot? This was immediately followed by anger – first toward yourself, for being so stupidly optimistic and naïve, then toward him. Did he come here to tell you that, assuming you’d forgive him and everything would go back to the way things were, as if you would be excited to be the consolation prize?

Too dazed by the dichotomy of your thoughts, you said nothing in response. He took your silence as an invitation to continue.

“Turns out, we were a lot less compatible than I originally thought. I thought she was the one. I was willing to die for her…” Nick mused, then trailed off before exhaling and continuing. “I didn’t die, but I did do something much worse – all for her. It didn’t matter in the end, though. We just weren’t meant for each other.”

“You have a lot of nerve to come to me thinking I give a single, solitary fuck about your feelings for her,” you snapped, and your eyes met for a moment then, but he averted his gaze. There was a poignant and tense silence before he spoke again.

“Can I ask you something?” Nick inquired, appearing extremely pensive. “Did you ever stop loving me?”

“No. Not for a second, despite my best efforts,” you replied honestly, and he smiled sadly at your quip as he looked down. “I know we weren’t perfect, but I’ve never felt this way about anyone. That’s why I can’t imagine how you were so okay when I was gone, after we’d broken up…. I guess you didn’t mean what you wrote in that song about me. Because you said ‘forever,’ now I spend every day alone and missing you.”

“I meant every word of that song,” Nick replied earnestly.

“Please don’t, Nick. Let’s just end this conversation here. I don’t even know why we’re discussing this,” you whispered, shaking your head and closing your eyes, as if that would somehow prevent his words from sinking in. You stood and took a couple steps toward the door of the Academy.

“Will you please just hear me out?”

“Why should I?” you yelled, turning to him with a blend of hurt and rage written all over your face, although the rage was what overcame your voice.

“Because I still fucking love you!” Nick shouted, his voice ripe with conviction. He exhaled loudly, then ran his hands over his face and leaned back on the staircase. “In that song, I wrote that I’d love you forever. And you may find it hard to believe, but I’ve never stopped loving you. I won’t deny that I loved Sabrina too, but I’ve realized with hindsight that it was a combination of infatuation and love – more so infatuation. But with you, it was only ever love. A deep, genuine, natural, true love.”

You found yourself somewhere between confused and shocked. What he said made no sense to you, because you’d spent this long believing that he hadn’t given you a second thought since getting with Sabrina. Yet here he was, pouring his heart out to you, and telling you that he still loves you.

Nick stood and took a couple steps toward you, now arm’s length away.

“I know I don’t deserve it, so I won’t fault you in the least if you say no, but…. Would you be willing to give me another chance?”

You looked at him then – really looked at him. You studied him thoroughly, and stared deep into those big, brown eyes of his, which held so much vulnerability, contrition, pain… and love.

“Don’t fuck it up this time, Scratch. I’ll take your life if you do. That’s a promise.”

The very next morning, a beautiful bouquet of blood red roses awaited you in the hallway outside your bedroom door.

Driver’s License – Olivia Rodrigo

[all-about-seggs]

The Game of Three-

Rating : 18+, Explicit

Word count : ~ 3K

Pairing : Geto Suguru x female reader x Mahito

Warnings : Mirror sex, dub con, gaslighting ( kind of, like I wanted to add it but not sure if I did it right), Fingering, Cunnilingus, degradation (slight), voyeurism, choking, threesome near the end.

A/n: When describing Suguru's place I totally went into weeb mode and used traditional Japanese terms but I tried to define them to the best of my abilities so y'all won't get confused and I put the link of their pictures in their name as well, so you can check them out if you want.

The red clouds above you parted to reveal the cerulean blue sky, painting the engawa in front of you in its hues. Giving a quick look over to the now clean surface beneath your feet, you made your way to the supply closet to put the mop back.

It's been a few uneventful months since you got employed as one of the only two maids in the entire manor. It was fairly big, atleast for just one person, and minimally decorated so it wasn't that hard to keep the entire place clean even with the two of you. The other maid was a nice old lady who showed you the way around the place and how to do what when you were just starting out.

The manor was quite, most of the time, even with your boss's guests staying over for a couple of days, the place lacked any sort of liveliness much less talking. Just a few more hours until your evening shift is over, you mused to yourself roaming around the garden to feed the pond's fish their dinner as the sun began its descent. Mindlessly, you kept looking around the area until one of the rooms caught your eye. On your right you saw the silhouette of your employer through the thin Shoji door that coverd his room.

Having finished bathing, you saw his toned mascular arms slipping out of his thin bath yukata that contrasted to the one he usually donned, his elegant movements accentuated by the growing darkness the evening provided. His daily outfit was nothing if not modest, covering his body from head to toe, leaving everything to the imagination but right now the delicious shape of his body was on full display, making it harder for you to move.

It wasn't until his form moved closer to the door, that you realised how badly your current actions could effect the job you were given. Just the thought of yourself getting fired after being considered a peeping tom made your breath quicken and not in a good way. The panic surging through your veins momentarily turned your mind blank, making you stumble until the heel of your foot slipped on one of the algae coated rocks. Clenching your butt cheeks you braced yourself for the impact but the efforts proved pointless as the considerably shallow pond's bottom made full contact with your body.

Pain aside, the cold water of the pond was what added most to your immobility until you heard footsteps heading towards you. Looking up from your seated position, the tall figure of your boss, maybe ex boss, loomed over you. He extended one elegant hand towards you.

" Are you okay.....?", His soft tone carried nothing but gentleness but being a mess, both physically and mentally, it took you sometime to process what he had said. Hesitation was clear in your actions as you meekly let him pull you up. His grip on your arm was firm and with how easily he pulled you out of the pond showed his Zephyr-like nature had a brute strength underneath. Threads of wet, black hair covering the sides of his well sculpted face, reached all the way to his mid- back. His usual heavy garb was replaced with a single, cotten yukata which were damp in every places his hair touched.

"Y/n...... Was it?, Can you stand", putting both his hands on your shoulders he peered at your face, you still for a moment, too fascinated by his slitted eyes to look away. This was the first time you two had a real conversation so you forced yourself to speak,

" Oh...umm, I'm sorry! I didn't payed attention to the slippery rocks and fell,.....but I'm okay! So..... Yeah... thank you", it was difficult to keep your voice steady, not wanting to reveal your obviously perverted BUT unintentional peeping. Yup. That's what you kep telling yourself although his secretive smile told you that your poor lie didn't make the cut.

" I see, so tell me y/n dear.....", His hands on your shoulders gripped them a little tighter as he leaned down until his face was right in front of yours, " where exactly were you paying attention to?", The question was simple, nor did it had any threatening undertones but your throat still felt clogged. It was too embarrassing, telling your boss that you were shamelessly ogling at his silhouette changing clothes. One second, two seconds, a lot of seconds passed with you playing dumb until you heard a soft sigh.

" Alright...... If you don't want to tell me, I'll let it go........for now", emphasizing the now, he took your cold hands in his warmer ones, leading you inside his room. You were still drenched, hesitating to climb on the perfectly dry floor of his room,

"It's okay..... I'll go ask for a change of clothes so you sit here, better than the outside right?," Smiling, he disappeared down the hall. The whether wasn't cold, so you didn't have to worry about getting sick but you still reeked of fish and algae, making a change of cloths a better option. You could chid yourself for it but looking at the things in his room can't be considered peeping so you turned around from your sitting position, taking in your surroundings.

His room was relatively normal, just like rest of the manor, the furnishing was minimal, a low chabudai with a few soft looking zabuton around it, a wooden cupboard, the slightly elevated tokonoma on the right side of the room had a full body sized mirror, along with a couple of other tiny decoratives. Nothing stood out with everything in place, your boss sure had simple tastes, you thought to yourself when the door slided again, when the owner of the room itself entered.

He was empty handed , earning a questioning look from you, " it's gonna take a few more minutes to find women's clothing, I hope you don't mind, for the time being....", He walked over to cupboard, producing a towel out of it.

" Use this to dry yourself", handing you the towel he kneeled beside you, he was being so nice, you hadn't expected him to be so kind but you gratefully accepted it. When you began drying your hair, you felt his eyes on yourself, pointed and unnerving. You gulped, feeling like he could see right through your head, just waiting for you to fess up on your own. You were lost in your thoughts when his voice suddenly filled the room.

"You know.....y/n, when you desire something.....", His fingers made their way to your collar, playfully stroking your neck," you should let yourself have it", his last words were nothing but a whisper against your ear as he placed himself right behind your seated form. His upper half of the robe already wet, stuck to his body, defining each and every cut of his muscles. He was somewhere between lean and mascular, his beautiful face giving him just the right amount of sensuality. You weren't naive enough to be oblivious to his suggestive tone.

It was weird to you, perplexing even as to why a clearly well to do, good looking guy would not only make a move on his maid but a maid who smelled like she just popped out of a can of tuna fish. His deep, even breaths stroked your ear as he waited for you to answer.

" I really wasn't thinking about....... 'This'", you pulled his hands wrapped around your shoulders away, to prove your point. You thought he'd be upset but his face only lit up by your rejection.

" Is this embarrassment I see y/n? Because it's not cute", he rose on his knees, looking down at you he gently added, " the mundane world would feel much better if you indulged yourself a bit more you know, even if those indulgences are only of....."

" Sexual nature", his sharp eyes slited as his lips curled into a wicked grin. Impossible to read, his actions did nothing but lure you in a honey coverd poisonous trap. It was obvious with the way his hands started massaging your arms, right where it hurt from your previous fall, blowing softly in your ear. They was all just tricks to make you fall just so he could shame you from above but you'd be damned if it didn't got you all hot and bothered. He grazed his hand across your blouse sticking to your bust, your nipples hardened with the slightest touch. The reactions your body gave were no lies and therefore couldn't be hidden. He pressed your bodies closer until you sat snugly against his torso. You closed your eyes, still unable to decide whether or not you want to let him have his way and deal with all the risks that would soon follow after.

The front of wet your shirt was completely open by now, reveling the garment underneath. Suguru's hands trailed up and down your thighs as he hiked your long skirt higher until it pooled around your hips sticking to the sides. He hooked his left hand under your left knee, doing the same with your right side, he pulled your legs apart, with the mirror in front, you and the man behind you had a full view of your damp panties.

" See that? This is what you want. To be exposed by me. Just the thought of spreading yourself open in front me have you this wet y/n...... Are you sure you weren't waiting for this moment all along?", His voice had a mix of mockery and eroticism in it, his words only adding to the fire burning in the middle of your core. With his right hand, he grabbed the thin strap of your panties at the side of your hips and tore them off until the shredded garment was left dangling on one of your hip. The air in the room, made contact with you now naked pussy but what made you shiver was the mirror in front of you. Suguru held both of your legs as far apart as possible, his face, now lacking all the warmth it had just a few minutes ago. When you tried to squeeze your eyes shut he pinched your inner thighs hard, making you cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure.

" Keep looking y/n, I'm proving it to you, just how much you're body is begging for me. And I won't stop until you've said so yourself, so keep. Your eyes. Open.," The darkness of his tone was accentuated with the look in his eyes. The fingers of his right hand made their way to your cunt, with two of them he spread your dripping lips apart, reveling the tiny swollen bud that was screaming for attention. You felt it too, the need for release spreading in your body but voicing it meant your defeat so you held your breath, letting the self assured guy behind you continue his ministrations.

" Why can't you be honest just like your needy cunt?", He cooed against your throat as he rubbed your nether lips with his digits, coating them in your slick. He didn't touch your clit, if you were going to be a brat then he's bringing his A game too. Making you beg was his only motive now, his eyes met yours, the mirror in front of you showing every nook and cranny of your privates and by now you're sure Suguru has memorised all of it. The ache between your legs was getting worse as he kept on sliding his fingers up and down your folds but never touching the rest of your sex. You knew what would make him do it but after the prolonged defiance you're not sure how to put it into words.

" Whats wrong y/n, are you ready bow to your filthy desires?, Getting off on my fingers is going to be a lot better than yours right?", Damn his rude ass remarks but they were true, the last few months have been very long and dry for you, day in and day out all work, maybe that's why you're giving in so easily, what he promised was as tantalizing as his actions, that's why you were so horny, easily aroused even.

"Right..... You're .... right, so do it.....master", you broke out, the last of your self control shredding itself as you let your voice flow out just as much as your cunt, your juices.

" Finally gave in huh?, It would've been so much easier if you'd just admitted to being my slut from the start, but oh well, this is also good", his thick fingers slipped in you with ease as he wrapped his left hand around your throat, making you look straight at the mirror. You were a mess, a totally different kind of mess you previously were, in addition to your already damp hair, your eyes were glazed with lust, the corners of your lips moist with your drool that threatened to spill out, your clothes were disheveled and tattered, you were disheveled in general and barely recognisable.

" Now look at yourself closely, how your face twists when I make you cum, how you look when you're begging to me like a real slave," his fingers picked up a brutal pace, going in and out of you relentlessly, his thumb roughly massaging your throbbing clit, sending shivers up your spine. You could clearly see your drool covered face turning hotter by the second, pussy dripping from your buliding orgasm on the tatami mats below it, your moans coming out in broken whimpers as Suguru's hand tighten around your throat, eyes rolling back for a second, you cum around his fingers hard.

