#my bowl of food got switched with someone elses and i just had a full breakdown over it

[lunarsapphism]

.

[pedroshotwifey]

Ok, random idea for drabble:

Overprotective girldad! Frankie

He and the guys get together to size up/intimidate the guy coming by to pick up his daughter for a date. 😅

Okay I'm really kind of loving this idea 🤣

Think I had way too much fun with it!

W/C: 660

Overprotective girldad!Frankie (G)

They could be doing anything right now. Bowling, flying, fishing, hiking, shooting pool, drinking—well, you get the idea. They could be doing anything on this cool Friday night, but the former Delta Team boys are sitting around the island in Frankie’s cramped kitchen, waiting for his daughter’s date to show up. 

“Frankie,” Benny speaks up for the group. “You have got to give her some slack, dude.” 

The glare Frankie sends the younger man’s way makes the rest of the guys glad Benny said it first. Benny—being Benny—doesn’t get the hint. 

“I mean, c’mon, she’s nineteen.” He tosses another handful of peanuts into his mouth, continuing his risky  and unwanted opinion with a mouth full of food. “And a grown adult.” 

For the sake of his good friend, Frankie pretends not to hear and goes back to scoping out his front lawn through the living room window. He peers out the temporary crack he’s made in the blinds for another couple of minutes, and then suddenly jumps away. 

“Little shit’s finally here,” Frankie grumbles as he walks past the group, glancing at his watch. “Minute and a half late.” He marches to the front door. 

Knowing that’s their queue to follow, the men eye each other before sliding off the barstools and gathering around their paranoid friend. It would be comical to see Frankie so worked up over this kid if he weren’t so serious about it. He’s absolutely convinced that there is no boy out there good enough for his little girl, and there is not a breathing soul on this earth that could change his mind. 

So they huddle up in their most intimidating stance, Santi to the left of Frankie, Benny to the right, and Will behind and between Frankie and Ben. If for no other reason than to make sure Frankie doesn’t give off “Little Man Syndrome” energy all by himself, they puff their chests, stand tall, and put on stern faces. 

The poor kid doesn’t even get to knock before Frankie pulls the door open. One glance at the guys, and he looks about ready to piss his pants—which really only proves Frankie’s point. 

“M-Mr. Morales?” The kid squeaks, doing his damndest to only focus on Frankie, and holds his hand out to shake. “I’m Tyler, here to pick your daughter up for—” he stutters when Frankie raises a brow— “for our date.” 

Frankie stares for a second, and the kid—Tyler—just about breaks down. 

“I-I mean, not our date, but y-your daughter’s. O-obviously. And mine—me and your daughter, our date.” 

Santi glances at Will, who is already side-eyeing Santi. That look conveys exactly what they’re both thinking: someone should really put this guy out of his misery. Luckily, Charlotte appears at the top of the stairs at that exact moment. 

“Oh my god, Dad!” She bursts out. “Stop making Tyler feel weird!” 

And it’s like a switch is flipped in Frankie. He turns around, smile bright on his face for his daughter. None of the guys are phased—this is how these things usually go. 

“Of course I’m not, sweetheart! Tyler and I actually just finished up a great conversation.” He turns back to the boy, still cheery. “Isn’t that right, sport?” 

Tyler, who looks like he should probably drink some water, quickly nods. “Yes, absolutely,” he agrees. 

Charlotte scoffs, not totally buying it, and quickly hurries the rest of the way downstairs. Before she reaches the torture circle at the front doorway, Frankie smiles one last time at Tyler. 

“Hurt her, and see what happens,” he says, just loudly enough for the kid to hear, and in a tone that would sound joking to anybody else. 

A hug for his daughter and a (possibly too aggressive) pat on the shoulder for Tyler later, the kids are headed down the driveway, one a tad more stiff than the other. 

“Be back by nine,” Frankie calls after them. 

Will glances at the clock and sighs. It’s 8:12pm. 

[wizkiddx]

work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap��� he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

[assaily]

I thought about saving this one, but i’ve been sharing it around for a while, so i may as well share it here, too.

Context: Allison and Diego borrow some empathy powers and use them to try and gain some insight on Five

Allison sipped her coffee for lack of anything better to do. She dallied for a time, unsure how to proceed, suddenly aware of the heavy weight that clung to them, and wondered if this was normal. It could have been exhaustion, considering the dark shadows beneath Five’s eyes. It felt deeper than just a bad night of sleep. This was what she’d been afraid of, what she was fully expecting to find and now found herself feeling diminished beneath.

“You hungry?” she asked when Five finished his coffee.

“No,” Five answered, the question hardly a blip on his radar.

“I could eat,” Diego said. Five usually said no to the offer of food unless it was put in front of him. He couldn’t resist once it was there, thankfully, so this little dance of two siblings pretending to cook for each other and secretly cooking for Five was not new. If Five himself noticed, he never said anything about it.

Allison got up from the table, snatching Five’s mug from beneath his fingers. He had been mindlessly tracing the rim and was genuinely startled from his thoughts when Allison took it from him. He said nothing, attention suddenly on her like a scalpel. She wasn’t sure if it was the power or her own imagination that made his scrutiny feel sharper than usual. She set a skillet to heat and refilled Five’s cup before taking it back to the table for him.

Suspicion burned at the hairs on her arms and she took a step back to meet Five’s piercing gaze. “What?” she asked.

“You’re being nice,” he muttered, an observation and a question rolled into one. He wanted to know why, he wanted to know what she wanted.

“Nothing,” she reassured without thinking. “I mean,” she corrected quickly when Diego gave her a sharp look. “I’m just feeling weird and you look tired. I miss my daughter,” she admitted, feeling suddenly vulnerable.

Five blinked, something swirling around them at her admittance, a little like irritation, a lot like muted affection. “I’m not your kid, Allison, you don’t need to dote on me.”

She smiled around the confusing mix dusting the room. “Refilling your coffee is hardly doting,” she replied in a daze.

He shrugged, eyes falling down from her, the sharp focus softening at last. He took a sip of the coffee and it tasted like acceptance. She turned back to the fridge, fighting a smile as she pulled the sausages from the top shelf and added them to the pan. Soon the kitchen was filled with the sounds of sizzling and the smell of food; the anxiety had eased into something quiet and tired and easy to ignore.

She whisked eggs in a bowl, added milk and cheese and cooked it in the same pan as the sausage drippings once they’d finished. She divvied the food up on three plates and set them on the table. The whole meal took her less than twenty minutes, hardly any trouble at all but it felt good to do something for them. It soured when a flood of dread and disgust spilled across the table the moment she put the plate in front of Five. Her movements stuttered, taken by surprise, hesitating to watch him spear a sausage with the fork and nibble on one end like he hadn’t felt anything.

She exchanged a look with Diego, who’d paused mid-bite to watch Five as well.

Irritation suddenly simmered between them, a striking indecisiveness between anger and the urge to flee, anxiety washing over them again. It happened so fast, her and Diego nearly drowned in it. She put her own plate down before she dropped it, and moved to sit. The scrape of the chair on the floor was like someone physically hitting her.

“Five,” she said, her voice swimming.

Diego put down his fork, food untouched, and reached across the table to put a hand on Five’s shoulder. The old man vanished in a pop of light and reappeared by the counter next to the coffee pot. He poured himself another cup, his body lax and his movements smooth in sharp contrast to swirl of indignant rage pounding at the walls.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on with you too, but I don’t want to be involved.” He took a long slurp from the coffee, turning to regard them over the rim of it. “Play your games with someone else.” And with that he disappeared in a pop of light, leaving behind the traces of bitter irritation.

-

“Maybe it was breakfast?”

“What was wrong with eggs and sausage?” Diego asked.

Allison had no idea. Five was a bit weird about food, but she supposed surviving a few decades in an apocalypse could mess with someone’s ability to have a healthy relationship with eating. He was so skinny, and seemed to get skinnier every day. It was a challenge getting him to eat.

“Maybe he doesn’t like them.”

“Does Five like anything?” Diego asked. “Besides coffee.”

“Fluffernutters,” Allison said. It was the only thing she’d ever seen him choose for himself, besides the time he pilfered all the canned peaches from the cupboards and Klaus found them stashed under his bed. “Fruit?”

For lunch Allison asked Mom to chop up a fruit salad. Five emerged from his room around eleven a.m. like clockwork, usually for coffee. He arrived in the kitchen through one his rips, immediately splashing the room with an emotion that tasted like gunmetal. Allison couldn’t describe it other than dark, sardonic, and irritable. It twisted with the bleeding rawness she had felt earlier. 

Five stopped in the doorway, dread spilling forth when he saw her and Diego waiting for him. And he knew they’d been waiting, she could feel him realize it, suspicion mixing with the dread. He scowled at them, a classically abrasive Five expression that she wouldn’t have blinked twice at yesterday.

It was surreal feeling the tumult underneath it.

Five went for the coffee. “Is there a reason you two are still here?”

“We live here,” Diego said.

“Don’t you have a job?” He said to Diego, voice and intonation both sharp and accusing.

“It’s my day off.”

“So you spend it sitting around the kitchen? What a productive use of your time.”

“Oh yeah?” Diego asked, temper flaring predictably. “What do you do around here all day? Huh?”

A bitterness, dark and sharp, encased the room like tar, bubbling with frustration and a delicately muted rage that felt utterly ancient. There was something there Allison wasn’t quite seeing, something deeper than whatever foul mood he was in.

“Why are you mad, Five?” Allison cut the tension like a knife, going against the grain.

“I’m not angry,” Five said, most definitely defending himself.

“You came down here and immediately started picking a fight,” she pointed out, watching his eyes dart from her to Diego and back again, caught out. 

He scoffed, glancing down at the coffee cup in his hand, and she felt him switch at the realization. “Oh,” he said, folding inward on himself. Anger still shimmered off him, but it felt like he was trying to pull it back in, drink it down with the bitter burn of coffee in his throat. “The math is being uncooperative,” he gestured above his head in the general direction of his room several floors above them.

“Well you don’t have to take it out on us, you ass,” Diego said, his voice forgiving despite his words.

Shame descended like a fog, settling like an ache against her breast bone. She gestured at the table, desperate to dissipate that cloud. “Mom made fruit.”

Five glanced at her from beneath his bangs but latched onto the change in subject. “Made, huh?”

“She didn’t ‘make’ the fruit, she cut it up though. Do you want some?”

There was a bubble of emotions that came up in the form of hesitation, it was old and complicated and Allison didn’t know how to sift through it fast enough to make any sense of it. Five pursed his lips, shrugged one shoulder and stepped over, holding his coffee in one hand casually. He considered the medley, genuinely perusing the selection, which was more than she could say for breakfast. He chose a pitted peach, cut in half, pulling it from the mix with slender fingers.

“That’s all?”

“Hmm?” he paused, dropping the peach-half back into the salad.

“You can take more,” she felt compelled to inform him.

“I know,” he said, which struck her for the lie it was. She had to swallow that quickly lest it show on her face.

“Get a bowl, take as much as you want.” He could take the whole damn thing, if it pleased him, and none of them would stop him or even admonish him.

The prickle of suspicion resurfaced, and he withdrew his hand away from the bowl, staring at her. His eyes flicked to Diego, mistrust wafting up like a foul smell. He leaned back, straightening to his full height and it was like a veil descended over him, and him alone. A muting of everything, like a layer of cloud, fog, or smoke that socked him in, pushing them out. He took a sip of his coffee, still watching them, before vanishing again in a pop of light.

Diego sighed, deflating next to her. “You can’t push directly, you keep spooking him.”

She groaned in frustration, pillowing her face on her arms on the table. “And here I thought this would be easier than trying to guess.”

She startled up when a returning pop announced Five’s re-arrival. He landed inches from the table wielding a knife from god knows where, which he used to spear several large pieces of fruit. He vanished again without pretense, leaving her stunned and blinking. 

From somewhere upstairs, peach flavored delight bloomed on her tongue.

[cluster-fandom]

Not the day for this

Atsumu, Oikawa, and Noya prank their S/O on a bad day

Warnings: Swearing, food/eating || hospital mention, knife mention, stitches mention, and getting a cut in Noya’s (nothing descriptive just the words themselves)

A/N: This is my first time writing for multiple characters! I enjoyed this a lot 

I was heavily inspired by @kybabi​ !! Go check them out if you haven’t before :)

Atsumu

• Today was not your day at all

• You had failed a test and got in an argument with your best friend

• So all you really wanted to do was come home to your boyfriend and relax

• Unfortunately Atsumu was not aware of how your day had been going

• You both liked to poke fun at each other and this time Atsumu had planned what he thought was an amazing prank

• He couldn’t wait for you to get home

You were driving home from university to your shared apartment with Atsumu. Between the frustration of scoring low a test you had studied so hard for and getting into a dumb fight with one of your best friends, you were ready to snap. The heat didn’t help anything either. At the very least you got to come home to Atsumu. The thought of being wrapped up in your boyfriends arms had kept you from lashing out at anyone that came in contact with you.

You two had been together for over a year and while he could be insufferable at times, you adored him. He was always making you laugh through his ridiculousness, and you were the same. But your favorite memories were when he looked at you with that lopsided grin and said that he loved you.

As you walked up to your front door you noticed it was slightly open.

‘Did Atsumu forget to close the door?’ You briefly wonder before going inside where it was cool.

“Ats-OH MY GOD!”

You were drenched in ice water and the bucket that had been sitting on the door clanked to the floor.

“HEY BABE I THOUGHT YOU COULD USE SOME COOLING OFF!” Atsumu grinned, finding his prank hilarious.

“FUCKING HELL ATSUMU THIS WAS NOT WHAT I NEEDED TODAY!” You yell as you shake your arms of water.

You shove past him towards the bathroom where you could get a towel and hairdryer.

“Wait wait wait! It was just a joke I’m sorry!” He’s fumbling over his words in confusion.

He follows you into the bathroom where you were shoving things out of the way to get your hairdryer out of the cabinet.

“Babe- I’m sorry I didn’t know you’d be mad!” He whines.

You ignore him as you try to (unsuccessfully) untangle the cord of your hairdryer.

“God-dammit-“ you mumble as you only end up getting it more tangled.

“Do you want me to hel-“

“NO ATSUMU IVE GOT IT!” You snap at him.

“Why are you so mad?” He’s genuinely confused. You’ve never been this mad at a prank before?? And this wasn’t even the worst one he’s done-

“I DONT KNOW MAYBE ITS BECAUSE IM DRENCHED AND FREEZING FUCKING COLD? JUST- LEAVE ME ALONE RIGHT NOW!” You’re just done with everything and Atsumu can clearly tell he’s not making anything better at the moment so he retreats to the living room.

After you’ve dried your hair and changed into some dry clothes you went to you and Atsumu’s shared bedroom.

You were scrolling on your phone when there was a knock at the door.

Atsumu cautiously stepped into the room.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

You sighed and set your phone aside.

When you nodded, Atsumu sat on the bed in front of you.

“I’m sorry I upset you. The prank wasn’t funny,” he looked at you with guilty eyes.

“I’m not mad about the prank. I’ve just had a really bad day and it all piled up and I took it out on you. I shouldn’t have yelled, I’m sorry.”

You explained the events of your day and how you had wanted some quality time with him, and instead you had gotten an ice bath.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, I never wanted to make you feel so bad. Let me make it up to you?” He pleaded. He gave you his biggest puppy dog eyes. (🥺)

Your heart melted and of course you said yes.

He perked up immediately, rushing out of the room. He came back with an armful of snacks and settled in next to you. He switched on your favorite movie and pulled you onto his lap.

“I love you so, so much baby,” he whispered into your hair. He leaned down to press a kiss into your cheek.

“And I love you,” you whispered back.

Oikawa

• You knew that with dating Oikawa, people would be jealous

• But his fangirls could get really bad sometimes

• Today they had been following you around saying how you weren’t pretty enough, smart enough for him

• It had gotten to you a little bit

• So you were ready to be home with your boyfriend away from others eyes

• Oikawa had no clue of this though and had devised, in his mind, a brilliant prank to get a rise out of you once you got home

You were finally home to your apartment with Oikawa. He had been on his phone when you walked in and greeted you with his signature grin. After a tight hug, he said he needed to go grab something in the bedroom.

You settled down on the couch letting your body relax on the plush cushions.

*bzzt bzzt*

You looked to see that Oikawa had left his phone behind. You were about to go back to resting, until you registered the name of the sender.

You bolted upright and grabbed the phone, hoping you had read it wrong.

#1 Fangirl 😉

You and Oikawa had been together for a year and you trusted him with your entire being. But seeing that name made fear pool in your stomach.

You didn’t dare to unlock his phone, despite knowing his password, for fear of what you might find.

Your thoughts were running a mile a minute as you entered your bedroom where Oikawa was in the closet.

Was there someone else? He wouldn’t do that to you right? He seemed so happy with you. He had never said he wasn’t satisfied with anything at all. Nothing had changed recently, so was something going on the whole time? Were his fangirls right?

That last question scared you the most.

“Love?” You called out.

Oikawa had a devilish smirk on his face. He knew that you would have seen the texts by now. He had come up with the prank a few days ago and was excited for you to get smart with him and call out the obvious.

“Yes?” He called back, not looking to you.

“Who’s number one fangirl?” You said, voice shaking. You didn’t know when your vision had started going blurry.

At the sound of your shaky voice, your boyfriend whipped around, eyes wide.

“Oh Angel, it’s nobody, it was all a prank I swear,” he pulled you to his chest, “I asked Iwa-Chan to help me, that’s who’s actually sending the texts.”

“S-so you’re not cheating on me?” You hiccup slightly and Oikawa’s heart aches he wipes away a stray tear. He mentally slaps himself for making you insecure.

“Never. I would never leave you for some other girl who just wants me for my looks. You love me for who I am and I am so, so grateful to have you,” he holds you tighter to him.

Once you’ve collected yourself, you tell him about all the things that had been said to you and how it had made you doubt if you were good enough for him. He quietly listened to you talk, holding you the entire time until you were finished.

He gently lifted your face up to meet his eyes. You noticed how his jaw was clenched and his lips were pressed in a thin line.

“Y/N. I am so sorry that those people made you feel unworthy. I promise, you are more than I could have ever asked for. They won’t bother you again ok?” His voice was low, but still as gentle as ever. His eyes softened as he looked at you. He let his muscles relax and gave you a small smile.

Your heart felt full as you nodded.

“Okay, now why don’t we go to the couch and cuddle for a while. Let me show you how much I love you,” he gave your forehead a light kiss.

You smiled up at him.

“I love you Tōru.”

“I love you more, Angel.”

Nishinoya

• You were one inconvenience away from exploding

• You worked the customer service center at your malls department store (it hadn’t been your first choice but you needed money) and you had already had to deal with two Karens this morning

• The second one actually made your manager come down, who wasn’t happy about that

• So now you were at risk of losing your job

• Thankfully though you finally got to go on your lunch break

• You were excited because your boyfriend had time to spend it with you today

• You needed the pick me up and Noya’s naturally energetic personality never failed to do so

• Unfortunately, Nishinoya decided that today was the perfect day to execute his genius prank

You growled in annoyance as your keys got momentarily stuck in the lock to your apartment.

You had been yelled at three times today already. By two entitled middle aged women who wouldn’t listen to you no matter how many times you gave an explanation to them, and then by your manager who told you off for making him get involved with your “nonsense.”

You had been hanging on to your last shred of self control to not start screaming at your boss.

But you were home now and were more than ready to have a nice lunch with your boyfriend.

“Y/N! YOU’RE HOME!” You stumbled back as you were tackled in a hug.

“I made you lunch!” Noya grinned as he released you from his hold.

You giggled as he grabbed your hand to lead you to the kitchen.

Now, you loved Noya, but his cooking was, well, not edible sometimes. But he seemed to have gone pretty safe this time around.

There were two bowls of ramen with bread rolls on the side.

“Looks like someone was busy,” you tease. He rolls his eyes and motions for you to eat.

You were listening to Noya talk about his morning while you ate.

“And then I-“

“AH! HOT! HOT! HOT!” You were panting. The noodles were spicier than you could handle. You took a bite of the bread and nearly puked.

“Is- IS THAT MAYONNAISE?!?” You cough trying to get the awful tastes out your mouth. You rush to the fridge and down a glass of milk.

“Yū what the fuck?!” You say after catching your breath.

“What? I thought you said you wanted to expand your palette,” he’s wearing a smug grin.

You huff and get your things together to leave.

“Wait- don’t go!” He’s scrambling to catch up to you.

“I can’t do this today. I’ll see you after my shift,” you slam the door behind you as you leave.

You picked up a quick meal from the food court and find an empty table to eat at.

You had turned your phone off, not wanting to hear your notifications go off. The rest of your shift was uneventful thankfully, but you were still beyond irritated.

It was twenty minutes until the end of your shift when you turn your phone back on. You had about a dozen texts from Yū, which you were expecting, but you had a missed call from Tanaka from five minutes ago.

Confused, you called back.

“Hello?”

“Y/N! Uh, so you see, Noya he- well he was trying to make something up to you? Anyways, he called me over to your place and I was helping him cook and he may have accidentally, umm, cut his finger pretty bad.”

“What?! Tanaka where are you right now?” You were already gathering your things and writing a note to your boss explaining your leave.

“The hospital,” he replied.

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” you rushed to your car.

You may have been driving way a little past the speed limit, but you were at the hospital in record time.

Thanks to the lady at the front desk, you found Yū quickly. You thanked Tanaka as he left the room, not wanting to stand around awkwardly.

“Yū! Are you okay? What were you even doing with a knife! Here let me see,” you grabbed his hand and looked it over.

His pointer and middle finger had been wrapped up in bandages, but the rest of his hand looked fine.

“They didn’t need stitches,” he said bashfully.

“Hmph you’re lucky,” you mumbled, “but why would you need to use a knife?” You searched his face. He looked away, hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment.

“I was trying to make you a nice dinner. I wanted to make it up to you for lunch,” he was uncharacteristically quiet.

You gently turned his face towards you, giving him a quick kiss. His face turned bright red and he sputtered incoherently for a minute.

“I’m sorry for what I said. I was having a pretty bad morning and getting my tongue burnt off didn’t help. You’re still an amazing boyfriend though and I still love you,” you intertwined your hands with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. He smiled and leaned to touch his forehead to yours

“Does that mean we can have spicy ramen for dinner then?” He asked.

“Don’t push it.”

I hope you enjoyed! Any feedback is highly appreciated!

*I do not own Haikyuu!! or the characters only the story*

*Do not repost anywhere, all credits to me*

[descendantofthesparrow]

Interlude - Rewrite POYW - Harry Hook x reader - part 2 - preparations

*i realized today was Saturday and was like “oh holy shit time to post part 2!! so enjoy!* 

=

*felt like doing another episode entrance to this so deal with it*

-a camera pans from Auradon to the isle of the lost, zooming in on a large ship that held the symbol of Harriet Hook, the camera zoom fades into Harriet watching her crew move around the deck, a small stack of papers in her hand-

Harriet glanced up suddenly as Xiaohui slid down from rope as she switched out with another member of the crew for lookout in the crow's nest “what ‘cha got there captain?” she hummed, stepping next to Harriet and leaning over to look at the papers.

“just stuff that king beasty sent me, something about guardians for the twins, Sammy, and CJ” Harriet muttered, folding the papers and shoving them into her inner jacket pocket. “apparently because im a legal adult” Xiaohui rose her brow in confusion and Harriet waved it off “Auradon thing I don’t know, but since I’m an adult, they think that I can be the twin's guardian and they are trying to see if I can be CJ’s at the same time since im her sister n stuff” Xiaohui nodded a bit and looked back at the crew, most of which was getting the new supplies of food and water into the lower decks for safekeeping.

“I’m slightly impressed that (y/n) girl actually kept her word” Xiaohui hummed, crossing her arms and leaning on Harriet a bit, who pushed her back with her shoulder “like only a week ago the king announced the new program for us getting better shit and its already in full effect.”

“I think (y/n) scares whoever's in charge of that stuff and made ‘em work faster” Harriet snorted, remembering when she had passed by the main market almost everyone was whispering about the Auradon girl that had kicked her father's ass and left him as an amputee.

“well, she sure scared the fuck out me when she went apeshit on your dad” Xiaohui chuckled, pushing off the rails of the ship and about to walk towards the crew as they began to head out for another shipment “so how long do you think it gonna be before they get the next group of kids off” Harriet looked off for a moment.

“well with the letter Harry sent me, they are aiming for at least within the month, and at most within the next two, but first they got to get the guardian shit out of the way first” Xiaohui nodded, glanced back at the crew then back at Harriet, “I think once we get over there, I’ll be able to help out with choosing more kids to come over to Auradon, Evie might have her heart in the right place but she hardly even knows any kids, I have a lot more tabs on everyone on here and will be able to help get those who need it more off first.”

Xiaohui nodded again, understanding that the crew would probably be left on the isle for a bit longer just to make sure everything was running smoothly on their side, to make sure no one ruined a single kids chances at getting a better life. “now go on, Im pretty sure Sammy’s about to trip over nothing there”

Xiaohui turned and sighed, running over to Sammy and catching his arm just as he stumbled forward, she chided him as they walked off the ship and towards the barges again to collect the last of their shipments.

Harriet let out a small sigh and took out the papers again, tapping her foot anxiously as she flipped through the “guardian” application copies that Ben had sent her just in case she wasn’t able to be the twins and CJ’s guardian, and they needed someone from Auradon to be their guardian.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Skipper Smee  - parent; Sam Smee

Guardian applicant(s) - Wendy Darling, Rapunzel Fitzherbert, Eric & Ariel Barnes’

'Application of guardianship

Child; Sterling Smee  - parent; Sam Smee

Guardian applicant(s) - Wendy Darling, Eugene Fitzherbert, Eric & Ariel Barnes’

'Application of guardianship

Child; Sammy Smee  - parent; Sam Smee

Guardian applicant(s) - Wendy Darling, Rapunzel Fitzherbert, Eric & Ariel Barnes’

Harriet raised her brow at the repeat of applicants, especially the Wendy Darling one, considering she dealt with her father and uncle Smee first hand. Though (y/n) had written on the blank side of the applications that Wendy had applied for that exact reason.

She folded away the Smee papers and looked at her little sister's Guardian application.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Calista Jane Hook - parent; James Hook

Guardian applicant(s) - Wendy Darling, Eric & Ariel Barnes, Tiana Maldon’

Once again Wendy Darling and freaking King Eric and Queen Ariel had applied to be a guardian of her “family” Harriet sighed again and let her hands drop to her thighs, staring off at nothing as she thought about the upcoming future.

She broke out of her trance as a sheepish Dizzy stepped onto the deck, hands clenching tightly to her denim jacket “um…Harriet?” she squeaked, stepping forward a bit as Celia, Dr.Facilier daughter, pushed her towards Harriet “I-I was wondering if there was anything about…me in those papers King Ben sent you?”

Harriet brought up the papers again and flipped through them, nodding as she spotted Dizzy’s name on a guardian application and a blue envelope “yeah” Harriet muttered, handing the envelope to Dizzy and glancing back down at the application.

'Application of guardianship

Child; Dizzy Tremaine - parent; Drizella Tremaine

Guardian applicant(s) - Ella Charming, Fairy Godmother, Anita Radcliffe’

She handed the younger VK the application a moment later and the girl gasped as she read the names of the people who signed up to be her guardian “Cinderella? Fairy Godmother??” she squeaked, crunching the papers in her hand as Celia walked up behind her and looked over her shoulder “why would they-holy moly!!!”

“please just say fuck” Celia laughed, snatching the application from Dizzy and looking it over, curling her lip at all the other information details under the main application script. “wow that’s a lot of shit do to”

The guardian applicants had to fill out most of their information, sign waivers, and multiple other things just to be the guardian of a singular kid.

“oh, Harriet?” Harriet looked up at the call of her name and raised her brow as Dizzy held out the letter she had gotten from Evie, pointing at the back of it “there's some stuff for you on the back of the letter”

She grabbed it from Dizzy and started to read, not recognizing the handwriting but it had been signed by (y/n).

-Hey Harriet, so real quick all I need you to do is pick out who YOU would want to be your fams guardians (aka CJ, the twins, and Sammy) and we’ll pick out who we think is best with your opinion in mind. the kids are never obligated to interact with their guardians but I thought you would be more comfortable knowing exactly who the guardians were.

There are two pieces of blank paper in the envelope with Dizzy’s name on it, one for Dizzy to write back to Evie and one for you to write to me.

-see you soon, (y/n) (l/n)

Ps. Gil and Harry scream-said “hi”-

 Harriet snorted at the last bit and folded the letter back up and gave it back to Dizzy “ey Dizzy” the younger vk looked up at her with wide eyes, Celia peeking over her shoulder “who would you rather be your guardian, Cinderella, FG, or that Anita chick?” Dizzy looked off for a moment then shrugged.

“um, I don’t know?...I guess which everyone Evie picks out is okay?” Dizzy gave a slightly uncomfortable grin before jumping as Harriet's crew started to return and lug the last of the new supplies abord. “oh, um, I have to go, bye!” Before she could leave, Harriet grabbed Dizzy’s shoulder and grabbed the envelope from her, taking out one of the blank papers then letting the vk go on her way. Dizzy and Celia turned on their heels and raced off the ship, Dizzy’s letter from Evie clenched tightly in her hand.

Harriet hummed to herself and lifted the papers again, looking at the notes next to the guardian applicants that (y/n) had put.

She made eye contact with Xiaohui and nodded at her, the girl nodding back and taking command of the ship as Harriet moved to go into the captain's quarters. Sammy breathed a sigh of relief as Xiaohui took command, he might have been the first mate but he was horrible at being in control of things.

Harriet sat down at her creaky old cherrywood desk, grabbed a pen, and started to write.

-

“im still surprised that we actually got more people signing up to be guardians for the vks” you chuckled setting down the copy of Dizzy’s file and leaning back on Bens desk “I mean, almost all of them are repeats for the first round but my point still stands” Ben smiled and nodded.

“yeah, something about since the first round went well enough that people are not as averse to being guardians for the vks” Ben signed off a paper with a flourish of his wrist and set it aside. “though we might have to figure out something else as we go along, I don’t think there are enough adults in Auradon to claim every single kid on the isle, even if one person can claim two kids”

You sighed and nodded, rubbing the side of your head slightly “yeah, and at some point, we need to figure out another way to transfer kids off safely without having to go through the whole ‘guardian’ thing, because eventually, we will run out of guardians”

Gil, who had joined you and Ben for today's ‘vk shit’ meeting, looked up from his bowl of grapes “oh this reminds me of when Harry and I went to the animal shelter with Carlos, and-and um, there was a bunch of rooms for the cats n dogs n stuff and Carlos asked something about chips and the lady said that as long as the worker was licensed, they could claim the animal” he looked back down at his snack as you and Ben looked at him with wide eyes “what?”

“that-that was the weirdest thing you have ever said” you laughed, shaking your head a bit and crossing your legs at the ankles. Ben smiled at the blonde-haired vk and turned back to his papers, then popped his head back up with sparkling eyes and a wide grin.

“THAT’S IT!” you and Gil jumped slightly at his suddenly loud voice. Ben stood and pointed at Gil “Gil that is brilliant!”

You and Gil looked to each other then back at Ben “Ben please tell me you didn’t get an idea from Gil's weird rambling?” you laughed, leaning back a bit as Ben's grinning face turned to you. “you did….what is it then?”

“A shelter for vks!!!” Ben exclaimed, bouncing on his heels as he moved away from his desk and towards a large blue painted filing cabinet to the left of his desk. “here in Auradon! And I have just the place for it!!! And-and we can start an organization just for people to be guardians for vks! And we can figure out a system to have one person be responsible for multiple kids so we’ll never run out of them!” he rushed back to his desk and threw a set of building blueprints along with the deeds to the building.

You looked over the papers, raising your brows as you realized you were looking at a large castle that was written in Bens name “that…doesn’t sound like a bad idea?” you laughed, picking up the blueprints as Gil pawed at the deed. “in my world there's a thing called orphanages or foster systems, they kinda suck but usually there is one or two people in charge or responsible for sometimes over twenty kids, so this could work for our vks if we do it correctly and get good people” Ben grinned and nodded, grabbing the paper from you and shaking it in his hands.

“and-and! This castle, which was my parents, is in my name! I can do whatever I want with it! Let's turn it into the shelter! It's near the ocean too so these kids can see the real ocean every day and go swimming or build sandcastles whenever they want!!! And-and during the summer! Or warm days! I can hire people to take the kids on boat rids or-or!” you laughed and set your hands on Ben’s shoulders, calming him down a bit.

“Ben! Amazing ideas, love them, let's take it one step at a time, first we get Harriet and the others off” you gestured to the stack of papers for the six vks that held their information “then we start working on the shelter and the guardian organization, not baby steps, just one step at a time” Ben took a deep breath and nodded, the grin still wide on his face

“then let's finish up! All that’s left is choosing their guardians! Then we can send the limo next week!!!” he set down the castle blueprints and picked up two of the vk folders, handing you and Gil the last three “we got no time to lose!”

-

Celia slyly glanced up from her cards as Dizzy danced around her grandmother's hair salon, her aunt and mother busy working on some client's hair as Dizzy swept up the fallen locks. “now Diz” Anastasia, Dizzy’s aunt started to speak, the young vk immediately stopping in her little chore and looking to her “remember, while there will be people there that will accept you with open arms there will inevitably be people that will be out to hurt you” Dizzy’s shoulders dropped at the reminder and slowly nodded “that doesn’t mean we don’t want you going, it just means that even in Auradon it's not a fully safe space, there will always be assholes in every place” the clients ignored the surprisingly supportive talk from Anastasia and looked down at their torn magazines.

Dizzy sighed and nodded again “I understand” Dizzy smiled, starting on her chores again, though with less energy than she had a moment before. Celia looked away from Dizzy and shuffled her cards, laying them out on the table in front of her and closing her eyes, focusing her energy on Dizzy and hovering her hand over the cards.

In her mind's eye, three cards seemed to glow. She quickly picked them out and flipped them over to show their art. Celia opened her eyes, and looked at the first card, which symbolized Dizzy’s past.

The reversed fool. Celia furrowed her brows; Dizzy had been taken advantage of? When? Then again, Celia hummed looking to the next card, this was the isle, being taken advantage of was a daily thing, especially for someone like Dizzy who sometimes could be a bit airheaded.

The next card, which symbolized Dizzy’s present, was the upright chariot. Dizzy was heading in the right direction then huh? She was going to Auradon soon after all. Celia looked to the last card, which symbolized Dizzy’s future.

The upright sun. Celia nodded again, Dizzy’s adventures in Auradon would be successful then, all the more reason to see if she could stay on Dizzy’s good side even after she left for Auradon so that maybe one day Celia could have that success as well.

“watcha doin?” Dizzy asked suddenly, peeking over Celia’s shoulder as the younger VK jumped and threw herself over her cards. Celia looked back at Dizzy with a pout.

“if you have to know” Celia sighed, pushing off the table and gesturing to the now strewn about cards. “I was reading your fortune, I got curious” Dizzy hummed at that and kneeled next to Celia slightly, looking at the cards that were still facing up.

“what do they mean?” Dizzy asked, picking up the upright chariot and tilting it in her hands.

“just stuff from your past, present, and future. Your past is not the best, your present is going in the right direction, and your future is bright, that’s basically what those say” Celia held out her hand, Dizzy setting the card and a few coins in her hand “uh-“ Dizzy grinned.

“well you did read my fortune, and I remember you said you never read without a payment!” Celia stared at Dizzy as the girl skipped over to her chalkboard with all her chores on it and checked off the sweeping chore. Then she started cleaning the windows, picking up a rag and a spray bottle with a blue liquid chemical in it.

Celia watched for a moment before looking at Dizzy’s aunt and mother, who finished up with their last clients and sent them along, getting their payment and reminding Dizzy to close up properly as they went upstairs to the family's apartment.

“Hey, Diz” Celia started, fixing up her cards and putting them into her hip cardholder. The older vk hummed and turned to look at Celia “you…you aren’t gonna forget me once you get to Auradon…will you?” Celia, while her original intentions with Dizzy were ill-intentioned and she just wanted to get a leg up on a future in Auradon by being friends with the vk that had connections already, but Dizzy was just that kinda person you couldn’t be fake around, and Celia had come to genuinely care for her.

Dizzy’s face bloomed into a bright smile that could blind the sun and she set down her rag and bottle, skipping over to Celia and hugging her tightly. Celia froze at the sign of affection and moved to push Dizzy off but stopped herself as Dizzy pulled back and shook her head “of course not! Once I get to Auradon I’ll make sure you’ll be the next one off, just after me! I would never leave you here willingly.” Celia felt her nose and eyes burn and she quickly twisted around, wiping her face as Dizzy giggled.

“sap” Celia chuckled, letting out a small breath as Dizzy slammed into her and wrapped her arms around Celia, shaking them around a bit “hey hey come on” Dizzy giggled again and released the young shadow witch, skipping back over to the rag and bottle and resuming her chores.

Celia let a smile grow on her face as she bopped her head to the song Dizzy started to hum as she took out her pocket watch and checked the time. “oh shit it's late, I got errands to do, bye dizzy!” Celia grabbed her bag and bolted out the salon door, rushing towards the market to grab a couple of things for her “boss”

Well, less boss and more someone who just hired her to grab stuff for him because he was a hermit and didn’t like going outside his little underground hidey-hole.

Celia skidded to a stop as she spotted the short ombre blue hair of Hadie, the son of Hades. Aka the son of her “boss”. Hadie was a tall, oddly buff, blue ombre haired, punk-styled villain kid, the oldest on the isle at that at, being born before Hades had been shipped off to the isle.

“hey,” she muttered, reaching around him and grabbing a couple of peaches, that were not bruised thanks to the fresh shipments that were coming as of late, from in front of the much larger vk. Hadie glanced down at her and opened his messenger bag, allowing Celia to dump the fruit into it. “what’ca here for?”

“stuff” Hadie simply replied in his usual dry tone, following Celia as she started to travel the merchant stands, grabbing what Hades had requested from her and letting her dumb the items into his messenger bag.

One of the merchants, which Celia had stolen from before on her own time, sneered at her, flinching back as the spotted Hadie just behind her just staring at him. The merchant looked away as Celia took two cans of corn and dumped them into Hadie’s bag, skipping away with the older vk following her.

“why does he let her do that?” one of the market keeps whispered to their friend, who shrugged and looked back down at her stock of oranges.

“dunno, but it keeps the creeps off of her and keeps a fight from breaking out so who am I to care?” Hadie glanced at them but kept pace behind Celia, scrunching his nose slightly as one of the merchants leered towards Celia, the merchant reeling back as Hadie flashed his pocket knife.

Celia smirked to herself knowing that Hadie was subtly protecting her as she picked up things for his dad, and with a snatch of some packs of water, she was done for the day. “come on!” she yelled back towards Hadie, who grabbed a small pack of blueberries and followed after her, digging his key to the opening of the mineshafts that lead to his dad's lair out of his pocket. Celia bounced on her heels as Hadie opened the gate and followed him inside.

The two foregoed the bicycle contraption and just walked down the length of the tunnel that lead to the main area, Hadie taking one of the water packs from Celia and hoisting it onto his shoulder.

He ignored the echoing bark that blasted in his ear as he passed by a speaker that his dad made him set up a couple of years ago to keep trespassers out. He and Celia finally made it to the main living area and Celia skipped down the wooden steps, setting one of the water packs on the large metal table in the next room.

Hades looked away from the fading tv and raised his brow as Hadie let Celia snatch the bag from around his neck and take out the items she had taken from the market. “you get everything kids?” Hades teased, standing and walking over to the vks, ruffling his son's hair and laughing a bit as the just shorter Hadie smacked his hand away. “yep” Celia nodded, turning and holding out her hand to Hades, who dug into his jacket, pulled out a small red velvet pouch, and dropped it into her hand, Celia tugged it open as Hadie reached around her to grab a small peach and moved to plop into his dad's makeshift minecart seat. Celia nodded five rubies and several silver coins. “pleasure making business with cha’” Celia held out her hand, grinning as Hades gave it an exaggerated shake and skipped out of the lair, leaving the two gods behind.

She skipped all the way back to the hair salon and moved into the alleyway just next to Hades restaurant. Celia knocked a specific rhythm on the spray-painted door with the words ‘Pa Deranje’ on them. As it slid open Celia slipped through and ran into the quiet arcade her dad manned when school was out for the summer.

“Daddy~!” Celia cheered, running towards her father as he spotted her and held out his hands to lift her up and around.

“Cher~!” he called back, setting her back on her feet and wrapping his arms around her shoulder “so how was the hussle tonight?”

Celia grinned and held up the red velvet bag, her father grinning and holding out his hand. Celia dropped it into his palm and sat down at his fortune reading table, gasping happily at the steaming bowl of food that was resting in front of her.

Her father gestured for her to eat as he dug into the bag, nodding to himself as he saw the inside. He took out the silver coins and set them in front of Celia, stashing the rubies away for safekeeping as they were a higher currency on the isle.

“mmmhmm!” Celia hummed happily around her food, kicking her legs as she took another full bite of the soup-like meal. “what is this?!”

“good ol’ Gumbo my dear” Facilier took a seat in front of her and dug into his own bowl of Gumbo. “found all I needed to make it with at the market, thanks to those shipments” Facilier laughed at his daughter as she eagerly downed the gumbo, reaching out slightly to slow her “now slow down there cher, it’s a bit strong” Celia glanced at him and obeyed, setting the bowl back down and swallowing her current mouthful of food. “now after this you head straight to bed, it’s almost nine am and you’ve been up since eight yesterday” Celia went to object but stopped as her father gave her a look.

“fine” she pouted, smiling behind her bowl as he nodded and reached out to tweak her ear.

The two finished their “dinner” in comfortable silence, Celia finished first and stood from the table, giving her dad a quick kiss and hug before running up to the apartment where she and her dad stayed.

Facilier sighed and took the two empty bowls and followed Celia up the apartment, counting down from 5 and nodding as the telltale sign of Celia’s room door closing sounded just as he reached 0.

While the isle was just a bit better nowadays, thanks to the program that Hooks sons girl had started, he still hoped one day his little girl would be in Auradon one day and never have to worry about where her next meal would come from.

“one day cher” Facilier whispered to himself, setting his top hat on the hat rack and moving to his room “one day you’ll get your cut.”

-end of part 2-

here it is! part 2!!! hope yall liked it, and yes, Dr.Facilier is a good dad, i liked that in the OG D3 so thats what i kept, Hades is kinda an asshole but Hadie is Persephone's kid he’s gonna love and tease the young punk looking god to death, Dizzy's aunt is kinda nice, grandma still ain't but Anastasia was redeemed twice in the Cinderella sequels. anyway yeah tell me what u think and i hoped yall liked! part 3 next Saturday! 

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「fourteen」 chapter 1

"Yuri did confess to me about one crush. First one he ever had, I’d wager, from how nervous he seemed. I had expected it to be Lady Estellise here,” Hanks says, the corners of his eyes crinkling mischievously as she flusters, “but the one detail he did give me certainly ruled that out quick.” “O-oh?” Estelle stammers. “Mmm, well. Apparently whoever they are, they’re significantly older than him. About 14 years, I think he said.”

On the nature of Yuri's first crush.

He hadn’t thought much of it at first.

Hanks’s fond babbling about Yuri over their extremely well-earned dinner is incredibly revealing about the usually cool-headed leader of their motley crew. The old man proves himself a riveting story-teller, keeping their entire party entertained for hours on end despite the incredibly long and taxing 48 sleepless hours they’ve had.

(‘Though there was almost a permanent sleep in there for some of us,’ Raven finds himself thinking morbidly, before digging his bitten-down nails as deep into his ankles as he can to distract himself)

It feels like the only time any of them stop smiling and laughing is to take another mouthful from their bowls of curry, piled high from the seemingly endless and eternal pots of the stuff in the knight’s mess hall (or in Rita’s case, to test out another formula against the system Alexei’s locked the princess into - luckless so far, but she’s yet to lose determination).

Hanks has provided all sorts of anecdotes: the adventures of a baby Yuri who had just learned to walk, quicker to his feet than Flynn but still only babbling in response to the younger’s full fledged scolding - their dynamic had formed incredibly early on, it seemed; fond recollections of helping him to learn to bind properly, their first real bonding experience that had endeared them to each other as adoptive-grandfather-and-grandson; prideful recounts of Yuri’s development from childhood cynophobia into a renowned dog-lover, of all the other little things Yuri had been scared of as a child and grown out of in time (and those he hadn’t - Raven makes a few mental notes for later reference); all the fights Yuri and Flynn had gotten into over the years, and the brief interlude where they had dated in their teens (‘If anything,’ he laughs, ‘the bickering became even more frequent at that point - thank heavens they didn’t last!’); and of course, everyone’s old favourite - that one time 2 years ago when he’d thrown Adecor into the river on tax day.

Raven’s heard that one on a number of occasions from all four of the people who’d been present when it occurred - it somehow never gets any less funny.

While most of Brave Vesperia and it's honorary members are thrilled to learn more about their favourite rebel, Yuri himself is less than happy about Hanks laying out his life story for everyone to see. It's plain on his face - the grimace of a man who appreciates how much his parents love him but would really prefer they didn't tell his date about the time he streaked naked through the town and peed in a fountain at 5 years old. His embarrassment is palpable, a pink glow to his ears that slowly spreads to his cheeks the longer and more intimate Hanks’ stories become.

It’s as he brings up Yuri’s childhood dream of joining the knights so he could sweep a princess off her feet, pointedly winking in Estelle’s direction, that their so-called fearless leader bolts to his feet. He spins on his heel, making a beeline to the other side of the room, and plonks himself violently between a bewildered Adecor and Boccos, immediately thrown from their confusion into annoyance as Yuri’s food slops all over both of them.

His previous dining companions merely snicker in his wake, Hanks chuckling fondly.

“He’s always been so easily riled, that boy. If this is how flustered he gets over just you lot hearing all this then I can’t even imagine how he’ll be when he finally shacks up with someone.’

“Wait, but didn’t you say he dated Flynn when they were younger?” Karol asks, head cocking to one side.

“Well between you, me and our gatepost friends here,” the old man says, leaning in - they all follow suit, as Hanks’ eyes pointedly glance over to Flynn, “I wouldn’t want to hurt his feelings if he hasn’t realised, but I always got the impression that Yuri was far less invested in their relationship than Flynn. It was Flynn who asked him out, after all.”

“My, that does surprise me. Yuri’s always seemed like he’d be the more proactive of the two when it comes to romance.” Judy muses.

Hanks raises his eyebrows, thin lips twisting into an uneasy frown.

“Wait a minute,” Rita says, leaning even further forward. “You’re not saying Yuri never had feelings for him are you?”

He winces, gaze averting. Raven feels his eyebrows shoot into his hairline.

“They’ve always loved each other, of course. But the tone of that love seems to differ between them. Their relationship was what happened when they tried to figure that out, it seems, but ultimately…”

“They just weren’t compatible as partners of that type?”

“Right.” he nods to Estelle. “In all honesty, Yuri might give off the air of someone with considerable relationship experience, but it’s Flynn who attracts more attention. And seems more interested in others in turn.”

Raven finds his gaze wandering between the two in question - Flynn has managed to find himself eating amidst a small crowd, knights and lower quarter folks alike, all of them doting on him and telling him stories, and him listening attentively to each of them in turn. Yuri, meanwhile is… wrestling with all three of the ex-Schwann Brigade’s most prominent knights simultaneously. Astounding.

“Yeah that tracks.” he finds himself murmuring, nails scratching through the chest hair that rises above the collar of his shirt. Even if Flynn wasn’t the most eager to please others between the two, the young man radiates a natural charm that draws others to him like a moth to a flame - it’s hard to forget how he was upstaged the time he took him drinking in Dahngrest. Yuri, meanwhile, has a proclivity for trouble and a tendency to stick his foot in his mouth with his wit. While endearing, he can’t imagine it’s the most efficient for pursuing new connections - even if he’s managed to attract all of the motley crew Raven’s currently sat with.

“So Flynn’s a secret ladies’ man and Yuri, despite all the pomp and swagger, has absolutely no game?” Rita snickers, casting a wry look across the room at Yuri that he’s too distracted to notice.

“Well I don’t know about that. Flynn’s a man’s man if nothing else, never shown interest in women to my knowledge. But… I don’t think Yuri’s ever actually been interested in dating , full stop.”

“No way, really?!” Karol barks. The exclamation draws the attention of the groups sat closest to them, even Flynn, momentarily, before they go busily back to their meals. Flynn’s expression as he looks at them is pondering, almost puppy-like, and Karol’s panic is practically visible as they watch him seemingly wrestle with whether to come over and see what the fuss is about. Then the woman at his side taps a hand to his elbow gently, and his manners win out - she successfully steals his attention back around, all of his interest in their discussion completely forgotten.

“Well. It certainly seems that way anyway. I remember him asking me, back when they dated, how he would know if his feelings for someone were romantic. He didn’t seem to understand my answer very well."

“That’s unexpected. I suppose my advances have all been vain!” Patty whines. Raven finds himself snickering - whether Patty’s affections are genuine or not is one mystery he's yet to solve, but her playing it up is never any less entertaining or fun to tease.

“Though now that I think about it… he did confess to me about one crush. First one he ever had, I’d wager, from how nervous he seemed.”

Patty surges forward onto her hands and knees, scrambling to get in Hanks’ face. Surprisingly, he’s not that caught off guard - perhaps used to it from Yuri’s exuberance as a child, or that other kid from the lower quarter who’s off chasing Repede on the far side of the room.

“I need all the details, matey! Don’t spare a single one!”

Hanks chuckles.

“I’m very sorry young lady, but he didn’t tell me all that much! I had expected it to be Lady Estellise here,” he says, the corners of his eyes crinkling mischievously as she flusters, “but the one detail he did give me certainly ruled that out quick.”

“O-oh?” Estelle stammers.

“Mmm, well. Apparently whoever they are, they’re significantly older than him. About 14 years, I think he said.”

“My my! That’s quite the considerable age gap.” Judy coos, tone teasing in spite of Yuri’s absence. She turns over to look at him, sitting atop a pile of knights and triumphantly tucking into a second of four bowls (spoils of war, Raven would wager) - they all do, in fact.

“Kid’s got taste at least. Nothin’ quite like the mature allure of an older lady~'' Raven sing-songs, half-joking. Rita jabs him in the side harshly.

“Shut up old man-- you said you thought it was Estelle he had a crush on right? So are you saying this is recent? ”

It’s like a switch flips in all of their heads simultaneously. Faces filled with shock whip to look at Hanks, who sits sheepishly clutching his bowl.

“Whoops. Might’ve let a little too much information slip on that one. I was probably meant to keep that detail private…”

“Oh my go--”

Rita slaps a hand over Karol’s mouth before his shriek draws too many eyes over. They all meet each other's' gaze one by one - Yuri's crushing on someone for the first time ever at this exact moment - before turning to look back at Yuri again. He’s mid-mouthful, spoon clutched in his hand like a shovel and sauce dripping down his chin, as he turns to survey his surroundings and catches their eyes.

“What?” he chokes out around his mouthful, just audible over the bustle of the rest of the room. He must see the sheer shock on their faces, as concern starts to cross his face and his gaze wanders to Hanks. “Wait, what did you tell them, old man?”

Hanks chooses that exact moment to get up, incredibly swiftly for a man his age.

“Well, thank you all for keeping me company, kids, but I must be off to… check on other people in… other parts of the castle. Right. Goodbye.”

The speed at which he heads for the door is quite remarkable - Yuri barely manages to scramble off his knight-pile-cum-throne before he’s gone from sight, and presumably halfway down the corridor before Yuri makes it out of the room after him.

It’s a shock, that much is certain. Raven hadn’t thought Yuri would be interested in older women - or people he supposes, he’s never really shown any inclination to anyone before in a romantic sense, so certainly not any specific gender. He’d never much struck him as the type.

But then he hadn’t struck him as the type to be interested in any type of relationship until this curveball of a conversation had come along. So hey, why not. If Yuri was into older people, he certainly wasn’t intending to torment him about it. Other than maybe one opportunely timed quip.

Honestly, he really hadn’t thought much about it at first.

But then the kids throw their own curveball.

“I can’t believe Yuri likes someone so much older than him!! Like, I guess I get the appeal of someone a little older than you for like… security or something, I dunno. But man, 14 years!!” Karol exclaims, as quietly as he can for his excitement. “I wonder if we know who it is.”

Rita barks a laugh, catching a distracted Patty off-guard. She begins anew whatever calculations she’d been making on her fingers as Rita shrugs exaggeratedly.

“I bet it’s some big-boobed motherly-figure in the lower quarter or something.”

“Well if all he wanted was big boobs and a nurturing personality then I’ve been here this whole time, all he had to do was ask!” Judith sighs, sly smirk giving away her lack of sincerity.

“Hey,” Patty pipes up suddenly, drawing their attention. “Isn’t Raven about 14 years older than Yuri?”

He feels the cogs in his brain whirr to a stop.

Suddenly, he is thinking very much about it.

“Oh yeah!” he hears Karol chirp. No doubt he checks the calculations on his own fingers, but Raven doesn’t register it if so, hard as he’s trying just to think at all. “Haha, that’s a weird coincidence!”

Estelle giggles.

“Imagine if it was Raven he had a thing for!”

He feels their eyes on him instantly, but it takes a moment for his brain to catch up. His own eyes must be wide as saucers, as they look at him, the mirth starting to fall from Estelle’s expression - he forces a ridiculous grin to his face.

“Haha, yeah imagine that! Someone like Yuri fallin’ for a washed up old fart like me!” he cackles, voice strained even to his own ears. “That’d be ridiculous!!”

The kids buy it though, Karol laughing along before pulling the others back into their debate about exactly who the mystery object of Yuri’s affections could be. It’s Estelle whose gaze lingers on him, just a moment or two longer, as the facade starts to crack, but she must see it - the silent plea in his eyes - as she turns back to the others not a moment later.

If anyone notices that Raven is mentally tapped out until they all go their separate ways for the night, then they’re at least polite enough not to mention it.

⇷-------------

Raven is a strange one.

This is Yuri’s third time meeting the man (or fourth, if the time Rita threatened to set him alight in Capua Torim counts as an actual encounter) and in all honesty, it’s hard to get a read on him past him being very obviously shady.

He seems as though he might be someone of consequence, if the quality of information he so casually throws like bones to random guards is actually as quality as he would have them believe. Either way he’s certainly silver-tongued, plying the others in Yuri’s makeshift travelling party into submission fairly easily despite their initial apprehension about him. Karol and Estelle are charmed by him, by his goofy antics if not the lolloping drawl of his accent, though they make no effort to hide the fact that they find him fishy. While Rita is far less taken, she seems to be placated by him taking her punishments, both fire and fists, like a champ.

The charm isn’t exactly visible to the naked eye though. He skulks at the back of the group, heavy footed and posture slouched. His clothes all seem far too big for him, obscuring the shape of his body in a way Yuri supposes is meant to make him seem unassuming, and he’s already displayed a number of habits that he knows would make any upper quarter noble’s toes curl - picking at his ears and the skin around his nails, before chewing at the nails themselves.

He has to admit though, he’s quite handsome in the face beneath the mess of dusty brown hair. Not in the same way as Flynn, with his big blue eyes and tousled blonde hair, the very picture of a storybook knight. His crooked nose, chapped lips, stubbly chin and hollow cheeks certainly make for a more unconventional type of attractive, but they all come together to create a certain appeal. The brightness of his eyes certainly helps too.

Also the combat prowess. Fighting ability is always an attractive quality in Yuri’s opinion, but especially in a travelling companion.

For a self-professed old man, Raven’s far more nimble than Yuri had expected. Sure, he’d made quite the getaway back in Capua Nor after he’d sold them out, but he’d assumed that’d been a one-off desperate sprint, not the norm. Apparently he was wrong, based on the nimble footwork he employs to dart out of the way of a particularly feisty howler. It doesn’t escape his notice how Karol nearly falls flat on his ass when Raven rushes past him and twists himself at an insane angle to fire an arrow across the way, skewering a beetle between its mandibles before it can take a bite out of Estelle.

“Woah, Raven!! Yuri, you’ve got some serious competition for your acrobatics now!!”

The bark of laughter leaves his throat unwittingly.

“I didn’t realise there even was a competition!”

He sees Rita roll her eyes as she releases a torrent of water behind her, clearly disbelieving him and with good reason; he’s never been one to back down from a potential competition. He breaks away from the corner of the forest floor he’s been holding down, using the momentum to propel himself up and over Raven, carrying it into his sword as he flips to crash it down into the skull of another monster. Raven whistles appreciatively as it disappears into dust.

“Not bad, young ‘un!”

He throws a smirk over his shoulder, ego swelling at the genuine awe on Raven’s face.

“How’s about it, old man? First to twenty?”

The awe transforms into a grimace in an instant.

“Ahhh, I dunno about that. Ol’ Raven’s never really been one for competitions, let alone effort. ”

He scoffs.

“Oh, come on. We’ve got no choice but to fight to get deeper into the forest anyway, right? So why not make a game of it? Not like it’ll actually be any more effort than you were already putting in.”

Raven purses his lips, seemingly unconvinced. His eyes narrow slightly as he stares off, deep in thought, the blue-green seemingly increasing in intensity. For all he’s been putting on the act of a court jester, Yuri is certain in that moment that there’s a deep intelligence to the older man; something unspoken, a wisdom beyond his years.

(Not that he knows how old Raven is but. Well, he gets the feeling that while he’s certainly older than he and his travelling companions, he’s not actually pushing middle-aged yet like he makes out)

Fwip!

He comes back to himself to see Raven’s face closer than before, upside down, chin in line with his collarbone. His bow arm (and subsequently the bow itself) is extended past his shoulder, the other loose by his head having just fired. Behind him there’s a thunk. A screech. A pop. And then silence.

“Looks like that’s one ta me~” Raven coos, eyes hooded as he smirks. He rolls his back, lithe and catlike, to stand himself back upright, stretching his arms out until his shoulders crack. For all his complaining about aches and pains so far (extremely numerous for the time they’ve been travelling with him, maybe an hour at most), he certainly doesn’t move as though he has any joint issues.

Despite his shock, he finds himself laughing.

If he’s honest with himself, he’s just as charmed by Raven as the kids are. He’s never made a connection quite like this one; with someone who can go toe to toe with his dry wit, and make it out the other side without being angry with him. Rita had been the closest (since Niren at least, but Yuri prefers to avoid thinking about the only father he ever knew if he can). But while Rita’s great with a back and forth, she’s easily riled, easily flustered. It only takes one slightly wrong jab and she gets stroppy, or else loses all interest in the situation.

Raven, for all his strangeness, has so far matched Yuri every step of the way. They’ve fallen so easily into a steady banter, something of their own personal comedy routine for just the two of them, some form of it present even from their first encounter way back in that jail cell. To have someone who can appreciate his snark, and give it back just as good while they both know it’s all in good fun? He’d never realised just how much he’d appreciate a relationship like that.

So yeah, Raven’s a little suspicious. But as far as Yuri’s concerned, he’s willing to offer him the benefit of the doubt for the strange comfort he gets from their repartee, just so long as he doesn’t do anything too crazy.

He slaps Raven on the shoulder, moving past him to continue deeper into the oversized brush.

“You got me, old man. But don’t you worry, you won’t be holding that lead for long.”

Raven merely cackles in response, wordlessly filing in behind him.

-------------⇸

There’s only one real constant within their travelling party, and that’s that the sleeping arrangements are ever-changing.

It takes a little while for him to notice, though in his defence the first week or so he’s with them is certainly not a typical week. In the more recent days, they’d gotten lucky with inns having enough beds for all of them, but the first few nights had been entirely sleepless in the hustle and bustle of, y’know, stopping a war, taking down the Blood Alliance and colliding with an actual genuine-article ghost ship.

(He’s still not sure what that was all about if he’s being entirely honest, but he’s old and ““wise”” enough by now that he knows there are some things in this world that you simply shouldn’t question)

So it’s Nordopolica where he finds himself bedding down with his new companions for the first time. The constant hustle and bustle of Palestralle’s workers and the fresh colosseum season unfortunately means there isn’t much free in terms of rooms. On the plus side, the three double beds they’re provided are plenty enough space for them all to be able to sleep comfortably; Fomalhaut’s rooms are quite spacious, nothing at all like the army barracks of his youth (though he supposes that should be expected from a city that considers itself something of an entertainment hub).

Raven takes his time ambling in behind everyone else, absently watching how effortlessly Repede transfers his pipe from one side of his toothy maw to the other. Rushing would be pointless, in his opinion, because he can already envision how everyone will double-up. Rita is sure to claim a spot beside the princess, for whose sake she could not be more clearly continuing to travel for despite her protests, and Judy won’t want to get lumped with a snotty (though admittedly quite sweet) brat or some dirty old man she hardly knows - he’s gonna get stuck with the kid, and the two of them can have a very one-sided competition over whose shitty little brain can give them the most nightmares in one night, and Raven will be perfectly content with that, thank you very much.

(It’ll be him who wins that one - hormone-induced nightmares are nothing compared to the horrors your brain can produce when you have blood and a war on your hands)

And then Karol throws him for a loop by tossing his bag semi-gently to the floor before diving into bed after Rita , of all people.

She hardly even makes a fuss. There’s a yelp - what sounds like it could be the start of the protest Raven would expect from such a combination - before she settles almost immediately.

“Just make sure you don’t kick me awake again, got it?” she barks pointedly at him, before rolling to face away from him and promptly cocooning herself in the blanket. He laughs at her, kicking off his shoes and fluffing up his pillow, seemingly content.

Wide-eyed, Raven turns to the girls - surely he can’t be the only one caught off-guard by this, it seems unthinkable for Rita not to put up a fight to sharing with Karol , and there’s an exclamation of surprise right on the tip of his tongue - only to find them claiming the second bed for themselves, Judy helping Estelle to unfasten the complicated buckles of her dress. He bites his words back, head whipping away; much as the image of a pervert works as a brilliant cover to convince the kids of his idiocy, peeping on the possible-crown princess as she gets changed is certainly not a thing he’s ever aspired to.

And so he comes face to face with the final bed. His bed he supposes, strange as it may still be to him. Yuri’s already making himself comfy on the left side, shirt and jacket thrown over the bottom edge of the bed frame. He stretches his arms up and over his head, muscles rippling as he yawns. He catches Raven’s eye as they fall back down, a mischievous glint flickering in his eyes.

“Looks like it’s you and me, old man.” he says, patting the sheets next to him with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

He can feel his own lips quirk to mirror Yuri’s, even as he fights to push down the instinctive panic.

“And here I was hopin’ ta share with my darlin’ Judy!” he whines playfully, flopping down beside him face first in a show of dramatism.

“Sorry, Raven. I just couldn’t miss the chance to cuddle up with Estelle!” comes her voice, sing-songy, from the bed she’s claimed. He can see, as he pushes himself up onto his hands and knees to get better situated, that she’s doing exactly that. She’s practically spooning the princess, face buried in short pink locks, and Estelle herself looks the very picture of a tomato (not that he wouldn’t himself with Judith’s considerable… assets pressed against him).

“Well so long as yer not a cuddler yerself, Mr Lowell.” he jokes, rearranging himself onto his back before pulling the duvet up to his chin. For all that they’re in less than ideal circumstances with sharing beds, he’s glad to see Palestralle don’t skimp on the furnishings for their inns - the linen is incredibly soft, smooth against the pads of his fingers, and it’s a smart fabric choice for an inn in so changeable a climate.

Yuri huffs a laugh.

“I think I can hold myself back this once, just for you.” he says, tone laden with sarcasm. He watches Raven with keen eyes as he lounges on his side, head resting in his hand. Raven wonders how he can sleep like that - how his arm doesn’t cramp in the night, doesn’t wake him up in a fit of panic when he can’t move it, breathing shallow until the blood flow returns. He forgets, sometimes, that not everyone enters a blind panic over the little things.

“Why, I'm honoured! Yer benevolence knows no bounds!" he coos back, nose scrunching in amusement. Yuri smiles as he reaches back and pats Repede where he stands by the bed - a silent request to turn off the overhead light. The pooch complies, trotting off with a clack of his pipe between his teeth - Raven’s constantly caught off guard by the dog’s intelligence, the number of strange things Yuri’s managed to teach him (or perhaps that the dog has taught himself? He’s still not fully certain how much of a hand in training him that the young man’s had), and this is certainly another for the list.