" Do you see that ? How disgusting she looks right now?", Turning his gaze to the left he called out to his accomplice in crimes, " Mahito", the other man, with an amicable smile on his peculiar face stared at, not where you lied on the floor, but at your pitiful form that appeared in the mirror.

" I just dropped by to give you the clothes you asked for the young lady earlier," his talked merrily, not minding the scandalous sight in front of him one bit," but it appears that you aren't going to be needing them for a while", throwing the cloths aside he sat on your left side. Suguru kept his eyes on the mirror, loosening his hand around your neck he let you breath, mind still hazy.

" You're free to join in, if you have the time. But I'll have to warn you though, she's a persistent one, it took me a while to break her as well", Suguru smirked, pulling his fingers out of your abused hole making an exaggerated show of bringing his cum smeared fingers to your face, as if prove his victory.

" I don't mind a challenge every once in a while Geto kun, I'm not bad at 'this' myself, but to make sure, why don't you keep sitting, after all it's been a while since touched a living human", Still a bit delirious, it took you a few more seconds than usual to process the change in your situation or what he meant by living just now or touching even. The man named Mahito kneeled in between your still parted thighs, you thought it was strange that your brains last and probably rotting cells decided to focus on his eyes. They were heterochromatic, it gave his already scared face a haunting quality.

The fact that you were sandwiched between two men soon left your mind as Mahito started sucking on your still sensitive clit, your legs instinctively clamping if it's weren't for Suguru holding them apart. The man behind you weren't entirely evil though as he rubbed soothing circles on the soft inner flesh of your aching thighs, his touch only heightning the touch of the man between them.

Mahito licked your juices as if they were made to be feasted upon, slurping on them lewdly, the V of his fore and middle finger seperated your pussy for more access, he grazed his teeth lightly across your clit, fighting the urge to bit it down. You didn't have any energy at this point to put up a show of defiance so you kept moaning, the sight of the man lying flat on his stomach along with his face hidden in between your legs was urging you to cum, but the abrupt thrusting of Suguru's fingers in your mouth cut them off.

" If you're mouth is available enough to scream for just anyone who makes you cum then you truly do have the makings of a whore.", His words were nothing more than a possessive hiss against you throat, long fingers grazing your tonsils as he pushes them deeper. You gag a little, the fingers in you mouth kept you from reacting to the man who worked your pussy until it throbbed against his face.

Mahito turned his heterochromatic eyes towards your face, it seemed like someone was keeping you from your release, he sucked on your clit again adding two fingers in your streched out cunt. He moved both his tongue and digits in similar motions, causing a surge pleasure wash down your senses, with just a few quick pumps of his fingers, your juices gushed on his face as your moans get stifled by the fingers in your mouth.

" That wasn't so bad right?", Mahito pushed himself up as he asked his partner in crime, something about his tone was awfully cocky, making Suguru's face scrunched up in a haughty smirk as he added,

" Indeed, you sure know your way around the human's body Mahito kun, but maybe a little less egar to please attitude would do better. Can't let our toy think we're just here for catering to her needs now can we?", His voice loaded with provocative innuendos sounded nothing but gentle but the other man knew better.

" Hooo?, Is that a challenge for round two, then?", He met Suguru's goading with a playful and assured tone. Both of them stared each other, neither of the males backing down they both turned their eyes at your spent body, and you know even without having to look, that it was going to be a long night.

[belettewrites]

Of salve and summer rains

Jaskier hasn’t played the lute for a week, and Geralt worries. No warnings, almost 3k words, link to AO3 here 

***

It had been a week since Jaskier had last played the lute.

They had passed through two towns, he had been asked to play multiple times by travelers they had met, and still his lute had stayed in its case. He had taken it out to take care of it, making sure that it was fine, that the strings were not damaged, but other than that – it had been a week since Geralt had last heard his bard playing, and it worried him.

Playing was Jaskier's way of being himself; he still sang, little ditties on the road to divert himself, soft lullabies at night as he braid flowers into Roach's mane, but the lute had stayed silent.

The weather had been bad, this past week, and Geralt had tried to stay near towns so they would be able to sleep indoors. He didn't mind sleeping outside, though having a roof over his head was nicer than waking up soaked; but it was mostly for Jaskier, who might be immortal but wasn't as resistant as Geralt. And it was better for his lute to stay in dry places – or so had Jaskier said when Geralt had asked whether it was worth it to run to the next town before nightfall.

They were currently staying at an inn, and were nonchalantly looking around them as they were waiting for their food to arrive. Well, Geralt was; Jaskier was slumped against him, hands resting on his knees, eyes closed, clearly tired from walking. His breath was tickling Geralt's neck, but he endured it stoically. He would have faced anything, really, for Jaskier to be able to rest just for a bit, apparently at peace with himself and the world.

The tables next to theirs were full; people were talking loudly, spilling their ale over as they tried to emphasize a point. He could hear a couple arguing in a room upstairs, angry and teary voices harmonizing in a tune that made him want to go back to the quietness of the forest, to soft lullabies barely louder than the crackling of the fire.

The candles trying to warm the room with their yellowish light, flickered every time someone in a hurry walked near them, and the front door which was regularly opened was letting in a cold draft that twirled around Geralt's legs.

Jaskier yawned, and straightened up to grab Geralt's ale, making Geralt miss his warmth. Nights weren't supposed to get this cold around this time of the year, but the rain and the wind were enough to make temperatures drop even though the leaves in the trees outside were still green.

Maybe it’s the weather, Geralt thought, that is making him feel sad. Though ‘sad’ was not exactly the right word. No, Jaskier was more… Well. He sang, but somehow it didn’t feel like it always did, as if it came from the heart of an innocent and joyous bard. He was far from innocent, Geralt knew that, but he still behaved in a way that made it look as if he wasn’t older than he appeared to be. Now Jaskier was – not looking like his age, but the dreariness of his behavior was sure making him look older. Not wiser, it was still Jaskier after all but – yeah, older.

Geralt directed his attention from the buzzing tavern around them to Jaskier, and the way he winced when he grabbed the ale to drink it. Geralt watched as Jaskier tried to school his features, putting the ale down, then wriggling his fingers only to grimace. He glanced up and Geralt wasn’t quick enough to pretend he hadn’t been looking. He grabbed his own ale, internally sighing with relief when the innkeeper arrived with their food. One awkward moment of questions dodged.

So it wasn’t an emotion thing; thank Melitele, because Geralt wouldn’t have known how to deal with it. No, if it only was something about his hand, then – maybe Geralt would be able to do something. Though it made him feel uneasy, that Jaskier hadn’t told him that something was wrong. He knew Jaskier didn’t owe him anything, knew that he was free to do whatever he pleased – birds only sung when they were free – but it still hurt. That Jaskier wouldn’t tell him. It was stupid to feel hurt over this, even more as emotions were a weakness you can’t afford, Geralt, but – still. He would have to ask him, at some point. The question was: how?

He ate his gruel in silence, and tried to be discreet as he looked at the way his bard took his fork in his left hand instead of the right one, how he awkwardly put it down to grab the ale – how his right hand rested on the table, unused, barely moving, fingers bare of any rings.

They left town the next morning and Geralt still hadn’t managed to find how to ask.

***

He tried to be more observant, though. He’d glanced at Jaskier occasionally, almost always finding him clenching and unclenching his fingers, a distant look in his eyes.

So something was wrong with his hand. It couldn’t be broken, Geralt mused, because Jaskier could move it, and certainly would have made it known that he was hurt.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? He hadn’t said anything, though he clearly was in pain if he hadn’t been playing for a week.

Have I failed? Geralt asked himself as he and Jaskier went on, walking on a path made muddy by the vicious rains it had be facing. The sky was still threateningly dark, and Geralt looked far ahead as his thoughts went back to Jaskier.

Had he been acting in a way that had made Jaskier believe that he couldn’t tell him if he was hurt? He had always tried to make sure that Jaskier wasn’t in pain – the bard wasn’t the one who had to suffer between the two of them, Geralt thought, and it didn’t bother him to buy salves for Jaskier that he would have never bought for himself. Jaskier deserved the best, and so Geralt did what he could to try to give it to him.

“I’ll find us an inn for tonight,” he said after a silence that had been particularly long, “so your lute won’t have to face humidity again. Though I doubt it’ll rain again.”

“Oh, it will,” came Jaskier’s tired voice, “it will, my dear. Trust me.”

Of course Geralt trusted him. He wouldn’t be in love with him if he didn’t.

“Hmm. An inn it will be, then.”

Based on the way Jaskier used his hand, it had to be sore muscles, or something like that. Maybe he had sprained it, but couldn’t get a hand on a cast? Or maybe he just didn’t want to tell Geralt. Either way, Geralt couldn’t stand seeing him in pain. He’d find them a room in the next town, then would leave to find a healer that would be able to sell him something that would help Jaskier. Yes, he would do that.

Satisfied, and a bit reassured that he finally had a plan, he let himself smile when Jaskier started to sing again, even if it lacked the lightness that it usually carried.

***

“I- bought you this. For your hand. The healer told me it would help.”

Geralt kept his eyes cast on the ground, stupidly afraid of what Jaskier’s reaction would be. He was an idiot for being nervous – he and Jaskier had traveled together for many years, had seen the other in embarrassing positions; and yet, gifting Jaskier this small salve smelling like peppermint to apply on his hand felt more intimate than all the time they shared a bath to save money.

Jaskier was sitting at the table of their room; it wasn’t a great room, but it had a dusty window, under which was the table, and as soon as they had arrived the bard had started to take his journals out of his bags, probably wanting to work on a new song. It was where Geralt had left him when he had gone out to find a healer, and where he had found him again when he had come back thirty minutes later.

He heard Jaskier take the salve and open it; the smell of peppermint intensified, and Geralt tried not to flinch – it attacked his nose and made him want to sneeze, and it covered Jaskier’s scent of honey and wildflowers. It wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t his favorite scent in the world; though if smelling it meant that Jaskier didn’t hurt anymore, well, Geralt was ready to compromise, because what was love without little sacrifices?

Just when the silence had almost reached the limit between awkward and extremely awkward, Jaskier seemed to remember how to talk.

“My hand – you noticed?”

Geralt tried not to wince; he deserved that, after many years of not paying enough attention, of not caring enough for-

“What are you frowning about? Come sit here next to me, darling,” Jaskier gestured to the other chair, “don’t stand here, you’re making me feel small.”

“You are,” Geralt replied, half-smiling, as he hesitantly sat on the chair, still not looking at Jaskier.

They stayed there, still not talking, Geralt waiting for Jaskier to say something and Jaskier – well, Geralt didn’t fucking know what Jaskier was thinking. The salve was on the table between them, ready to be used.

Then, because Geralt was a man of action, he grabbed it and put some of it on his fingers. Before thinking too much about it, he delicately took Jaskier’s hand, grip loose enough for Jaskier to be able to remove it at any time, and started to apply the salve on the knuckles – they were swollen, and Geralt gulped. How long had they been like this? How did he not notice? Was he that worthless of a man, to not notice when the person he loved the most was hurt?

What he had just done dawned on him. Oh no. It was way too out of line, he shouldn’t have done that – Jaskier was going to hate him, and he was going to lose his companionship and-

“You’re doing it again,” Jaskier remarked calmly, as if Geralt couldn’t hear his heart racing, “the frowning.”

“Hmm,” Geralt replied, not trusting himself to speak, not knowing what to say, confused because Jaskier wasn’t running away from him, clenching his hand against his chest as if Geralt’s touch had burned it.

Jaskier sighed, and Geralt tensed.

“Darling- you don’t have to do this, you know? The- buying me salve, and then- then applying it yourself-”

Geralt glanced at Jaskier to find that his bard was blushing. But looking at him meant risking eye contact, so he stared down at the hand he was currently holding in his own – it was strange, how good they fit together. He wondered what it would be like, to get to held it in his, to feel Jaskier’s calloused fingers around his own, squeezing, not letting him go, a single point of contact between-

But he couldn’t let himself think about it.

“Hmm. I know. But I still- want to.”

He forced the words out, for Jaskier.

“It’s been a bit more than a week, and you haven’t played the lute, and the path- the path has been silent,” he admitted, “and when I found out you were hurt…”

He looked up, yellow meeting blue.

“Who did this to you, Jaskier? Who hurt you?”

Jaskier laughed, his hand shaking a bit in Geralt’s, who returned to his task, which seemed okay with Jaskier. Relieved that he hadn’t just fucked up one of the most important things in his life, and soothed by Jaskier’s laugh, Geralt let himself relax.

“Oh, darling, no one- well- you won’t be able to fight the rain, so don’t bother.”

“The rain?”

“Oh, it’s- I never told you? No, I supposed I haven’t,” Jaskier mused. “Well, it’s very stupid, but a long time ago I hurt my hand, and now every time it rains a lot, it hurts. That’s why I knew it’d rain again tonight” he shrugged, looking outside at the rain that had started to pour just after Geralt had come back.

“Only the right hand.”

“Yes- you really did notice, didn’t you,” Jaskier sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt said, ashamed.

He saw Jaskier’s hand still, and he felt a weight settle in his stomach and on his chest, making breathing a bit difficult. Then he was no longer holding his hand – Jaskier grabbed his hand.