“Damn right it doesn’t. Better make sure you show me the respect I deserve.” he says. He meets his eyes again as the blastia clicks off, dousing them in darkness. They crinkle with mirth, the abyss within softening even more as Karol giggles at their antics on the other side of the room.

They find themselves in a staring contest, of sorts. Or maybe closer to a game of chicken? He’s sure Yuri sees it that way at least, if his unblinking gaze is anything to go by. For him on the other hand it’s… something else. What exactly he can’t say. He’s just... transfixed .

Because Yuri’s plenty handsome on his own - perhaps even beautiful, if that’s more your thing. Raven’s already seen him turn a great many heads in the short time they’ve been together, including both the illustrious head of Fortune’s Market and the great forgotten war hero himself. Maybe he’d even let himself cast an admiring glance his way, if he hadn’t picked specifically womaniser for Raven’s bullshit cover-up trait.

But when the sea-breeze blows gently, kicking up the curtains, and the moonlight shines into the room, it catches him just so. The glow is ethereal, transformative, and it brings out the hidden flecks of golden brown in the depths of Yuri’s eyes, spins the silk of his dark hair almost chestnut. And just for a moment, he can trick himself into believing she’s here, the Canary herself, laid opposite him with a fond teasing smile, and oh god the hole where his heart used to be aches to reach out and touch her--

But for all her perfections, Casey’s eyes had never glowed quite like that had they? Never stared directly into his soul, made him almost want to bury into her arms and let her shoulder his every burden for him. Her kindness had inspired, but never been so bottomless that he wanted to abuse it, had never come off her in waves to the point it was visible in every little line of her face despite any grandstanding. Never so gentle to the broken that he could almost convince himself that he doesn’t need to run, that if he’s seen he’ll be accepted wholly, flaws and sins and all.

Not like Yuri. Not at all like Yuri.

The curtain drops, or else the clouds must roll in overhead. Either way, the moonlight vanishes, and with it goes the last vestiges of the illusion.

“Aye-aye, sir.” he all but murmurs, his voice tighter than just moments ago. He hopes, as Yuri’s face twists in concern, that his own face doesn’t give away the turmoil of his heart.

“You alright, old man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Hah, maybe I have!” he laughs, but it sounds notably hollow even to him. Still, he doesn’t break eye-contact as Yuri seems to peer directly into him, seemingly scanning his every thought and feeling, hope and dream.

The last thing he sees as he slips into sleep is the gentle embrace of the abyss. While his dreams are plagued by nightmares, a broken body bleeding out in the sand, he finds it’s the best night’s sleep he’s had in years.

-------------⇸

The town is silent, other than the gentle rustle of the sea breeze through the trees and the crunch of the dirt path beneath his feet.

They’ve been here all day, but Yuri’s not sure he’s used to how incredibly peaceful Yormgen is yet. He’s not sure he ever will be, either. He’s used to the bustle of the city, the shouting of vendors and newsies in Zaphias’s main market as carts laden with goods and people roll by. It feels like there’s always a dog barking, a clock chiming, a baby crying in the city, and the background noise helps him to switch his brain off in a way that the country never can.

Halure had been quiet to him - the calm atmosphere of the day, the slowness of shop transactions and conversation, had already been a lot, but for there to be a perfect stillness as night fell rather than an increase in bustle as drinkers started to take to the town had been the real whiplash. Despite a relatively large population, the town didn’t have a single dedicated bar to its name, and it’d thrown Yuri for far more of a loop than he’d ever expected.

Yormgen is even stranger. There must be all of fourteen people in this entire town, he thinks, and every single one of them vanished into their houses the moment the sun started to set. The only conversation he's heard that he hasn’t been directly involved in since Duke showed up and smashed their apatheia (he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t still annoyed about that) is that of his own travelling companions bickering over what to make for dinner with their limited ingredients as he stepped away to find their mysterious disappearing old man.

Raven took the loss of the crystal hard. Or at least, Yuri thinks he did. He certainly vanished quickly when they decided to wait around while Rita took some time to investigate. He’d been right next to him one second and then gone the next, before they’d had a chance to agree to meet back up for dinner at sundown. With no one having seen him all day since to let him know, it’d fallen on his shoulders to hunt him down and drag him back. Raven might’ve been plenty energetic on their first trip through the desert, but they all know better than to let him make the return journey on an empty stomach. The man eats like a bird at the best of times - he really can’t afford to be doing that now.

He’d grumbled and whined about it being him who had to go find him, but in all honesty he’s kind of pleased. He’s found himself surprisingly worried about the old man - this is the first time since they’ve started officially travelling together that he’s pulled a disappearing act. Normally it’s hard to get him to shut up for more than 20 minutes at a time, so the better part of a day without seeing or hearing from him at all is completely unheard of. If his silence doesn’t mean he’s curled up and died somewhere, then Yuri knows that he’s the only one of their party who stands any chance of fetching him with both of them left unscathed.

He’s explored the residential side of the town (if it can truly be called that) extensively already throughout the day. Not that it was hard to do - other than the homes of locals that are a bit further out, the town proper is essentially three big buildings and a deck. He’d quickly concluded that there were very few places to hide a man with a proclivity for such a bright shade of purple amongst the muted timber and the gentle green of the grass. The only conclusion he can come to is that Raven must’ve headed to the other side of town, to the sea of flowers that makes his sinuses itch just looking in their direction.

For all he knows they’ll give him a headache, the flowers are incredibly pretty. It had been the bushes of pink and blue trumpets that had caught his attention in the midday, as Estelle had run over to them in delight and plucked a few. She’d fashioned a few little fascinators, of sorts (a skill she’d learned in the finishing school she had no doubt been forced to attend as the potential future Empress), and spent the better part of an hour lacing them into everyone’s hair. If he looks back over his shoulder, he knows he’ll see Judith wearing the pink blossoms - rhododendron, Estelle had called them - with pride, while Karol nervously fidgets with his own, worried they’ll fall out, ruining the princess’s hard work.

Now, however, in the amber light of the sunset, it’s the flower tunnel that draws his eye. Not that he hadn’t noticed it before - it’s impossible to miss, vibrant as it is. But he’s never been the biggest fan of yellow, always a little bright for his tastes. The way the light bounces off the thousands of little flowers is certainly eye-catching though, setting them in such a way that their radiance is somehow easier on the eye. They’re impossible to look away from as he draws closer, some emotion he’s unused to, couldn’t possibly name, stirring in his chest. The chains dance gently in the breeze, bouncing against each other like a bead curtain, and something about it makes him nostalgic for the familiarity of the Lower Quarter.

Then he spots him, further in, beneath the boughs. His hand rests comfortably on the handle of the knife he keeps at his waist, the other left to the mercy of the breeze as he stares up amidst the blossoms. They bathe him in their glow, mingling with the dying rays of the sun, casting him almost golden . He’s mesmerised by the sight himself, it seems, completely off-guard for the first time in the couple of months Yuri’s known him - for all he plays the fool, Yuri would be an even bigger one not to realise how keenly Raven follows the every movement of all those around him.

But right now, he seems… defenceless. Open. Fragile. Unaware that a world aside from him and the sea of flowers even exists. He could do whatever he wanted to Raven in this moment, he thinks, and he just knows the man would be equally surprised by anything. Something about that knowledge, this vision makes his chest feel light, almost airy.

The image sears itself into his mind, unbidden, and he knows instantly. No matter how hard he tries he’ll never erase it.

“Laburnum.”

He startles as Raven speaks. Perhaps he hadn’t been as unaware as he’d thought.

“Huh?” he grunts dumbly.

“These flowers. They call ‘em Laburnum. Or golden rain in some parts.” he says, flicking his eyes (almost the vibrant green of dense aer with the glow) over to acknowledge Yuri. He goes quickly back to gazing upwards, almost reverent. “Pretty apt.”

Yuri finds himself eyeing the flowers again as he moves closer. They’re strangely shaped, the blooms, unlike any he’s seen before. The petals curl back and in on themselves, clustered closely together in a way that hides the little shock of red in their centres. Stranger still are the buds, gently curved in a way that reminds him of the plantains he’d seen in Dahngrest’s market.

From the right angle, they could almost look like birds in flight, or indeed a sudden burst of rainfall.

“Yeah, I guess.”

Raven’s lips quirk into a smile. His eyebrows set into something pensive, wistful even.

“They’re pretty rare these days. Didn’t think I’d ever get to see a single tree with my own eyes, never mind a whole grove…”

The melancholy that’s settled over him like a veil is impossible to ignore, his voice distant as though transported to another time. There’s a pressure at the base of Yuri’s throat as he watches him, finds himself wanting to do… something. He’s not sure what. Just anything to pull him from his reverie. But of course, in the end all he really knows is sarcasm.

“Wouldn’t have taken you as the type to know about flowers.”

It seems to work somewhat. Though perhaps he shouldn’t be so surprised - he and Raven have always been strangely in sync.

“Wouldn’t be much good with the ladies if I didn’t know about little things like flowers, now would I?” he says, finally turning to face Yuri more fully. His eyes soften with mischief, and yet still seem tight with… well if Yuri had to put a name to it, he’d wager it was grief .

A half-joke then; his flower knowledge almost certainly learned on behalf of one lady, though he’d wager not women generally at all. After all, for all he seemed to enjoy playing the womaniser, his actions often seemed chosen to purposefully push them away if anything.

Yuri rolls his eyes in faux-annoyance. Raven smiles. It gets closer to meeting his eyes than he expected it to.

“I can’t imagine just throwing their names around is especially impressive. Seems more like the absolute bare minimum.” he says, hand coming to rest on a cocked hip. Raven’s smile widens, coaxed out of his shell somewhat by the familiar teasing routine.

“Ah, but whoever said I only knew their names?”

His eyebrows raise instinctively. To know flowers’ names is one thing, but any other details aren’t usually common knowledge; their language, how to arrange them, the best methodology for their care all usually things known solely by the upper echelons of society, or else those with enough money in their back pockets to take a chance on starting a related career.

“Don’t tell me…” he trails off, fixing Raven with a sceptical look. The old man’s face splits into a wide grin, hand coming up to flash a peace sign. Dork, his thinks impulsively as he huffs a laugh, surprised at the fond tone the word takes in his mind. Then quick as the cheer arrives it drops again, leaving the previous melancholic half-smile splayed across Raven’s face.

“These wouldn’t be much good in a bouquet though, pretty as they are. If bein’ deadly poisonous wasn’t enough, they’re usually used as a symbol of the forsaken. ” he muses, the last word spat like something dirty from his mouth.

“Who the hell would look at these and decide that? ” Yuri barks out. His expression must look as bewildered as he feels - Raven laughs at him, gentle but genuine.

“Yeah, it seems like a lot, right?” he says. His gaze drifts away from Yuri’s, losing focus and staring past him, through his shoulder. “She always liked them though, in spite of that.”

“...She?” he asks, carefully. He doesn’t want to sound eager, too nosey. Doesn’t want to push when the old man is this fragile. But he can’t help his curiosity - this is the first he’s mentioned of his past, the first clue to piecing together the admittedly fascinating mystery that is Raven. The man himself seems to realise it too, that with just one sentence he’s revealed a huge part of himself he hasn’t previously. Graciously, he doesn’t scramble to hide it away as Yuri might’ve expected.

“Ah. Old friend.” he says softly, as though divulging a secret. “She’s… gone now. But she was always a big fan of flowers. These weren’t her favourite but. She liked ‘em plenty.”

It slips out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Not like you to spill your past out in the open like this, old man.”

It takes all of his mental strength not to kick himself as Raven’s expression shutters, the nostalgia, longing , vanishing from his face in favour of something more carefully guarded. His eyes though, expressive as they are, can’t hide the pain.

“Ah. I suppose they got me feelin’ a little nostalgic. Forgive me.”

The silence stretches out between them for miles and miles as he watches Raven, Raven in turn watching the dancing laburnum above his head. His eyes flicker from bloom to bloom, as though cataloguing each one carefully, trying to commit their shape, their profile to memory. Yuri finds his eyes drawn to his lips as they purse, a gentle pout taut in a manner that gives away the nervous chewing of the inside of his mouth. His thick eyelashes fan over his cheekbones as he blinks, and Yuri hates the silence of the country, because it’s weird sappy shit like this that the bustle of the city helps him to avoid thinking about.

Raven’s a lot like these flowers , is the thought that springs to his mind, unprompted. And it’s ridiculous really. Completely nonsensical. The kind of thing Karol might come out with on a night where he’s overtired, that they’d all tease him for mercilessly until they pass out. But there’s nothing to distract him from it - he’s surrounded by the evidence, and the more he tries to ignore it the more sense it seems to make to him. The two parts of his brain war with each other, unrelenting, and he can feel the push and pull starting to show on his face.

Then a single blossom falls from the canopy above. It lands perfectly atop Raven’s bangs, perched there like a peepit in a tree, and he can’t fight the analogy anymore - Raven certainly looks forsaken, in that instant, the pain swimming in his eyes. And yet usually so bright and cheery, like the flower’s vibrant colouring, almost desperate for attention as he jokes around-- and then pushing people away, like a poison, when they try to get close. An exterior crafted to make you underestimate him, and yet a hidden strength, swift and deadly on the battlefield. A sunny disposition that washes over you like a summer rain, calming and refreshing.

He’s not sure anymore if the golden glow bouncing off Raven’s skin is from the flowers, or just simply the man himself.

A light breeze jostles the flower, and it slips from his hair. The strange shape hooks itself onto the crook of his nose and it wedges firmly, even as the wind picks up, cascading more petals down onto them both. Raven either ignores it, or doesn’t notice, his eyes falling closed as he lets nature wash over him.

He steps closer carefully, unthinkingly. He feels as a moth to a flame, though why he couldn’t say. He’s unfamiliar with the stirring in his chest that rises at the sight, doesn’t understand his compulsion to reach out, to touch Raven. To check he’s still solid and there, that he hasn’t been blown away on the currents of the wind like his namesake.

His hand reaches out, plucking the flower from Raven’s face gently. The old man startles instantly, eyes snapping open and meeting Yuri’s as he flicks the blossom to the floor. Raven’s eyes scan over him, looking for answers that he’s not sure he’ll find. Yuri certainly wouldn’t be able to explain if he were to ask. He simply looks between the sunken blue-green, carefully smoothing more fallen petals from Raven’s shoulders.

“For what it’s worth,” he says, voice practically a whisper beneath the howling of the breeze, far gentler than he’d expected it to be, “I think I understand why your friend liked them.”

Raven’s eyebrow cocks, ever so slightly.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” he answers, lips quirking into a small smile, something genuine and raw and delicate that he doesn’t recall gracing his face before. “They’ve got a certain charm, I suppose.”

Raven’s breath hitches - he doesn’t hear it, only sees the narrowing of his nostrils, the bobbing of his Adam's apple. His eyes are so round, as the melancholy starts to subside slowly, leaving something inquisitive in his wake. It’s an expression he’s sure he’s seen on Repede before when he was younger, still training, still struggling with learning to sit on command, and it feels strange to compare Raven to a puppy, but it certainly isn’t the strangest thing that’s happened to him in the last 24 hours.

It feels like hours before Raven breaks his eyes away, anything raw and gentle immediately traded for bluster and jokes as he ducks his head.

“What’re you doin’ hangin’ out with me amidst the flowers anyway?” he asks, voice a little hoarse as his teasing lilt starts to creep back to him. “The others will start to talk if we keep havin’ these secret rendezvous, young man! How scandalous!”

He slaps his hand to his chest, feinting horror at their make-believe tryst. Yuri snorts, socking him lightly in the arm. Ridiculous as his jokes are, he can’t help but be pleased to see him return to some semblance of normalcy.

“I came to get you for dinner, dumbass. After that, you can feel free to go on ahead to Nordopolica.” he says, turning back around to lead the way to the others with a nod of his head.

Raven snickers at his own antics, hurrying to follow after him as he pulls a hurt expression.

“What, you wanna get rid of me so soon?”

“Wrong.” he snorts, head turned pointedly away in an effort to ignore his self-deprecating jokes. “I just wouldn't want you to miss the new moon and your chance to deliver the letter all on our account.”

The beat of silence that follows is just a touch too long for their usual banter. He turns back to Raven, worried momentarily that he’s run off again and he’ll be on a wild goose chase for the rest of the night, only to find him following attentively behind him. He’s looking at Yuri, expression… totally indecipherable to him for once, actually. It’s a rare occasion for him to have no idea what the old man is thinking.

“What?” he asks, eyebrow quirking. Raven simply smiles, wide and catlike.

“Oh, nothin’ important~” he sing-songs, taking over the lead in the moment Yuri pauses. “Honestly, I could do fine without your concern.”

Yuri scowls.

“Wrong again.” he says, moving to keep pace, their back-and-forth continuing until they arrive back at the inn, and the campfire their party has set up.

(He never does figure out what Raven’s expression had meant on that day, but when he finds the small laburnum branch tangled in his hair alongside the rhododendron the next morning, he quietly stows it away in the bottom of Karol’s bag, heart fluttering strangely in his chest)

-------------⇸

The speed at which Mantaic’s locals manage to throw the party together is honestly quite astounding.

The stalls of the inn concourse have cleared their tables of their wares, already starting to accumulate piles of local cuisine - barely an hour since the news of the Flynn Brigade’s arrival started to spread throughout the town, whispers abandoned in favour of joyous cries despite the extreme early hour, and already there’s a feast to rival one for a noble. People of all ages are wide awake and gleeful, even very young children who don’t fully understand what’s happening squealing with joy at seeing their parents’ and older siblings’ excitement.

The princess tries to help where she can (as always) - shakily carrying huge steaming pots to their directed positions, assisting in dragging tables out of homes to line the streets. Were Flynn not so busy tying up loose ends with the stragglers of the Cumore Brigade, Judith’s sure he’d be dancing around her like a mother hen. Instead, Karol and Rita have become his stand-ins, getting roped into helping themselves albeit minus Estelle’s unshakeable enthusiasm.

She’s glad everything turned out okay in the end. It had been with great unease that they’d all drifted off to sleep the night before, distressed at their powerlessness, their lack of time. Battling with the princess’s impulsivity had been hard, especially in the presence of her big round eyes and quivering lips, but a necessary evil. There really wasn’t anything they could’ve done. Judith remains firm in her belief - it would be impossible to rehabilitate a man like Cumore in jail. Even with the combined influence of Flynn and Estelle, the strength of their idealism and naïveté, a man as corrupt as he would never conform to concepts like morals and ethics. He would only change in death.

The man’s fall from grace, while certainly better than allowing him to run amok, does little to satisfy her in all honesty. The townspeople, however, just seem glad to be free of his clutches, regardless of the flaws in the Empire’s justice system. She can’t blame them really - she’s sure she’d feel the same in their shoes, the ever-lingering threat of death by dehydration or being eaten alive finally lifted from their shoulders.

She’s glad for the lifting of the tense air that had settled over their travelling party the night before. That there’s a smile on Estelle’s face again is good too. For the sake of the guild, nothing more , she scolds herself mentally, quashing the leap in her chest as the baby blues smile in her direction.

She finds herself counted as one of the old souls on this occasion; the small group who are extremely pleased for the turn of events and the freedom of the people, but are either too tired or consider themselves too uninvested to actually lend a hand. Raven is a regular to this group, fucked as his sleeping pattern is, and it doesn't surprise her as much as she thought it would that Patty too sits among them.

Yuri sitting back, however, is new.

Something is off with him. Something has been off with him since… well, certainly since their discovery of Cumore's little scheme. He’s never been the most talkative of their group, a man of relatively few words until it comes to snide jibes and teasing, or else rallying speeches to raise morale or call outs for something he perceives to be an injustice.

(She’d say he was self-righteous - but then, by that same line of thinking, isn’t she also?)

His usual quietude has never felt like this though - dense and oppressive like thunderclouds, holding a tension that, if referred to, threatens to strike like lightning, harsh and quick and painful. It’s possible he’d just slept badly, but she doubts it. She and Yuri are painfully alike at the best of times and in this, it seems, they continue to be.

Yes, for Yuri, the biggest champion of justice among them, to still be so tense, so incredibly on edge… It’s extremely telling.

The only one who seems to have noticed Yuri’s torment other than her (and his faithful pooch) is, of course, Raven. It’s no surprise - he’s always kept a close eye on Yuri, in the time she’s known them. She’d heard tell that the Don had taken an interest in Yuri when he’d met him, in a way usually foreign to him in regards to newcomers. Normally it would be years - years of hard work, of craft and contributions in the name of the guilds, for the man to so much as glance in your direction, let alone learn your name (understandably so for so busy and powerful a man). Yet Yuri had waltzed in and garnered his full attention in the space of a few hours, at best.

That Raven has clearly been instructed to stake him out, in addition to his apatheia hunt, feels natural. Less so is a good chunk of what he actually seems to be observing about Yuri - she’s sure the Don would much rather see a report on his fighting capabilities, his disposition, the flexibility of his morality in a pinch, than whatever he’s gleaning by staring at his back when he takes his shirt off, or watching the flow of his hair in the desert breeze.

(That is, however, a report she would quite like to read, if for nothing more than watching the burn of Raven’s ears at the request)

This morning, however, the eye he keeps on him is careful. Though the ever-present catlike smirk that plays over his lips remains, there’s something considering to his gaze - a scheme in the works but not those of his usual calibre. Nothing designed to rile Rita, fluster Estelle or make the kids laugh (though she’s sure if he can tie his usual goals into whatever he’s concocting then he certainly won’t shy away at the chance).

If she had to guess at his intentions, she’d have thought--

The blaring of a horn throws her suddenly from her train of thought - the celebrations are brought instantly into full swing by a makeshift band of passing guildsmen throwing their own contributions into the mix. Judith doesn’t consider herself a big listener of music, in all honesty, but she’d be hard pressed not to recognise the juxtaposed staccatos and legatos characteristic of Dahngrestian swing - while lesser known within Empire towns like this one, the style is famous the world over.

She hasn’t had many opportunities to join in with the festivities the guilds are known for throwing, where dancers step and twirl faster than the barkeeps can pour drinks (and really, isn’t that an impressive thought, considering the drinking culture in Dahngrest?) She’s bore witness to their local dancing customs only once or twice, and never within the heart of the city itself, and she knows with certainty that while her footwork on the battlefield might be immaculate, she has two left feet for dancing - would certainly never dare to attempt swing. She has great sympathy for the townsfolk who, while enraptured by the melody, feet tapping along jovially, seem as though they don’t know quite what to do with it.

Altosk’s second, on the other hand, is ecstatic. He barks a delighted laugh that startles Patty, almost jostling her from the table she’s perched upon, and finally momentarily draws Yuri from his reverie. She watches, amused, as he throws Yuri’s grumpy, inquisitive look a wink before springing to his feet.

“Hey, kid!” he calls, flagging Karol down as he heads to the middle of the concourse. Their illustrious guild master looks up from the mabo curry bun he’s attempting to swallow whole, wide-eyed. Raven grins, crooked and gummy in a way she’s come to associate with his mischief.

“Why don’t we show these lovely folks how it’s done, as thanks for their hospitality?”

Karol is practically vibrating at the concept. In a flash he’s pulling off his gloves and whipping his bag over his head, dumping the pile in Rita’s lap (eliciting, of course, an incredibly over the top yelp of annoyance). He scarfs down the remnants of the bun as he hops over the table he’s sat at, scampering over to Raven in a manner that does nothing to hide his enthusiasm.

“You better not stand all over my feet, Raven!” he calls as he draws closer, face pulling into a pout that doesn’t quite ring true. The noise Raven makes in response is rather like that of a strangled cat.

“The nerve o’ kids these days!” he bemoans, pinching his sinuses with a shake of his head. “I’ll have you know yours truly is the pride of Altosk! Ya won’t find a better dancer in all o’ Dahngrest, not even the Don himself!”

“Uhu, suuuure. ” Karol drawls, disbelieving, as he comes to a stop by his side.

It’s as he does that Raven ducks his head close to the boy, hand a shield to cover whatever he says. His words are inaudible, but if Karol’s terrible attempts at hiding his furtive glances in Yuri’s direction are anything to go by, Judith would have to guess it’s something about whatever Raven’s scheming for Brave Vesperia’s second.

The band seems to catch wind of their plans, slowing the jaunty tune down to allow the two to begin. Karol dusts his hands off on his trousers bashfully, ridding himself of any remnants of curry, before taking Raven’s hand in his. Their movements start off slow and creeping, almost unnatural to watch, but it quickly becomes apparent to her that they’re motions meant to teach rather than for actual dancing - an enunciated display of footwork for the surrounding beginners as they take their time to get a feel for each other as dance partners.

And then, Raven taking Karol’s waist, they begin in earnest. Movements still slow, but now fluid as water, they begin to turn around one another in the style she vaguely recognises, and while she knows nothing about dancing, it’s clear that they’re extremely good. They match each other's timing perfectly, not a step out of place, and she could believe they were gliding if not for the dust their footsteps kick up.

Karol is good, of course, especially for a kid of his age (she wonders idly if he might’ve had a brief foray in a dancing guild, prior to joining the Hunting Blades), but Raven is really something else. She’s never seen a man able to move his hips in such a way, sashaying in a way that’s frankly a little hypnotising - if she thought he were truly interested in her, then this’d definitely be enough to make her begin to consider his earlier flirtations more seriously. It’s frankly criminal, she thinks, that his trousers and jacket do so much to obscure his ass.

As they become more comfortable, they begin to ramp it up a little - they take it in turns to twirl one another, alternating between wide sweeping arcs, Raven displaying his extreme flexibility to twist beneath Karol’s arm, to fast tight twirls that almost remind her of Rita’s casting motions. For these, Karol spins so quickly she’s surprised he doesn’t completely lose balance and land face first in the dirt. Instead he simply laughs jovially, really getting into the spirit of it and losing himself to the music. Raven’s responding smile is fond, like a father watching their kid, and she could almost believe they’ve both forgotten about their ulterior motives, if not for how Raven keeps glancing in their direction every other time he’s facing their way.

It’s as Estelle drags Rita out to join them, accompanied by a group of the locals, that Judy feels something ugly snare her heart and promptly takes the opportunity to cast a considering glance instead to Patty and Yuri. The smaller is bouncing where she sits, gleefully watching the dancers - she seems antsy to join in, if only she could find a spare partner who wouldn’t accidentally crush her.

Yuri surprises her - while he might not be completely out of his funk, he’s watching more attentively than she previously expected. She gazes at him curiously for a while as he leans his head on his hand, watching the Dahngrestian pair’s increasing frenzy. Karol’s giggles are near constant, and Raven’s been infected by his happiness, laughing obnoxiously himself. The creases of Yuri’s eyes tighten, even as the rest of his face fails to emote, as his eyes seem to lock on Raven’s face and stay there. She smiles.

“Ahem.” she coughs, sharp and decidedly fake. Yuri and Patty both are startled away from the party, turning to her. She raises her eyebrows pointedly at the former, coy smirk rising to her lips. His eyes widen in response, as Patty turns confusedly to look at him, before he flusters, turning away from the party entirely. She laughs.

It’s at that moment that Karol comes spinning towards them, hand freed from Raven’s grasp at last. His smile is blinding, and he’s struggling to catch his breath, but he still seems to be full of energy as Raven follows behind him.

“Patty, you probably know a bit of swing, right?” he asks her, real question thinly veiled by his proffered hand.

She’s a clever lass, though. “Hah! Of course I do, matey!” she declares, grabbing it firmly and pulling him back out into the street.

Raven watches them go fondly, before turning to her. With a flourish, he bows to her, graceful as a knight but with none of the prim and proper charm.

“Judy, my darlin’, could I convince ya to honour ol’ Raven with a dance?”

His eyes never leave hers as he asks, gaze sharp and lacking all pretense of genuine flirting.

Ah, so that’s his game is it?

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly!” she declares exaggeratedly, hand to her chest. “Not when Yuri so clearly wants to instead!”

The effect is instant. She barely has time to note the twitch of Yuri’s ears at the sound of his name before his head whips around to look at them.

“Hu- what?”

Raven springs back upright, throwing his hand up to clutch at his own chest.

“Yuri, darlin’, if you wanted to dance with me then all you had to do was say so! No need to make Judy do all yer dirty work for ya!”

He closes the gap between them in a matter of steps, as Yuri’s face grows more panicked by the second.

“Wh-- no, what?! Judy, no, I can’t dance , JU--!!”

She smiles as Raven takes him by the hand and tugs him away. Yuri’s expression reminds her of a bunwigle, caught unaware in the middle of the night, backed into a corner with no escape. It’s incredibly endearing, and certainly a nice change from the faux-apathy he’s been stewing in.

As they move away she watches as Raven’s expression transforms from mischievous to something more careful, considerate. He doesn’t guide Yuri to the middle of the crowd as she’d expected, where their friends spin with reckless abandon, but instead to a quieter area of the dancing space. Yuri seems just as confused as she feels, more than likely expecting Raven to have humiliated him with his lack of skill. They’re far enough away that whatever the older man says to reassure him is lost to her, but he smiles and takes Yuri’s hands gently.

Her heart swells at the careful way Raven teaches him, easily pulls him out of his darker thoughts and concentrates his mind on something else. Yuri doesn’t strike her as the sort to let himself be taken care of, but she doubts he even realises that’s what’s happening - probably sees it instead as some sort of challenge. It’s nice. She might not have known him long, but she feels close to him in a way she hasn’t felt with another person for… a good ten years, she’d wager. She’d forgotten what it felt like, to see good things happen to someone you care about.

He trips over Raven’s feet often, but Raven doesn’t let him get self-conscious about it - instead exaggeratedly pretending to trip himself in a way that allows Yuri to chip in and tease him. When there’s one failed attempt too many and Yuri attempts to break away, he simply pulls him back in, closer, and looks him in the eyes.

(She feels a little bad for still watching, personal and intimate as the moment is becoming, but it’s hard to find anything else interesting at this point)

“What is it I always say when I’m fightin’, Yuri?” she can just about hear the old man say over the wail of the trombone.

Yuri’s tone is monotonous, even as his face starts to rise into an affectionate smirk.

“‘Ooo, eee, ow, my back hurts?’” he says, quirked eyebrow a dead giveaway for his bullying. He receives a light slap to his arm for his trouble that leaves him laughing openly in a way she… hasn’t actually seen from him in the time she’s known him.

Huh.

“That it’s just like dancin’, ya dolt!” he says. He laces their fingers carefully before starting to move once more through the basic steps. “You’ll see what I mean before long.”

After a few more failed attempts, Yuri finally starts to figure it out. He still steps on Raven’s toes more often than not, but it’s to be expected for a newbie in the face of a dance as rapid as swing - she’s quite impressed at how fast he’s picked it up in all honesty. He’s already doing a damned sight better than Rita, whose motions are still awkward and stiff as she’s twirled by Estelle (though she looks to be having the time of her life, in spite of it).

They look very sweet together, in all honesty. It’s the most she’s seen either of them relax in front of other people - Yuri’s snark is quickly abandoned as he starts to really get into the swing of it, and most of Raven’s jokes and teasing go along with it. They’re just a couple of normal guys in their own little world, dancing together beneath the rising sun, looking genuinely happy for once. Watching them laughing together, she finds her own spirits raised too, even as she continues to sit to one side like a wallflower.

And she’s glad she did. If she hadn’t, she’d have missed out on this potentially one-time-only sight of Yuri’s carefree smile. Would’ve never seen the sudden change in Yuri’s demeanor as he looks up at Raven mid-spin, eyes widening, before his expression becomes suddenly raw.

He’s not watching his feet at all any more - he’s just going with the flow, and reading Raven’s movements and they’re incredibly in sync to say Yuri has all of 10 minutes of experience. It’s strange to think it, but he seems to be having fun , doing something other than fighting, even despite his mess ups.  Yuri’s uncharacteristically crooked smile, as his eyes never leave Raven’s, is blindingly beautiful, and piques her curiosity.

Before today, when she’d seen the admiring glances the Raven had sent his way, she’d have thought he was barking up the completely wrong tree. Now though (although she doubts Yuri’s realised the way he’s starting to look at the old man) she’s really not so sure.

Then the moment is gone.