“Oh, darling – what are you apologizing for? You’re not the one who caused that, nor are you the one in charge of controlling the weather-”

“For not noticing sooner,” Geralt cut in, “for letting you endure one week of this before realizing that it was because your hand hurt, for- for not-”

Not being good enough, when you deserve the best.

“Geralt darling, I need you to listen to me,” Jaskier started, his tone so commanding that Geralt had no choice but to obey, “I hid it. I don’t like it, so at first I ignored it, then when it really started to hurt I thought that behaving as if the pain wasn’t here would make it go away – that’s when you understood, I think. So – I’m not angry at you, darling, I wouldn’t, not over something so stupid – I’m angry at myself, because I hate the fact that it hurts.”

Geralt didn’t reply anything – he didn’t know what to say.

“So don’t you worry – you’re actually the best traveling companion a bard could ever ask for! Buying me meals, then salve, then taking care of me? I don’t deserve you, darling.”

“It’s not true,” Geralt protested, because he had to say something, couldn’t let Jaskier say that when he was right there, when he was the one undeserving of Jaskier’s presence. “You deserve – everything.”

Jaskier smiled a half-smile; it was full of sadness, and Geralt – Geralt didn’t know what to do, because it wasn’t a look that was supposed to be Jaskier’s.

“You do,” he insisted, “You deserve hot summer afternoons spent doing nothing but playing, you deserve – soft things and fine clothes, and- and- and more,” he concluded lamely.

It was something scary to say, to admit that he cared so much. Jaskier had to know, to some extent, that he was dear to Geralt, but this – this was just like Geralt declaring his love or some shit, the whole thing made even more intimate by the closeness of their hands.

The air was still smelling like peppermint, but even it wasn’t strong enough to mask the sudden wildflowers of Jaskier’s happiness.

“Oh, Geralt,” he sighed, “I would- would you mind- may I kiss you?”

Too numb to speak, Geralt nodded, not really believing what was happening. Jaskier got up, and walked the three steps that separated him from Geralt, letting his hands go. It left Geralt feeling cold, but soon Jaskier’s hands were on each side of Geralt’s face, and he found himself being kissed, the warmth of it replacing the one that he had just lost.

Jaskier sighed into the kiss, and Geralt put one of his hand on his hips. The angle of the kiss was awkward, but he couldn’t get enough of it and found himself feeling lost when it ended.

Jaskier settled on his lap, and he put his arms around him to prevent him from falling. Jaskier laughed, hiding his face between Geralt’s neck and shoulder, and Geralt rumbled happily.

“If I had known that it was all that it took, I would have done that ages ago, darling.”

Geralt huffed a laugh and then, because he could, kissed the side of his head.

“Just so this is clear, Geralt – we deserve each other. I- I love you, and-”

“I love you too,” Geralt whispered, “I have for so long. And- it’s not your fault. Don’t be angry at yourself because it hurts.”

Jaskier kissed him again, a soft, tender thing, just at the corner of his mouth, and Geralt smiled.

“Next time you’re hurt – tell me? So I’ll tell care of you. I don’t- I don’t like seeing you hurt, Julek.”

He felt Jaskier smile against his shoulder.

“I will,” the bard promised. “But for now, I think your salve helped, do you think you could-”

“Of course,” Geralt agreed hastily, reaching to grab the salve that had been forgotten on the table, “give me your hand again, but tell me if it starts to hurt, I’ll stop.”

They rearranged themselves to a more comfortable position, then Geralt took Jaskier’s hand, kissed it, and started to massage it again, careful not to press too hard, admiring how warm it made him to be able to do this.

He couldn’t believe he got to have this, to be allowed to care for Jaskier in ways he hadn’t thought he’d get. But they had all of eternity to spend together now, Jaskier sometimes getting hurt and Geralt always there to take care of him. Jaskier’s heart was beating steadily, its comforting rhythm lulling Geralt into a relaxed state. Here, alone with his bard, with Jaskier, everything felt right, as if he had finally found where he belonged – next to Jaskier, whether it was on the path or not. He smiled, and Jaskier kissed him, and Geralt knew without a doubt that the future would look bright for both of them, just because they had each other.

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 3/?: Focalize

It is a tranquil spring evening by the time Sakura appears within view behind the hospital's glass entryway, a blur of carnation and sage and ivory. It is just a few minutes past seven; it seems she is waving goodbye to what he assumes is the receptionist further into the building, out of sight. Then she’s pushing one of the doors open with her shoulder and coming into focus, pastel colors subdued in dusk.

Sasuke notices she’s carrying a plain tote bag, and that there are also two large books and what looks like something reminiscent of a magazine in her hands, neatly stacked and held to her chest. She is wearing a sweater that is slightly oversized, a desaturated green.

Her face lights up when she sees him standing there, leaning against one of the blue columns situated a few steps away, closer to the road; her expression belays something like a mixture of ardor and avidity, and as she approaches, he also observes her cheeks match her hair.

His heart swells pleasantly in his chest; any shred of loneliness he felt in the past few hours dissolves.

“Sasuke-kun,” she chimes in affectionate greeting as she ambles over to him, all lenity and upturned lips.

“Sakura.” Her eyes flash lighter, more vibrant, as she gets closer; they are reflecting glow from a nearby streetlight that flipped on promptly at seven, an electrified yellow-green.

There is a short moment in time where they just gaze at each other, scant amount of steps between them, an oblivion of chartreuse and charcoal in spring twilight.

“How was your first day back?” She finally asks, smiling up at him.

He thinks it over for a second as he studies her, a gentle breeze of springtide. “...Fine. I saw Kakashi and the dobe.”

Her smile shifts into a knowing one. “I’m going to guess paperwork and Ichiraku’s.”

He pulls the health screening forms out of his pocket in answer, and her dimple makes an appearance.

“You can come by tomorrow just after eight in the morning, if that works for you; I’ll be here.” Different hours than today, then, he presumes.

He feels he should clarify that she’s not coming in early just for his sake. “...Shouldn’t I make an appointment?”

Sakura shakes her head. “Thursdays and Fridays I don’t have appointments or surgeries until a little later in the day. The majority of those mornings are set aside for medical research and correspondence with some of the clinics. As long as it’s before eleven, I can step away from things for a bit.”

Research. Interesting. She hadn't mentioned much about that in her letters; he hadn't realized it was something she did regularly. “What kind of research?”

She blinks in surprise, and he thinks she looks a little sheepish. “...It depends. Right now we’re doing some longitudinal studies on mice; behavioral assessment in accordance with certain stimuli, neurobiological response, brain scans, that sort of thing... I’ve also got some poisons I’m looking at for antidote development, but they’re pretty rare, so it’s not super pressing.”

His eyes flick to the books in her arms, a silent question. Her lips quirk upwards even more, then; he tries not to focus on them for too long, because she’s shifting the texts so he can read the titles. The thin magazine-like one is labeled Progress in Neuro-Psychopharmacology and Biological Psychiatry; it must be a research journal. The top book reads Neuroanatomy Through Clinical Cases, and the other reads Molecular Mechanisms of Neurotransmitter Release.

“...Some light reading,” he comments dryly, his version of a joke, and he revels in her soft exhale of breath, a shy version of a laugh. He has missed it.

“I suppose. I actually need to return these; they’re almost due. I meant to do it yesterday, but...” She’s blushing again. Vivid eyes meet his hesitantly before sweeping away. “...I forgot.”

Heat edges up his neck.

“I… wasn’t sure what you wanted to do this evening,” she continues, pursing her lips a little as her fingers clutch the books closer to her again. “I thought maybe we could swing by the library? I’d like to take a quick look to see if they have some new things in yet; it shouldn’t take very long.”

Sasuke muses that Sakura absolutely is the type to visit the library regularly. He used to go often, when he was younger. He wasn’t checking out books of that caliber, though; he wonders how long she’s had them. He also ponders momentarily if rogue ninja status is enough for the powers that be to revoke your library card from the system. Probably.

He hasn’t been able to read regularly for awhile, being away; books have been unnecessary weight, something extra to carry, and also a distraction from what he was trying to accomplish. Though he would accompany her wherever regardless, he realizes he would like to start reading again. It would be something to occupy his free time, when she is busy.

He nods his assent.

“Okay,” she breathes, looking a little relieved and meeting his eyes again, luminescent jade. "They close at eight today, so we should probably get going."

He nods again, glancing down at the books still in her arms. He considers for a second, then holds his hand out. Sakura blinks in confusion, long lashes skimming her cheekbones.

“...I’ll carry them,” he offers, neck heating up again as she stares. “...If you’d like.”

Her skin blooms with color, darker than earlier. “Oh. Thank you.” She hands them to him carefully, soft fingers brushing his. Her touch is delicate, incredibly distracting; her glowing cheeks, even moreso.

She adjusts her bag over her shoulder and then turns; he falls into step next to her as if it's the most natural thing in the world.

They walk just east of the hospital, which tells him the library is likely still in the same location, despite Konoha’s changing landscape. Some of the buildings they pass along the way are under construction. That seems to be a recurring theme in the village right now; much of what he saw earlier today passing through with Naruto was the same. Sasuke wonders if the library will have expanded, too. He doesn’t think he’s passed by it, yet.

There are a few people milling about, but not nearly as many as earlier. He supposes the majority of residents must be retired for the evening, inside their homes with family. There are a few restaurants they pass that smell fairly appetizing, but Sakura doesn’t say anything, so he concludes he was right in thinking that she has eaten already.

“So, how were things with Kakashi-sensei and Naruto?” Sakura asks conversationally, peering up at him from his right. “Anything other than paperwork?”

Sasuke contemplates before responding. “...Naruto and I went apartment hunting.”

Pink brows furrow a little bit as she grins. “Did you invite him?” She asks, though he suspects by her expression she already knows the answer.

He shakes his head. “Kakashi mentioned it as I was leaving and he invited himself.”

She laughs, then, glancing in the direction of the mountain of faces at their old sensei. “Yeah, that sounds like him. He probably appreciated a morning with Naruto out of his hair. He’s been helping there a lot, when he’s not on missions.” She pauses, then adds, “I imagine apartment hunting with Naruto would be pretty draining, though. He’s gotten a little better at cooling it with the nonstop chatter since Hinata, but not by a ton.” She stops again, thinking, before inquiring, “Did you end up finding a place?”

Sasuke nods. “It’s north of here.”

She smiles again, then purses her lips as if she’s considering whether to say something more or not. Finally she adds, green eyes darting to his and then looking away shyly, “...Not too far away, then.”

His gaze softens. “...Not too far.”

They amble by a few street vendors selling gardening supplies, closing up carts for the evening; they must be doing fairly well, as all that’s left over from the day's plantable wares are saplings here and there, and a few starters, small labels detailing their required care poking up from the dirt containers they’re sitting in. There are several taller displays interspersed between carts, stocked with watering cans, spades, gloves, and the like. Sasuke thinks it is quite trusting of the merchants to leave their goods out overnight, evidently without fear that they will be stolen or damaged; many of them are walking away holding only money boxes. It speaks to the relative security of Konoha, in comparison to most of the places he's been.

“Did you get everything you needed for your apartment today?” Sakura asks him after they meander a few more steps.

He blinks. “...Mostly."

“Was there something in particular you wanted to do, after the library? We could stop by a store, if they’re open, and get what you're missing.”

He shakes his head, then admits, “I… didn’t have anything planned.” He worries, then, that maybe he was supposed to plan something. They’re together now, or at least he hopes they are; he'd kissed her, and he would like to, again, if they're alone. Maybe this should have been more formal. He then thinks he should answer the second part of her inquiry: a box and a drying rack would probably be easy to find at a general store, but the majority of places in Konoha that are open past seven only sell food. “...I think the store I went to closed at seven,” he adds.

Sakura looks as if she’s deliberating again. “What are you missing, still?” He notices she doesn’t seem upset that he didn’t plan anything; maybe it’s okay.

It takes him a moment to respond, carefully. “...A small storage box, and a laundry rack.”

She brightens. “I actually have a spare drying rack that I'm not using, if you want it. The washing machine in my unit broke in February, and when my landlady replaced it, she got a washer/dryer combo.” She thinks, then adds, “...And I think I have an empty shoebox in my closet; would that be big enough?”

Something like serendipity unfolds in Sasuke’s chest and begins to vine between his ribs. He thinks unbidden of the blooming cherry blossom tree he can see from his window, just within reach, if he only goes beyond the glass.

He nods. “...Thank you.”

Multifaceted eyes peer up at him warmly. “No problem.” Her cheeks darken again. “We could… walk for a while, and then swing by there at the end. If you want.” Her fingers are gripping the strap of her bag a little tighter. “I wouldn’t mind walking by your building at some point before that, so I… so I know where it is.”

Sasuke nods again, heart skipping a little. He had hoped she would show him where her apartment is tonight, too; he would like to walk her home. He also hopes ‘walk for a while’ means he gets to spend more time with her between the library and going by his building, before they go to hers.

He thinks maybe he should voice that. It comes out as a question. “...We could walk around a bit after the library?”

She’s gazing up at him with red cheeks and smiling with a gentle light in her eyes. “...I’d like that,” she murmurs.

His ears feel warm again.