Behind her, she hears him. Flynn, barking orders to his brigade, accompanied by the protests of the now-bound followers of Cumore. And in that exact instant, Yuri stops stock-still. Raven goes crashing into him, frantically apologising and trying to check he’s okay, but it’s as though he isn’t there. Yuri just stares past her to Flynn, eyes wide and unseeing but… terrified , if she had to take a guess.

She can hear Raven call to him as he slips his hands free from his grip, and he looks up glancingly. He mutters something, what she can only imagine is some excuse, or a few words of apology, before he’s stalking off towards the inn and shutting the door behind him briskly.

Raven, standing alone and off to one side, looks very small in that instant. Like he doesn’t know quite where he went wrong, what he could’ve possibly done differently.

Perhaps, just this once, she can take pity on him. After all, if there’s anyone who can fix her left feet…

Standing and smoothing down her skirts, she heads over to him, taking his hand, and he startles. His big blue eyes look up at her, puppy-like, and it’s like Estelle the night before all over again. She sighs, already regretting her question before she asks.

“Is the offer still open?”

He smiles. Solemn. But it’s a start.

me, age 12: haha yeah raven blatantly has a thing for yuri and i love them together, but i guess there isn't much to imply yuri likes him back huh me, age 24, seeing the 'Happy Birthday' skit for the first time and learning the Very Specific Age Gap between Yuri and his first ever crush: a

ftr no one in the vesperia party is cishet no i will not take questions

[hongism]

mists of celeste ➻ 31

➻ pairing: ??? x fem reader ➻ genre: space au, pirate au, space pirate!ateez, angst, smut ➻ Word Count: 9.4k (._.) ➻ Rating: M ➻ Warnings: language, violence, guns and weaponry, blood, future warnings tba ➻ summary: Sneaking aboard the ship of a renowned space pirate may not have been the best idea, but you’ll have to make do with what fate has handed to you

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✧✧✧ act four ➻ part six

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“Need help with the dishes?” The voice catches off-guard, and you nearly chuck the ceramic plate in your hands across the cramped kitchen in your surprise.

“Shit, you scared — oh.” You don’t mean to sound so shocked but seeing San standing beside you at the sink is the last thing you were expecting. He just offers a weak smile, one that is strained and wavering but present nonetheless, and that gives you a little bit of hope about the ensuing conversation. He has effectively cornered you, and while you could make a daring escape and leave him to do the dishes on his own, that would be both suspicious and unnecessary when San isn’t showing any signs of anger at the moment.

“Is that a yes or no?”

“Oh, um, be my guest, yeah. I’d… I’d appreciate the help,” you mutter, pulling your chin forward again to focus on the steady stream of water from the faucet. San settles next to you without missing a beat; he snatches up a dish towel and begins to take the dishes you’ve set out on the drying rack, carefully drying each one with methodical twists of his wrists. You aren’t sure how best to make conversation with him given the tense exchange you had earlier, so you opt to say nothing at all in hopes that San will be the one to initiate the confrontation. It works in your favor (the only thing on your side at the moment it seems) and after a few minutes of awkward silence, San finally speaks up.

“Earlier… when we were on the mission, I – I was unfair to you.”

“You were well within your right, San,” you respond as quickly as possible, not giving yourself a chance to think twice.

“That doesn’t mean it was right.”

“I don’t hold it against you.” You pause to heave a deep sigh. You’re running out of dishes far too quickly which means that you’ll actually have to face San rather than hiding as best you can with the dishes in the sink. “To be frank, I figured you would still be upset with me.”

“I don’t think I realized the weight of the decision on your shoulders,” San explains. Ceramic hits metal before he can speak again, and you both tense from the sharpness of the sound. San inhales with the noise then shifts the plate he just hit on the side of the counter to set it down properly. “We put the responsibility on your shoulders because you’re the only one who knew of the serum and experienced it firsthand. Looking back, it seems foolish of me to say that I should make the decision rather than Mingi. Not because he made the decision I wanted but… because the moral weight of choice is heavier than what’s good and what’s not. At least it should be.”

You set the plate in your hands down to face San, twisting at the waist at the same time he does, and the sudden eye contact causes your mind to go completely blank in the blink of an eye.

“Uh…” Squeezing your eyes shut, you desperately attempt to bring the thought back but it’s already too far gone and you’ve forgotten it completely. San offers a patient and gentle smile, eyes folding into soft crescents as he does, and a quiet laugh slips from his lips.

“Sorry for hitting you with the heavy stuff right after dinner. I just didn’t want to let it sit and stew for too long.”

“No, no, it’s fine, I don’t mind. I’m – well, I’m a bit curious about something.” you shut the water off for the time being so that you can better focus on the conversation at hand, and the remaining dirty dishes lie forgotten in the sink.

“What’s that?” San tilts his head to the side. You find yourself distracted by the way a few strands of black hair slip to frame his forehead and how his dimples slip away as his smile fades a bit, but you’re quick to pull yourself back.

“Yesterday you asked me whether I would be okay with using the serum if you asked for it. But I wanted to know… if our positions were switched, would you be okay with it?”

“You mean if I were the one who had already taken it once before?” San inquires, head falling further to the side. You’re quick to nod in response, and he follows up with a gentle hum. “I can’t pretend to know what that experience was like for you or how deeply it affected you. If I were the one who had used it before, and I was aware of it like you, I know that I would be selfish at the end of the day. I have mentioned it before but I wish to cling to you for as long as I can. And though it’s – though it goes against my morals, I would not want you to take the serum because I can’t bear the thought of you forgetting who I am and how I feel about you. I know that sounds a bit bold, especially given your relations with Seonghwa, but… I would say the same to any member of the crew — save for Yeosang perhaps. You all are special and valuable to me in unique ways, and the thought of any of you losing any memory we share is too much for me.”

Your breath catches a bit in your throat, and San’s kind smile returns in full force. When you next speak, it doesn’t feel as though the words are coming from your mouth at all, but more like someone has taken over your body and decided to say them instead.

“Would you expect the same of me in return?”

“I would only ask that which I would ask any of the crew. To do what is right by your own standards and not by anyone else’s. We’ve all been slaves to other people’s whims and desires for too long. I would never wish to put anyone through that again, and even something as simple as pushing my opinion onto you would be unfair. It may be in our nature as living, rational beings to seek out the things that bring us the most comfort and to try to create a space around us that provides that comfort. Thus we are by nature selfish and striving towards personal satisfaction. We can’t break free of that selfishness unless we really stop to think about things. Hongjoong told me that once, and it hasn’t left me since.”

“Ah, so he can be reasonable,” you remark through a small smile, breaking a bit of the heaviness lingering in the air around you two. San laughs in response.

“Only when he’s sober and fully rested, but he’s rarely not one of those things.”

“Hey, Y/N, I brought more dishes for you to—oh I didn’t know you were in here too.” Both you and San whip to face the newcomer as he steps into the already cramped kitchen.

“Oh, hell no, Choi Jongho, I am not washing all those dishes for you!” You protest immediately upon seeing the stack of plates and bowls in his hands.

“What do you mean you won’t? It’s not even that hard! Seonghwa’s food doesn’t stick to the plates. All you have to do is give it a quick scrub!”

“Okay, then you do it!”

“Why would I do it?”

“You just said it’s easy! That’s basically signing up to do dishes.” You jab a finger in Jongho’s direction before he can say anything else and effectively shush him.

“She’s got you there,” San chimes in. Jongho rolls his eyes in response but comes closer to the sink to take your place.

“This is just mean. I’m the only one here who hasn’t had a nap today, and yet I’m being forced to stay up later? Disgusting,” Jongho huffs through his teeth. You pat his shoulder with a thin smile before stepping around him to leave the kitchen.

“Don’t pout so much, Jongho. I’ll stick around to dry the dishes for you.” Jongho merely grumbles in response to San’s offer, earning himself a sharp slap to the back of the head. “Ungrateful little shit.”

“Bigger than you th–”

“Oh, so you want to do them alone now?” San scoffs. You laugh over your shoulder before stepping out of the kitchen to return to the mess hall. It’s cleared out considerably already; Wooyoung and Yeosang have disappeared, as has Mingi, and the only two left are Yunho and Seonghwa, who stand at the edge of the room engaged in a conversation that’s loud enough for you to hear even at your distance from them.

“Would you go up to check on Hongjoong? At least make sure he sleeps even for an hour tonight?” Seonghwa asks, jerking a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the bridge.

“You’re not going back up tonight?”

“No, contrary to popular belief, I actually need rest too so I’ll be turning in earlier tonight.”

“Hm, unbelievable,” Yunho huffs, but there’s a small smile pressed over his lips as he says the words. His gaze flits away from Seonghwa’s face to find you standing at the edge of the kitchen, and in an instant, his expression shifts to one of surprise then a hurried glance down to the floor the moment you make eye contact. Seonghwa mimics the motion of his eyes, following their path back to you. He passes you a soft smile, and you return it with your own strained one, too focused on Yunho at the moment. The doctor continues to avoid your stare though and drags his attention back to Seonghwa instead. “Um, yeah, I’ll go up and see him. We’re long overdue for a talk anyway.”

“A talk?” You can’t see Seonghwa’s expression but the tone of his voice tells you enough, and Yunho sucks his lower lip between his teeth before tilting his head to the side.

“Is that jealousy I hear, Lieutenant?” He arches a brow as he speaks, arms coming up to cross over his chest in an almost defensive manner.

“Are you trying to pick a fight, Healer?” Seonghwa counters. The lightness in the conversation disappears in an instant, and Yunho’s eyes blaze at the accusation hurled his way. “I’d advise you not to comment on things you don’t understand, Yunho. You might be a doctor, but that doesn’t mean you know everything. It’s no good to be so deceived by those things, no?”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would say that you’re the one trying to start a fight, Seonghwa.”

“Merely reminding you not to cross certain lines. I believe we had discussed that in the past already, and yet… here we find ourselves having to have this conversation again.”

“And I thought you learned your lesson when Hongjoong threatened to put you out the airlock.” Yunho’s tone is far too hot and scathing for your liking, and you shrink further back against the wall in an attempt to hide yourself as best you can. He seems to have forgotten about your presence already in the heat of the argument, which you’re thankful for but you don’t feel any more comfortable being stuck in the room. Especially because of what happens next when Seonghwa’s hand darts out to catch hold of Yunho’s collar. He swivels the taller man as though he weighs nothing and presses him hard against the wall. The impact is enough to draw a grunt out of Yunho but he keeps his head up to glare back at Seonghwa.

“I wasn’t the one who started fucking someone else less than a month later. I guess you both have that in common then. Did you even wait for the ashes to grow cold before you were rolling around in the captain’s bed like some cheap wh—”

Seonghwa doesn’t get to finish the thought, and part of you is grateful that you don’t have to hear the rest of it. The other half is horrified because Yunho’s fist careens into Seonghwa’s jaw, knocking him off the taller man. Yunho swings a kick at Seonghwa’s feet next to push him all the way to the floor, but the other man is too quick and shoves Yunho’s leg away before it can hit him.

“I’m not going to fight you, Yunho,” Seonghwa hisses, slipping further back to put more distance between him and the healer.

“Then let me beat you up for having the audacity to act like you know what I was going through!”

“Yet you stand here and act like I’m the bad guy and the one who did the wrong thing  in saying that his obsession was killing him.”

Yunho forces his way back into Seonghwa’s personal space, chest heaving as he brings his hands up to the other man and shoves harshly. Seonghwa manages to maintain his balance and stay on his feet despite the force behind the attack, but that only serves to anger Yunho more because he sneers and repeats the motion once more to knock Seonghwa into a table. Seonghwa grabs onto the edge of the metal to stabilize himself. Yunho takes advantage of the distraction and swings his fist back into Seonghwa’s face, hitting him across the cheekbone this time, and the hit is so hard that blood comes off on Yunho’s knuckles when he pulls his hand back.

The sight of crimson spurs you into action, and you push off the wall to rush over to where Yunho has Seonghwa pinned against the table.

“Yunho, that’s enough!” You cut in, reaching out to snatch Yunho’s arm before he can deliver another hit. He fights against your tight grip to the best of his ability and manages to pull free only to swing his hand back at you. You barely register what happens next but Seonghwa’s reaction is clue enough to help you figure it out, along with the burning sting across your left cheek. Seonghwa shoves Yunho’s weight off him, and the taller man stumbles back in shock. He blinks down at his hand as though he can’t believe what he’s just done, but you have no time to pay attention to that because Seonghwa steps in front of you, hands coming up to cradle your face.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need ice?” He rambles as he examines your cheek with a worried gaze. It’s as though the blood on his own cheek doesn’t exist and he just continues to thumb over your face.

“I-I didn’t mean to — I swear, I promise I wasn’t thinki–”

“Fuck off, Yunho,” Seonghwa hisses over his shoulder. “Before we both do something we regret.”

Yunho leaves the room in the direction of the bridge in a way you can only compare to a wounded dog scampering off with his tail between his legs, and once he’s completely gone from sight, the adrenaline of the moment begins to wear off. You release a shaky exhale, nearly trembling in Seonghwa’s grasp. He swallows once.

“You shouldn’t have gotten involved,” he murmurs a few seconds later.

���And let him beat you to a pulp the day before a mission? I think not.” You reach up to grab onto one of Seonghwa’s hands, pulling it away from your face.

“I would have been fine. You, on the other hand—”

“What?” You interject. You have to bite back the sigh that threatens to leave your lips. “On the other hand what? I’m fragile?”

“That’s not – I didn’t it like that. Please… Y/N, please don’t fight with me on this. That’s not my intention.” Seonghwa clenches his fingers around the ones that still reside against his palm, and you let him cling to you without complaint for the time being. “Had he done anything more to hurt you, I fear what I might have done in response, and I – I truly did not want to fight with him. I let my emotions get the better of me in the heat of the moment.”

“What’s done is done, Seonghwa,” you mutter in response. “Let me at least clean your cheek and get some ice on it. It’ll do you no good to have a swollen face tomorrow.” Seonghwa huffs out a laugh but lets his hands fall away from you and rest limply by his sides.

“If it makes you feel better, then you can do whatever you like.” You can’t keep from smiling at his words, the soft smile he wears easing your anxiety quite a bit, and you shake your head.

“Don’t tell me that. Who knows what unsavory things I could come up with?” You tease through a laugh.

“I’d hope for at least a few ideas.”

“Okay, tiger, maybe you got hit a bit too hard.” You swat weakly at Seonghwa’s arm as he just chuckles and pulls away to move towards the exit. You fall into step with him, gnawing at your lower lip for no other reason than to busy yourself as the two of you walk to the medbay. “You don’t—” you cut yourself short before the thought can finish and bite down hard on the tip of your tongue. Seonghwa blinks down at you with expectation shining clearly in his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to but… what exactly was it you two were arguing about?”

Seonghwa hums to himself and glances down at the floor for several moments before lifting his chin again.

“I have never attempted to purposefully hide it from you as that would hardly be fair to you. But I can explain things better once we’re in the medbay.”

You nod quickly, gaze trailing over the side of Seonghwa’s profile in your peripheral. He doesn’t offer further conversation, but it’s clear that that is only because he is deep in thought on the short walk to the medbay. Even as you step into the blindingly white room, he stays quiet and seats himself on the edge of one of the beds while you busy yourself with searching for supplies to clean his bleeding cheek. You come back to him after grabbing some soap and a bottle of water then set a pack of white cleaning pads next to him on the bed. He shifts his chin to expose his cheek further to you. You murmur a quiet thank you, fingers dancing over his face to keep him in place. Whether by instinct or intention, Seonghwa’s hands dart up to secure on your hips. He keeps you firmly set between his knees, and you try your best to ignore the sudden tightness in your chest as he holds you.

“Hongjoong and I…” Seonghwa starts, his tone so quiet that it is nearly drowned out by the hum of the air conditioner. You wet one of the cotton rounds in silence. You don’t dare to look him in the eye, focusing on the task at hand while he continues to speak. “We used to be in a special sort of relationship. We weren’t romantically or sexually involved right off the bat – it took quite some time for that to happen. In fact, it was only after there was a mutiny that we decided to explore those parts of our relationship, and initially, it was just my way of offering him comfort in the aftermath of that mess. Things, of course, got more complicated as feelings arose on my side. I found myself to be quite jealous in certain regards, and that jealousy blinded me to the bigger picture more often than not.”

You drag the damp round over Seonghwa’s cheekbone, and he winces from the impact.

“I’m sorry,” you mutter quickly, pulling your hand back, but Seonghwa reaches up to guide your hand back to his cheek.

“It’s fine. You can continue.” You nod through a rough swallow. As you continue to wipe at his cheek, Seonghwa continues with his story. “The man who led the mutiny was… Hongjoong’s lover to put it simply. I had always loved Hongjoong but it wasn’t anything more than a platonic love until after we started having relations. He wasn’t ready to let go of the past though, and I-I was blindsided by jealousy one night to a point where I threw out some of that man’s belongings one day. When Hongjoong found out, he was furious, of course, and that was the first and only time we had a physical fight. That’s what Yunho was referring to when he mentioned Hongjoong threatening to kick me off the ship and into space. Even after we recovered from that struggle, it never stopped because Hongjoong would tear himself apart over the mutiny. He got more and more obsessed in the next couple of months, and I decided that I couldn’t handle it any longer. So I gave him an ultimatum: stop being sexually involved with each other or stop being involved altogether. It’s clear which option he chose.”

“I sense a ‘however’…” You murmur, leaning back to admire your work on his cheek. Seonghwa huffs out a laugh, and his fingers twitch against your waist.

“Less than a month later Hongjoong was fucking Yunho right under my nose without a care in the world.” You inhale sharply, fingers wavering against Seonghwa’s jawline. “Didn’t even care that I knew, didn’t care to hide it from me, didn’t see any issue with it at all. On one hand, it felt like a jab at me for catching feelings the way I did because he could just… fuck around with Yunho and separate emotions from it whereas I couldn’t. But then I confronted Yunho about it, and he told me that Hongjoong only ever asked for sex when he couldn’t get out of his own head. Needed someone to fuck his thoughts out of him. I was glad that I didn’t have to be that person for him out of a selfish desire to preserve myself but… I was used to being the one who had the duty of protecting him and helping him through whatever issues he was having. It just took a look time to work through that on my own, and I couldn’t very well ask Yunho to talk about it with me because of a misguided arrogance.”

“Do you…” You lose confidence halfway through the question, and your tone falls flat. Seonghwa waits without saying a word for you to continue the thought. “Do you still love him?”

“Not in that way any longer,” Seonghwa whispers. His lips barely move, but you hear the words as clear as day. “I see the parts of him that I loved elsewhere now… but I’m quickly finding new things to love in that same place that I couldn’t see in him.”

Your jaw stutters dumbly as you try to process the words.

“Oh,” you exhale, too overwhelmed to come up with anything else.

“And if she would let me, I would do my best to show her new things to love in me as well.”

“I… is there another w-woman on the crew I don’t know about?”

Seonghwa smiles. His teeth bite into his lower lip as he struggles to hold back a smile, and his hands slip further around you to hold you tighter. You only realize how dumb your question sounds at that moment.

“I, um, I me-meant tha—” The tightness in your chest is too intense for you to finish your sentence, and the weight of his words hit you full force at last. You don’t even realize that tears have begun to fall until Seonghwa’s brows knit together in concern and one of his hands reaches up to brush them off your cheeks.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay, Y/N,” Seonghwa murmurs. “What’s wrong? Talk to me, Y/N, what’s going on?”

You need to communicate, to explain to him what’s going on in your head in words and be honest with him, but every word feels like lead on your tongue. Your lips are wobbling as you cradle Seonghwa’s face in your hands, eyes scanning his face in search of answers to all the questions running through your mind. At one point you truly thought that you saw Jisung in Seonghwa and that that was the only reason you felt yourself so drawn to him. Yet standing here the way you are now, you cannot see even an ounce of similarity between him and Jisung. Even the endless care Seonghwa provides for you is far different than the kind Jisung gave you. You cannot reason why Seonghwa pulls your heartstrings in such a way, but it’s only now that you realize that it has nothing to do with Jisung in any way.

“A-As much as I – as much as I don’t w-want to let go of the past, I… I find myself wanting to move forward… to you. I want y-you.”

“Then I’m yours for as long as you want me, and I won’t go anywhere until then.”

“I swear on my life that I’ll never leave you.”

“Don’t promise not to leave.” Your words come out in a rush, but Seonghwa understands them nonetheless. Your eyes flutter shut as you speak your next words. “Don’t make promises you can’t keep, just… tell me that you’re here. For now. For as long as it lasts.”

Before you know it, Seonghwa’s breath invades yours, and you feel the heat of his lips centimeters away from yours.

“I’m here now, Y/N.” You can hear the unspoken words on his lips, the promises that wish to spill out about how he won’t leave you and how he will stay, but he does exactly as you asked him to do and doesn’t let those empty promises reach the air between you.

“Show me,” you whisper without hesitation. That’s all the incentive Seonghwa needs to slot his lips against yours and suck the breath from your lungs as you exhale into his mouth. And when his hands slip down your back to hook around your thighs, you welcome it, letting him pull you forward until you are seated comfortably on his lap. You can’t even bring yourself to care that you are in the medbay of all places — a place far from the security that a bedroom would provide — but the enticement of Seonghwa’s lips pushes that thought out of your mind.

It’s almost poetic in a way: the way Seonghwa shifts to ease you back against the pillows of the bed and snakes his hands down to the band of your pants, tugging them lower and lower until you’re shed of them completely. It’s just as your first time together and yet the feeling behind it is so vastly different that you can hardly wrap your mind around it. And while he doesn’t take the time to drag his tongue over your folds this time, he does pepper the insides of your thighs with endless kisses and press two fingers to your entrance once he has rid himself of his own pants as well. Once he has pushed himself back up to be eye level with you again, you greet him with a kiss, tongue slipping between his lips in a rush to taste him. He hums into your mouth, and you can feel the corners of his mouth pulling upward as he smiles a bit.

“Hurry up,” you mutter, separating your lips with a wet pop.

“Always in such a rush, princess.” The nickname sends a surge of warmth through your chest, and you can’t keep from huffing out a laugh.

“You only say that because you’re so slow, pretty boy.” Seonghwa presses his lips back to yours as a counterattack, and he slips his fingers out from your core. Next thing you know, he is teasing your folds with the head of his cock, lips leaving yours for a moment as he hesitates there.

“Give me permission,” he murmurs. His eyes search yours for any sign of denial, and you hook a hand around the back of his neck, pulling him down until his forehead collides with yours.

“It’s already yours.” With that, he buries himself all the way to the hilt in one quick thrust, and your lips part to release a silent cry of pleasure. Seonghwa braces his hands on either side of your head, palms sinking into the pillows and causing you to sink further back against the bed. He moves with you, and his weight pins you to the mattress. You give him a breathless command to continue his movements, which he follows like it’s the only thing that matters. And in the moment, it does feel like it’s the only thing that matters because all you can feel is Seonghwa. He rocks his hips against yours, member sliding over your velveteen walls with just the right amount of friction, and each thrust puts stars in your vision.

It’s a blinding pleasure that the two of you chase, a pleasure that is only heightened by the warmth of the emotion in your chest, and Seonghwa lets his eyes flutter shut as he fucks you. Whispered praises fall from his lips, and they’re spoken with such care and gentleness that you almost find yourself getting emotional again.

“So beautiful–” he shifts to kiss the apple of your cheek “–so, ah, perfect. You’re so so perfect, princess.” You moan loud into the shell of his ear, a sound that causes visible goosebumps to rush over his skin and a throaty groan to tear from his lips. The slight growl to his tone has you clenching hard around his cock, and a burst of arousal shoots through you. It nearly brings you to the precipice of pleasure but you force it down so that you can hold it off just a little while longer. Seonghwa sits up, and the warmth of his body leaves yours as he slips his hands down to your hips and kneels over you. He pulls your body up to meet his thrusts, and you can do nothing but cling to the bedsheets and release small whimpers of pleasure as he hits deeper with each drag of his member inside you.

“S-Seonghwa, oh fuck, I – I’m close, I’m close, I’m close,” you babble, back arching off the bed. Seonghwa dips back down to press a kiss to your sweat-slick temple.

“Cum for me, princess. You have permission.”

“Thank you, th-thank you, thank you.” You fall apart under his touch, eating up every breath of praise he showers you with as you reach your high, and your orgasm crashes hard over you. The clenching of your walls around him spurs him to cum himself, and he exhales a shaky groan as he does. The strength leaves his body at the same time. You can only huff out a gasp as his chest hits yours, arms reaching up to wrap around his neck and hold him close to you in the aftermath of your orgasms.

It creeps up on you as you’re lying there basking in the glow of pleasure. Whereas before you thought you never wanted to experience the feeling again, this time you welcome it and let yourself be surrounded by the warmth it provides along with Seonghwa’s presence filling your every sense. You tangle your fingers in Seonghwa’s hair just to pull him back so that you can look him in the eye.

“D-Do you feel that?” He looks confused for a moment, unsure of both what you mean and what you are trying to say. Then you reach down to place a hand over Seonghwa’s heart that’s guarded by his shirt still, and he seems to understand what you’re after. A gentle smile overtakes his lips.

“I’ve felt it for a long time, Y/N.”

…

Nothing about the situation feels right in the slightest. The tension in your shoulders has reached impossible levels, and you can’t sit still for the life of you even with Wooyoung’s hand gripping your thigh like a vice. Yunho sits to your right although you can’t even bear to look in his direction at the moment, the heated embers from your argument yesterday still smoldering in your gut to a point where you can’t even hear him breathe without feeling enraged. But Wooyoung hasn’t let you go since the moment you sat down, and you can’t blame him because the scenery is far from pleasant.

You have never been to such a place — the arena looks like something straight out of myth with its climbing walls and seats that line the whole circle in rows. Carnage lies far below you, and you are grateful that Hongjoong didn’t ask you to move any lower than you have: a safe midpoint in the seats with a canopy above your heads to shroud the blinding daylight from your eyes. San and Jongho are somewhere across the way, lost in the mess of the crowd and bodies, and Mingi is safely secured in the bunker Seonghwa mentioned previously, according to Jongho. The older Berserker was also apparently more than happy to stay put there but only after Hongjoong agreed to let him have an earpiece of his own so that he could hear what was going on during the mission. While there was no shortage of doubts about that idea, Mingi had assured Hongjoong that he would be safely locked inside the bunker with Bloodletter crew guards just outside the door, and that was all it took for Hongjoong to relent a bit.

The final trio of Yeosang, Seonghwa, and Hongjoong reside closer to the upper edge of the circle. Even at a distance, you can clearly see the wide, extended platform that stretches forward into the arena. It bears a tall gilded throne square in the middle of it, and you’re positive that the man with long white hair sitting atop it is none other than Vladimir the Bloody. He looks quite different than the time you saw him last with his face etched messily onto a bounty paper and dropped before you prior to a mission, but no one else would put himself on such a pedestal other than that man.

“You haven’t aged a day in years, Vlad. I see life has been treating you well then,” Hongjoong greets after a few breaths of silence over the comms channel. He receives a loud scoff in response, and that’s the only sound that echoes over the earpiece for quite some time, nearly drowned out by the ruckus bubbling around you.

“Save the niceties, Kim.” Vladimir’s fingers drum against the side of his armrest, long nails tapping along to no particular rhythm. “You wouldn’t come here for anything less than business.”

“I can’t pay an old friend a visit now and again?”

“Not with those two at your side… tell me – where is your prized Berserker?”

“You’ll have to be more specific than that.” Hongjoong’s voice comes across a bit more guarded this time, and it’s more than clear who Vlad is referring to despite Hongjoong’s question.

“Come now. We both know which one I’m referring to. Look around us, Hongjoong. This arena, these people, my fighters – they were all built on the blood and bones of the Brute of Kebos. Did you by chance bring him along with you? Or is it merely the three of you?” That last question causes your breath to hitch, and you stop yourself from reaching for Wooyoung’s hand at the last second.

“Of what interest is that to you, Vladimir?”

“Curiosity. Merely that and nothing more.”

“He doesn’t know we’re here,” Wooyoung whispers, leaning closer to you to keep the words as hushed as possible. You shake your head in agreement with his statement, but something about the way Vladimir’s head shifts tells you that he’s searching the arena for any sign of a familiar face amongst the crowd. As do the guards lingering near the edges of each row of seats. You can’t possibly feel safe yet – not when he has so many men watching and lurking around you.

“You’ve done surprisingly well for yourself, I must say.”

“Rearing a new generation of arenas?” Vladimir chuckles as he says the words, white hair billowing around his head. It looks almost transparent in the gleam of the sun, and the canopy above his head must have a hole in it because of the way the light trickles through.

“Striking a deal with the military is far more intriguing,” Hongjoong remarks without missing a beat.

“Look at these people, Hongjoong. They all claim to hate fighting, to run away at the sign of conflict, not be able to stomach the sight of blood, and yet they all find themselves here. Why do you think that is?”

“Because they crave it?”

“They crave control. They see me standing in a place of power, with a grip over life and death… and they crave it, Hongjoong. Just like you and me.”

“You think it’s control I seek?” The question is a farce and you know it, but something tells you that Vladimir is aware of it as well.

“Would you be searching for your mutinous crewmate otherwise?”

Mutinous crewmate.

“There was a mutiny,” Hongjoong states as if it’s the most normal thing in the universe. “They thought that I couldn’t lead and wasn’t suited for it. Mingi killing Cass only solidified those feelings. My highest in command after Seonghwa led the mutiny. Before he left the ship with half the crew, he swore that he would get the treasure first along with the Sirens.”

“I need information. I need to know who my information broker really was, why they lied, why I was given a dead lead, and where the hell Jin is right now. Be it luck or fate, Y/N has given us precious time to get the answers to these questions. If anyone is going to have those answers, it’s going to be Vladimir.”

“Ah, so you do know why I’m here.”

“As unhappy as it might make you, you are quite an easy man to read, Kim. And yet despite all your desires for control, you still fail to grasp it. I wonder — is it because you’re a failure? Or because of something else?”

You can’t see what Hongjoong is doing from your vantage point, but he doesn’t offer up a response. Yunho shifts beside you, a creak to the wood legs of his chair and gaze still glued to anything but the arena down below. Then —

“After all this time, you still look at your damn lieutenant the same way.” A breath of hesitation, and you choke on air at his next words. “Like he’s your treasure.”

“I came here for business, Vladimir,” Hongjoong hisses out, but it’s too late to keep anyone from hearing what Vladimir has said.

“I know you did. You want information. Information I cannot provide.” Hongjoong scoffs at that.

“What’s your cost? Name the price and it’s yours.”

A shrill laugh echoes through your headset. The hand clasped over your thigh tightens a little, and you find your own hand sneaking towards it with a sudden churning of anxiety in your gut.

“What I want isn’t money, Kim. What I want is your prized Berserker down in my arena.”

The pit in your stomach deepens to an impossible degree. Wooyoung stretches a hand towards yours, moving off your thigh to clasp your palm tightly.

“No. Not a chance.”

“Then I suppose your information isn’t so valuable after all.” Vladimir leans back in his throne, dipping out of the streams of light to be concealed by the shadows once more.

“Why do you want him so desperately?”

“Because, Hongjoong, I am just like each and every single one of these people. I crave it. To control that beast.”

“He isn’t yours to control.”

“And I suppose he is yours? Hongjoong, you’re a mystery to me. I’d think that after all those years in chains, you would see freedom differently.” Vladimir sighs a clear and defined sound that comes across in an almost condescending way.

“Freedom is a farce.”

“No, freedom is what you make of it. In my eyes, only one thing can truly be freedom, and that is death. We are never free from our chains, Hongjoong. They stay with us until we die. That’s the meaning of freedom and the meaning of death.”

Vladimir moves slowly, but his bright regalia gives away his shifting feet as he stands up and approaches the balcony, red cloak billowing behind him like a bloody shadow. A dark hand rises, glove masking the skin underneath, and he extends it out towards the crowd.

“Would that I could grant everyone that freedom.”

The cacophony of shouts heightens as he draws all fingers into a tight fist and straightens his thumb.

“You expect me to be cruel, Hongjoong, because you believe everyone to be cruel. You hope for them to be cruel so that you can have an excuse for being that way yourself. I’m afraid life doesn’t work that way though. I am not cruel. I am the body and the hand of the people. An instrument of their desires.” He tilts his hand, a blurry and hazy movement given the distance. “Their song in the silence.” The screams halt as though by cue. Bated breaths holding onto nothing except one man’s hand. “Their light in the darkness.” He jerks and points his thumb to the ground. The din resumes in an instant. “I am their voice, Hongjoong. Merely that and nothing more. Whether you consider that to be cruel or not… it is on your shoulders.”

“If it is blood you want, then put me down there.”

Yunho looks up for the first time, eyes staring directly at the seat where Hongjoong sits as still as ever. Wooyoung lurches as well, and his hand squeezes almost painfully around your thigh.

“Hongjoong, no–” Seonghwa’s voice is the one to cut across the feed, but Hongjoong doesn’t let him continue the thought.

“Take me in Mingi’s stead.” The words feel almost heavy on your ears.

“Ah. What an intriguing turn of events. What could you possibly offer me that that Berserker could not, Hongjoong? Do not pretend to be anything more than an ant among giants when it comes to my gladiators.”

“You said it yourself. It’s about control. Not about winning or losing. Control.”

“You would hand your life over that easily? I should’ve tried this years ago.”

“When I come out of there alive, then you will give me every last bit of information I desire,” Hongjoong demands, not wavering in the face of Vladimir’s mockery.

“That confidence hasn’t left you a day in your life, has it? Still… I’ll accept your offer.”

“No,” Yunho exhales, hands gripping the arms of his chair so tight that his knuckles go white. “He can’t be serious. He can’t be doing this. It’s – it’s suicide.”

“Come out alive, Kim Hongjoong, and I will give you all the answers you seek. Should you die, I will grant the rest of your crew safe passage back to your ship, as well as deliver your body to them untouched. Would it be that this is a fitting end for you, Scourge of the Black Sea.”

“We have to go. We have to stop him before he does this!” Yunho exclaims. He pulls himself to his feet, forgoing the people around you in favor of his urgency.

“Yunho… we can’t,” you utter. Defeat radiates through your tone. The odds of Hongjoong coming out of that hellhole are slim to none. Yet the odds of you guys stopping him from going in there are even lower.

“My men will escort you down to prepare for your fight. Do not expect me to be easy on you when I select your opponent.”

“That’s the thing, Vlad. I have your gladiator.”

“What is he saying? Has he gone fucking insane? Is that what this is?” You tug on Yunho’s sleeve gently in an attempt to urge the man to sit back down.

“I will fight for myself down in the arena, and my opponent shall be my own Berserker, Jongho.”

“You've truly lost your mind then, is that it? You would pit yourself – someone as weak and fragile as yourself – against a Berserker? Not only that, but one of the most dangerous Berserkers in the universe?”

“Yes, I would. Because that's the only way you would agree to these terms, isn't it?”

“How very insightful of you, Hongjoong,” Vladimir hums. “You are absolutely correct.”

“My men and I will be heading down now. You can save your escorts for our return.”

“Hm, I would advise you to be wary, Kim. An ego like that makes for an even harsher fall. You would be wise not to gloat too much before your fight. Nonetheless, I look forward to seeing you test your mettle in my arena. An ode to older times, no?”

Hongjoong leaves the man without another response, and Vladimir must not be pressing for one because he lets Hongjoong turn on his heel and leave without a fight. The silence that ensues is so thick and palpable that you nearly choke on it, and it lasts for far too long before Seonghwa’s voice is ringing harshly in your ears.

“You have legitimately lost your mind this time, Hongjoong,” he hisses out, and though the words are spoken in spite, you can clearly hear the wavering tone of worry in them.

“I have a plan.”

“To die?”

“Teams, reconvene at the base tunnel of the arena. Just follow the smell of blood and you’ll be able to find it without any trouble.” That order brings you to your feet in a heartbeat, and Wooyoung’s hand falls away from your leg as you rush to stand up. He stares a bit blankly up at you, body refusing to move from its place on the bench, and you grab for his hand to yank him upward.

“We have to go, Wooyoung,” you urge. Wooyoung nods but still he doesn’t budge, eyes glazed and hazy as he struggles to come back to reality. “Wooyoung, please.”

“I… Y/N, I-I…”

Whatever thoughts are running through his head die on his lips because he can’t manage to finish the sentence. You tug him to his feet with a bit more force, and he finally relents enough to get up and follow you. Yunho has already gotten to his feet and started making his way to the end of the row, and you trail after him with hurried steps. Your heart is thrumming hard against the confines of your chest, beating like a drum in your ears. All you can see is the broad expanse of Yunho’s back as you walk behind him, and you frankly have no idea if he knows where he’s headed but you still follow him blindly. Wooyoung shifts his hand to fit into yours. His fingers slip between yours, and you cling to the warmth just as hard as he does. It’s only when you start descending the stairs to reach the place where you entered earlier that Wooyoung decides to speak again, although part of you wishes he hadn’t said anything simply because of how heartbreaking his words are.

“I c-can’t watch him die, Y/N.” You twist to look him in the eye, regretting it in an instant, but you push through the pain of seeing his trembling lip and watering eyes.

“You won’t have to.”

It could be a lie for all you know but it’s enough for the time being, and Wooyoung falls silent to let you continue to pull him along. San and Jongho are waiting for you at the mouth of the tunnel, eyes wide and unblinking as the three of you step down the last of the stairs to meet up with them. There is no sign of Hongjoong and the others yet, but you know that it’s only a temporary relief for whatever hell is about to come.

Yunho steps in front of Jongho, hands coming to rest on the young Berserker’s shoulders. “Jongho—”

“Don’t,” Jongho interjects. “Don’t even try to say anything.”

“No, it isn’t fair of him to put you in this position. He shouldn’t—”

“Shouldn’t what?”

Again Yunho does not get to finish the thought, but this time it isn’t Jongho who interrupts him. You turn to face the source of the voice, knowing full well who it is, but seeing the captain standing at the edge of the stairs with his hand loosely gripping the wall does nothing to ease your worries. Yunho’s gaze softens minimally upon seeing Hongjoong. He doesn’t let it last long before the fire returns to his stare. Hongjoong doesn’t waver in the slightest.

“Shouldn’t force Jongho to fight you like this!”

“You think we haven’t had this conversation before?” Hongjoong asks, arching a brow in Yunho’s direction. He steps closer to the five of you. Seonghwa and Yeosang trail in behind him, and the moment the latter comes into sight, Wooyoung drops your hand to rush to his side. He hits Yeosang hard, nearly toppling him over with the force of his body, but the blond manages to catch his weight with little struggle and latches onto his waist with one arm. Hongjoong motions towards Jongho – a single dismissive wave that lasts less than a second. “We discussed this yesterday after you all left the bridge.”

“And you didn’t think to tell me — the rest of us?”

“As far as I’m concerned, this only truly affects Jongho. The rest of you will remain here and not be able to see what’s going on inside the arena until we both come out — alive. This is a show, Yunho. I’m not asking you to understand or agree with my reasoning, but I am asking you to comply.” Hongjoong steps around Yunho and continues down the tunnel, moving on towards the center of the arena, and he beckons for Jongho to follow him with a single finger.

Yunho darts a hand out to block Jongho’s path before he can follow after the captain.

“Vladimir won’t give you anything if both of you come out alive!”

Hongjoong comes to a halt where he is, and he heaves a deep sigh before turning around to face Yunho once more With several hesitant steps, Hongjoong returns to stand in front of the healer, eyes blazing as he reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out a small lidded vial that has a murky white liquid in it. Yunho blinks down at it for a few seconds before he seems to recognize what it is.

“The hyacinth root? When did you…?”

“After you mentioned bringing some back from the market.” You hardly remember that day in the marketplace since it seems to have happened so long ago, but Hongjoong’s words jot your memories of what Yunho had told you that day.

“You can crush them up with peppermint leaves to create a paste that, when consumed, will slow your heart rate but keep you alive. It makes you seem dead when in actuality, you aren’t. It typically lasts between seven and ten minutes. Good for getaways or dupes.”

“Hongjoong, I don’t have the supplies for this. I won’t—”

“Yes, you will. The second we come out of there, Vlad’s guards will hand over Jongho’s body to you. Seonghwa will accompany me back up to see Vlad, but Yeosang must stay down here with Jongho’s body, or else they’ll be more suspicious than they already are. It’s just like what you did on Yuki—”

“I had supplies then! I was prepared for that! Not to mention I almost failed last time, and you nearly died, and that was when I had all the necessary supplies.” Yunho exclaims. “I can’t get the paste out of him without a decoction of violet stems and at least three other seeds and ground spices. I don’t know how you expect me to get it out of him in time without those things, and I especially don’t understand why you failed to mention this last night!”

“You say that like I didn’t try to mention it. You’ll have plenty of time to figure something out while we’re in the arena, but now we have to go before Vlad’s men come get us.” Hongjoong slips the vial back into his pocket, and this time when he turns, Yunho doesn’t try to stop him – either because he’s conceding or he truly doesn’t know what he can say to stop Hongjoong. Jongho steps around Yunho’s outstretched arm and follows after the captain without a word. He doesn’t wait for them to be out of earshot before whipping around to glare Seonghwa down with fire in his eyes.

“And here I thought your duty as lieutenant was to prevent him from doing stupid things.”

“Now is not the time for this,” Yeosang says, pulling a bit away from Wooyoung to step between the two.

“Preach all you want about how much you care about him and how you would sacrifice anything for him, but the reality is that you don’t give a shit about his well-being!” Yunho continues to berate Seonghwa and pays no attention to Yeosang’s interruption. He jabs a finger at the lieutenant’s face, but Seonghwa reaches up to sway the offending hand away in an instant.

“Sacrifice and trust go hand in hand,” Seonghwa says, managing to maintain a surprisingly steady tone in the face of Yunho’s rage. “I would not let him set a single foot in that arena if I did not trust his promise to come out alive. And would he let me, I would be the one going in there.”

“Vladimir expects them to tear each other apart!”

“These risks are no greater than the ones we have experienced in the past. They will both come out of there.” Hongjoong must have said something to Seonghwa on the way down for him to suddenly be so sure of this. Either that or Seonghwa is forcing the words out in a desperate attempt to believe it himself.

“And do you not care that this could kill Jongho? If I can’t figure something out before they drag his body back in here, he will die because of this!”

“Then you ought to stop arguing with me and start thinking of a solution to this issue.  Or perhaps you should have listened to Hongjoong last night when he tried to tell you what the plan was.”

“When he dies, the blame will be on your shoulders for not doing more to stop Hongjoong,” Yunho hisses.

“How so? You’re so quick to push the blame off yourself already, yet the responsibility to save him falls on your shoulders, Yunho. I’m not going to stand here and fight with you over this. You have the ability to save Jongho even without those supplies. The only person doubting you right now is yourself.”

“I don’t doubt my own abilities. Jongho will not fight back in there. Don’t you realize that? In order for this to be believable, Hongjoong will have to beat him down to near death. Jongho’s body will reject whatever treatments I try to give him without the decoction as a method of protection, but that will only end up killing him because I won’t be able to get the hyacinth paste out of him in time.”

“Captain won’t hurt him.”

You don’t need to turn to see who has just stepped in, but you do nonetheless at least for the smallest semblance of confirmation. It doesn’t make it any easier to see who stands at the edge of the tunnel, bright light cascading around his tall form and casting crude shadows across the floor as he walks closer to the group. You swallow around nothing in anticipation although nothing could prepare you for what Mingi says next.

“Because I’m the one going in there, not Jongho.”

✧✧✧ a/n: yall idek what even happened to be honest my brain is NUMB also i wrote the smut scene last so if it’s a lil bit weak im sorry T-T also lemme know what you think a whole lot happened again :o

taglist: @faeriewoobin​ @sugarrimajins​ @atinyinwonderland​ @2504-life @lil7bluedragon​ @sparklychangbin​ @jeong-uwu​ @jeonartemis​ @anothershorthuman​ @xxbluestrifexx​​ @haotheheckk​ @noonawriter​ @lostscenarios​ @nlost21​ @mirror-juliet​ @okokokok123-45 @purple-aeon @theoinkypiglet @toothlessshiber @atinyarmyx1 @simpforhyunjin @hwangwoosan @takitaro @vampire-jimin @softyubi @drumboydowoon @chatsgotmytongue @just-a-starfruit @babydolljo @scintillating-souls @khjssss @felixity

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

[sserpente]

Ablaze (Part II)

A/N: I am way too excited about this TV series. I wonder how many theories will make sense in the end. Here goes Part II, enjoy everyone! ♥

Read Part I here.

Words: 4138 Warnings: there’s going to be a gory corpse

A dark scream ripped you from your uneasy sleep. Alarmed, you sat up straight, ready to defend yourself with the next-best weapon within your reach—a table lamp, in this case. But there was no one there to hurt you. Instead, you noticed Loki, the god who was practically holding you hostage in your own flat after setting the headquarters of TVA, the secret organisation monitoring the multiverse, on fire, thrashing in bed right next to you as if he was possessed. Wait… was he… dreaming?

“No…” He growled. “No!”

Still giddy, you switched on the table lamp and studied the heavily breathing Trickster by your side. His blue eyes were closed. So he was having a nightmare. Should you… should you wake him? What if he accidentally hurt you in his frenzy?

Biting your lower lip, and with your heart pounding in your chest like a steam hammer, you reached for him, carefully grabbing his bare shoulder. The singeing sensation of his remarkably cool skin under your palm made you flinch.

“L-Loki? Loki, wake up, you’re having a nightmare.”

You gasped for air, terrified, when he opened his eyes with a start, momentarily disoriented. His hand darted forward to snatch your wrist so firmly it hurt. You winced.

“Loki…”

It took him another moment to realise you were no threat to him. Finally, his deadly expression softened. His breath was shaky, sweat pooling on his forehead, his neck and even his chest, shimmering in the artificial light of your table lamp. It was, quite strangely, a sight which would have aroused you if it wasn’t for the fact he was a war and time criminal, held you captive and could have killed you in his sleep just a moment ago. God, how could you even think about his looks in this whole horrifying situation?

With a start, Loki let go of his wrists as if hot flames were licking at his cold fingers, defending your body.

He said nothing more. Instead, he merely turned his back to you again… almost as if nothing had happened at all. You would never find out that he noticed you spent the majority of the rest of the night wide awake. But so did he.

-

Drowsily, you blinked against the gentle sunlight fighting its way through your curtains. It was a beautiful morning, peaceful. You sat up, your eyes registering an empty mug and a dark stain on your carpet.

Your heart skipped a beat when you remembered. Last night, you had involuntarily fallen asleep next to the God of Mischief who had taken you hostage in your own flat after destroying TVA’s headquarters like a house made of LEGO bricks. You remembered his nightmare, too. The way he had had jerked and grunted, almost as if his own subconscious was inflicting serious pain on him… as if it was torturing him. What, for Heaven’s sake, caused such terrifying bad dreams? What… what had he been through opening and travelling through all those portals on your radar?

You were in danger, serious danger so. You had no clue if Loki planned to kill you anytime soon. If he forced you into doing his biddings with violence… no. No, he did not seem like the sort of person who would physically harm women simply for the sake of it. There were limits even to his malice, you were sure of it. Or at least, that was what you were hoping.

As expected, and much to your relief, the other side of the bed was empty, the sheets unmade. You could hear him in the kitchen, opening drawers and cupboards almost frantically. With your heart in your mouth, you made your way into the kitchen.

“Is there anything edible in your accommodation?” He complained, shutting the fridge shut without even spinning around to face you. “Where is the sweet hot chocolate mixture you used last night?”

“In the cupboard above the counter.” I mean, what was the point of lying? He would find it anyway, at some point, only angrier. You almost snorted at the thought of trading your survival for hot chocolate.

“Make us something to eat. I need sustenance.”

Make us something to eat? You clenched your fists, eyeing the coffee machine in the corner of the kitchen and wondering if you were less likely to risk your life by talking back once you had pumped your body full of caffeine.

Your heart was pounding. You barely dared to move around him. Loki glared at you but said nothing. It was like he felt you remembering what had happened last night.

“If you lose a word about what you witnessed last night…” He growled darkly.

“Don’t threaten me,” you whispered weakly. “It’s not like I have anyone left to tell anyway.” You paused, curious whether he was going to reply. He did not. “I-I’m having cereal.” You said, despite your lack of appetite. “You can have a bowl too.” As if I had a choice sharing my food with you…

You had just poured some milk into both your cereal bowls when a loud song ripped apart the tense silence in the kitchen. Your phone! Your eyes widened. Oh God, you still had your phone! How could you have been so stupid?

Starting for the living room, you were panting by the time you picked up. It was Isabelle, one of your co-workers. A fellow agent who must have survived! Your hands were shaking.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N)! Thank the Lord, you’re okay.”

“So are you! I-I am… more or less, I…” You did not need to turn around to feel his presence behind you. Loki was eyeing you threateningly, circling you slowly. The message was clear—if you told anyone he was here, you would be in some serious trouble. You swallowed thickly.

“Do you… do you know who else made it out?”

“I’ve been on the phone all morning but nothing’s confirmed yet. They’re optimistic but Jed is devastated. He’s trying to get us all back on track… whoever’s left of us, anyway.” Jed was your boss, more or less, guiding your missions and keeping a neat overview over everything that happened within TVA. You eyed Loki from the corners of his eyes, looking for anything to ease your mind. A hint of remorse, perhaps. Regret, pity, anything would have sufficed. He was like an impenetrable wall.

“Can you meet us? By the river? Jed is already on his way.”

“W-why?”

“We found traces of another portal but…”

“But what?!”

“This time… there is… (Y/N), someone has been murdered.” You took a sharp breath. Ever since Loki’s capture, you had almost forgotten about those mysterious portals that seemed to keep appearing out of nowhere. For a moment there, you had all assumed it had been Loki himself, repeatedly using the Tesseract. Given that he had been with you last night, however, and before that, had spent his time in custody at TVA’s headquarters... before he had… burned them all down… it could not possibly have been him. You swallowed. For once, you knew that he was innocent. There was someone else still out there. And they were, so it appeared, equally dangerous. “Where are you right now?”

It was then Loki snatched the phone from your grasp, clutching it so tightly the screen cracked… and went black. Fuck. You should have screamed bloody murder the minute you had picked it up.

“W-what…”

“Do you truly think I will let you tell them about your whereabouts so lightly?” He snarled.

“They will get suspicious if I don’t show up!” You yelled, your lower lip shaking.

“Show up where?”

“T-the crime scene. There has been a murder.”

Loki frowned. “I believed you are monitoring time travel, not petty crimes.”

Slowly, you shook your head. Murder was hardly petty. Well… perhaps it was to him, given you were only humans. Swallowing your anger, you looked up at him with courage. “We normally don’t but…”

“But?” He probed strictly when you trailed off. You flinched.

“There… we have repeatedly recorded interdimensional portals. They interfere with our readings. Something is… off about this and now someone is dead and I… we have been trying to find out what it is even before you came along and destroyed our headquarters, you know.” It was just that SHIELD wouldn’t let you. It was a fight over power and recognition, really.

“I want to see it.” Loki stated simply. Your eyes widened. “How many portals have there been?”

“Thirteen.”

“You believe they have a harmful cause?”

“We don’t know that yet. We are monitoring everything. Those energy waves did not go unnoticed by our radars, they are going to start tearing time and reality apart if we don’t stop whoever is creating them. SHIELD has already…”

Loki’s face distorted.

“You work with SHIELD?”

“We do, if we must but we prefer to keep our distance.”

He rolled his eyes. “I see. When did the first portals begin to appear?”

“A few weeks ago. Whoever it is… I don’t think they realise that they are being watched.” Hugging yourself, you took the opportunity to move away from him a little, watching from a safer distance how he pensively looked out of the window. Suddenly, the weather did not at all fit the depressing situation you were in, let alone the topic you were talking about.

“Yes… I can imagine that.”

“W-what?” You frowned. “What do you mean by that? Do you know who it could be? Is it one of your allies?”

Loki’s gaze darted back to you—seriously. “I don’t have allies,” he spat. “I shall join you.”

“You can’t just… walk in on a crime scene unauthorised.”

“I just walked into your flat, did I not?” He mocked.

“They will recognise you.” You argued, voice shaking audibly.

“They will not.” Loki smirked. “No one but you will be able to see who I truly am.”

Fuck. Did you have a choice? After what he had done last night… could you refuse him? You sighed, defeated. No. Probably not.

-

There were thunders in the distance when you left, the initially blue sky slowly turning grey. Heavy clouds pushed in front of the sun, blocking its light from reaching Earth. That is more like it. If you got suspended today because you brought a war criminal to a crime scene revealing important details about another potential threat, at least it would not happen in broad and warm sunlight.

You were nervous. No, you were terrified. If there was one thing your boss did not accept, it was weakness and fear of what might happen if you chose to prioritise your survival over protecting life in the multiverse. It sounded cruel and ridiculously altruistic but you had known what you got yourself into with working for TVA. There was only one thing worse than egoism. And that was treason.

Yet here you were now, approaching a crime scene with a criminal who had ensured you he would be looking like a normal Midgardian man to anyone you met. Spotting SHIELD first thing you arrived did not exactly ease your nerves. Taking a shaky breath, you approached them. Rain was falling by now, wetting the asphalt and your clothes. At least, part of your uniform was waterproof.

You could tell Loki was watching you intently as you tensed the closer you got. He was dressed in a surprisingly inconspicuous police uniform—plain beige trousers and a white shirt, a black tie and an equally beige police jacket with a badge.

Luckily enough, Jed arrived just when the SHIELD agent, Jeff, so you knew, lifted his arms to stop you from stepping over the barrier tape despite your ID. With his blonde hair fluttering in the wind, he looked a little like Owen Wilson. He even sounded a little like him too.

“What are you doing here, TVA?” Jeff groaned with dismay. “This is our crime scene. You have no business here.”

“Shut it. The energy readings we keep getting from these portals say something different. They have been interfering with our radars for weeks now. We can’t keep the world safe from potential threats in time and the multiverse if we can’t observe it properly. So I disagree. This is our crime scene too. Now get out of my way.” He paused, turning to you. “(Y/N), I’m glad to see you’re well.”

“You too.” You replied with a court nod.

“Who is that?”

“Uh… He is, uh, with the… the police.” You lied quickly. You couldn’t believe you were doing this. Help me, you attempted to scream with your eyes. You must realise that something is wrong! But he did not.

“Luke.” Loki jumped in, letting his charm do all the work as he offered Jed his hand. He took and shook it, his initial suspicion dying down once the God of Mischief gave him a sly smile.

“Right. Pleased to meet you, Sir. We’ll do our best to get the situation under control, then I promise we’ll leave you to it. A lot of my agents have been in a critical state in the hospital since that Asgardian arsehole escaped from us last night. There is no excuse for that faux-pas but he is… difficult to say the least. It’ll take us a while to make amends.”

“Asgardian arsehole?” Jeff interrupted. “What are you talking about? The war criminal Loki was taken back to Asgard by Thor years ago.”

Jed pressed his lips together to a thin line. “It’s complicated.”

Panicking, you gasped for air but much to your surprise, Loki did nothing whatsoever. He only smiled—maliciously so.

“I am deeply sorry for your loss.” He stated hollowly, making you swallow thickly. If Jed only knew… “So? What is it that interferes with your radars, agent?”

“We don’t know. It almost feels like…” Jed looked at you.

“As if there are remnants of… magic… it’s crackling.” The both of you were unable to tell him more than you already had. As a TVA agent, you were not dealing with murders often. Accidents, yes but actual murder? Hardly, fortunately.

Loki lifted his chin. “Show me this corpse.”

-

“Here,” you announced, taking a step back when you felt the energy waves pushing against every fibre of your skin. You had been focused not to give the dead body surrounded by barrier tape and a pool of blood more glances than absolutely necessary, to ignore the dreadful and almost sweet stench of decay. It had been… cut in half. The victim must have tried to enter the portal after whoever had created it—but had been too slow to make it through entirely. Scrunching up your nose, you resisted a gag. You were a TVA agent, for Goodness sake. Pull yourself together. There are worse things. Just like being kept hostage by a dangerous god without anyone even knowing. It certainly was a good sign he had not harmed you as of yet though, no? What, however, would happen once you got a chance to tell Jed the truth? Would he kill you after all? Set your flat on fire as well?

Gulping, you wiped your sweaty palms on your trousers, your heart speeding up in your chest when you felt his presence behind you. His body temperature was remarkably cool, yet you could practically feel the heat radiating off of him, making you feel small and powerless next to him. Still, there was this tiny part of you—a barely audible voice whispering in your mind—that enjoyed the fear and the excitement that came with being Loki’s… captive.

The urge to slap yourself rose.

“What causes this?” You managed to choke out.

You watched, almost in awe, how he brought up his palm to touch the remaining energy waves your radars had recorded prior to arriving at the crime scene. Unlike yours, however, his palms began to shimmer in a green light.

“It is unlike the gamma radiation the Tesseract emits. It’s more… crackling. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

“Oh, it makes perfect sense.” Loki replied matter-of-factly. “The crackling, as you describe it, is of magical origin. On Asgard, we call it seidr. Few can wield it, fewer are able to take their skills beyond simple tricks.”

“What… are you saying that whoever is creating these portals is Asgardian too?”

“I am not…” Loki took a deep breath and pressed his lips together to a thin line before speaking on. “They might be. I only know one person who would be capable of finding a way to open doors to other realities like that.”

Glancing at him in utter shock, you waited for him to continue. He did not. Instead, he directed his attention at the person approaching you before you even registered the footsteps on the wet asphalt yourself. You were hauled into a hug, all air pressed from your lungs and your eyesight blocked by waves of her long ginger hair.

“Isabelle!”

“Don’t you dare scare me like that ever again! The connection was lost and when I tried to call you back, I could only reach your voicemail. What happened? I thought Loki attacked you!”

Well, technically… you swallowed thickly. “No, I, um… I was doing the washing up to distract myself from… you know… and the phone fell into the sink. I put it in a bowl of rice, it should be fine again tomorrow.” There went another lie. You would have to buy a new phone and you sincerely doubted that Loki would let you. Next to you, the God of Mischief chuckled maliciously. Bastard.

“Who are you?” Isabelle frowned at him.

“Luke. Officer Luke.”

“He’s with the… police.”

“I see. You are here alone?” She probed suspiciously.

“I am. I am merely here to ensure things are… taken care of, so to speak.”

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. Your superiors are familiar with our work and how significant it is for all our wellbeing.” Loki only raised his eyebrows in a seemingly unimpressed manner.

You wondered, briefly, what would happen if you screamed bloody murder and warned her about him, gave away his identity. Would he kill you straight away? Torture you first? After he had set the TVA headquarters on fire, anything was possible. Bruce Banner had not been wrong. That man’s mind was like a bag full of cats.

“Where is the rest of our team?” You asked her instead. “Have they still not arrived? Jed said a lot of them are being treated in the hospital but…”

“They’re busy finding Loki.”

“Do you, um…” Your voice was shaky. Clearing your throat, you continued despite his threatening presence right beside you. “I didn’t dare to ask Jed back there.” Or Loki, for that matter. “How many agents died in the fire?”

“Only two. Pete and Roth.” The very same agents who had caught Loki. Loki barely put any effort into hiding his satisfaction. Clearly, he had planned this. Taken his revenge. It made you wonder what else he’d have in store for this world even without you spilling his dirty secret. But then again… you remembered how vulnerable he had looked last night in his sleep. There had to be more. So much more.

A loud and alarming bleeping tore through the crispy air with a start. Both Isabelle und you flinched, turning your heads towards the computer station Jed had by now stationed at the crime scene with the help of another agent. The radar was blinking red and purple, the noise downright ear-piercing.

“Jed, what is it?” Isabelle covered her ears.

“Another portal opened.” Loki answered for him, his expression hardening.

“What?! When?! Now?”

He did not reply—instead, he turned on his heel and ran, presumably straight towards the source of the readings.

“Officer! Officer Sir, no, it’s too dangerous! Officer! Damn it. (Y/N), stay where you are!” But you weren’t listening either. You hurried after him, for what reason you did not know yourself. Loki was perfectly capable of defending himself—you were not. If what he had said was true and there was another Asgardian wreaking havoc in this city, you’d do well to leg it and flee. Besides… why would you care? If he died playing curiosity kills the cat, your entire organisation had one problem less to deal with. Why, for Heaven’s sake, did part of you feel like you owed him in spite of this nerve-wrecking fear?

“Stay back!” He yelled.

Gnashing your teeth, you stopped dead in your tracks, blinded by the bright green lights illuminating the narrow alley Loki had run off into.

The energy the portal was radiating was numbing, almost. Like an invisible wall you were trying to step closer, tensing every single muscle in your body to no avail. Loki, however, seemed to have no problems approaching the hazardous time threat at all.

Finally, a tall, blonde woman stepped through. The portal closed behind her, drowning the alley in rainy darkness once more. The impact of the energy ebbing away nearly knocked you off your feet. Right before you could fall, however, a strong and cold hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you up again seemingly without any effort whatsoever. Gazing up, bedazzled, you met Loki’s serious and reproachful glare.

“I told you to stay back.” He growled, his grip around your wrist almost painful. It was the one already forming a bruise from his sleepy attack last night. He let go as if he had burned himself when he noticed, leaving you there all exhausted and trembling. It was then an almost soft voice sounded behind him, making him stiffen and go pale—if only just a little. Your lips parted.

“By Odin’s beard… Loki?!”

The God of Mischief took a deep breath. “Sylvie.” He too, was surprised, to say the least. Yet if there was one thing Loki was really good at, it was hiding his feelings. So they knew each other. Just great.

“I would recognise that mischievous voice anywhere. What in the nine realms happened to your face?” With some words, it almost sounded like she had a lisp.

“An illusion. I am a fugitive, so it seems.”

“Oh, what have you done now, hmm?” Her laughter tore through the dark alley, next you thing you witnessed she had already thrown herself into his arms, her feet dangling in the air. Loki, albeit hesitantly, reciprocated the hug. “I missed you! Midgard is so boring without you.” She pouted. Never before had you felt as redundant as you did now. It seemed to have been your cue.

“Oh, not again…” She suddenly complained, her brown eyes finding you standing in the background. She glared at you darkly. “Didn’t you see what happened to the last human who attempted to follow me? You would do well to leave me alone if you do not wish to suffer from the same fate.”

“You look very human to me.” At least she was dressed human, unlike Loki when they had first found and brought them to your headquarters.

“Well, I am not. I am Asgardian.” Loki opened his mouth. He never got to say what he intended to.

“Put your hands up in the air and no harm will come to you!” It was Jed’s voice that ripped you all from this uncomfortable and undoubtedly dangerous situation. His gun was aimed at the blonde who rolled her eyes in response. “Officer, step away from her, please! She is likely a hostile!”

The curse Loki uttered sounded a lot like he had spoken it in a foreign language. “We need to leave, now. They have weapons which immobilise even me—long enough for them to shackle you.”

“What? Those meagre mortals? Oh, please…” While the strange woman crossed her arms, Loki reacted already. Unceremoniously, he pulled out the Tesseract out of… seemingly nowhere—your heart skipped a beat when it appeared in his hand and he held it without any sort of protection—and offered her his arm. The woman’s eyes widened. Without any hesitation, she took it. And then, everything happened at once.

“Sir, what are you… the Tesseract. This is Loki! Everyone, this is Loki! Fuck!” More guns were aimed at you all, a low chuckle from the God of Mischief sending ice-cold shivers up and down your spine.

“Wait, don’t shoot! (Y/N) is in the line of fire!” Isabelle’s ear-piercing scream barely reached you when the first gunshots tore through the air as wild as a swarm of wasps. So this was it. You would be shot by your own colleagues and a handful of SHIELD agents.

The last thing you expected Loki to do, however, was to grab you, pull you flush against him and tear you with him into the unknown.

-

A/N: Stay tuned for Part III!

Check out my blog to find more Imagines and take a glimpse at my first (to be) published novel! If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[greasygyeom]

gigil | ten

pairing: Ten x Female Reader (Fluff)

words: 1.9k

warnings: might be disgustingly cute idk.

A/N: Gigil is a word used to describe the overwhelming feeling that comes over us when we see something cute.