They turn a corner, and then they are at the library. There is a small expanded portion of the building on the south side now, and it is painted a slightly different mauve-leaning gray than it used to be, but otherwise it appears the same. When they near the entrance, Sakura pulls open the door for him, since his hand is occupied.

“Thank you,” he says quietly, before they head inside, bell on the door jingling.

The librarian working at the front desk nods at Sakura in recognition as they enter, a fairly young woman with chestnut hair. The librarian Sasuke remembers was quite a bit older, elderly now that he’s thinking about it. He briefly wonders if she passed away in his absence. The thought makes him morose; he hopes she just retired. She had always been kind to him.

“Finished with those already, Sakura?” The woman asks, friendly and motioning to the books in Sasuke’s arm as he makes his way to the desk to set them down, Sakura beside him. She must know her well.

“Yes; the journal was interesting, this time. Very relevant to the experiments we're running, and much more substantial than the last edition.” There is something somewhat critical in her voice regarding the referenced last edition, as if something in it wasn’t up to her academic standards. She’s well within reason to be captious; she has become an expert in her field in a rapid amount of time, and if she’s doing research regularly, he’s sure she has the data to back up her assessment. He wonders just what kind of experiments she’s running that have to do with neuro-psychopharmacology; whatever they are, he imagines they must be complex.

The woman is wearing a name tag that reads Ichika, Sasuke can see now that they’re closer. Sakura pulls out what must be her library card from her tote bag; it’s connected to a lanyard with several keys and what he presumes is an ID badge for the hospital.

“Thank you," the librarian says as Sakura hands her card over. As she does so, the woman glances at Sasuke with brown eyes, and then back to Sakura, as if waiting for an introduction. “And this is?”

“This is Sasuke,” she answers, smiling, then adds, “Uchiha.”

“Welcome,” the woman named Ichika greets him, without any malice. Sasuke wonders if she just doesn’t know who he is, or if she’s being friendly because of Sakura’s presence. Maybe it’s because she’s a civilian.

“...Thank you,” he offers sincerely after a moment.

“It was nice of you to carry those books. I know from experience they’re quite heavy. My name’s Ichika.” She gestures to her name tag. “I don’t suppose you like to read as much as Sakura does?” Ichika laughs as she hands Sakura’s card back and starts scanning the books as returned. “I think by now there are more books in the library that she’s read than ones she hasn’t.”

Sasuke glances at Sakura knowingly, and she looks downwards bashfully for a second.

“...I like to, but I don't think I’d understand half of what’s in these,” Sasuke answers honestly, turning his gaze back to the librarian. He sees Sakura flush out of the corner of his eye.

Ichika laughs. Sasuke thinks then that she really must not know of his prior rogue ninja status. “I usually have her write down the titles of the books she’d like us to add, because I don’t know that I can even spell some of the words.” She squints at the last book. “ Molecular Mechanisms of Neurotransmitter Release. I haven’t the faintest idea what a neurotransmitter is, or what it would be releasing.”

Sakura smiles. “Neurotransmitters are the body’s chemical messengers. A release is when the neurotransmitter causes a response in the receiving neuron; they can be disrupted in diseases and biological toxins. Tetanus is a good example; it goes up synaptic terminals of interneurons where it blocks the release of inhibitory neurotransmitters. The result of the block is that motorneurons become overactive, and then cause muscle contractions and spastic paralysis, like lockjaw.”

Ichika blinks blankly. “I don’t know where you keep that information in your head, Sakura, because it certainly wouldn’t fit in mine. Guess I’ll try not to step on any nails in the meantime.” She’s shaking her head, but her tone is amicable. “Well, they’re all checked in, with a few days to spare. I left out the new journals and that other book you asked about in the usual spot, back in the Medicine section.”

Sakura nods, and the librarian’s gaze turns back to him.

"Would you like a library card?”

Sasuke is glad he won’t have to ask. “...I used to have one. I’m not sure if it’s still on file.”

“I can check our records, if you want to browse in the meantime. If it’s not still on file, we can set you up with a new one; you can take books today either way, if you find some you’re interested in.”

Sasuke nods; that was easier than he thought it would be. “...Thank you.” Ichika turns to approach a row of filing cabinets a bit further back behind the main desk area, he assumes to check for his name in their database; he turns to Sakura.

She’s smiling at him as if she wants to ask him a question, but she doesn’t say anything. When she turns to journey further back into the library, he follows. They pass through two interior rooms, organized by genre and alphabet just the same as they had been years ago. The shelves are a little fuller than they used to be; with the population expanding, it makes sense that they now have a wider selection available.

They turn a corner to another interior room, and suddenly he sees a familiar face. His replacement is hunched over in a corner, nose buried in a book that appears from its cover to be about painting. When Sasuke inspects the rest of the room, he sees that the majority of the books in this section have titles related to art.

“Oh, hey, Sai,” Sakura greets casually, heading over to him. Dark eyes glance up at her from his book. Seeing him here must be a regular occurrence, given her lack of surprise.

"Hello, Ugly,” he responds, somehow both cheerful and monotone all at once. Sasuke frowns. He’d been around Sai a few times following the war, before he left for his travels. He never liked his nickname for Sakura.

Sai then looks to him, still standing at the threshold of the room, keeping his distance. He knows him, but not well.

“Welcome back, Traitor," he adds, tone friendly enough. Sasuke supposes that one’s fair. He inclines his head minutely, hand in his pocket.

Sai twists his gaze back to Sakura. "Have you recovered from your birthday extravaganza?"

Sakura blanches and stiffens a little in surprise as Sasuke eyes her with great interest; clearly this was not something she’d expected to be asked about. "Uh… Yeah. It doesn't take long; I eat during and can heal my headache the morning after."

Sai nods. “Yes, Beautiful said you didn’t get nearly as plastered as she wanted you to.” The way he says it is with way too positive of an inflection, as if he’s talking about it being great weather outside instead of crude wording for getting drunk.

Sakura rolls her eyes, then. “She would think that.” She pauses, then looks at Sai carefully. "Ino should be back tonight, right?"

"Yes. I am excited. I'm feeling quite amorous."

Sasuke twitches and his frown sinks deeper, but Sakura rolls her eyes as if she is used to this lack of filter, and gently pushes his book into his face, firmly but carefully so as not to damage it.

"Too much information. Just say you miss her."

Sai smiles as he moves the book away. "It is less information than Beautiful gives."

"That's because she's not normal," Sakura replies, sighing. Sai nods almost mechanically, as if he is cataloging this tidbit on human social interaction away in a filing cabinet for future reference.

There is a pause that is just a bit too long, before Sai offers, “I am researching for an upcoming painting.” Sasuke doesn’t know Sai well enough to understand, but Sakura does; apparently this is his way of telling her that he is busy with his book.

"I won’t keep you, then. Don't let her forget about our plans, though, and tell her I missed our spar this week."

Sai smiles. "She was preparing a new playlist prior to her mission." This also interests Sasuke, but not as much as Ino trying to get her ‘plastered’. He is for some reason having great difficulty imagining Sakura even a little drunk.

Sakura sighs deeply through her nose this time, and says flatly, with no enthusiasm, "Great.” After a beat, she adds, “Well anyways, tell her I say hi. See you. Good luck with your painting.”

Sai nods, and Sakura then turns to go a different direction, Sasuke following close behind. They pass through four more interior rooms before they finally make it to the Medicine section towards the back of the building, where one book and two more medical journals are sectioned neatly away in an empty portion of shelf. The book is just as thick as the one she’d just returned.

“I didn’t know you liked to read, still,” Sakura mentions as she carefully picks up the stack. She’s smiling at him again; that must be what she wanted to say earlier. Maybe she’d expected Sai would be there, that they would pass through the room he was sitting in, and that’s why she’d held off.

Sasuke nods. “...I haven’t read much in a while.”

Jade eyes are soft on his. “Well, if you want to look for a bit, I could look, too.”

He nods again.

XXX

Roughly twenty minutes later, Sasuke leaves the library with Sakura, comparing what they’ve checked out underneath the streetlight just outside; the light has faded enough that it is a bit difficult to read without it.

They still had his information on file after all, though the woman, Ichika, had him fill out a renewal slip and updated his contact information to his new address before giving him a new card. It is a strangely comforting and nostalgic feeling, to know that he was still present in the archives of Konoha in ways he had been unaware of.

He had picked out two books: one about the history of kenjutsu in Fire Country, and another historical text documenting the overthrow of the daimyo in the Land of Silence. He has never been there, given it is beyond the reach of Shinobi authority; he figured it would be interesting to read about. With it being a samurai-led country, it made sense to read at the same time as the book on kenjutsu.

“These sound like you,” Sakura says after scanning the titles of what he’s picked, glancing up at him kindly as she rotates so he can read the information of her own. Cradled in her arms are the Journal of Cognitive Neuroscience, the other scholarly journal, Human Brain Mapping, the book from the Medicine section titled Translational Research in Traumatic Brain Injury, and what appears to be a fiction book, an addition to the others, titled Spoiled Suitopi.

“You read fiction, too,” he observes as he reads the title of the last one, and she takes this as her cue to shift them back together neatly into one stack, largest to smallest.

She laughs a little. “I try to. It’s a good mental reset after reading medical texts; everything starts to blur together after a while. This was actually a recommendation from Ino; she’s into the dramatic stuff, clearly. Sometimes they’re decent.”

Curiosity gets the better of him, and he decides to ask. “...A birthday extravaganza?”

She smiles timidly, expression shifting to something a little embarrassed. “I wouldn’t call it that; she showed up at my apartment last weekend with ingredients for drinks, and then we watched terrible movies in my living room.”

Sasuke is learning all kinds of things about Sakura this evening. “No Sai?”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s a me and Ino thing; he doesn’t really pick up on the nuance of them being terrible, and we figure we don’t want to give him poor examples to follow… he’s got enough of those already, dating her.” She grins a little, then. “Also, he can’t really handle his liquor.”

Sasuke thinks Sakura must be able to hold hers fairly well; she had seemed pretty confident earlier, regarding the morning after. He knows her mentor Tsunade has quite a reputation. He himself has never drank much.

“He’s... interesting.”

Sakura shrugs nonchalantly. "He's better than he used to be, regarding the oversharing. Ino is worse, honestly.”

He considers her words, then decides to drop the subject, because he doesn’t want to think about that. Sakura had said in her letters that Ino and Sai were together; he can only imagine what she knows about them, likely most of it against her will and learned in the manner he's just witnessed.

He shifts his attention upwards; a few stars are starting to peek their way into the night sky. He follows their path north, to the barest hints of lavender sinking below the horizon. It has become even more silent outside, fewer people and slightly cooler temperatures. There is still a breeze. They spent longer in the library than he'd anticipated.

He’s not sure what time she usually goes to sleep; if she works at eight, it’s probably early. He wonders if he should ask.

“Thank you for going with me. I’m sorry it took a little longer than I thought,” she says, before the question comes to him. He shifts his eyes back towards her; he’s about to tell her not to apologize because he clearly spent time browsing, too, but she’s already speaking again. “You said your apartment is on the north side, right?”

He inclines his head in an affirmative.

“We could walk that direction, if you want; there are a few newer things on that side of town I could point out that are kind of interesting. If…” She pauses, as if considering her wording. “If you haven’t seen them already, I mean.” She gestures to his selection from the library, gripped in his hand. “We could drop off your books, too. Not as much to carry back, then, with the box and the laundry rack.”

“...I’d like that.”

She smiles up at him again, tender effervescence. He realizes as they start making their way north that they both have been talking in more hushed voices, as if the blanket of nighttime shifting atop the village has quieted them in addition to their surroundings.

There is something soothing about treading around at nightfall with her. The village is well-lit enough that it’s fairly easy wandering, and lights emanating from windows cast everything softer, more inviting phosphorescence sifting onto the pathway beneath their feet. Earlier today, trekking back and forth between businesses and his apartment, it had felt more unfamiliar, like there was a disconnect and he was just passing through, despite the knowledge that he was transporting things to a permanent living space. It feels decidedly less transient next to Sakura, a hint of sweetness in tart recollections. He watches their shadows for a fleeting moment, cast close together to the right of them, near touching, and occasionally faded by windowpane glow.

There is a casino she points out a few blocks down where Tsunade apparently used to lose money fairly regularly. She explains it was her mentor’s favorite because it was somewhat close to the residence typically taken up by the Hokage; she used to call it lucky, even though she never won. Sasuke finds out through this story that the Hokage residence is still sitting empty; Kakashi has apparently still not moved there, preferring instead to stay where he has been residing for years. Sakura mentions in a softer tone that she thinks it’s because of his apartment’s proximity to the graveyard where his old teammate, the Nohara girl, is buried.

There is a long stretch of silence in which Sasuke considers just how Kakashi has always seemed able to see straight through him. He’s fairly certain the girl had been a medic, too.

“...Naruto’s house isn’t far from the Hokage’s office, either,” Sasuke observes finally, changing the subject. He’s with her right now; he doesn’t want to ruminate too long. He thinks that's improvement.

Jade eyes sparkle up at him. “No, it’s not. I’m pretty sure that was on purpose; I don’t think they intend to move again. I’m sure he’ll give you the tour eventually - he’s pretty proud of their place; Hinata keeps it pretty nice - but it has some extra rooms.”