At 1 am, with bare minimum noises in the background, save for a stray car zooming away in the distance and a blanket of stars overhead, Ten walked back to his apartment; feet dragging on the pavement, as they traced his displeasure along the way. 

For the third night in a row he’d had to stay overtime at office, simply because someone else had been too lazy to finish their portion of work assigned to them.

Had it been any other day, he would have pulled through without feeling this level of annoyance. Any other week, he would not have complained; he liked working alone, when no one was around to disturb him and ask him stupid questions. But the fact that this was happening during the few days your schedule wasn’t as tight knit as usual, was really testing his patience.

He’d thought long and hard on whether he was being too dramatic about it, because it wasn’t like he never got to see you—your off days always had his name written on them—it was just that off-late he’d been wanting to see a lot more of you.

For him, dating you had started as a breezy ‘hmm I’ll see where this takes me, I’m not looking for anything serious’, but had quickly and quite irreversibly morphed into an intense whirlwind of ‘fuck, I might love her’ and at the end of six months it had rendered him dizzy. 

He didn’t know when exactly he’d started to crave more of your attention, but on days it overpowered his entire existence. He wasn't yet used to the out of the blue pangs of wanting to hug you until you fell asleep in his arms, but he loved the warm and fuzzy feeling thoughts like these left him with.

On most days he could prioritise his work over his neediness for you. Today though? Today had been one of those days, where it had served as a roadblock between what he had to do and what he really wanted to do. Instead of being in bed, cuddled with you, watching a cute coming of age movie, he had to stay back and redraw the anatomy for a new character because some of his peers were incompetent. 

Half an hour of brooding and a long silent walk later, he finally reached his building. On his last call you had already been yawning, so he assumed you were fast asleep and entered the apartment as quietly as he possibly could… only to find you lying on the floor.

His heart dropped down to his stomach as the worst, most horrible thoughts of you being injured and unconscious and him being too late in taking you to the hospital clouded his mind.

His panic lasted only about 30 seconds though, until he switched on the lights and it unravelled a completely different story.

You were passed out on the floor alright, but because you’d fallen asleep cuddling with his cat. He didn’t see the cat because your back was facing the entrance. Louis had fit himself comfortably in the crevice of your concave form, lying curled up, snug next to your stomach and was using your arm as a pillow.

Ten’s heartbeat slowed down with the realisation that you were indeed alive and okay and he breathed in a sigh of relief, giggling fondly at the sight of you two sleeping so peacefully; completely unaware of his presence. 

He was kinda jealous of Louis, which was an insane thought, but he wanted in on what looked like a super cozy cuddle session.

Of course, he had to grab his phone and take some pictures first—how could he pass off this opportunity to stock up on some free serotonin. But as soon as he was done taking photos from every angle, he sat on the floor next to you, your back towards him, and rested his chin on your waist. It was a challenge to not kiss the sliver of skin peeking through, from between your shirt and boxers and an even bigger challenge to not wake you up.

He extended an arm to pet Louis, but the cat wasn’t having any of it. 

Within minutes Louis was out of sight and reach and it was just the two of you, on the cold floor. With no cat to disturb, his attention naturally wandered over to you. It was too tempting to not kiss your bare skin. Your hands were tucked under your head, like a makeshift pillow; sooner than later you were bound to get uncomfortable—it only made sense to wake you up. It was definitely not because you looked too cute and he couldn’t stand not being able to squish you. 

“Baby” he whispered softly, “Wake up.” 

You stirred at the sound of his voice, pushing your body towards him, but not really moving.

He had the widest grin plastered on his face, just looking at you. “Let’s go to bed, you’re sleeping on the floor.”

You hummed in response, too lethargic to actually move and also just a scat annoyed.

When he stroked your cheek, you shivered under his touch, goosebumps forming all over your body. His touch was electric. 

Feeling a bit smug about the reaction he just elicited out of you, he pulled your shirt up, just enough to expose your waist, and planted soft kisses alongside your ribs.

You squirmed with every kiss, until you were wide awake and sitting upright, fighting him off.

“Why why why” he giggled, as you pushed him away.

“Why!! Look at the tiiime.” You whined, not letting him have his way for the 800th time.

His face fell, “I know baby, I’m sorry. If it makes you feel better, I was really sulky the whole time I was there and not here.”

“No, that does not make me feel better.” You replied, “I don’t want you to sulk when you’re working.”

“Ayee you can’t have both.” 

“Both what?”

“Be mad at me and not let me be mad at my work.”

“I’m not mad at you.” You pouted, crawling into his lap, “I just really missed you.”

There was something so soothing about your presence, something he couldn’t really explain. He held you tight and buried his head in the crook of your neck, taking in the faint vanilla-esque scent you naturally emanated. 

“I missed you too, baby.”

You ran your fingers through his brownish-blonde hair, your heart skipping beats every time you felt his hot breath on your skin. You weren’t one to feel ticklish easily at all, except for under his touch. It was a phenomenon that perplexed you too. So when he slipped his hand under your shirt, to feel your skin, you shivered again. 

He raised his head and gave you a knowing, smug smile.

God he was so infuriating with how attractive he looked when he smiled like that.

“You’re lucky you’re this cute.”

He grinned even wider. “Oh? What’s that? You think I’m cute?”

“Yeah, I think you’re very cute. What of it?”

The cutest laugh escaped his lips and he cupped your face, “I think you’re cuter, now please kiss me.” 

He puckered his lips and in anticipation, closed his eyes, deliberately acting like a cringey young adult rom-com hero, but two could play that game, right?

You pecked him on his cheek instead. 

His dramatic reaction sent you into a fit of laughter and the whole time you were trying to contain yourself, he was gazing at you as if nothing else existed in his world, with the goofiest, most endearing smile on his face. 

He’d never told you he loved you—even though it’s all he’d thought about the past couple of days—partly because he was scared and partly because he didn’t want to scare you away. 

But the way you made his whole being melt into a mush of happiness, made him not want to hold it in anymore.

“Hey,” he interrupted your hysterics in a serious tone, causing you to stop and look at him. You couldn’t match the intensity in his eyes, but it sparked a wildfire at the pit of your stomach.

“I love you”

Did you hear that right? Did he say he loved you? 

“You what?”

“I love you.” 

You beamed ecstatically. “Good, ‘cuz I love you too.”

“Oh thank god” he exhaled in relief, but before he could finish that sentence you had him caught up in a long, sweet kiss that knocked the wind out of his lungs. 

In the dead of the night, you could only hear his soft moans as you bit and sucked on his lower lip. His hands wandered all over your body, grabbing and teasing you, while you focused on how he tasted like liquor and chocolate, without having any. 

Everything about him was intoxicating. 

“Let’s go in”, he signalled towards his room, when you finally parted away from him.

You looked delectable with your messy hair and slightly swollen lips. Ten wanted to devour you.

“Ohhhhh Mr. Lee why do you want to take me into your bedroom at 2:30 AM.. What are your intentions?” 

“To show you how much I love you.” he seduced, “Will you let me?”

“I’ll let you do whatever you want, baby” you replied, getting up and holding your hand out to help him.

“I wonder what good deeds I did to have found you in my life.”

You rolled your eyes as you walked towards his room. “And I wonder the exact opposite.”

He gasped. “Is that how it is huh? I guess you’ll never find out how much I love you then.”

“Aww.” You chuckled, closing the distance between you, “It’s okay, I can show you right here how much I love you instead?”

“No, I can feel Louis looking at us and I’m not about to traumatise my son. So, I’m gonna give him some treats and be right in.”

“Fifteen minutes or I’m going to sleep.”

“I’ll take five.”

“You and I both know you need at least fifteen minutes with Louis.”

How does this woman know me so well, he thought to himself walking over to where his cat was perched. 

“What do you think, Louis? Did I do the right thing” Ten whispered, nuzzling his nose in the fluffy fur. 

Louis meowed.

“Yeah, I think so too. She’s really great isn’t she.” 

Louis meowed again, making him chuckle.

While pouring some dry food in the bowl for his cat he realised he actually hadn’t eaten anything since afternoon, yet he felt full… full of this happiness and a kind of contentment that he’d never experienced before. He cringed at this disgustingly sappy thought and made his way back to you, into the bedroom. 

You were sprawled on the bed, already asleep, not even having managed to get under the blanket.

“So cute”, he fondly murmured, as he got in bed too and encompassed you completely in a hug—his arms now wrapped around your waist and one leg overlapping both of yours.

You stirred, but he pulled you in closer,

“It’s okay, go back to sleep baby.”

He heard a little affirmative hum and you turned around to face him—eyes half closed—to give him a tiny peck on his lips and then hid your face in his chest. 

You started falling back into your world of dreams and he fell right in with you, following you through a field of daisies, admiring your beauty as the sun glowed on your face; just like he would if you were awake. And tell you a thousand times over how beautiful he thought you were and love you and kiss you until you fell right back into his arms at the end of every night. 

There was something so sweet about that feeling, it made you smile and you thought yeah… it seemed like a good way to spend the rest of your life.

[secret-rendezvous1d]

Could you elaborate a little on Harry buying YN food and giving her lots or cuddles when she's a little mad at him? Thank you😊🌹❤

Her silent treatment had started over something so incredibly stupid.

When she woke up that morning, she didn’t expect to trip over a lost gym shoe on her way into the kitchen to make herself some breakfast. Catching her foot on the heel of a bright yellow, still tied at the laces and grubby-looking shoe and stumbling off-guard and banging her other foot on the entryway table that held forgotten house-keys (that belonged in the oak bowl, alongside her own bunch of keys) and an off-white Adidas sweatband that was still, no doubt, drenched in sweat and belonged in the washing basket so she could wash it in the next round of washing due. 

When she hobbled into the kitchen with throbbing toes, she didn’t expect to see her boyfriend staring at his phone with milk dripping from his spoon, cereal littering the kitchen tops and his dirty gym-wear thrown aimlessly on the tiles as if he blindly threw it towards the basket on the other side of the kitchen.

“Good morning, sunshine.”

Her frown stayed permanent to her features, but she would probably tell you it was the pain from her possibly broken toes that had her looking so angry. Her eyebrows furrowed, her nose scrunched and her lips stayed pinched into the straightest line she could muster. Definitely the pain in her toes, for sure...

“You’re up later than usual.”

“Late night work meeting last night,” she grumbled it under her breath, stepping foot over to the sink. Last night had been a mad night for her, the last few hours of her day being thrown off of schedule, so she spent her evening hours and her dinner hours in her office. Leaving Harry to warm his meal up, to watch the telly by himself and to go to bed without his usual goodnight kiss and a cuddle... an end to the day that she wished had never happened. “Do you not know how to clean up after yourself?”

Her hands came down to the counter with a forceful slam of her fists, his spoon clinking in his ceramic bowl and she knew she’d made him jump with her outburst.

In the sink was a plate caked in bolognese sauce and pasta that had dried in the last place it was left on the plate, a saucepan with the remnants of tomato and basil sauce clinging to it and three glasses that had definitely come from him because she’d barely left her office for a glass of water the whole time. 

“I was going to do it this morning, when I got back-”

“Oh, of course you were.”

Sarcasm dripped from her voice and, deep down, there was regret as to how she’d approached the topic.

“I was, honest. I went for my run, came back to eat and then I was going to let everything soak whilst I had a shower and then come down to wash it up,” he explained, pushing away from the island and standing to his two feet, “promise you, I was going to.”

“And what about your clothes all over the floor? Your shoes in the hallway that are just laying anywhere they want? The sweaty headband on the table? We had an agreement,” she huffed, hands on her hips as she swung around to look at him as he steadily approached the sink and set his bowl to the side of it, “we barely made it two weeks without this place becoming a pig-sty.”

“A pig-sty? I wouldn’t say that-”

“What would you say this is then?” She prodded a finger into his chest and looked him in the eye, “this is clean to you? It surely can’t be because I saw how you lived before. You want to live in a cluttered, messy home now? And have someone else clean up after you? Go ahead and live back at your mum’s if that’s your attitude.”

She dropped her eyes as she stamped a foot and left the room, trudging up the stairs with heavy footsteps, leaving him behind in a confused state and a mind billowing with questions; what the hell was that, why didn’t she let him explain and where did that outburst come from?

*

It started with a cup of tea and biscuits. 

Mid-morning and he hadn’t seen her since her outburst in the kitchen. A kitchen that was now spick and span and clear of a single pinch of dust. The sink was empty, the cupboards were full of the clean cutlery, the island and the kitchen tops were freshly wiped down and the washing machine was rumbling with it’s second load of the day - not that he’d had a second load to do but he’d left a pair of his boxers in the basket and had a panic as he looked for any clothes in their wardrobes that he could stick in with the cotton pants. 

He’d even made a run to the shops for her favourite snacks, for their lunch and for their dinner and prepared, mentally, an evening meal that would have her forgetting any of the madness her days could be filled with, thanks to the wine they’d have accompanied with it. The kitchen outburst being put behind them as they moved on and he agreed to comply with their agreement they had made upon moving into their first home.

He could hear her fingers clicking and clacking on her keyboard as well as the tiny sighs coming from behind the door (and he could imagine her running her fingers through her hair with annoyance) as they escaped her mouth; the right time for a tea break, he thought.

His big toe had to knock on the door as his hands held the tray full of her favourite chocolate biscuits and a large mug of the breakfast tea she never had that morning. A strange tension washing over him as he entered and looked at her with soft eyes.

“Thought you could do with a cup of tea. Didn’t get to make one this morning because of me so the least I could do was make you one,” he said softly, tiptoeing across the carpet to set the tray down in the empty space beside her arm, “made a run to the shops to get you some biscuits. Brought you some lunch, as well. A sandwich and those little chicken bites you like so much.”

He grinned but it son disappeared when he barely saw her eyes leave her laptop screen.

“I’m making dinner tonight. Let you have a relaxing night. I’ll make it for seven, if you want me to?”

She hummed but continued to write down bullet-points on a document open on her laptop, her eyes switching from a pad of written notes to the keyboard below her eyes.

“Salmon and broccoli with some herby potatoes and some roasted veggies,” he smiled to himself and his lips stayed curved when she took a chocolate digestive and had a nibble on the edge, “if you want it later then you can let me know. I’ll eat when you eat.”

She bit her bottom lip as she continued to stare at the screen; he was trying his best to apologise and make things right but he needed to learn from where he went wrong, she thought. 

“I’m sorry about this morning,” he bent over and kissed the crown of her head, “I love you.”

And with that, he’d left the room without a word more. The door closing behind him and the sound of the stairs creaking beneath his weight filling her silent office room as she slouched back in her chair and sighed, placing her biscuit down so she could rub her face and close her eyes from a second.

He’d always be forgiven.

*

“It smells delicious in here.”

The voice he’d been wanting to hear all day startled him, his head looking over his shoulder as he stirred the sauce to go alongside their meal. A parsley-based sauce that had been a favourite of hers to eat with a seafood-dish ever since he’d invited her back to his house for the first time to cook for her. 

“It looks lovely in here, too. Not just the food.”

He smiled at her and turned his attention back to the creamy sauce in the pan as she took a wander to the dining table, where two candles were burning and flickering by themselves and a bottle of unopened wine had been left for them to soon open together, place-mats set opposite each other and a bunch of roses sitting in a vase in the middle.

“Not just the room either.”

He snickered to himself and her cheeks flushed, “I should have dressed up if I knew this was that type of meal.”

“You’re fine as you are,” he admitted, “you’ll always look fine as you are, even in the most disgusting yellow-coloured dress known to man. Looking like a mustard pot and still as gorgeous as ever.”

“You like mustard so you’ll always say that,” she pointed out, dragging a finger over the red table-cloth as she circled the island and walked towards him. The pan being moved to the back of the oven top so it wouldn’t burn before the meal was complete, allowing him the chance to turn on his heels and wrap her in a warm hug.

“I’m sorry about this morning, sunshine.”

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled against the apron covering his chest, “I was just tired from last night and angry that I stubbed my toe and you just happened to be there and took the brunt of it.”

He gently swayed them from side to side, the smell of minty potatoes and the smell of salmon washing them as they hugged in the middle of the room.

“My fault thought. Left the shoes in the way and I left the kitchen in a mess when we promised to always help the other by tidying up after ourselves,” he sighed, pressing his lips against her hairline and leaving a kiss to her skin, “just glad you’re back talking to me and everything’s back to normal. Not just because of the food, I hope.”

“You do cook a good seafood dish thought...” xx

[sweetestlamb]

Stronger Part 4 (A New Day Has Come)

Summary: Mun-yeong spends some time with someone important and a gets a surprise.

Author's Note: Got an annoying comment on this story yesterday and it motivated me to write lol so thanks! Hope you guys like and comments, that motivate me even more 😉🥰 nothing like love to drive out hate! The story is coming to an end unfortunately, I'm thinking 2 more chapters maybe three. If I had time I would drag it out for 9 😂😂 but schools start Monday so there goes my life. Happy reading y'all.

Solitude gripes at her insanity, tearing her apart until she succumbs to the thoughts that plague her mind of her inadequacies and how insignificant she is to those around her.

Being around Sang-tae oppa fills a portion of the void in your chest but his presence only reminds her further of another that she's dreadfully missing, his messages overflow her phone now. Taking a swift turn from condescending to something sweeter and more pleading. It takes every ounce of restraint in her body not to open them, relying on the bits she can see in the previews. Fully turning a blind eye to him is beyond difficult for her, every atom of her being is calling out for him.

She has dragged herself from the car too many times, desperate to run to him and soothe his pain, eager to see what he wants to talk about, maybe just maybe he's ready to apologize and unclench the clamp he placed on her heart that day on the beach.

But.

What if he isn't? What if he wants to share more of his past with her in the hopes that she'll overlook all that came before. In the past that might have been the case, she had been ever forgiving, something that only he was privy to. But his words ring in her ears- one time event, get lost- invading her dreams and taking the place of her mother's floating figure terrorizing her nightly.

Somewhere along the way she realized that she puts him first, his emotions and comfort have taken precedent over her own and when she'd searched what exactly that meant the answer made her head spin.

A four letter word that most humans will experience except Ko Mun-yeong.

She's much too selfish and destructive to be ever love or be loved by another, she knows that know. When he'd finally opened up to her, there'd been a plethora of emotions that clawed to the surface and vengeance had been one of them, it wasn't enough that he was sharing his darkest secrets because of everything she'd been through to get there. It was as if he'd stabbed her in the chest, left her bleeding only to return and patch up her wounds, too much had occurred and the scarring remained.

So she left in the middle of the night, abandoned that godforsaken place, stuffing expensive fabrics in a vintage Louis Vuitton luggage set, eager to escape the dead silence that rang out in the castle without the Moon brothers pumping life back into it.

In the end she didn't go far, finding a guest house that reminded her of that brief getaway with him, she paid for the week and turned off her phone fielding persistent check in calls from Sang-in. Gang-tae hadn't tried to call merely texting that they should talk and it was almost laughable that despite his seeming desperation he still seemed reluctant to go the full mile. Only her deep rooted sadness stopped her from chuckling at her circumstances, what a tragic mess.

She didn't let his current persistence fool her, fool me once shame on you fool me twice, well everyone knew the rest. It was time she stopped looking like a fool. Regardless of what she felt for him she knew that that this couldn't be, he'd been right all along.

I hope I never see you again.

So much heart ache could have been prevented if she'd heeded his warning. So she was doing it now, her anger had fizzled off tempering into bitter acceptance.

He would give up soon enough, that was his style.

The woman in charge of the guest house steers clear of her and the first day she lays carelessly on the bed roll, not even bothering to comb her hair. Simply, being. It's intoxicating and new, her phone remains turned off tossed to the side as she thinks about nothing- ignoring the way that nothing something has deep sad eyes and a bowl hair cut. She's trying to think about nothing and that's what counts.

She has food delivered and it's strange to eat something that isn't a Subway sandwich after all the food Sang-in as been bringing her and temporarily guilt forms in the pit of her belly, he's probably going crazy trying to locate her but she's just not ready. She's still tired. Bone chilling fatigue.

The next day she walks down a dirt road, her long white dress dragging on the ground, dirtied but the thin material allows a passing breeze to wash across her body and she's content, staring at the sky and thinking of nothing. She spots a lone bird sitting in a tree and wonders if all the other birds have left it behind, whether it has nowhere to go and no one to see. Then she berates herself for worrying about a bird, all this time alone is pushing the limits of her sanity.

The days bleed into each other, dawn folding into dusk with watercolor skies and earthy morning dew.

She tries to write but it's hard to get any words down that aren't depressing and she can't think of any morals or lessons besides don't let anyone in.

Then she tries her hand at drawing, a portrait of her twisting a deer's neck.

The guest house keeper asks her if she hates bears the next day and that's the end of that endeavor.

The week is coming to an end and she's no where closer to knowing what to do, maybe it's time to go back to Seoul, leave this all behind like a bad dream.

When she finally deems herself mentally prepared she turns on her phone, pinging and vibrating from all the forlorn messages, sputtering in her hand as she watches in shock. As expected Sang-in has called and messaged and threatened, she smirks at his empty threats, heart slightly warmed.

Ju-ri, Seung-jae, Sang-tae, and him. All their names flash on her screen. Surprising her, as she'd never expect them to notice her disappearance. Much less reach out to her. Strange. But she writes it off, maybe Sang-in had roped them all into it. With trepidation she opens her messenger and responds to one, keeping a promise, with a few presses and a selfie she sends the message and closes the phone with a sigh.

Done.

The next day the clouds are smoggy ash grey in the sky, darkening the skies into something fierce and she pulls on a sweater and forgoes an umbrella welcoming the storm. Electricity swelters in the thick air causing a sheen of sticky perspiration to cling to her skin. She dons a simple sleeveless mini dress and sandals, trekking to the familiar dirt road.

She walks for hours, aimlessly without a care or worry in her head. Thoughts of him still push their way in at times but she's come to accept that as her baseline, once she returns to Seoul he will be nothing but a faint memory of the time she dreamed too big.

The first drop of rain on her skin makes goose pimples explode across her flesh, fat and chilled as they cascade from the atmosphere. Turning her head up towards the heavens she grins bitterly at nothing, her whole life has been nothing but rain, the moment is oddly fitting.

Mud splatters to her feet coating her toes in sloshy brown that slides between her toes, drenched from the downpour she slowly walks back no haste in her movement, steady footsteps despite the speed of the rain as it pelts against her.

The guest house comes back into sight as she meanders to the gate, vaguely remembering that she'd pulled it shut yet the doors now swing open. Blaming that on the rain she steps through, pulling it shut behind her continuing to stride to the steps.

As she hears the sliding door she eyes catch a figure blurry through the watery sheet in front of her eyes, the voice calling her name stops her in her tracks, no longer able to pretend that it's a mirage.

Her eyes aren't deceiving her, there he is. Once again finding her in the rain, except this time she doesn't need to be saved, she'll be the one doing the saving. For them both.

She takes him in, the rain soaking his hair flat onto his face, clothes plastered to his body as he stands eerily still, dark pools intensely taking her in as well.

After the slight hiccup, she continues walking taking off her sullied sandals and tossing them to the side and then she places her hand on the door, prepared to enter and forget what she saw. Ignorance is bliss.

"Mun-yeong."

All he has to say to get her heart pounding like a drum, she screams in her mind. That time spent apart should have made this easier, why didn't this feel easy? All the fatigue that she'd been running from hits her like a freight train crashing through her passive wall.

"Get lost."

He moves to block her way and her rage simmers below the surface.

"I've been worried about you. We all were so worried. You can't just leave like that, why did you go without saying anything?" His voice is wavering between anger and something softer, more human that makes his voice crack on the last syllable.

"Move."

She's not ready to assess what his being here means, what his voice and his concern mean. None of it makes sense and she's going to file it all under: unexplained phenomenon.

"Can't we talk first, please?"

"I don't want to talk." She sidesteps him, reaching once more for the door.

"Mun-yeong let me explain, let me make this right. I'm sor--"

"Shut up. I said I didn't want to talk. Go back you saw me, I'm alive you don't need to say anything more."

She's not sure she'll be able to contain herself if he says anything else, she's already dangling off the cliff. She can't allow herself to fall and burst apart.

"No! Why are you pushing me away? I need you! I told you I needed you I meant that, you can't just run away damn it."!

She stares blankly before her throat croaks and laughter tumbles from her lips. Deep belly chuckles that shake her body viciously.

Then quick as a switch the laughter stops.

Diamond hard gaze locked on his bewildered face before she speaks, "You think you're the only one who wanted? Do you? I wanted you to stay. I wanted you to fight for me, to let me in. I wanted you to see that I was hurt and apologize and mean it. You think a kiss is enough, you think telling me everything is enough after you break my heart? It's not!" Her voice pierces through the cacophonous drone of the rain beating the world, crying its heart out.

He jolts at her pained cries, fingers reaching for her but she immediately moves out of reach feeling naked and raw under his stare.

You broke my heart.

She's shown too much of her cards already, it's too late to bluff.

So she'll take a page from his book.

Throwing the door open and slamming it shut, holding it tight.

He doesn't try to open it. She sighs in relief leaning back against the hard wood, feeling all the fight evacuate her body.

He's probably gone. You pushed him too hard. Who are you to reject him? No one else will ever tolerate you.

Her thoughts don't scare her, just like Gang-tae had chosen his brother and the life he knew she was doing the same, choosing herself and the loneliness she'd grown accustomed to. Why give him another chance to throw her away he was clearly capable of it, it was only a matter of time she wouldn't change. Couldn't change. Immovable object.

The rain falls and falls, washing everything away and making the world anew. She lays on her back wondering how far he's gotten in this downpour. How had he even found her? All questions she'll never get the answers to.

Sleep tugs her eyelids shut as her thoughts swirl until they too fade to black.

Hands held high over her head, she pulls her tired bones feeling the tension melt with each stretch. Gathering clothes to take a much needed bath she carelessly tugs the door open only to jump back when he almost tumbles into her room.

What.

"What? What are you doing here?" She shrieks, avoiding collision by the barest inch.

"Waiting for you."

She blinks at him, taking in his drenched clothes-noting his shivers- and the dark circles that sink into the skin beneath his eyes, resembling a raccoon.

Had he slept outside all night? And if he had was he insane, why didn't he go back home?

"Why didn't you go back? Are you crazy? You can't sleep outside in the rain!"

She blushes at her outburst, slapping a hand over her traitorous mouth. He merely looks at her, she overlooks the tender glint in his eyes.

Stepping forward he grabs her hand, she fights to pull her appendage away but he tightens his grip which contrasts immensely with the softness in his eyes.

Voice like warm honey he answers, "Because you're here and I.....need you. I'm not going anywhere."

The sun shines brightly outside as a new day rises somewhere in the distance a lone bird's call is answered by another.

[whitecrowapothecary]

Like A Dream

Jaskier has had dreams for as long as he could remember- of monsters and magic and all the things that go bump in the night. He dreams of golden eyes and silver swords and honeyed ballads. 

AKA the modern immortal/reincarnation AU no one asked for but I’m writing

Read it on AO3 here!

There’s music around him. Coming from him, his throat warm and honeyed with the lyrics he sings. Not him- the bard, the unknown man who captures his mind at night when he closes his eyes. He- they- are playing for an audience. Jaskier is used to this, the wayward looks, captured attention, but it’s… new. There’s an instrument in his hand he’s never learned to play and lyrics on his lips he’s never written, clothes resplendent of another time, another world, and he drinks it in with abandon. Full, flowing skirts, jackets made of the richest silk brocade in all colors, though all are muted compared to the bright, rich amethyst ensemble he seems to have donned for the performance.

He’s deep into his set, if he should call it that, singing about a fishmongers daughter just to get a laugh out of the crowd when his eyes catch on a small, insignificant detail. Jaskier sings and sways among the royalty around him, but all he can see is gold with flecks of amber, curious cat eyes watching him from the shadows. He takes a step closer, then two, then three until he’s propelling through the crowd, and just as a jaw covered in a neat snow white beard is unearthed from the shadows, a blare sounds, and the image shatters.

He gasps awake, clutching at his chest and trying to quell the shaking of his hands. Sweat sticks his hair to the back of his neck and his forehead in small curls which Jaskier rakes a hand through. On the nightstand, next to the bed, his phone vibrates, clanking softly against the wood until Jaskier scoops it up and hits answer. There are only a handful of people who will actually ring through.

“What, Pris?”

“Ah, woke you up huh? Touchy touchy. You haven’t forgotten about our brunch date, have you?” The voice on the other end is perky, far too awake for Jaskier’s liking right now.

“No, no of course not. You aren’t here yet, are you?” He slips from bed, grimacing and rummaging through his closet for something to wear, phone pinched between his ear and his shoulder.

“Almost, a block away.”

“Shit, okay, let yourself in?” The woman on the other end hums, amused, and Jaskier hangs up. Leave it to him to fail to set an alarm for something like this. He drags his sorry carcass into the bathroom, intent on getting a shower. He feels cold and sticky for all the wrong reasons, and when he looks at himself in the mirror the blue in his eyes is offset by the purple bags underneath. It’s… not an attractive look for himself. The hot water pounds against his back when he hops under the spray and he groans, letting it wash over him. Praying it’ll wash away the dream that seems to cling to him, digging at his bones and refusing to leave.

He’d had the dreams for as long as he could remember- at first they were nothing more than terrors, dreams of hideous, foul smelling creatures with sharp claws. Claws that regularly tore into the soft flesh of his belly, or the tender meat of his thigh, leaving him to wake up screaming and thrashing in bed. His parents, bless them, had tried everything to help, from heavy medication to therapy to a stint in a mental facility, but nothing took the monsters away. Medication only trapped him within his dreams, unable to wake up until he was well and thoroughly taken apart, and therapists only insisted the monsters were representations of some trauma he’d sustained as a child. The stay at the mental facility, well, that was more a break for his parents than thirteen year old Jaskier.

He’d learned to hide them, since then, to hold people at arms length and keep them from seeing what he truly was. The monsters rarely followed him into real life, but on the occasion he saw mention of a kikimore on the news, or a striga cropped up in Germany somewhere, well, it was all too easy to flip the channel and pretend. Now though… it was becoming harder and harder to leave his dreams behind when the sun came up. The dreams had shifted when he was almost eighteen, from monsters hunting and maiming him to something else- instruments and performances and gaudy, awful clothing he had no name for. Days spent walking and walking and walking, sweating under the sun but grinning like it didn’t bother whoever was in his dreams. It was harder still, to pretend that the performer in his dreams didn’t have his hands, his wonderful, skillful fingers, or the voice he’d spent years fine tuning.

He’s knocked from his reverie by the sound of his front door opening and clicking shut and the smell of food drifting in. His stomach growls loudly, protesting it’s current situation, and Jaskier hurries to finish his shower and get dressed. He’s got a towel in hand, scrubbing at his hair when he pads out barefoot and spots the blonde currently tinkering with his tv remote. Her blue eyes are bright, friendly, and she motions to the spread of food currently piled on his coffee table.

“Got you coffee.”

“Thank Melitele.” He makes a beeline for it, not caring the way it burns his tongue as he gulps it down. That draws a laugh from his companion, and he throws himself onto the couch, settling his legs across her lap and tossing his towel onto the chair nearby. He’ll get it later. “You’re a godsend, you know that Priscilla?”

A small smile plays on the woman’s lips, colored by rouge lipstick, and she raises a brow. “I do, but it’s nice to hear. Did you not sleep at all last night, Jaskier?”

“Ah, I’m afraid my muse kept me up, as usual.” He grins at her, reaching out to snag a strawberry from her plate before bending to get at the french toast on the coffee table. It smells absolutely divine, and maybe some food will make him feel more like himself and less like a shell of someone else.

“You really need to learn how to prioritize sleep.” Priscilla says, shaking her head fondly and digging into her eggs. He hums, half paying attention to the news on the screen. It’s nothing new, stocks going up and down, the latest in sports, and something about him, actually. Talking about his newest single that’s put him up in the top ten- Her Sweet Kiss. Jaskier clicks away before they can play the music, drawing a laugh from Priscilla. “You know, you never told me where the song came from.”

“Didn’t I? A whirlwind affair in Europe, during my last tour. She was… incredible, shall I say? Truly someone never forgotten.” He’s bullshitting and Priscilla knows it. The song had come to him, as most do now, in his dreams. Ringing through his ears in a voice so close to his he can feel his throat burning when he wakes up. She doesn’t press though- she knows better than to push Jaskier too far. The glassy, far away look he got when thinking about whatever it was that inspired his songs was sad, old, and lingered on Jaskier’s face the rest of the day. Jaskier focuses on eating now, barely tasting bite after bite and only stopping when his stomach is full. Priscilla does much the same, but she chatters through the melancholy.