He tries not to think about the implications of that for too long. Naruto being in charge of a tiny human is not a very reassuring thought, even with his apparent strides in social awareness.

They pass a yakitori place she mentions is good, a few more blocks down. It seems pretty calm for such a restaurant, not as busy as Ichiraku’s usually is, though it’s later now and they’re likely getting ready to close. “I’ve been there with Naruto and Hinata a few times,” she tells him. “At least, when we can convince him to go eat something other than ramen.”

Sasuke hadn’t realized Sakura was that close with Naruto’s wife, though it makes sense instantaneously; she has known her for years. He thinks for a second before questioning, “Is she still as quiet?”

Sakura purses her lips in thought. “She talks more, now, for sure, but she’s still pretty shy around people she doesn’t know well.” She smiles, then. “I think Naruto has been really good for her, actually. Her for him, too; they balance each other out well.”

He supposes that’s true; perhaps Hinata is the reason for Naruto’s continued emotional growth. He ponders momentarily whether he and Sakura will balance each other out well.

She’s looking at him as if he should say something, so he does. “...He had vegetables in his ramen today.”

Sakura laughs. “Yes, she does force vegetables into his food every once in a while, now, so he's more used to them. I think she might have slipped Teuchi some money to start throwing them in his orders, to be honest."

Sasuke snorts, because of course that would be how that came about.

"It’s for the best," Sakura continues, lips quirking upwards still. He tears his eyes away from her mouth after a second. "He was eating pretty much all noodles and junk for so long. Hopefully it’ll start to cancel out with a few more years.”

As they walk farther, he starts to recognize things from earlier today; a bed of alabaster azaleas surrounding a residential building painted green, and a rather large street sign on a corner, right next to an ornate bench. They are getting fairly close to his apartment building. He holds off on saying something for a little longer, though, because he wants to spend more time with her. He hopes that's not too selfish; he has missed her. A lot.

“There’s an interesting place over there,” Sakura notes, pointing out a clearly aged building that he thinks he walked by on his return trip from the market earlier in the afternoon. “They’re only open two or three days a week, but it’s antiques now. I don’t usually buy anything other than books, but it’s fun to look through; they get rare ones in, from time to time. The owner is really nice.”

He nods. That would be a good way to spend an afternoon. He suspects she must have a collection of books at her apartment, then. He wonders how many.

She is mute for a moment, as if in thought, as they pass through another intersection. He wonders if he should be adding more to the conversation, but it doesn’t feel like an awkward silence; just an easy one.

He spies another familiar sign, this one advertising the market hours. “...My building is a few blocks this way,” he mentions quietly, loath as he is for this evening spent with her to come to an end. She looks up at him for a moment, then nods, and he subtly starts leading her in the general direction of his apartment complex.

His building comes into view a short time later. He points it out right before they pass beneath the cherry blossom tree, and Sakura nods in recognition. “Sai used to live somewhere over in this area, before he moved in with Ino. I’m not sure where, exactly. I know he liked how quiet it was, though.”

Sasuke nods as he pulls his key from his pocket, and they cross the street. He had been right about the light pollution; there is little enough of it that one can see the stars rather clearly, more so than one could from the library.

He wonders if he should perhaps invite her in. He thinks of the letters, still sitting on the small end table in the living room.

She saves him from making the decision. “I’ll wait here,” she tells him politely, leaning up against the old brick. He nods.

He goes up the stairway, down to the last door on the right. Once he unlocks his door, he places the two books on the kitchen table inside, and locks the door again behind him. It only takes him a minute before he is coming down the stairs again.

She smiles at him, then blinks when he holds out his hand. She colors, he thinks, when she realizes he’s offering to carry her books for her again; it’s harder to tell with the lack of light.

As she hands them to him carefully, she says, voice soft, “My place is a little south of the library; not by too much.” Her eyes flit to his, then dart away; there is a careful smile on her lips. “Maybe a little over ten minutes from here.”

They wander together in an easy silence, her leading the way more now. There are a few crickets chirping. It was fairly warm out today, so it makes sense that insects are starting to make their return. A gentle breeze continues to waft through from time to time.

He walks close enough to her that he can faintly smell raspberries, each time the wind blows just right. There are even fewer people out and about now, it being closer to nine in the evening; the road is fairly deserted. They go by the library again, lights turned off, and more closed businesses. It soon transitions into older construction that he assumes must be residential.

She was right; it doesn’t take long, around twelve minutes at a leisurely pace, before she points out a building further down the street. “That’s the one.”

As they get closer, he notes that hers is also an older building, built out of cream brick; there is something nice about that realization, that she also apparently chose something older with a bit of history over something brand new. There are few enough street lights that one can see the stars overhead well at night here, too.

“There’s a patio or balcony attached to each unit,” Sakura remarks once they’re closer, pointing at one on the northernmost part of the second story that is brimming with potted plants, much more than any of her neighbors’. “That one’s mine.”

As they round the corner of the building, he assumes to reach the front entrance, she tells him it was one of the reasons she selected this apartment, aside from its proximity to the hospital and her family's residence. "My parents' house has balconies for both bedrooms. It was strange to imagine not having one. This one’s attached to the bedroom, too; it’s nice to sit out there, if the weather’s not too extreme."

It’s a smaller complex, only two stories high. He thinks there must be six units, given its size and the trio of balconies they passed beneath, three small patios in their shadows on the ground level. It is somewhat close to the hospital, as she’d said, but far enough away that it's not necessarily an area that would bustle with activity, even during the day’s busiest hours; it is very still right now, peaceful. They pass through a glass door that is not locked, leading into a common area with six doors, three on the main level, and then three on the second level, with a metal stairway leading upwards. A huge, two-story high bay window sprawls by the main door, overlaid in a diamond pattern, which must allow light to stream in the majority of the day.

Each of the doors to individual units has at least one or two plants framing it, but he knows which one is hers right away. An array of thriving potted plants surround the upper northernmost side door, spilling out to surround the entire right side of the banister that frames the edges of the building. Hers is also the unit furthest on the upper right, like his; another nice realization. A few of her plants are flowering, but for the most part they are varying shades of green, with accents of paler colors. Desaturated and calming, just as he’d guessed she would like, rather than intensities of marigold and cobalt and fuchsia. It's hard to tell in the dim lighting, but as they get closer, he thinks that the few blooms are pistachio and lavender and blush in color, like her hair.

Or her cheeks. Jade eyes are on him again as he finishes walking up the stairway behind her.

He follows her to her door and leans a little against the railing behind him while she grabs her keys from her bag; he doesn’t think she’d mind if he came in for a few minutes, but she didn’t explicitly invite him, and he wants to be polite.

Once she’s unlocked it, she turns back to him to take her books. Her hand brushes his, and it’s incredibly distracting, again. “I’ll be right back.” She smiles at him before disappearing inside her apartment.

She leaves the door slightly ajar behind her, and he tries not to look. He busies himself with observing what appears by her neighbors’ doorways instead. No light emanates from beneath the doors of any of them; he wonders, this being older construction, if more of the tenants here are older, and are perhaps in bed already. The upper units probably aren’t occupied by extremely elderly people, given the stairs, but the ground level units’ decorations appear more classic and refined, less youthful. He notes the pots surrounding the other doors are very matchy, but Sakura’s are less so; hers are various shades of neutral terracotta colors, soft and inviting, some with unique shapes.

She’s back quickly, foldable drying rack and shoebox in tow, closing her door mostly behind her. She also must have set her tote bag aside; it's no longer situated on her shoulder.

He realizes all at once as she meets his eyes, handing him the items she’s gifting him, that he does not want this evening to end.

“Thank you,” he says, voice husky.

“You’re welcome,” she murmurs, just as hushed.

Sasuke studies her eyes for a long moment, trying to commit the life in them to memory, though he already has, he thinks.

“...May I see you tomorrow after you work?” He finally asks quietly, trying to keep the hope out of his tone. He knows he’ll see her for his medical clearance in the morning, but he would still like to spend time with her outside of that, if she doesn't have plans already.

She looks crestfallen, smile slipping a little before coming back. “I would love to see you, but I have dinner with my parents every other Thursday, since I get off at four. They stopped by for a visit on my actual birthday, but they wanted to do cake and a gift tomorrow night after our usual supper time.” She pauses, searches his expression for a moment. “Maybe the day after tomorrow, if you’re not busy? I get off around four on Fridays, too.”

He nods, committing this part of her schedule to memory. “...I’ll meet you at the hospital, then.”

Her smile gets wider. “Okay. I can show you around the other newer parts of the village, if you’d like. The southwest side has really expanded.”

He nods his head in agreement, thinking. He would like to ask for more time with her, before he starts taking mission assignments again, but he also doesn’t want to monopolize all of it; she has years worth of life here, roots other than him that need tending. He hopes she’s saying yes because she actually wants to, and not simply for his sake.

He takes a deep breath, forcing down nervous vulnerability at his next question. “...And Saturday?”

She blinks, then blushes darker, smile growing wider still. She casts her glance downwards to her feet out of shyness, shifting a bit. “Saturdays I work seven to three; I’m going to stop by the market after for some gardening supplies with Ino, but other than that, I didn’t have anything set in stone.” But then jade eyes flick back up at him, and they are slightly apologetic.

His heart sinks for a second, rejection stinging a little behind his eyes. She doesn’t want to see me that often. He’s been absent for too long. She's probably tired of him already, though she hasn’t said anything. He has enjoyed tonight, but he's aware he doesn't make the best company.

“Naruto sent a clone by this afternoon that was going on about an original Team Seven reunion dinner, though. He mentioned Saturday night as a possibility,” she reveals, and his world comes back into focus, heart reversing upwards back into his chest cavity.

Sasuke huffs amusedly, then, relieved. “...Of course he did.”

She sighs wistfully, shaking her head. “Ichiraku’s, I’m sure. I’m pretty sure I’ve tried everything on the menu in triplicate, at this point.”

He eyes her carefully, trying to dry swallow his fear of rejection like a pill. Corrosion, he thinks. “...After dinner?”

Shimmering seafoam again. Happy, transparently pleased, and he’s glad he asked, shoved away the nerves; he’d do it again in a heartbeat, if it’s going to make her eyes look like that. “Of course. We could… hang out here, if you want. Or was there something you had in mind?”

His gaze softens. “Here is fine,” he answers. It is more than fine, actually. He’d go anywhere, if it meant he could soak in her presence longer, but he’s more than a little curious about what her apartment looks like on the inside. His own is pretty sterile, even now mostly put together after the afternoon, devoid of most anything other than necessities. He has an inkling that Sakura is the type to truly make wherever she's living feel like a home, though, given the pleasant spread of life he’s seen spilling out here on her doorstep.

“Okay,” she confirms, dimple reappearing. “I’ll look forward to it.”

There is something in her eyes after a second, gears turning, a question she must want to ask him.

"Would you…" She's talking even more softly, now, hushed as if she's going to scare him away. Her eyes meet his apprehensively as she shifts her weight from one side to the other. "Would you want to maybe... have tea tomorrow morning? I'm… not sure if you have plans or not, but I have a little time, before I work. There's a good place near the hospital, and then after we could get your exam done at eight like we planned."

The vines between his ribs twist pleasurably. She does want to see him, after all. She's not too busy. She's looking at him nervously, as if he would say no, as if he hasn’t spent the last twenty-four hours longing for her company again.

"...I'll look forward to it," he answers quietly, because he will; he likes tea, occasionally. He thinks he will like it better with her.

Her entire countenance brightens somehow, even as she flushes darker. "Oh. Good." She sounds relieved.

"...I can meet you here," he finds himself saying, and her eyes are sparkling at him, now, at what's implied - longer with her, another walk together. "What time?"

She purses her lips now, apparently still nervous. "Would… seven be too early?" Her voice trails off a little, as if in hesitance, as she finishes the question.

He chooses his next words carefully, meaningfully, so there is no uncertainty. "Not at all."

She regards him then like he has done something wholly wonderful, cheeks a rich red in dim light and expression heart-wrenchingly elated.

There is an expectant pause as the oblivion happens again, dimmer now but just as powerful. He really wants to kiss her; he’s been thinking about it the entire evening. He wonders if she has, too, and if maybe she wants him to. There’s no one around, in this little entry area of her small complex, in front of her door and her plants in faded hues.

He decides to go with his gut.

It’s somehow even better, this time, anticipation and lips meeting and a barely audible exhale of breath through the nose on her part, almost like she’s suddenly at ease; he thinks, pleased, that she must have wanted him to. Her hands gently meet his chest, tentatively pressing against him. He would like to do something with his, but it's still occupied, holding what she's supplied him with. He settles for pressing his lips to hers with a little more confidence than yesterday. It’s tender and over much too quickly, much like the evening they have spent together; all soft light settling, lambent and beguiling.

She is crimson when they part for a breath, before shyly directing her gaze away and shifting back down; he realizes that she must have been standing on the tips of her toes to reach him.

Her hands linger on his chest, and then her gaze comes back up to his, almost determinedly.

“I’m… really happy you’re back.” Her face is still flushed, but she doesn’t look away. Her pupils are dilated, bottomless black dwarfing green.