Jaskier stops himself on a random show, listening to Priscilla but staring at the screen. It’s something nonsense, talking about old instruments, but his hand stops mid bite, the french toast falling back onto his plate with a wet smack. He stares, wide eyed, at the wide, oval bowl of the instrument and the short, sturdy neck. The strings, there are more than a guitar but not nearly enough- no, his had more. Six pairs, one singular. His?

“-ier? Jaskier, what is it?”

“What is that?” His voice sounds strange, words twisted faintly by an accent he’s never had before, and he sets his plate down as Priscilla looks between him and the tv.

“An instrument? You put on the show.”

“But what kind?” At this Priscilla frowns. She doesn’t seem to know either, and she shrugs reluctantly.

“We could ask Essi, I’m sure she knows more. Why, do you recognize it?”

“No.” He says softly, switching the tv off. He ignores Priscilla’s worried look and goes instead to put on socks and shoes, grabbing his jacket and pulling it on. It’s big, engulfs his frame, but there’s something about it he couldn’t get out of his head when he’d seen it in a thrift shop off of 28th. It’s also entirely too hot outside to need it, but he feels naked without it, and the hood will give him a better chance at remaining hidden. Not that that happens much anymore. Priscilla has the food cleaned up when he steps out of his room, and she swings her keys around her finger, lingering near the door.

“Where are we going today, my famous friend?” Jaskier rolls his eyes, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Anywhere but here. I think I’ll go mad if I hide in bed anymore.”

“That’s the spirit! There’s this new music store on Madison we could check out, and then that little bistro for a late lunch-” Her words fade from his ears as they merge into the crowd outside of his apartment building. He slips on sunglasses, nondescript ones he’d gotten from a random gas station, and prays that today he looks like anyone else. With Priscilla at his side, arm looped through his, no one pays much attention to the couple wandering down the street, chattering away. Jaskier feels a rush of gratitude for his friend, for the unwavering presence she is in his life. He’s not sure how he would have managed his budding fame without her, or handled being recognized everywhere once his face and name and music became more common knowledge.

“You’re the one who wrote the songs.” A rough voice reminds him, teasing.

“Yes, well, I didn’t expect them to break into my HOUSE for an autograph!”

“Get better doors. And a guard.” He drowns in those eyes, an endless pool of gold, and he reaches up to brush a stray lock of hair away, a smile stretching his lips wide.

“Why would I need anyone other than you?”

Jaskier stumbles over a crack in the sidewalk, pitching forward, and it’s only Priscilla next to him that keeps him standing. He rights himself, cheeks pink, and laughs despite his heart pounding in his chest.

“Ah, rather clumsy today. I probably should have had more coffee.”

“Or more sleep.” She counters, Jaskier laughing again and nodding in agreement. More sleep is definitely what he needs. A nice, dreamless sleep. Maybe if he gets that, he’ll be able to function like a human being again, instead of walking through the world with half a mind stuck firmly in fiction. The music shop is a quaint, cute little building tucked in a strip of other quaint buildings, and Jaskier ducks into the dim light of the shop. There are rows and rows of cds, vinyls, movies and more, and his eyes track along them all, taking in the sights and colors. There are plenty of instruments on the wall, guitars, basses, a couple of keyboards and a few sets of bongos even. There seems to be little rhyme or reason besides the alphabetical arrangement of the displays, and Jaskier spends his time wandering while Priscilla goes straight for the vinyls.

He’s near the back of the shop, by the counter when he spots an instrument on display behind the glass display. The sight is enough to make him freeze, and he stares at the smooth wood, the graceful curve of the instrument, finding that his fingers have begun to twitch. This can’t be a coincidence.

“Do you play?” A voice breaks through to him, and he has to blink a few times before he can focus on the man standing before him. His dark hair curls rather attractively, falling around his face and framing rather striking hazel eyes. Jaskier’s countenance sours immediately, and he squints suspiciously. It takes the man a moment, but he grins wide when he recognizes Jaskier. “Dandelion! A pleasure to have you here.”

“Valdo. This is your shop?”

“It is indeed, opened it up after my last album.” He’s proud, almost annoyingly so, but Jaskier begrudgingly has to admit the shop is rather nice. His eyes wander back to the instrument behind Valdo, and Valdo raises his brows. “You never said if you played. Would you like to hold it?”

“You’d let me?”

“I’ve seen how you care for your guitar. I’d warn you it’s expensive, but I know you’re good for any damages.” Jaskier snorts as the other man goes to grab the instrument, and his fingers drum against his thighs. “Do you even know what this is?”

“Not a clue.” Jaskier’s hands are reaching for it as soon as Valdo holds it out, and he tucks the strap around his body. The neck settles into his hands, fingers resting on the strings, and a line of tension holding his body razor tight snaps.

“It’s a-” The soft sound of Jaskier plucking out a melody stops Valdo short, and Jaskier closes his eyes to ward off the dizziness.

A fire crackles merrily in front of him as he plays, tinkering away at a tune with his notebook close by. He isn’t sure about the harmony of the piece, the way the notes blend together. There’s something missing, and he can’t figure out what it is. He stops with a heavy sigh, scrubbing at his face and wracking his brain.

“You’re missing the lowest note in the harmony.”

“Pardon?” He looks up, sees the sensual curve of a small smirk on a very ruggedly handsome face, and those eyes, always those eyes staring back. The man comes over, reeking of pine and metal and home, and reaches to softly pluck at one of the strings. The note rings out and Jaskier latches on.

“Try.” The man whispers, and Jaskier does, drawing the note into his harmony and grinning at the fully bodied life it brings.

Jaskier’s head is spinning when he finally opens his eyes again, Valdo staring at him with unabashed surprise. Priscilla is at his side, hand on his elbow to hold him steady, and he glances down at the familiar way in which his hands hold the lute. Because that’s what it is- his favorite instrument, the thing that made him coin and granted him fame and found him a-

Jaskier’s heart cracks in his chest, and his breath punches out of him in one big whoosh. He lifts the lute over his head, pressing it back into Valdo’s hands before turning to bolt out the front door of the shop. He doesn’t know where he’s going, merely that he has to get away, to find somewhere safe. He feels a thousand eyes on him, whispers following his frantic fleeing, and he ducks into an alleyway, hiding behind a trash can and pressing his back to the brick wall. There’s a stitch in his side from his frantic running and his hands won’t stop shaking as he rakes his fingers through his hair. The song rings through him, as fresh as the day it was written, and the lyrics come to him unbidden.

He’s crazy. He’s well and truly crazy, because there’s no way what he’s seeing can be real, but it’s so vividly him, buried so deep in his heart that there’s no way it could be fake either. His breath comes from him faster and faster, and tears blur his vision as he folds his knees up to his chest and rocks. Priscilla finds him that way, huddled in a ball amongst the trash, sobbing and muttering to himself, and she uses the large hood of his jacket to hide his face as she gets him home. Jaskier has calmed enough to get himself up the stairs when they manage to stumble their way back, and his chest aches from the pounding of his heart.

The tremor in his hands hasn’t abated yet, but the mug that’s pressed into his hands doesn’t shake, so he just enjoys the warmth that it brings him. Priscilla seems at a loss for words, but Jaskier knows what she wants to ask. “Just say it, Pris.”

“What happened? You haven’t been yourself all morning- first with the tv, and then the lute in the shop? Jaskier, I’ve never seen you like this.”

“I have dreams.” He says, voice so soft it’s almost lost in the sound of his heartbeat. “And lately, I can’t tell what’s real and what’s not.”

Priscilla reaches out, touching his shoulder lightly, and her face is soft, sad. “They’re just dreams. What you do here, the music you make, that’s what’s real.”

Jaskier nods, but his heart is plummeting in his chest and he doesn’t know why. Priscilla’s words should be a comfort, someone rooted in his reality telling him that his dreams are just that- dreams. The result of an overactive imagination. That’s all they are, all they’ve ever been. Jaskier tries not to let the thought suck him down somewhere he doesn’t want to go, but it’s near impossible to fight the tide rising in him. “They’re just dreams.”

He takes a sip of his lukewarm drink to find that it’s tea- the stuff he usually drinks as a last resort before bed time. It’s never worked before, but Jaskier downs the rest of it and hopes that this time, it will. Priscilla waits until he’s finished to take the cup, and when she comes back she’s holding a very large, very lute shaped object in her hands. Jaskier frowns, confused, but takes it from her anyway, tracing fingers over the lacquered wood. It’s smooth and warm under his touch, and he finds himself picking at the strings just to hear the sound. “Valdo said that it was yours.”

“I didn’t pay him.”

“He knew you’d say that. He said, and I quote ‘I’ve only been holding it for him.’ Whatever that might mean.” Jaskier schools his features into careful indifference, trying not to let his discomfort show. What in the hell does he mean by that? He’s going to have to go back to the shop and talk to him to find out, but he’s not inclined to leave his apartment for the foreseeable future. Priscilla, sensing the mood has gone down, ruffles Jaskier’s hair and gives his shoulders a squeeze. “Take some time, Dandy, get some sleep, then come back.”

Jaskier makes a soft noise in his throat at the silly nickname, but it’s sweet and Jaskier has never told her to stop. He watches her duck out of the apartment with one last look his way, and once the door clicks shut, locking behind her, he grips the lute tighter. He hasn’t ever played formally- has never been trained, and while a guitar is similar, there’s more strings than ever and he expects to fumble.

He doesn’t.

His fingers know what to do even without his brain, and he hums along to the melody from before. Here, in the safety of his apartment, he plays and plays until the song is firmly committed to memory and he’s written down the lyrics to go along with it. A song about the monster of the wood, a cruel, hungry creature with the head of a deer, stalking him in the night.

“You need to listen to me-”

“I’m your barker, for better or worse. How can I bark if I never see anything?”

“You stay alive for a day longer.” His hands shake with anger, chest burning with it, and the man in front of him, golden eyes fierce and animal, glares back just as hotly. They’re nose to nose practically, and his head pounds in time with his heartbeat as his hands come up, shoving the man away and watching in shock as he goes.

“Go then. I’ll be here, tending your fire and watching your horse, as that is all I am good for.” He turns then, but a hand grabs at his arm, turning him around on his heel. He pulls against it, fights to be released, but Geralt’s hand bunches in his shirt above his heart and holds him. “Geralt-”

“For better or worse, Jaskier.” His eyes meet gold, molten and scalding, and he’s speechless at the sincere intensity in Geralt’s gaze. “I would rather it be better.”

“You don’t get to decide that-” Geralt cuts him off with a kiss, lips hard against his own. It’s awkward, a bit painful, but Jaskier tilts his head, pulls back a bit and Geralt responds in kind. He kisses, Jaskier decides, like a man who has been kissed not nearly enough, and he commits himself to fixing that immediately. Geralt’s grip loosens in Jaskier’s shirt, but Jaskier’s hand comes up to bury in snow white locks, keeping him close as his heart rockets into his throat.

The strings of the lute dig painfully into his fingers when he comes to, and he shakes himself, releasing his tight hold and groaning when blood rushes back into the pads of his fingers. He tucks the lute back away in its case, not wanting to look at the flowers painted onto the wood along its wide belly. He tells himself not to touch the lute, to leave it alone so that all this will go away, but the longer he sits on his couch, leg bouncing and tv on some awful movie the more his fingers itch to play.

Instead, he forces himself to get up, to pull out his vacuum and mop and cleaning supplies. He spends the afternoon scrubbing down every inch of the apartment, puts away his laundry, and even tidies up his desk, which is a rather artful disarray of papers. Some, like Priscilla, call it a mess, but Jaskier knows where each piece of paper goes, and he prefers it stays that way. Cleaning can only distract him for so long, and once the smell of lemon cleaner becomes too much he caves, grabbing the lute and ducking out onto his balcony.

The sun is beginning to descend on the city, and he allows it to warm his bones and loosen his muscles as he plays. Each song that comes from him is new and old and entirely his, each rich, resounding note a piece of him. The instrument is no more a stranger to him than his guitar, or his flute, or any of the other instruments he’s picked up and enjoyed along the way. Its weight, the feeling of the double strings pressing under his fingers is home to him, and he plays long after the sun is set. There’s a reckoning, a righteousness within this instrument that calls to the deepest parts of Jaskier’s soul, and he finds himself crying with no real reason as to why.

He cries silently, holding the lute close to him and staring out over the city. Cars rush past his building, far below, and somewhere nearby a dog barks. But it’s all background noise- it’s nothing compared to the harsh intake of his breath or the way that it shudders out of him. When he can’t stand it anymore he retreats back inside, leaving his lute on his dresser before stripping down and crawling into bed. There, buried under blankets and utterly, terribly alone, Jaskier closes his eyes and dreams.

“You’re alive.” A low, rough voice breathes behind him. He turns, but he already knows what will be waiting for him, and he can feel his face lighting up in a grin.

“Geralt! Of course I’m alive, how could the world bear to part with me just yet?” His heart jackrabbits in his chest at the sight of the man before him, clad as always, in dark armor and a stormy, conflicted expression. Well, the expression is new. The armor, not so much. He finds himself smiling for no real reason as to why, but Geralt’s face is open and honest and terrified, and he can’t keep from reaching out to gently touch his cheek.

“There were rumors- about a bard, having been murdered by a beast.”

“As if I could be harmed by a beast with you protecting me.”

“But I wasn’t.” Jaskier takes a step forward, cupping his witcher’s cheek and smiling when Geralt leans into the touch.

The dream dissolves as Jaskier shifts, drifting between consciousness and unconsciousness. The latter wins out, and his body drifts away while his mind slips again.

Blue eyes stare at him through the mirror. It isn’t a great mirror, small and cracked and woven with imperfections, but he won’t need it for long. He only needs to make sure his hair is presentable, his golden doublet unmarred by any stains, and that his smile, when shown just so, is as charming and delightful as always.

“You’re fussing.” Geralt says, and Jaskier knows, his heart knows that voice and the hand that slides over his hip better than anything. He finds himself leaning back against a strong chest, laughing and tipping his head back.

“Some of us care for our appearance before a performance.” An amused hum, and then lips on his neck, gentle and sweet, kissing a trail up toward Jaskier’s waiting lips. He sinks into the kiss, turning as Geralt’s arms come up and around him, careful not to crease Jaskier’s clothes.

“How long will you be gone?”

“Most of the night. You’re free to come, love. I’m sure they’d love to pester the White Wolf himself.”

“Mmm, pester is right.” The warmth in his chest is softer now, with no edges of anger, and he knows what this is. It’s love. Pure and unfettered by doubt.

That same warmth burns in his chest when he jerks up in bed, leaping from under the covers to run into his bathroom. The mirror he has now is perfect- gleaming with the fresh cleaning he’d done just today and showing his reflection without any defects. The same blue eyes stare back, sweeping over the same lips, the same cheekbones and nicely shaped jawbone. The same messy, tousled brown hair as the bard in the dream. As him . Whoever he was- is- is long gone- left behind in another life completely. That isn’t him anymore, it can’t be, but when he thinks, and thinks hard, they’re there. All the memories, the times in between his dreams. The first time he’d seen Geralt, sitting in the back of a tavern refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, to draw any unwanted attention to him. The feeling of his hair, so devoid of color, twisting around his fingers as he washed blood and viscera from them. His friends- Priscilla, in her blue and red ensemble with the poofy shorts, Essi, a near twin to Priscilla, only shorter and plumper. Valdo, his rival, the troubadour who writes songs without any meaning but somehow comes out on top.

Valdo.

Jaskier scrambles for his phone, dropping it twice before finally swiping open the screen. He has his number, more to make sure he never answers than anything, but now, now he needs it more than anything else. He hits dial without letting himself think, holding his phone to his ear and shifting nervously from foot to foot. The line rings and rings, and just as he thinks it'll go to voicemail he hears a soft click.

"Dandelion? It's nearly three in the morning, what could you-"

"I'm not crazy."

"Debatable." Valdo's voice is amused, but when Jaskier doesn't respond he quickly grows serious.

"You said you were keeping the lute for me." His words are rolling in his mouth, voice mangled by an accent that he can't seem to keep away or bring back. He hears a sharp intake of breath, and then a long, shuddering sigh.

"I was, Julian. For far, far too long. Meet me at the diner on Broadmoor." The line goes dead and Jaskier is left to get ready, a long, long dead name ringing in his ears.

                                                             -*-

There are three diners on Broadmoor. Jaskier curses his luck, but only one seems to have the lights on and so Jaskier heads that way first. He pulls on the door and is hit in the face by the smell of stale coffee and hash browns. He glances around, searching, and spots Valdo in a booth back in the corner. His face is drawn, hair a mess, but he has a cup of coffee waiting For Jaskier when he slides into the cheap plastic booth. Valdo slides the mug toward him and he clasps it in his hands, sniffing lightly. He debates putting sugar or cream in it, but he needs the caffeine too badly right now to care much about the bitter taste. Valdo watches his internal debate with a raised brow, leaning back in the booth and sighing.

“You remember.” Jaskier accuses, wincing at the way his tone sounds. Valdo takes it in stride, tilting his head in a small nod and sipping at his coffee.

“I always have. I didn’t know if you would this time around.”

“This time?” Valdo nods again, and Jaskier is quickly becoming frustrated by the non answers. “Valdo, what the fuck is going on?”

“Reincarnation. You’ve heard of it before, yes?” Jaskier nods, and Valdo continues on. “There are some of us who keep coming back. Not always with memories, not always whole. I seem to have no problem keeping them, but others like Priscilla, or Essi, or-”

“Are they really reincarnations?” Jaskier frowns- how much is it reincarnation if you’re just the same body without knowing if your consciousness is the same?

“I said that, didn’t I?” His glare is enough to set a house on fire, but Valdo doesn’t fold under the pressure, instead waving for menus to be brought over. “For decades I was unsure why. Why us? Nothing seemed to connect us together, just random strangers being brought through life. Until I found out you came along as well.”

“You’re saying that I’m the link?”

“You know us all, have some kind of connection. You are the one constant in each of our lives.”

“But the others, they don’t remember?”

“They never have.” Valdo orders something for the two of them, waving away Jaskier’s protest, and plows forward in his conversation. “You don’t always either. I’ve held that lute for the past two reincarnations, neither of which you retained memories for. But you remember now, or are beginning to.”

“Yes.” Jaskier’s voice is a whisper, and admitting it, saying that it’s real takes a weight off his shoulders he didn’t know he was carrying.

“Tell me how?” It’s phrased as a request, and Jaskier nods, staring at his coffee to try and ward off his tears.

“I was seventeen when my dreams started feeling real- performances or days on the road, nights spent stitching wounds or bandaging cuts. Lately they’ve-”

“Been bleeding into your waking hours. Like when you played in the shop.” Valdo’s interrupting makes irritation flare in the back of his mind, but he tamps it down. He’s only trying to help, and is filling in more details than Jaskier would have gotten on his own. Their food comes then, and Jaskier watches as some kind of breakfast scramble is placed in front of him. It’s heavy with hashbrowns, eggs, bacon and cheese. It looks awful. Jaskier digs in hungrily, groaning at the heavenly taste- shitty overnight diners always have the best food. They eat their food in relative silence, too hungry and tired to care much to continue with something else in front of them.

This all seems fake, too good to be real. Valdo’s instant reassurance of what he’s feeling, what he’s dreaming, it has to be some kind of con, some way to get dirt on him. He expects the other man to laugh any minute, to call him crazy and tell him he needs serious help. He’s waiting for a punchline that isn’t coming, and it makes him anstier and anstier by the second. It explains so much- the old, old memories he has of a time before electricity, or running water, of nobles and peasants and monsters. Of witchers and sorceresses and bards. There are newer memories too- of him in a diner much like this, sitting across from a man with white hair and shining golden eyes. Of dancing in a club to his own music, standing alongside all the others in a rally, holding a sign protesting the inequality that ruins his life while cameras show his face. Through it all, his companion is there- a silent, steady presence.

“There’s- a man. Who I am desperately in love with, no matter who I am.”

“Your witcher. White hair, cat eyes?” He doesn’t need to nod for Valdo to know the answer, and he grins. “His name is Geralt of Rivia, though Rivia is long gone now.”

“Is he…”

“Alive? Of course. They, unlike us, do not die.”

“They?” He doesn’t even get a chance to let Valdo talk, his vision going blurry and ears ringing.

“C’mere asshole!” Jaskier laughs, darting away from the witcher intent on catching him. It isn’t Geralt- his hair is dark and cropped short, voice smoother, less gravelly. He’s also much, much more expressive.

“Catch me if you can!” His lungs hurt from running and laughing so much, and he squeaks as hands grab the back of his doublet and yank him to a stop. Jaskier squirms as arms wrap around him, and he pouts, letting himself go deadweight. “You aren’t supposed to use your witchery powers, you know.”

“Oops.” He’s let go then, and Jaskier shoves the other man lightly, grinning.

“Ass. Maybe I’ll go find Eskel, at least he follows the rules of the game.”

“Rules are for peasants.”

“Then you should fit right in, Lambert.” He dodges a swat to the back of the head, laughing and disappearing further into the keep.

Valdo is staring at him expectantly when he blinks, the stone walls and cold breeze fading away from his mind. His food is lukewarm in front of him, and he takes a big bite just to avoid having to say anything yet. Valdo is too smug for his own good though, and he sits forward, grinning.

“Jogged your memory, eh?”

“Shut up.” His insufferable grin only grows bigger, and Jaskier wants to smack it off his face or strangle him. Either would work, honestly. “Is there some way to contact him, or any of them?”

“Not unless you’re a government official, or happen to know someone who had a pest problem. But, there is something that might work.”

“What?”

“Your songs. I'm sure you've already written new ones with the lute- release them in an album. If they’re listening, which is near impossible not to with your reputation, they’ll find you .”

“What if they don’t?”

“Then I suppose you’ll have to bed a government agent.” Jaskier scoffs, wrinkling his nose, but Valdo wags his eyebrows and he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest. He falls into silence then, staring down at the rest of his food, and his voice is soft when he finally finds the courage to speak.

“Thank you. For keeping it safe.” When he glances up, Valdo’s eyes are bright, shining with relief.

                                                             -*-

Jaskier does what he does best- he writes a few songs, then writes a few more, until he’s bursting with music and lyrics and ideas. He gets himself into his studio and doesn’t leave until he’s recorded an entire album, with his lute being the main focus. It brings with it a new, exciting kind of charm that his producers eat right up, a kind of mystical energy that isn’t present in any of Jaskier’s other songs.

It’s also a release- he lets go of the monsters that haunted him, bringing them roaring into his music instead and letting them run wild. His dreams are still plagued by memories, but the more he plays, the more he tries to remember, the easier it gets. Turns out when you stop fighting against a piece of yourself, letting it in is much, much easier. The music videos are his favorite part of the whole process- he crafts one specific to each song, embedding as much of a message as he can in the hopes that one of the witcher’s will see. Will see him and know him, and extend a hand.

He tries to look up the witchers, to see if there’s any kind of way to find them online, but Lambert is too common a name and he has no clue what last name he would use, if any. Eskel’s name yields less results, but still too many for him to narrow down, and he’s left back at square one for them. Geralt’s name? Now that pulls up results.

‘ The witcher, most formally known as Geralt of Rivia, is one of the world’s only practicing monster slayers, and a bit of a recluse. He was last spotted hunting some kind of sea serpent along the mediterranean, and then boarded a plane bound for America.’

‘Geralt of Rivia, White Wolf, was allegedly seen decapitating a local woman at a train station in France. When questioned by police, they were informed that the woman was a bruxa who had been preying on locals. Mr. Rivia was released without further incident.’

That article makes Jaskier laugh, and he prints it out to tack above his desk on his cork board. Leave it to Geralt to scare everyone around him while doing his job. Any article related to Geralt gets its spot on the board, actually and he’s fairly certain he looks like a stalker, but they’re his only glimpse into what Geralt has been up to. It makes the pain easier to handle, knowing he’s just been too busy to seek Jaskier out, and certainly not ignoring the neon signs that are his music. Half of them are Geralt’s exploits, after all, and if he doesn’t recognize them then Jaskier has failed to faithfully recreate them.

But the songs work- somewhat. In a small town somewhere in the midwest, a witcher hears Jaskier’s music, and begins to hunt for his white haired brother.

Jaskier, in the meantime goes about his life, bouncing from interview to interview, one of which he’s in now. The chair is somewhat uncomfortable and the lights are a little too bright, but the woman interviewing him is new, nervous, and he does his best to put her at ease.

“You’re doing great, love. What were you saying?”

The woman blushes, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear before asking again. “Your newest album, it pulls away from the bouncier, lighter tone of your second album. Why?”

“Good question. Writing fun music is wonderful, lovely, but I, and I’m sure you’ll be surprised, have my own fears. Monsters that haunt my dreams, who begged to be put into song.”

“So the songs are based on dreams?”

“Now you’re catching on.” Jaskier winks, drawing another giggle from her, and he leans back in his chair, tilting his head. “No one can tell me they don’t dream of dark and twisted things sometimes. Of wanting a knight in shining armor to come save them.”

“That’s an incredible way to put it. Are any of the monsters in your songs real?”

“Oh yes. The leshy, or leshen is a forest spirit that is said to roam the deepest parts of a forest. There are also ghouls, terrible hunchback creatures who stalk battlefields, and basilisks, large winged creatures with iridescent scales and scalding breath.”

He sees his interviewer shudder, and his gaze goes soft, a wistful smile tugging at his lips. “Where did you hear about these monsters?”

“From a friend, years ago.”

"Do you still talk to them?"

Jaskier's eyes find the camera, and it's a terrible cliche to spike the lens, but he does it anyway. "We lost contact a while back. I'm hoping that… through my music, I can find him again."

"Well, I'm sure your fanbase can help!"

"That they can." Jaskier grins, glancing back at the interviewer, and he hears someone yell cut behind them. He stands, shaking her hand and giving her a quick hug. He murmurs a few words of encouragement, and when he ducks into the room they've designated for him he tells his producer to send her something. Flowers or a gift or anything. She handled him like a champ. It's thankfully his last interview of the day, and he grabs his lute, which he brought just in case before ducking out the door. He makes his escape from the building out onto the street with relative ease, slinging his lute across his back to navigate the crowds easier. The amount of times he’s had to refuse security before they learned was more than he could count. He's stopped a few times by fans, asking to take pictures, and he glances at them on his phone once his Twitter dings.

@dandelion stopped and took a picture! Best day ever!

The rest of the post is filled with heart eye emojis and hashtags, but Jaskier stares at the photo. The awful stripes and swirls on his button up are reminiscent of a bowling alley floor, but his jeans are cute and his boots top the whole outfit off. He thought it'd looked cute when he put it on, and is pleased to see that others agree. He looks better in general- the bags under his eyes are all but gone and there's a confidence in the set of his shoulders he hadn't noticed before. Like knowing who he is has completed a puzzle he didn't know he'd lost a piece to.

He tucks his phone back into his pocket as he skips down the steps to the subway, whistling merrily the whole time. The public transportation in the city had to be his favorite thing in the world, aside from jelly donuts and Geralt's eyes. It makes going from place to place a snap, and he doesn't have to constantly tell people he can't drive when they ask where his car is. The train is running a minute behind, as usual, but Jaskier books it down the rest of the stairs and through the turnstile, jogging up just as the doors slide open. People file on quickly, taking their seats, and Jaskier moves to step on when he spots snow white hair.

That in itself isn't unusual- plenty of old people ride the subway, but it's a man who looks no older than his mid thirties. He's dressed in all black, jeans and a heavy sweater, and strapped to his back are twin swords, their pommels shining dully in the fluorescent lights of the train. A duffle bag hangs from one shoulder, nondescript, but a pale, scarred hand hovers over it protectively. Jaskier is aware he's staring, holding up the train, but his feet are rooted firmly in place as his head begins to pound. The man- Geralt- irritated by the lack of movement turns to see what's going on, golden cat eyes cold and hard. The sight sends vertigo crashing through Jaskier so wildly that he feels his knees give out, and his vision blurs as he collapses onto the ground.

                                                      -*-

"No, no. He's fine. Don't hold the train for us." A voice, rough and low and heavenly drifts through his consciousness and he groans, burying his face in a warm, nicely toned chest. Strong arms wrap around him, holding him, and he sinks into the embrace without really thinking. When he moves the arms tighten around him, holding him closer, and he finally rouses.

He cracks an eye open to see an officer in front of them, debating with Geralt about getting him medical care, and he groans, sitting up and plastering his best smile on his face.

"Sorry love, my sugar dropped again. Was I out long?" The officer stops when he speaks, and Jaskier tilts his head curiously. "Tell me you didn't call them, you know I don't want the attention."

He looks up at Geralt, false frown on his face, and Geralt shakes his head. "Another passenger. I told them you were fine."

"That I am! I'm very sorry for the confusion, I just got off of a rather long interview and was a bit hungrier than I expected." The officer looks between them, brows furrowed, but tucks his notepad away and nods reluctantly.

"If you're sure you'll be alright."

"Feeling loads better already! Sorry again Officer!" Jaskier watches until the officer leaves the platform, and then shoves his way out of Geralt's arms. Geralt lets him go without a fight, sitting on the bench and watching as Jaskier paces the length of the platform, ranting. He's speaking in a language he knows but doesn't know, but it's better than letting everyone else hear him.

" I dreamt about you for years! Years, and the first thing I do is pass out when I see your goddamn face. Son of a bitch." Jaskier glares accusingly at him, but the corners of Geralt's mouth tug up in a smirk and Jaskier can feel his heart going a mile a minute. " I could have broken my lute, or-or been cut in half by the doors all because you were on the subway you big old insufferable-"

" You dreamt about me." Geralt's voice is soft, fond, and Jaskier loves and hates the way his voice curls around elder speech. " Jask, I didn't know you'd come back."

" Didn't- didn't KNOW? I am, and I am going to brag here, insanely famous, Geralt. Like on the news famous. How in the WORLD did you not know?"

" I don't watch the news."

"Of course you don't- of course I would get the one witcher in the whole wide world who doesn't watch the news ." He's cut back into English at some point, and he stops, fists clenched as Geralt stands up with his palms out. It's something he's seen Geralt do with Roach a thousand times when she's being antsy, and it drives him up the wall. "I am not a horse , Geralt, I am your fucking barker."

"You're acting more like my horse right now." Geralt is close enough now Jaskier can smell the soft cologne he's wearing, and his knees go weak again with the fact that he's actually here.

"You jackass -" Jaskier launches forward, throwing his arms around Geralt's neck and pulling him down to kiss him senseless. Geralt takes it in stride, scooping Jaskier off his feet and spinning with the momentum. He's careful of Jaskier's lute, but his hands are strong and firm as Jaskier is thoroughly crushed to his chest, held so tight that neither of them seem to be breathing. Jaskier doesn't care- his feet are off the ground completely, a fistful of white hair in his hands again and Geralt's lips on his. He has a beard, neat and taken care of, and Jaskier's other hand slips down to cup the side of Geralt's neck, thumb brushing through the coarse fibers.

Geralt is the first to pull away, Jaskier tipping forward blindly to kiss him again, huffing when Geralt smiles and bumps their noses together.

"Train is coming. As much as I've missed this, I'd rather not miss the next one."

"Tell me you aren't leaving me." Jaskier presses their foreheads together, eyes closed to keep any potential tears at bay. “Please.”

“I have to check into my hotel.”

“Geralt of Rivia, if you think for one minute you aren’t coming home to sleep in my bed you’re a fool. Fuck your hotel room.”

“It has a jacuzzi.” Geralt laughs when Jaskier pulls back to glare, and Geralt holds onto Jaskier’s  hand, guiding them through the throng of people and onto the train. Geralt motions towards a seat, but Jaskier stays plastered resolutely to his side and just rests his head against Geralt's shoulder. He sways with the movement of the train, but Geralt’s arm is around his hip, holding him steady as the train goes around a curve and slows a bit. He feels more at peace with Geralt next to him than he has in years, and he’s drifted off to sleep when Geralt moves just a bit, dipping down to whisper in his ear. Elder speech brushes against him, trailing down his spine, and his eyelids flutter as he leans in to hear him better.