Heat creeps up his neck. His pulse pounds just below her fingertips, as if she’s tugging at his heartstrings with them.

“...I am, too,��� he whispers, before he leans down again.

He thinks that he could stay here forever, clutching all that she’s given him, enveloped in a sweet ambrosia of tart berry and newly unfurling plants and soft lips that he’s thought of all day, now against his again.

She gently drops her hands from his chest when they finally part. She’s smiling; she is so pretty.

“Good night, Sasuke-kun.” Her voice is near a whisper. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“...Good night, Sakura,” he murmurs in response.

XXX

The journey from her place to his really is quite quick; he doesn’t see anyone on his way back. Stars are visible almost the entire way, Leo and Ursa Major and Cassiopeia. The moon is a thin sliver amongst them, raised high in the sky.

Once he's inside, he carefully folds out the drying rack she’s given him in the small laundry closet and lays out damp clothes to allow the air to finish the job. He's glad he didn't need to make another trip to the store. A trip with her was better, and she somehow had just what he needed. He thinks perhaps she always has, and his vision has simply been too blurry, obscured by smudged glass, to see it.

Sasuke retrieves the stack of her letters and places them in the box gingerly so as not to further bend them. He stares at the picture for a long time before also stowing it away, sliding the container onto the shelf in the closet for safekeeping.

He doesn’t feel tired yet, and it's not too cold, so he goes to visit the memorial stone, after, as he’d planned. He feels it is the right thing to do, after having been gone so long.

He confronts many things as he sits there, the bevy of crickets and soft swishing of grass the only sounds on this quiet spring evening, a long list of engravings barely legible in the shadows.

Melancholy is one of them, seeping in slowly, as he’d known it would. Grief and acrimony and betrayal, too. A little bit of anger, still. He also experiences sillage, the aroma of his mother’s flower garden and the scent of his aunt and uncle’s baked goods and the smell of an empty house, all blending together in his olfactory senses like it was yesterday, a bitter incense of nostalgia that is hard on the inhale.

This time, though, semisweet berry and antiseptic are also among them, memory fresh in his nostrils, and he experiences a little bit of comfort, too.

Sasuke doesn’t sleep well, after, but when the nightmare comes, gruesome, and he’s awake for the remainder of the night, he has some books to help steady him until seven comes.

[sunnyrosewritesstuff]

Day 4 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!!  🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: The Hoardless Dragon

Summary: Thorin has been waiting his whole life for something interesting to happen in Erebor, and when Tharkun arrives with a “dragon expert” to warn of Smaug’s survival he thinks he may have gotten his wish. However, Thror falling in and out of the gold madness its beneficial to Erebor’s defenses, and it may be that there is more than one dragon to fear.

Tharkun has always been a curious character. Thorin may only be twenty-three, but he knew enough to recognize at least this fact. First off, he carried himself as neither man nor elf. Thorin has always been amicable to the men of Dale, much to his grandfather’s chagrin. Even to a lesser extent, his own father seemed hesitant over his friendship with Girion’s son. Flawed they may be, Thorin would describe men as a race as being unchiseled rock. Rough, but hiding their true value deep within. He would never use this to describe Tharkun.

Likewise, the elves had an almost ethereal, and in Thranduil’s case, haughty air about them that also didn’t apply to the wizard. Tharkun carried the same wisdom and experience as the ageless race, but he was also warm and wizened like he came to expect of men. He could even argue that Tharkun was secretive and stubborn like his own people if his battle of wits with his grandfather was any indication. Yes, Tharkun was odd. However, he was also kind. He encouraged Thorin’s curiosity of what lay beyond the gates of Erebor with tales of stone giants and great eagles. Battles fought long ago, and hidden lands of green hills and little people.

Thror may look at the eccentric being and sneer, but Thrain and Thorin were in near agreement that Tharkun was a true Khuzdbâha (dwarf-friend). That’s not to say Thorin was blind to the fact that Tharkun was a meddlesome interloper who preferred to speak in riddles. Thorin was third in line for the throne after all, and he knew how to watch for a politician’s half-truths. Still, when the herald rushed into the throne room to announce the arrival of the grey wizard, Thorin found himself fidgeting beside his grandfather’s throne in excitement.

Thrain’s eyes were twinkling as he looked over his father’s head at him. Still his words were reprimantory. 

“Thorin, behave.”

The young prince ducked his head trying his best to calm himself. He still wasn’t quite used to throne room behavior, and was constantly being reminded to behave. His mother was in fits that he had to attend open court at all thinking him still too young. He was proud of the fact that his father was already training him in his duties to the crown. However, he knew his father wouldn’t have sprung it on him at all if it wasn’t for his grandfather’s declining health. 

It was something Thrain and Fris did well to hide from their children, but Thorin wasn’t blind. The days of Thror encouraging Thorin and Frerin in their mischief as they tried to sneak by his office or taking him into the forge to experience his first taste at smithing were far behind him. Now, he could barely catch his grandfather’s attention so absorbed was he in his gold. Even raised to appreciate the might and beauty of Erebor, Thorin had a hard time understanding why his grandfather spent so much time with his gold and gems. Even his smiles and laughter were now replaced with ice glares and harsh words. Thorin loved his grandfather, but he was not so sure that his grandfather loved him anymore. Whatever strange inflection has taken Thror, Thorin hoped Tharkun held the cure.

The doors to the throne room were thrown open once more as Tharkun was escorted down the path with four guards stationed inside. A new precaution his grandfather deemed important to take as of late. Tharkun made no motion that the blatant display of distrust bothered him as he swept his way to the bottom of the steps with a deep bow and wide grin.

“Hail Thror, son of Dain. Hail Thrain, son of Thror. Hail Thorin, son of Thrain. It pleases me greatly to see the sons of Durin in good health and prosperity.”

Thror was content to glare down at the wizard so Thrain took it upon himself to greet their guest.

“Hail Tharkun! If we had known you would be arriving, we would have already pulled out the good mead. As it is, if you intend to join us for dinner tonight, I would see it done.”

“You do know how to tempt me, dear friend. As much as I would like to revel in pleasantries, I believe business must come first.”

“Yes, what storm follows in your wake this time, Tharkun Amsâlakhzar (bringer of bad luck)?” Thror mused.

The room was immediately filled with tension as Tharkun’s eyes narrowed on Erebor’s king in tight scrutiny. He’s never actually seen it in action, but Cousin Fundin, used to tell Thorin stories of Tharkun’s raw power, and how you never anger a wizard. The dwarf prince was half-afraid he was about to get a firsthand account.

“Ha!”

The sudden noise seemed to startle everyone in the room as Thorin turned his head just noticing for the first time that Tharkun did not arrive alone. The strangest being Thorin had ever seen in his life stepped out from behind the wizard. He stood merely an inch or two taller than Thorin which was on the small side for a dwarf. His beardless face, large wooly feet, and slightly pointed ears hidden by bronze curls stood in stark contrast to what Thorin was used to with his own kind having never seen another species of their height. Even his fashion was bizarre with the short trousers, perfectly tailored vest, and a velvet jacket of all things. That’s when Thorin remembered Tharkun’s stories of the little people on the other side of the world. This creature must be a halfling!

“I suppose you had every reason to fear, Grey Wizard, I’ll give you that much.” The halfling snorted, deriving some sort of depravatated humor from the situation.

“And what is this?” Thror demanded.

“Not what, Your Majesty, who. You can be knee deep in a dragon spell, and still have some manners about you.” The smaller male mocked.

Thorin had a detached bewilderment as he watched the impending mine-collapse. His own father didn’t speak to Thror so brazenly, and by the tightened grip on the stone throne, this matter would not be taken lightly. Still he couldn’t help but wonder what he meant by ‘dragon spell’?

“How silly of me!” Tharkun forced the diversion even as his hands tightened on his staff. “King Thror, Prince Thrain, Prince Thorin, allow me to introduce Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.”

At this the halfling gave a small nod of his head raising the ire of his grandfather. The smaller male would be lucky to leave with his life if he continued on this way. However, Master Baggins' attention then swept over to Thorin himself, and the halfling seemed caught off-guard for the first time tilting his head just slightly as he blinked slowly. The halfling’s hand immediately went to the golden band on his right hand, and he began to fiddle with it while narrowing his eyes on Thorin. 

“Why is Bilbo Baggins of the Shire in my mountain?” Thror snarled, pulling Thorin’s attention back to his grandfather and the wizard.

“Bilbo has been my traveling companion as of late.” Tharkun smiled, seeming to think the conversation was back on his terms.

“Not voluntarily, mind you.” The halfling grumbled earning a small whack on his back from the wizard’s staff.

Thorin had to duck his head to hide his mirth at the scene, but when he looked back up the halfling was watching him again. This time with more fondness, as he gave the prince a wry grin and a quick wink.

“You see, I asked Mister Baggins to join me because I noticed stirrings to the north.” Tharkun remarked casually enough.

“Stirrings of what?” Thrain asked curiously.

“That my Prince, is the right question.” Tharkun smiled brightly before his face and tone fell grave in the blink of an eye. “The fire-drake, Smaug, is awakening from his slumber, and he seems to be sniffing out a new hoard to bed in even as we speak. If you do not take precautions, I fear his sights may fall to Erebor.”

The wizard’s warning was met with silence. Thorin wouldn’t lie. There was a small part of him that thought this was fantastic news. Nothing exciting ever happens in Erebor! The entire time he’s shadowed his father, it’s been nothing but boring council meetings, numbers and figures, even their trips down to Dale had become tedious. Now, though, there was something exciting to occupy his attention, and he couldn’t deny that part of him that wanted to charge headfirst and face down a dragon to earn his epithet. Thorin Dragonslayer, they would call him!

Outwardly, he portrayed the same concern he could see on his father’s face. Then his grandfather burst into fits of laughter.

“You have told some tall tales, Wizard, but this one steals the prize! A dragon! Next you’re going to tell me Durin’s Bane itself is knocking on my doors.”

“It is no jest, King Thror.” Tharkun insisted with a tight expression.

Thror sobered up some, but still seemed to discredit the grey figure’s words.

“I have been chased from my home by a dragon before. I know the signs. Erebor is prosperous, it will not fall. Especially to a fire-drake that has been extinct for ages!”

“You ignore the signs.” Mister Baggins stepped forth once more. “They are all here, King Under the Mountain, and the fire-breather Smaug lives as well as a few that your people refer to as cold-drakes. Why, it wouldn’t shock me to find Eisigem still sleeps in Dain’s Halls.”

“Enough, you impertinent imp!” Thror cried, jumping to his feet.

Thorin’s hand fell to his sword at his waist along with the other guards even though he was conflicted about attacking Tharkun and his companion. Still, the hobbit offered his grandfather great insult, and he was not about to deny that.

“Who are you to question the word of the king?” Thror demanded.

Mister Baggins’ lips were pressed in a tight line, and once glance at the dark look from Gandalf sealed his sour mood.

“My apologies, Your Majesty.” Mister Baggins replied in a clipped tone. “I am but a simple hobbit, and it is clear that I overreached my station.”

“A simple hobbit, in the service of this ustar (interferer).”

“Gandalf is an...old friend. He called on me for a favor, and I found myself in the position of being able to fulfill his request.” Mister Baggins offered in response.

Thror gradually seated himself once more, and Thorin relaxed the grip on his blade. Tharkun stepped in at that point, half shielding the smaller being behind his person.

“Bilbo, you see, is something of a dragon expert.” The wizard offered. “I thought his knowledge would benefit Erebor well with the terrible news I’ve brought.”

Thorin stared at Bilbo with renewed interest. A dragon expert? How many of the beasts had he slain to earn such a title? Thorin found himself hungry for the halfling’s story perhaps more so than he ever yearned for Tharkun’s own.

“Aye, a dragon expert.” Thror huffed wryly. “Why he looks more grocer than warrior. Axe or sword, Mister Baggins, what is your choice?”

He smirked darkly in response to the king’s blatant mocking as he continued to fiddle with the ring on his finger in agitation. “Neither. I’m more fond of using my bare hands and teeth.” 

Thror huffed, not impressed with the hobbit’s jest even as Tharkun shifted uncomfortably. 

“Your Majesty, I have not brought Bilbo to advise you on how to slay dragons, but on how to prevent their arrival because Smaug is coming. Perhaps not any time soon, but the treasure beneath your feet will be far too alluring, I fear.” 

A tense silence fell over the room, and Thorin wanted to shut his eyes against the storm he knew to come. If there was one thing he had learned very well, it was that you did not mention gold in Thror’s presence.

“I see.” Came the unexpectedly calm reply. “You have not brought a dragon expert, but a burglar in my mountain. And use your insane theories of dragons as a front to rob me blind!”

“Your Majesty…” Tharkun began before Thror cut him off, banging his fist on his throne.

“SILENCE!” Thror roared. “I ought to kill you now for such insolence.”

“DO NOT THREATEN ME, THROR SON OF DAIN!” 

Like everyone in the room, Thorin shrunk away from the shadows that manifested outwards from Tharkun. Thrain broke protocol to place himself protectively in front of Thorin, and the guards stepped in front of the royal family. None approached Tharkun as they were quickly reminded the wanderer was in fact a wizard of great power.

“I’m not here to rob you!” Tharkun continued before the shadows suddenly died down, and his expression turned soft. “I’m trying to help you.”

There was no movement that followed as all eyes watched the king to see what he would do next. Thorin’s grandfather looked taut as a rope in a pulley. His eyes narrowed as if weighing his chances against the wizard in battle. Thrain’s hand squeezed Thorin’s arm in a reassuring manner, but his eyes remained on Tharkun just as his war hammer remained in his other hand. Thror finally got up and walked to the edge of the dais using its height to tower over Tharkun.

“Get out of my kingdom. You and your abrâfu shaikmashâz (descendent of rats).”

Tharkun’s chin jutted out proudly at the king’s order. Thorin’s eyes sought out the halfling to see how he would react to the slur. Only, the smaller being was no longer behind Tharkun’s cloak. He seemed to be the only one to realize this as his eyes darted over the chamber before finally landing on the halfling’s form. Thorin made a strangled sound in surprise as he jumped away from the throne. All eyes, including Master Baggins’, fell on Thorin as he merely stared in open mouth shock at the being standing on the king’s throne holding the Arkenstone close to his mouth. Almost as if he were speaking to it though Thorin couldn’t make out the words.

“T-THIEF! H-HOW DARE...AKLÂF MENU (curse you)!” Thror sputtered before coming to life and heaving his sword high above his head to smite the halfling.

Thorin could only watch in horror as Bilbo Baggins, dragon expert and friend of Tharkun, remained resolute in his execution, still whispering to the gem. Just when he was about to be struck down, the halfling’s eyes bore into Thror’s own, stopping Thorin’s grandfather in his tracks. It was as if time had been frozen around them. Thorin felt the itch to take a step forward, but Thrain still had his arm securely wrapped around the other. The guards also seemed uneasy about this strange spell being wove around their king and whether they could interfere. Tharkun only watched on with a narrowed, but unsurprised gaze.

Only a few seconds had passed, though they felt like a lifetime, when the Arkenstone’s light dimmed, and iron clattered against the ground. Thorin looked around wildly, but every adult had dropped their weapons and were staring at each other and the halfling with an awed fascination. Thorin looked up at his father as even he loosened his grip breathing deeply as if it were his first out of a long sleep.

“What did you do?” Thrain murmured softly.

The halfling merely hopped off the stone throne, straightening out his vest and jacket before approaching Thror. The king had sunk to his knees, but his blue eyes, the same eyes Thorin had inherited, looked brighter and troubled all at once.

“This is not a jewel, Your Majesty.” Master Baggins began still looking only at the king as he held out the Arkenstone. “This is a petrified dragon heart.”

Gasps rang throughout the room.

“While not as potent as a real dragon heart, it’s been weaving its spell over you all the same. The effects will lessen, though not disappear completely until it’s destroyed. At the very least, I wouldn’t advise putting it back above your head.” The halfling continued to explain as he shoved the stone into Thror’s hands.

“Don’t dragon spells come from locking gazes with the beast?” Thorin asked curiously.

Master Baggins flinched before turning to Thorin with a hard look. His voice, however, was soft and encouraging.

“No, Your Highness. That’s unfortunately a myth. It’s the heartbeat that lulls you.”

“Yes, but...what did you do?” Thrain repeated again.

“I spoke to it in its language and convinced the heart to sleep. Like I said, not a permanent solution, but I do hope it stops the irrational yelling and weapon drawing.”

Thror and Thrain just stared at him dumbfounded.

“You spoke to it…” Thror repeated.

“I did say our friend here was a dragon expert.” Tharkun used this moment to speak up, surprising many who had seemed to forget he was still there.

Thorin watched the hard glare that passed between the two before Master Baggins walked right past the wizard.

“Right, well, if you need me to silence any other madness-inducing gems, I’ll be down in the market. I’m famished.”

The halfling spun on heel, gave a deep bow to the royals, before disappearing out of the hall before anyone could so much as say a word in protest.

“Now, about Smaug…” Tharkun began.

Thror winced as he slowly pulled himself to his feet. 

“Peace Tharkun, it’s been a rather...eventful morning. If you are willing to wait until tomorrow...Erebor would be proud to host you and Master Baggins.”

Thorin stared at his grandfather in shock before a small smile began to split his face. Could it be? Did Tharkun and Master Baggins truly fix Thror? Tharkun’s approving smile managed to give Thorin hope that they had achieved the impossible.

“As His Majesty wishes.” Tharkun bowed.

Thror looked to be trying hard not to roll his eyes as he stepped out through the side entrance. Thrain immediately followed, dragging Thorin along behind him even as the younger prince turned to wave goodbye to Tharkun. Once they were in the relative privacy of the royal halls, Thror wrapped Thrain up in a hug.

“Makkê, birashagammi (My son, I’m sorry).”

Thrain didn’t say anything in return. Just clutched his father a little tighter and if either of the dwarrows were crying, Thorin pretended not to see. Instead he was practically vibrating in his desire to be dismissed so he could tell Frerin, Narvi, and Falvi. Obviously something as amazing as meeting a dragon expert was too big to keep from his best friends in the whole mountain.

“I have no patience to keep up appearances for the rest of the day. I would like to retire and actually enjoy my family once more.” Thror’s voice brought Thorin back to the present conversation just in time for a large grin to split his face.

He may just get his wish after all.

[eyayah-oya]

Carry You With Me Always

Buckle up everyone, because I have three prompts today!

Cloneship Week 2021 - Tattoos - @cloneshipweek

Rex/Echo

Rating: G

Warnings: very vague references to something bad happening to Tup and Dogma in the past

Ao3 link--Ao3 has some world building notes about Tup, Dogma, and Mom Echo if you want to check those out!

           Lazy days were Echo’s favorite.  They always had been.  Especially the days when Rex didn’t have to be a commander masquerading as a captain.  (Echo still didn’t understand how hard it was to sign off on a promotion for Rex. Skywalker knew how to sign his own name.)  It was the third day of leave on Coruscant, just when the duties required of the commanding officers tapered off to allow them time off just like their men.

           Rex entered the officer barracks with two cups of caf and a datapad tucked under his arm.  He must have recently taken a water shower, as he looked cleaner than the sonics were able to achieve.  For a moment, Echo mourned the opportunity to shower with Rex but they figured there would be plenty of opportunities in the future.

           “Morning,” Echo called, their voice deep and raspy from sleep.

           He looked up, though Echo noted he didn’t actual startle. Rex only got that jumpy when he hadn’t been sleeping, so he at least got some rest since the 501st arrived on Coruscant.  That was good.  Echo had been worried when Rex hadn’t shown up the past two nights to the bunk they shared when not on the Resolute.

           A warm smile, reserved just for Echo, softened Rex’s face and filled Echo with happiness.  “Morning, Echo,” he responded.  With ease, he set the two caf cups down on his desk without spilling a drop, the datapad following immediately after.  Then, with slumped shoulders and tired eyes, he fell onto the bed beside Echo and nuzzled their shoulder.

           “Meetings go badly?” they mused as ran their fingers across the closely cropped blonde hair.

           “Eh, not too bad.  Just long.  General Mundi preached about the value of life again and Gree got into an argument with General Fisto over some obscure plant the 41st found on their last campaign.  I think if they’d been in the same room, it would have become a physical fight.”

           Echo snorted.  “That would definitely be interesting to watch.  What did General Unduli do?”

           “I’m 90% sure she was either sleeping standing up, or talking to General Kenobi telepathically.  Kenobi kept snickering every once in a while, so I wouldn’t put it past them.”  Rex shook his head as best as he could from where his face was smooshed against Echo’s shoulder.  “Anything big happen with the boys?”

           “Denal and Attie got arrested again.  I’m pretty sure they’re trying to court the intake officer in the Corrie’s brig.  I escorted Dogma and Tup around the city the first day and ended up taking them to Tatta. You know, the vod who gives the best tattoos?”

           Rex hummed in acknowledgment.  “Can’t say I’ve ever had the pleasure, but I’ve heard he’s one of the best on Coruscant.  Did Tup and Dogma end up getting any tattoos?”

           “Tup got a little tear below his eye and Dogma got a really cool one over his face.  Kix is gonna have a conniption when he sees that; you know how he is with large facial tattoos,” Echo said with amusement.  “Dogma struggled a bit at first, but Tup talked him through his anxiety and held his hand.”

           “That’s good.  I’ll make sure to pair them up on campaigns.  Aren’t they twins?”

           Echo nodded.  While not numerous, there were several sets of twins in the GAR.  Commanders Thire and Thorn in the Corrie Guard, Kix and Captain Keeli, Tup and Dogma, Lupis and Canis in the Wolfpack, and of course Echo and their twin Fives. Commanding officers tried to keep twins together as much as possible, though it doesn’t always happen, like with Kix and Keeli.

           “You could have warned me they were former Corries,” Echo grumbled.  “Technically I was escorting them, but it was mostly them dragging me all over the city. Although, they did take me to this diner with the most amazing nerf burgers.  I’ll have to take you sometime.  They’re sweet kids, but they also could use a lot more support than the average vod. Something happened to them when they were with the Guard.”

           Rex sighed.  “I know. Fox briefed me on their situation. I won’t tell you what happened exactly—they should do that themselves—but it was bad.  We’ll take care of them, I promise.”

           “Good.”  Echo nodded once and wrapped their left arm around Rex’s shoulder and pulled him in closer. Rex flung his own arm back over Echo. Immediately they hissed as their right pec flared with a stinging pain.

           Immediately, Rex sat up in concern.  “Echo?  What’s wrong?”

           Echo grinned sheepishly.  “Well, Tup and Dogma were really nervous to get tattoos since the Guard isn’t allowed to have tattoos.  And I might have gotten a tattoo to help them be more comfortable.”

           “Really?” Rex grinned.  Without hesitation, he gently placed his hand over Echo’s pec, exactly in the same spot he had left a handprint on their first set of armor. He didn’t have to guess what tattoo they had decided to get.  Echo arched into the touch, the sting sharp and pointed and somehow exactly perfect.  “Can I see it?” Rex asked softly.

           “Help me get the shirt off, and yes,” Echo answered. They surged upwards, ignoring the pain from his tattoo, so they could press a heated and soft kiss to Rex’s lips.

With far more reverence than they usually have time for, Rex slid his fingers under the hem of their loose shirt, trailing over the firm muscles and warm skin. Echo shivered deliciously and lightly sucked on his lower lip, rather than help their boyfriend in any way. Inch by inch, more skin was revealed until Rex pulled away to tug the shirt over Echo’s head.  They helped, lifting their arms over their head to allow the shirt to slide free.

           In the exact same placement as their armor, a handprint had been tattooed completely in a darker blue than they used for their armor. The dark blue color the Rishi eel’s blood had been.  The permanent mark on their skin was a bold proclamation of who Echo belonged to.  A way to inform everyone who they went home to and who they would always go back for.  That day on Rishi was life-changing for both of them for more than one reason. It was the day Echo had lost their batchmates, save for Fives, and the day they had both joined the 501st. It was the day Echo had first met Rex, a young shiny who was in awe of the legendary captain.  And it was the day that began Echo’s journey of falling completely in love with the man behind the legend.

           Rex traced the edges of the tattoo gently, barely ghosting over the skin.  It was still swollen and red from the needle, but that would go away in a couple more days. Echo didn’t mind a little bit of pain if it meant they could wear Rex’s mark in his skin as well as their armor.

           “Do you like it?” they asked cheekily, already knowing the answer.

           “I love it.  They did a really good job.  Does it hurt a lot?” Rex asked.

           Echo wobbled his head from side to side.  “A little, but it’s not bad.  Barely noticeable, really.”

           “Good.”  And with that, Rex pressed his hand against the mark and pushed Echo back onto the bed until he was leaning directly over them.  “Because I need to show you exactly how much I like it.”

           They eagerly reached up and wrapped their arms around Rex’s neck, pulling him down against them, though they both were careful not to dislodge his hand from its place on Echo’s chest.  Echo pressed their forehead against Rex’s, letting them bask in the peaceful moment instead of the hurried seconds they only managed to snatch while out on the front.  Eventually, the keldabe shifted to the more traditional type of kissing, their tongues tangling together languidly.  They had all day and the rest of the tenday to relax and enjoy.  They could take their time, and Echo couldn’t be happier.

           “I love you,” they whispered between kisses.

           “I love you, my eyayah.  My Echo with my mark,” Rex answered before diving back into their mouth and showing them exactly how much he needed and loved them.

           Echo shivered with delight, the intimacy of the moment barricading everything else from the Captain’s quarters.  For a time, they existed in a bubble, cut off from the galaxy and perfectly at peace together.

           Then, the bubble popped.

           “Does the Captain really have to know?  I mean, it’s not like he’d be surprised.”

           “Fives, don’t be an idiot.  You know he always needs to know when we brawl with the Wolfpack so he can keep Commander Wolffe from killing us.”

           “But if we go in there, Echo will kill us.”

           “I’d rather die by Echo’s hand than by Commander Wolffe’s! He’s scary!”

           “Oh, lighten up, Jesse!  I wouldn’t mind fighting with the Commander!”

           “ . . . Hardcase . . . “

           “What?  It’s true!”

           “I’m gonna tell him!”

           “Fives, don’t you dare!”

           With matching, heavy sighs, Echo and Rex broke apart and turned to the door.  Yes, Echo loved lazy days.  But those days never lasted long, and they loved their brothers just as much.

           “I’ll go deal with Hardcase’s unacknowledged romantic feelings for Commander Wolffe.  You need to get some sleep,” Echo said, giving Rex a soft kiss on the cheek as they grabbed their t-shirt.  “Think I can make Jesse prefer he’d faced the Commander?”

           Rex smirked and flopped down by Echo’s side instead of on top of them.  “I know you will.  I’ll be here when they’re all suitably punished.  Come back and we can finish what we started.”  His eyes were dark with hunger and love, sending a shiver through Echo.  That was a promise they wouldn’t pass up for anything.

           “I’ll be back after I finish wrangling the children.  I’ll probably drag Dogma and Tup along so they can laugh at Fives, Jesse, and Hardcase,” Echo said with a grin.  They pulled their shirt over their head and climbed over Rex to stand up.  “They could use the enrichment.”

           Rex only laughed.  Lazy days really were the best.

[beewolfwrites]

The Oar in the Sand - Chapter Two: The First Day of Nostos

And the second chapter is here! I feel evil for writing this, buuutt we need drama. And plot. 

For those who are new to the AIB fandom, this is the sequel to my other Chishiya x OC/Reader fic - you can find the first one, and the Chishiya pov side series, either on AO3 or on my Tumblr. 

I’ll keep this short and sweet, and leave the AO3 link to this chapter here. 

And the link to my AO3 profile where you’ll find the other fics is here.  

As always, thanks for reading! Your support means the world :D

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Daylight spilled through the window onto the empty side of the bed. It wasn’t unusual for Chishiya to wake up before me, although usually in my dreaming I would feel the dip of the mattress as he left. I must’ve been in such a deep sleep that I hadn’t noticed. But that’s okay. I needed all the rest I could get.

Rubbing my eyes, I stretched out a hand to feel the sheets. They were still warm, as was the light that enveloped my fingers in its glow. It would have been peaceful morning, here in the sun and the cosy sheets, if not for the budding anticipation within me.

Noon.

That’s when it all starts.

Kicking back the covers, I forced myself to get up and dressed. No matter how much I wanted to laze around, there was no telling what would happen, and so I chose more comfortable, practical clothes – cropped cargo pants, with a t-shirt and hoodie. It was only when I headed down the creaky stairs into the overwhelming silence of the living room, that Chishiya’s absence became even more apparent.

If he wasn’t down here, that left only one place he could be.

Is he aware of how predictable he is?

Emptying a bottle of water into a pan, I lit up the camping stove, watching as the water slowly frothed into simmer before bubbling away. Then spooning some instant coffee into two small mugs, I poured some of the water into each. It wasn’t great, but it was the closest thing to a real cup of coffee we could get in this world. Carefully carrying the two mugs, I stepped outside, and immediately squinted under the sun’s glare.

If it’s this high in the sky, there can’t be much longer now.

Just around the side of the store was a fire escape ladder. I had practiced this a few times, holding both mug handles in one hand, as I shakily clambered up to the roof. I only spilled a couple of drops, but it was nothing compared to the first time I tried to do this. Moving slowly, I slid onto the rooftop.

And there he was.

Lounging near the edge, one knee bent up, Chishiya was staring out at the cityscape. The first thing I noticed when I sat beside him was the mug in his hand. And once again, I felt like an idiot.

‘You already made coffee?’ I set the unwanted extra between us, eyeing his steaming mug. ‘And you didn’t leave any for me.’

‘You were fast asleep,’ he replied, taking a sip. ‘It would have gone cold.’

‘You could’ve woken me up.’

‘And if I had, you would have complained all morning.’

I hate to admit it, he’s kind of right.

I clutched my own mug, letting the warmth seep into my fingers as I counted each blimp suspended over the city. So far, nothing had changed from yesterday. But then again, it also wasn’t noon yet. Slowly drinking my coffee, I sighed. ‘I guess I’ll just have to drink twice as much now.’

Chishiya didn’t even bother entertaining me with a reply. He seemed content with the peace and quiet. Only, when he finally set down his empty mug, he reached for the extra one.

I raised a brow. ‘I thought you didn’t want it.’

He began to drink it anyway. ‘These cups are too small.’

I dipped my head into my mug to hide my smile, although knowing him, he probably saw it anyway. The sun was now gleaming above the empty city, nearly at its highest point in the sky. Apprehension swelled uncomfortably within me, and I wrapped my arms around my knees while I finished my coffee. ‘Are you going to go to the Jack of Diamonds today?’

‘The Queen and King too,’ he said. ‘I’ll work my way up.’

It was fine. It was fine. Chishiya was clever enough to survive, and I had every confidence that he would complete the games easily. More importantly, he was the most intelligent person I’d ever met. If anyone stood a chance at clearing the Diamond face cards so we could all go home, it was him. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t scared.

He could still get hurt. He could still...

It didn’t bear thinking about.

‘At least let me come with you.’ Before he could protest or decline, I added, ‘Just to wait outside. I can’t sit here, not knowing anything.’

His expression was guarded as he downed the last of his coffee. ‘Do what you want. Although you might be waiting a while. I don’t know how long the games will last.’

A loud gunshot blasted in the distance. I jumped, inching closer to Chishiya. He was stone still. Another shot ricocheted, the clap echoing off the concrete skyscrapers. Were guns usually that loud? Loud enough to be heard all the way from here? This sounded almost like an explosion, only sharper.

Something’s not right.

And I knew exactly what.

Chishiya set his second empty mug on the rooftop. ‘It’s started.’

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

The city streets were deserted, yet I couldn’t help but stay on my guard. While the games were contained to their venues, that gunfire before hadn’t been normal – I’d witnessed enough of Niragi’s sniper to know the difference. It had gone on for several minutes, before eventually ebbing away, and only then did we set out for the Jack of Diamonds venue.

Despite the threat of the games ahead, Chishiya appeared relaxed on the surface, but there was a slight crease between his brows, and his eyes scanned every alleyway we passed, occasionally drifting to our reflections in store windows. His hands were pushed into his pockets, and I didn’t dare try to hold one.

‘Are you worried about the game?’ I kept my voice low, just in case.

‘You shouldn’t have come with me.’

I thought we’d already talked about this.

There was no way I could sit around in our little hideout, never knowing whether or not he was going to come back. I needed to be there. I needed to see the outcome with my own eyes.

‘You told me to do what I want,’ I said. ‘And this is what I want. I’m pretty sure I’ll be fine. Those guns were probably from a game.’

‘Maybe... maybe not,’ he mused.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Chishiya may not be the easiest person to read, but we both knew what he was really trying to say. We rounded a corner, heading further into the city centre. From what we could see of the blimps, the Jack, Queen and King of Diamonds were all pretty close to one another, and all within a reachable distance from the furniture store.

‘You should be more worried about your game,’ I remarked.  

‘Why?’

‘What do you mean, ‘why’? You could... you know.’

‘If I die, it’ll be of no consequence for you,’ he said. ‘And besides, I’ll die at some point anyway. There’s no use in trying to avoid it.’

His words no longer scared me, but rather, they were upsetting. How could he be so cavalier about it?

He really doesn’t care about his own life...

‘It does have consequence. I told you in the dealer’s den, didn’t I? If you’re not going to try and survive for yourself, then at least do it for me.’

The corner of his mouth lifted into that familiar sly smile. ‘Such big demands. You shouldn’t waste your own life being concerned about mine.’

We crossed the road, entering a new street, and the metal edge of a blimp appeared in the far distance.

‘I think I told you about that too. I can’t help being scared for you.’ I glanced away, looking instead at the side of a van. The words still felt strange to say out loud, even if I’d said them so brazenly during the Witch Hunt. ‘I lo—’

The van door erupted in a hot blast of glass and metal. The force blew me back, stumbling, as something struck my face. Hands gripped my forearms, dragging me away from the ground – I was on the ground? – and pulling me in a direction. I didn’t know where we were. The streets were shaking, or maybe I was. Maybe the whole world was shaking. And was that Chishiya in front of me?

Chishiya?

There was red in his blond hair and on his neck, wet and glistening. And his fingers were tight – far too tight – around my wrist. Where was he going? My feet were moving after him. No, he was the one dragging me like this, swaying us back and forth erratically. My eyes began to focus, the fog in my head clearing a little.

The gunshots... and that van. But how could a gun do that to a van?

‘Chishiya?’

If he heard me, his only response was to pull me harder until his fingernails dug into my skin. My numb legs jittered and tingled, but I tried my best to keep up with him. There was a strange humming above our heads, and I looked up, catching sight of a blimp overshadowing the office buildings above, darkening their windows and...

A gleam.

‘Chishiya!’

Glass exploded everywhere as the store window behind us shattered. Someone screamed – they sounded like me, only I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t... Someone tugged at my clothes, but I tore away, sprinting as fast as I could down the street. There was a shooter. There was someone shooting at us.

Side to side... I need to run from side to side.

As I ran, I veered in different directions, trying to keep things as unpredictable as possible. I ducked around corners and alleys, only to realise something. Chishiya was nowhere to be seen.

Don’t panic.

I slowed, breathless, as I swung onto another street, dipping behind a store.

Don’t panic.

The store crashed apart; the windows destroyed. Arms shielding my face, I toppled to the ground, coughing uncontrollably at the smell of hot plastic as mannequin limbs scattered the pavement.

I needed to run... I needed to run. My head was throbbing and burning now. Picking myself up, I pushed to keep going, running no matter how much my limbs ached. There was a strange buzzing noise that clashed painfully with the ringing in my ears.

And then I saw a glimmer of hope.

Across a traffic intersection was a large, off-white building with endless windows, marked 図書館. The entrance door shut softly as someone took shelter inside.

There!

The buzzing noise grew louder and louder, and my vision swam as I tore across the empty roads and into the building, slamming the door behind me. My legs finally gave way, and I collapsed against the wall, my eyes closing as I caught my breath.

Chishiya. I lost sight of him after that window was destroyed. Maybe he ran in the other direction. Or maybe... No.

He can’t be. He wouldn’t, not that easily.

‘It’s you.’

My eyes shot open at the familiar voice. Of all people to bump into, An was staring down at me with mild concern. It was An. Surging with relief, I tried to get to my feet to greet her, only my head flashed with dizzying pain.

‘No,’ she said. ‘Don’t get up. You’ll need your strength.’ I didn’t understand. She came in here to shelter too, right? Before I could question her, she crouched down in front of me and gently touched my forehead. Her fingers came back red. ‘What happened?’

My lungs ached with each syllable. Just getting the words out was a struggle. ‘苣屋一緒...にいた. ダイヤモンドのジャックに... 行っていた. 銃の音... が聞きた. すべて...’ I was together with Chishiya... We were going to the Jack of Diamonds... I heard gun sounds... and then everything...

I didn’t know the words for ‘gunshots’ or ‘explosion’, but An still nodded in understanding. Her eyes narrowed a little at Chishiya’s name, only she didn’t appear to be surprised by what I told her.

‘That’ll be the King of Spades. His sniper isn’t a regular gun. It’s designed to penetrate airships and armoured cars apparently.’

I didn’t understand the latter half of what she said, but one name stuck out unmistakably.  

The King of Spades?

‘どう知ってるか?’ I asked. How do you know?

An gestured behind her, and I finally noticed the two women anxiously watching us. One had long, flowing blond hair and was wearing a thin headband. The other had brown hair tied up in pigtails. ‘He attacked our camp right after the second stage started.’

So those were the gunshots we heard on the roof. And their camp...

‘Kuina?’

An lowered her head to the tiled floor. ‘I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know where she is. She left in a car with Arisu and Tatta. We were in a separate car and we drove all the way here.’

Kuina... she has to be alive. I refuse to believe otherwise.

She was strong and smart, and if she drove away with those two, she was probably okay.

Probably.

It made sense that the King of Spades started with their group, then travelled further into the city centre before running into Chishiya and I. But if he was moving to attack players then that could only mean... A sickening feeling grew in the pit of my stomach.

‘彼のゲーム会場,’ I said, ‘全部の東京だね?’ His game venue. It’s all of Tokyo, isn’t it?

‘It seems that way,’ An said, adjusting her sunglasses. ‘From what I can assume, the only place that isn’t his game venue is within other games.’ She glanced reassuringly at the other girls behind her. ‘While we’re in here, we should be safe from him, at least.’

At least?

A horrible thought slipped into my mind. A really, really horrible thought. But I almost didn’t want to believe it. It would be too unlucky – a downright cruel trick of fate.

My apprehensiveness must’ve been obvious, as An tilted her head, curiously. ‘You didn’t know,’ she murmured. ‘この建物はダイヤモンドの女王会場だ.’

No, it couldn’t be true. Maybe I misheard. I had to have misheard. My mind ran in circles, desperate to find Chishiya, to go home and finish my sentence, tell him what I tried to say before the van windows burst. But Chishiya wasn’t here. I didn’t know where he was. I was alone.

Assuming I hadn’t quite understood, An said it again, slower this time. There was no need. My fate was already sealed the moment I took shelter here.

‘This is the Queen of Diamonds venue.’