“What stop do we get off at, Jaskier?”

And oh, if hearing his name from Geralt’s lips isn’t sublime. “Two more.”

“ You were asleep.” Jaskier chuckles softly, turning his head and kissing him lightly.

“ I’ve lived here for years. I know how long I have.”   His elder isn’t nearly as pretty or fluid as Geralt’s but he seems to enjoy it all the same, pupils widening at the sound, the sight of Jaskier’s lips moving. He feels like prey being hunted and he loves it. True to his words, two stops later Jaskier is the one to lead them off the train and up the many, many stairs to the street above. His hand never leaves Geralt’s, afraid that if he lets go the man will disappear into the crowd and leave him alone again. His apartment building isn’t far from the station, and he has to pass through three different checkpoints before he’s even flagged into the building. All of the security guards eye Geralt with barely hidden suspicion, but Jaskier is either oblivious or doesn’t care. The hot, possessive kiss that Jaskier pulls Geralt into while waiting for the elevator is answer enough.

Jaskier’s head is spinning again by the time they make it to his door, and he sags against it, panting lightly and trying to get his key in the lock. Geralt’s hand comes up, guiding the key in as he stands just close enough for Jaskier to be intimately aware of every inch of him. Jaskier gasps, shakes against the door and finally manages to shove it open. He hurries into the room, past the kitchen and into the living room. His lute is slung onto the cushions gently just as his knees give out again, and he catches himself on the arm of the couch, Geralt at his side a moment later.

He can’t feel his legs- he really, really can’t feel his legs, and he isn’t sure that it should seem like such a good thing. Geralt is a hard, hot presence between his thighs, and he arches up into Geralt’s touch, whimpering his name. He wants, he wants so desperately and he feels like he could fall apart at any moment, his breaths coming faster and faster as Geralt grins down, at him teeth sharp and glistening and begging to be buried in flesh. He reaches up, brings him down and kisses him, lapping into his mouth just to taste and let a fang scrape against his tongue.

His chest is heaving when he blinks from his memory, and oh, oh he’s embarrassingly, frustratingly hard. How in the hell does he explain something like this? His knees smart from where they’ve hit the floor and he pitches himself forward, out of Geralt’s surprised hands, his palms slapping against the wood of his floor as he pants. It’s better than letting Geralt see him, worked up over nothing. But he doesn’t get the chance to even think of a lie- he hears Geralt’s sharp intake of breath, the soft huff of a stunned laugh. Geralt is on his knees next to him before he can move, lips on his neck and teeth digging just so into the pale, unmarked flesh. Jaskier keens without meaning to, the noise spilling from his lips, and his cheeks flush when Geralt makes a triumphant noise, pulling back and using a hand on the small of Jaskier’s back make him sit back.

“If you say anything smart, Geralt, I will throw you off my balcony.”

“You don’t have to hide from me.” Is all he says instead, and he takes Jaskier’s hands, guiding him to sit on the couch while he takes care of Jaskier’s lute. Jaskier watches, knees pressed to his chest to hide his slowly dwindling erection as Geralt hunts around his apartment, breathing deep and seeming pleased at what he finds. He lingers briefly by the bedroom door, but seems to think better about exploring there just yet. Instead he reaches up, undoing the clasp across his chest and letting his swords slide from his back. He places them on the coffee table and pulls his sweater up and over his head. Jaskier watches it all, eyes wide, and he jumps as the sweater is tossed at him. He catches it with only a minor fumble, pressing it to his face and breathing deep.

He can almost feel the growl that rumbles through Geralt at the sight, and he grins, toothy and bright, sniffing again. It’s easy to lose his train of thought at the sight of Geralt- Modern clothes suit him well, from the cut of his jeans to the way his t-shirt shows off the rather lovely shoulder to hip ratio he has. Practically perfect. What really arouses him, and this shouldn’t ever be admitted out loud, is the amount of weapons Geralt has on him. There are two pistols tucked into sheathes under his arms against his sides, at least two knives tucked into each boot, not to mention the swords he’s already discarded.

“How do you draw the pistols with your sweater on?”

“I don’t.” Geralt’s voice is amused, and he reaches to unbuckle the leather harness, silver rings glittering along his fingers. There are no fingers that are bare of rings, whether they’re smooth, simple bands or ones studded in small spikes. It’s… ridiculously attractive and Jaskier fears for his heart at this rate. The holsters slip off of his shoulders and they too are left on the table with his swords, though he doesn’t go for the daggers in his boots at all. “You’re staring.”

“I’m allowed to.” He breathes out, reaching a hand out as Geralt pads over. His fingers splay against Geralt’s chest as the older man leans down, kissing him slowly, the warm metal of his rings sliding across Jaskier's cheek. Jaskier shivers at the sensation, making a soft noise as he stretches up further to try and get closer. Geralt pulls back too soon, always too soon, and Jaskier groans with disappointment.

“Tell me what happened when we came in.”

“Do we really have to talk about that now?” Geralt leans back, eyes searching his face, and Jaskier sighs dramatically, tugging Geralt to sit next to him on the couch so he can lean against his chest. "I wasn't born with my memories. I had- it feels stupid to repeat this all- I had night terrors as a child."

"Of monsters." Jaskier nods, pressing Geralt's sweater to his face and speaking through the fabric.

"Particularly of me being eaten by them. When I got older, graduated high school, they shifted focus. They showed me, or the bard I thought was haunting my dreams, following you, performing at a banquet, being chased by a farmer's husband. Within the past few months they got worse. They slipped into my daydreams, took them over, until I could hardly go outside without seeing something that would set them off."

"Is that what happened on the platform?" Jaskier shakes his head, sighing.

"I don't know what that was- a reaction to seeing you again, after only seeing you in dreams maybe? All I remember is getting hit by the worst vertigo I've ever felt, and then I was waking up in your arms. This last time- I'm not sure. I really don't want to keep collapsing though, my knees won't be able to take it."

His joke is weak but Geralt chuckles anyway, pressing his nose into Jaskier's hair. "I'll get you kneepads."

"My hero." He feels a rumble go through Geralt's chest and that brings a smile to his face. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Tell me about you, what you've been doing. I, for one, have been struggling with my memories and made it as a musician. But you, last of the witchers, are impossible to find info on."

"How do you know I'm the last?"

"Internet speculation. Don't worm your way out of this." Geralt sighs heavily, shaking his head and muttering to himself before Jaskier turns and plops himself into Geralt's lap so Geralt has to look at him.

"Eskel and Lambert retired a few years ago. Contracts are few and far between."

"What do you do then when you aren't fighting monsters?"

"I… Translate." Jaskier doesn't think he's heard right, and he tilts his head.

"Pardon? Was my very sexy boyfriend about to tell me something even sexier?" Geralt raises a brow at the word boyfriend, but Jaskier can see that he's pleased by the automatic assumption that they're together. Like they were never apart at all.

"I interpret. Mostly for doctors offices or business meetings. I'm occasionally called to the field when researchers need help."

"What languages?" Geralt doesn't say anything, cheeks flushing a faint pink instead. Jaskier grins then, pleased as all get out, and he leans forward, bumping their noses together and watching the way Geralt's pupils open wider at the contact. "What languages, Geralt?"

"There- aren't many I don't know."

"Someone's been busy."

"I had time. And language barriers make hunting harder." Jaskier laughs at the defensive tone to Geralt's voice, leaning their foreheads together and laughing until Geralt kisses him to shut him up. And even then he giggles against Geralt's lips, wiggling when Geralt tickles at his ribs.

"No wonder your elder is good." Geralt huffs out a laugh, shaking his head and leaning back so he can look at Jaskier, gaze sweeping over Jaskier's face slowly.

"My brothers and I are the only ones fluent."

"In the world?"

"There are small elven communities hidden around, but other than that, yes."

"Where are your brothers?"

"Somewhere in the midwest." Geralt says it with a shrug, as if it isn't a big deal. "They move frequently."

"Too used to being on the Path." Jaskier muses, though it's truer than he might realize. “What about you, where do you settle?”

“I don’t.” Jaskier tilts his head, thinking about that. He isn’t sure why Geralt would ever settle down, since he’s the last witcher active apparently. It would make sense for him not to have any place to call home, but the thought bothers him. A lot more than it should.

“You have a home here, if you want it.” He whispers, heart in his throat, and Geralt’s whole demeanor softens. His eyes look more amber in the setting sun coming through his balcony, and Jaskier leans forward, lips brushing Geralt’s at the same time his phone rings. He groans, intent to ignore it, but Geralt’s fingers dip into Jaskier’s back pocket to pull it out. He hits answer, holding the phone up to Jaskier’s ear as he glares.

“Jaskier, who the fuck are you kissing?”

“Hello Priscilla, nice to see you again, I’ve been just dandy since we last saw each other.” Jaskier takes the phone from Geralt, pressing it to his ear on his own.

“Jaskier, Twitter is in an uproar, there are pictures everywhere.”

“Naughty pictures?” Jaskier puts the phone on speaker while he moves over to Twitter, scrolling through the thousands of tags he’s gotten in the past two hours alone. They’re all the same picture, which Jaskier saves immediately, some better quality than others. There’s him in his bowling alley button up, held aloft in Geralt’s arms, kissing him senseless. It’s a rather artistic photo, the contrast between his bright colors and lute and Geralt’s stiff black clothing and threatening swords. “Ah.”

“That’s all you have to say? You haven’t seriously dated anyone since high school and that's what you say?” Priscilla is pissed, rightfully so, and Jaskier winces.

“Look it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, I just-”

“I asked him not to.” Jaskier can hear the sharp intake of breath over the phone from Priscilla when Geralt talks, and she’s much more pleasant this time when she speaks. Traitor.

“Oh. And you are?”

“Geralt.”

“And where are you from, Geralt? How long have you been dating my best friend?” He sees Geralt’s lips quirk in a smile, and he rolls his eyes, letting Geralt do the talking. At least that way he isn’t getting yelled at.

“Rivia. We’ve been seeing each other for a few years now, I would say.” Jaskier snorts at the lie, except well- it isn’t really a lie. They’ve been together for years and years over entire lifetimes.

“Rivia?” A distant quality overtakes her voice, and Jaskier winces, clapping a hand over his ear as Priscilla squeals. “Jaskier, please tell me you aren’t dating Geralt of Rivia.”

“Uh.” Geralt’s lips twitch upward as he raises a brow at Jaskier’s hesitation, but Priscilla is laughing, wheezing out little breaths, and Jaskier waits for her to calm down before he answers. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, no it’s just unbelievable.”

“Hey!” There’s offense in Jaskier’s tone, and Geralt’s hand rests on his hip, squeezing lightly. Jaskier shudders at the touch, scowling, but his witcher is the picture of innocence. “I guess the cats out of the bag, eh love?”

“Mhm.” Gods Jaskier has missed those little sounds, the answers but not answers.

“You have to say something on Twitter before your fans break the site. And introduce us properly.”  

“Right, right. Dinner okay?”

“Only if I get to pick the place.”

“Deal. I’ll call you later, okay?” Priscilla gives an affirmative and hangs up, Jaskier tilting his head at Geralt with his brows raised. “So, Geralt of Rivia, ready to be official with a popstar?”

“Not really. But with you? I’ll manage.” Jaskier rolls his eyes, moving to tuck himself against Geralt’s side. Geralt’s arm snakes around him, hugging him a bit closer as Jaskier raises his phone.

“Say cheese!” He grins wide, waiting until Geralt isn’t glaring to snap the photo. It’s a good one, Geralt’s eyes liquid and warm, the corners of his mouth tilted up in the smallest of smiles. It’s definitely going to be his wallpaper. Jaskier posts it onto Twitter with a simple caption.

My knight in shining armor.

[paradox-psyc-hoe-sis]

Your Energy

Klaus hargreeves x reader, Diego hargreeves x reader (platonic)

Description: You and diego have been friends for a while now, and he finally agrees to you meeting his family. Klaus, in particular, takes a liking to you - but how will they react when they find out you have powers?

Word count: 1.9k

(There's no warnings other than swearing and this tiny tiny tiny moment in the second part that is NOTHING like smut, but I guess it could be implied? Idk, you'll know what I'm on about when you read it)

• Okay.

• You are one of the 43, but Reginald couldn't get you.

• Your power was being able control energy, and that included spiritual energy.

• This meant that you could see people's souls and auras, dead or alive.

• You and Klaus met quite strangely, to say the least. You were one of Diego's close friends, and after years of knowing each other, he finally let you meet his family.

• It was a warm summer's afternoon when you and Diego arrived at the Umbrella Academy. Just as Diego was about to open the main doors, you both heard bellowing screams coming from inside.

• Silently, you both shared a confused glance before proceeding to walk through the doors.

• Standing before you in the main hall was a very large man, who seemed to have somebody on his shoulders. They were seemingly fighting, the larger of the men trying to get the other off his shoulders.

• "Uhh, Diego, does this happen all the time?"

• Before he could answer, the broad shouldered man threw his opponent from his shoulders and directly into you, sending you flying backwards.

• In this case, you'd be able to stop yourself from falling and float in mid air, controlling your gravitational energy. However, this came as such a surprise that you didn't have time to save yourself.

• You were sent back through the open doors, and onto the empty street. The person who had been launched into you laid half on top of you, half next to you.

• Not a second went by before you used your powers to lift the man up in the air. Getting up from the cold pavement, you dusted yourself off.

• "What the fuck is going on?" He asked, in quite a calm tone.

• Diego jogged through the doors, running over to you.

• "I could ask you the same thing." He scolded, standing in front of you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, he asked if you were okay.

• "I'm fine," you responded, "just hurt my back a bit." You looked up at him with a small smile. Carefully, you lowered Diego's brother down until he was back on his two feet.

• You only just realised that your summer dress had ridden up slightly, and you blushed as both Diego and his brother watched you pull it down.

• "Y/n, this is Klaus." Diego muttered under his breath. Smiling, you turned to him and stuck out your hand.

• "It's wonderful to meet you, Klaus. My name's y/n, but you can just call me y/n/n!"

• Instead of shaking your hand, he bent down slightly and placed a chaste kiss on one of your knuckles.

• "It's my pleasure." He replied, a small smirk on his face. Only then did you notice somebody standing behind Klaus; he wore a black hoodie and had his arms crossed, yet wore a bemused expression.

• Instead of introducing yourself to him, you shot a small smile his way. You wanted to wait until you got into the mansion to properly get to know everyone.

• When he saw you smiled at him, he seemed confused, and looked behind him as if to see if anyone else was stood near him. Contently, you turned back to Diego.

• "Can we go inside?" You politely asked, and Diego stuck out his arm for you to hold. "Be my guest."

• Once you, Diego, Klaus and the mysterious man got back into the house, Diego called for everyone to come to the living room.

• Slowly, everyone trickled into the common area, the last being a 13 year old boy. Once Diego noticed the last of his siblings enter the room, he closed the door behind him.

• "Everyone, this is y/n." You smiled, looking at everyone in the room, hearing them all say hello. One by one, they all went around and introduced themselves, until you got back to Klaus.

• "Y/n/n and I have already met." Klaus proudly admitted to group. Next to him, the man wearing the black hoodie spoke. "God, Klaus. Don't act so love sick."

• He looked both irritated yet amused, which made Klaus turn to him and roll his eyes. Laughing, you stuck out your hand.

• "I don't believe I've introduced myself," you replied, "it's lovely to meet you."

• You felt everyone's eyes on you, burning into your skin. The boy in the black hoodie didn't shake your hand, but merely looked at you, a stunned expression plastering his face. Meekly, you took your hand back and fiddled with the hem of your skirt.

• "Who are you talking to?" Allison asked, not really understanding what was happening.

• "Ben." Klaus answered for you, wearing the same shocked expression as everyone else in the room. The only person who wasn't surprised was Diego.

• He perched on the end of a sofa. "Y/n's one of us, but our prick of a father couldn't adopt her." He looked almost proud and nodded towards you, as if to let you carry on.

• "Oh, right." You added. You were talking directly to Allison, but everyone listened intently.

• "Yeah, I can control energy. It's more complex than it seems, really. I can control all main types of energy like light, sound, gravity, the like. But I can also control spiritual and emotional energy. So if I really wanted to, I could change any of your emotions."

• "Spiritual energy..." five repeated. "That makes more sense."

• Now you were the confused one, furrowing your brows. "What do you mean?" You asked five, sitting down on the chair next to you.

• "What I mean," he started, "is that Ben's dead."

• The air lay thick among you all, as you turned to Klaus and Ben.

• "I'm...so sorry." You quietly spoke, avoiding eye contact.

• "Hey, don't worry about it." Ben said at last, smiling at you. "I've grown bored of only being able to talk to this moron."

• "Hey!" Klaus exclaimed as you laughed. Everyone else was silent as you, Klaus and Ben had your own conversation.

• "This is so weird." Luther whispered to Allison, who nodded in agreement.

• "Why don't we all go and get some lunch?" Diego offered, ending the awkwardness between you all.

• "Sounds good to me!" You replied, grabbing your bag. And with that, all of you were making your way out of the living room, off to Dennys.

☆☆☆☆☆

• All 8 of you were sat in a large booth, you sandwiched directly between Klaus and Ben. The waitress came around and took everyone's orders, and once she left, Diego hopped out of his seat at the end of the booth.

• "I'm going to the bathroom, if the food comes before I'm back and any of you even think about eating me fries, I'll cut you." You were very much used to his knife threats, so didn't dare going near his food. As soon as Diego was out of earshot, everyone bombarded you with questions.

• "Are you and Diego dating?" Allison asked, eyes wide. "How did you two meet?" Added Luther. "Where do you live?" Five questioned, kind of creepily. "Are you single?" Inquisioned Klaus, quiet enough that only you heard him.

• "Jesus christ, guys. I live a few blocks away from Diego, which is how we met. I was at target, and was about to get the last bag of doritos, when we both reached for them. Finally, no, Diego and I aren't dating. However we do have lots of sleepovers."

• Happy with how you answered the questions, everyone turned to each other to star their own conversations. You leaned in to klaus, and very quietly whispered in his ear.

• "And yes, I'm single."

• You weren't going to skip around the fact that you found Klaus attractive; his messy hair, dark eyes and cheekbones chiseled by the Gods did something to you.

• Diego returned, sitting back on the end of the booth, just as two waitresses walked over with arms full of plates and cups.

• You only started eating once everyone had gotten their food; you ordered a bowl of fries and a strawberry milkshake, your favourite. The restaurant hummed with chatter as the people around you laughed and quietly spoke to each other.

• "So Vanya, Diego told me you play the violin, right?" She nodded, taking a sip of her cola.

• "Yeah, I play in an orchestra." She added.

• "That's really cool! I played the flute when I was a kid, but now I-"

• As you spoke, you felt a warm hand on your thigh. Klaus's hand was soft, his slender fingers slowly inching their way up your leg, sliding underneath the skirt of your dress.

• "Now I play the drums." You finished, taking a sip of your milkshake. Before you could swallow, you felt Klaus's fingers get dangerously close to your underwear. You choked on your drink, coughing like it would save your life.

• Klaus removed his hand as Luther passed you a red napkin. "Thank you." You uttered, still trying not to cough up your strawberry milkshake.

• "You better get used to this, there's no escape now you've met him." Ben advised, a smug grin lining his face.

• "You can say that again."

☆☆☆☆☆

• Roughly a week had passed since you met Diego's family, and you couldn't stop thinking about it.

• After you all went to dennys, Allison suggested that a game of bowling would be fun. Spoiler alert: Luther broke the mechanism at the back of the bowling alley by bowling the ball too hard.

• You were sat in bed in your apartment, mindlessly scrolling through your phone. Realising it was just past midnight, you turned your light off, switched off your phone, and laid down.

• After a few minutes of trying to get to sleep, you heard the window open behind you, and the sound of someone crawling through it. Not in the mood to deal with an intruder, you used your powers to slam them against your bedroom wall. With your other hand, you turned on your light switch and found Klaus pressed up against your wall.

• "For shits sake, what are you doing?" You asked, letting him go. Ben stood next to him, leaning again the wall.

• "Go on, Klaus. Tell y/n why you've broken into her home at midnight, despite me warning you not to."

• Klaus was silent for a second, his tired eyes staring in to yours. He wore the same outfit from last week, looking like he came straight from the mansion.

• "Uh, y/n, would you like to go out with me?"

• He actually seemed pretty nervous, despite how he had been acting at Denny's.

• "...now?" You asked, looking at the clock.

• "Not now, but maybe tomorrow? Diego told me you have a day off and I was thinking maybe we could..." he took a deep breath, and looked down at the floor. "Maybe this was a bad idea."

• He made his way back to the window, but you managed to convince him to stay.

• "Klaus, of course I'd like to go out with you."

• You spoke in a gently tone, not wanting to startle him.

• "Plus, if you want to, you could sleep over here?" You knew it was a long shot, but it was worth a try.

• "I'll only stay if you give me a makeover!"

• "Deal."

• That night was filled with a lot of sad movies, you painting Klaus's nails bright pink, and Ben rolling his eyes about 400 times.

[derireo]

a threat to the community! ↦ itaru, tasuku, tsumugi, izumi

what’s wrong with liking boobs and showing interest in your friend’s brother and the other friend’s sister? izumi clearly doesn’t know.

it feels like it’s three against one, and tasuku doesn’t know how much more of this slander and nonsense he can take.

maybe he should just kill one of them.

「 3k words 」

cw: vulgarity, swearing, name-calling, crack treated seriously, a little ooc.

"Do you ever just wish you had a girlfriend with a huge pair of bazoingers." Itaru said one fine evening.

It wasn't even a question, but it had Izumi automatically nodding along to whatever nonsense the man was spouting.

"All the time." She muttered under her breath beside Tsumugi who was forced to pause in marking Taichi and Tenma's practice quiz.

...What.

"Do you ever wish you would just shut the fuck up." Tasuku hissed in annoyance, looking over his script to send a glare to Itaru who was tapping away at his phone.

Itaru rolled his eyes and repeatedly snapped his fingers in Izumi's direction, the woman looking up from the page she was helping Tsumugi mark. "You get me, right?"

The woman nodded and tapped her red pen against the coffee table, leaning to the side to rest her body weight against Tsumugi. "Hell yeah, brother."

Itaru switched his gaze to their blue haired friend and pointed at Tsumugi next, eyebrows raised.

"And you, my good friend."

The part-time tutor swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck, taking a sheepish glance Izumi's way with a little smile. "Uh. I guess?"

Itaru squinted at Tasuku after receiving the answer he was hoping for and smiled, his shoulders doing a little dance when the violet-eyed man groaned. "Tasuku just doesn't know how to appreciate women."

"Dude." Tasuku gritted, dropping his script. The man didn't want to feed into whatever bullshit Itaru wanted to start tonight, but he wasn't going to let the guy slander him like that. How dare he.

"It's true." Izumi said and reached out for the snack bowl that was on Tsumugi's side of the table. She snatched a chip and shoved it into her mouth.

"We were jogging through the park once and I asked him if he thought the girl we were about to run past was cute." Her voice was muffled by the food and it elicited a disgusted reaction from Tasuku while Tsumugi could only sigh.

The snack bowl was meant to be a reward for later.

Itaru was the only one listening. "Okay, and? What did he say?"

Izumi spared Tasuku a glance over Tsumugi's shoulder and blew a raspberry, shaking her head. "He said no."

Itaru snarled. "How could you."

"Wha— come on." Tasuku threw his head back with a deep sigh much to the amusement of his childhood friends. "It was a genuine answer."

"Dude. All girls are cute." Izumi stated as a matter of fact, gently patting Tsumugi's arm. "Right, Tsoogs?"

The man nodded, not willing to get harped on by both Itaru and Izumi who seemed to be looking for a fight tonight. "...Right."

"See?" Izumi and Itaru gave Tasuku a pointed stare. "You're the odd one out."

"Not all girls are cute." Tasuku frowned, pointing an accusing finger at Izumi. "Take a look at yourself if you need an example."

Both Izumi and Itaru gasped, scandalized.

Wow. Just wow! Tasuku really had a pair of balls to be saying that to Izumi. Such blasphemy was not to be taken lightly!

Itaru and Izumi were going to burn him at the stake.

Sitting up from his position on the couch, Itaru threw one of his cushions at Tasuku who caught the pillow with ease. Damn.

"You are so rude, you cheeky piece of shit." Izumi playfully cried as Tsumugi held her back from standing up to throw a punch at Tasuku who was sticking his tongue out.

Bleh bleh.

"Izumi's kind of cute at best." Tasuku continued, eliciting an agonized sob from Izumi who was now burying her face into Tsumugi's neck. Oh, the pain was unbearable. How could her buddy do this to her?

"How did our conversation about boobs end with someone crying..." Tsumugi sighed under his breath and pulled the girl closer to him, resuming his marking so that he wouldn't have to finish it later tonight.

Itaru crossed his arms huffily. "On a good day I'd agree with you Tasuku, but we are talking about Izumi here, you beefy fuck." The blond choked dramatically and glared at Tasuku who was rubbing his face.

"You better apologize to our Queen." He sniffled.

Tasuku cringed. "Queen?"

"Duh. Who else is most fitting to take responsibility?" Itaru rolled his eyes and made a grabby hand motion at Tsumugi. The oldest member of their group grabbed a candy from the bowl and tossed it.

"Uh, me? You fuck." The disbelief was apparent in Tasuku's eyes but Itaru ignored it.

"Oh, sure." Izumi scoffed. "Who's the one who has to deal with all the hearts you've broken?"

"Wow." Itaru chuckled through his candy. "So Tasuku is just a straight up ladykiller? As in, he literally kills people."

"For Chrissake— just shut up." Tasuku groaned, throwing the blond's cushion back at his face.

"I'm pretty sure I had to spend the night in jail once due to your drunken actions." Izumi wagged her finger and harrumphed.

"No." Tsumugi frowned and held the accusing finger that was pointed in Tasuku's direction, pushing it back down onto Izumi's lap. "Tasuku still got jailed for destruction of public property. You got jailed for assault."

Itaru piped up after tossing away the pillow that was so rudely thrown in his direction. "That happened in high school, though."

"I'm pretty sure I was acting in self-defense." Izumi frowned, crossing her arms as she remembered the unfair treatment she was given compared to the person she had punched. "Spitting on someone is considered assault. I was only protecting my pretty face."

"Ooh, Izumi using her basic Law 12 knowledge. Impressive." Itaru whistled, snapping his fingers as to applaud his friend for using her rarely flaunted intellect.

Izumi winked playfully and twirled a strand of hair around her finger, pantomiming that there was chewing gum in her mouth. "84% and never studied, baby."

Tsumugi's gaze scanned the woman's figure with a curled lip; a frown. "But if you studied, you could've gotten an A." His tone was scolding and it made Izumi pout. The woman cuddled into Tsumugi's side to appease him.

Itaru threw his candy wrapper at the tutor. "Hey, as long as she can keep us from fucking up in front of the cops, grades don't matter."

"A-fuckin'-men, broski." Both Itaru and Izumi sent each other a pair of finger guns and winked.

"You're fucked if you think Izumi's gonna keep you from getting incarcerated." Tasuku rolled his eyes. Seriously, was no one seeing the problem here?

Izumi had absolutely no compassion for their friend group. If she could, she'd probably watch Itaru and Tasuku get put in handcuffs. And if she could, she'd probably put Tsumugi in handcuffs.

This girl was off her shits.

"The Izumi slander is off the charts today." Itaru wolf-whistled. "You better shut your mouth, Tasuku, or else karma is gonna bite you in the ass."

"Yeah or else I'm gonna fuck your brother." Izumi threatened, completely derailing the conversation.

Tasuku froze. "What the hell."

"Fuyuki always looks like he's Down To F Izumi so she's probably not even kidding." Itaru pursed his lips, sending Izumi a thumbs up. Tsumugi couldn't protest, because it was probably true.

Izumi simpered. "I'm gonna be your sister-in-law."

"Oh my God." Tasuku cried.

"And hey, don't think your sister is automatically safe from me either, Chigasaki." Izumi's eyes caught Itaru's and the man pressed his lips into a thin line.

"Isn't his sister married?" Tsumugi frowned. He didn't have a problem with same-sex relationships but he was going to have to draw the line at homewrecking.

Luckily enough, Izumi had the same set of morals so the question made her freeze.

She jutted her chin at Itaru. "Is she married?" Izumi asked.

Itaru shrugged. "Dunno."

Izumi clicked her tongue. "Damn. I'll text and ask her later."

"Can't you just get with someone your own age?" Tasuku complained. He was not going to let Izumi near his brother. Absolutely not! Wasn't it a little weird going after your friend's siblings? Gee!

Izumi's lips curled into a frown after the question was asked. "And end up with someone like you guys?" Her tone was full of disdain, but she quickly kissed Tsumugi's cheek to let him know that she wasn't talking about him specifically.

Izumi gagged. "I'd rather kermit."

"That's reasonable." Itaru nodded. "I am quite the disaster of a sentient life form."

"Can you speak normally? And hey." Tasuku jabbed a finger in Izumi's direction. "It's not like I'd want to date someone like you either!"

Tsumugi fell back against the couch, rubbing his face as Izumi huffed and fell back with him, their knees hitting the edge of the coffee table.

"Can you guys please just make up and kiss already." The blue-haired man sobbed in exasperation.

Izumi shook her head and glared at nothing. "Sorry, Tsoogs. The only Takato I'm kissing is Fuyuki and it's gonna happen after we recite our vows at the wedding."

Tasuku threw his hands up in the air. "What wedding? And why does that piss me off?"

"'Cause you're jealous." Izumi poked her tongue out.

Tasuku growled. "Am not."

With a devilish grin, Izumi curled her arm around Tsumugi's shoulder and leaned over the man's lap to slap Tasuku's thigh. "Dude, if you want a nice smooch from me, all you gotta do is ask."

"Oho." Itaru's voice was monotone, but Tsumugi saw the way his eyebrow twitched. "If I ask nicely can I get a smooch too?"

Izumi turned her head and pretended to barf. "No. Maybe in your office suit, but like that?" The woman scoffed, eyes scrutinizing the grease stains on Itaru's shirt. "No fuckin' way."

"You're mean." Itaru frowned. "So you'd still kiss Tsumugi even though he dresses like that?"

The blond pointed at Tsumugi's usual attire and made a gagging noise. Not that there was really a problem with his outfit, but it was just so.... boring.

(Itaru opted to ignore the fact that Izumi was matching with him.)

Noah fence, Itaru mused to himself.

Tsumugi poked his tongue out at the gamer.

"Yeah? He's got a cute face and he always came to my sporting events back in HS." Izumi huffed, cradling the side of Tsumugi's face to squish their cheeks together, affectionately melting into his side. "Unlike you guys, Tsumugi was very supportive of me."

"Yeah." Tasuku rolled his eyes. "Supportive of your nonexistent athletic career."

"Okay, listen here 'hot stuff'—" Izumi grouched and slapped Tasuku's ankle. "I was scouted for the national team just like you."

Not even ten seconds in and Itaru was already tired from hearing them talk about athletics.

"Can we please stop talking about sports. Both of you didn't accept the offer anyway." Itaru cried dramatically and let his phone fall from his hand, slouching in his seat.

"Worst mistake of my life." Izumi sighed. "I've lost the chance to become a ladykiller."

"You say that as if girls would be attracted to you." Tasuku scoffed much to the annoyance of Izumi.

"I've had more girlfriends than you've had sex." The woman griped.

"Tasuku's a virgin, though." Itaru piped up, ignorant. No one seemed to be surprised at the fact that Izumi has had girlfriends before which was a little underwhelming.

Save for Tsumugi who was pouting.

"Exactly." Izumi picked a few candies from the bowl and threw them at the gamer while everyone ignored Tasuku's protest to the previous statements.

"How come we've never heard of you having any girlfriends?" Tsumugi frowned at Izumi and pat her knee, teasingly wiggling his shoulders as if he was a child throwing a tantrum.

The woman laughed and ruffled Tsumugi's hair. "You bastards would've complained had you known I always cancelled our plans for a girl."

"Well, did they have big boobs? If so, then it's fi—" Itaru was justifying Izumi's reason for always standing them up, only to have Tasuku remove his own indoor slipper from his foot to vault it at Itaru's chest.

"Ouch. </3" He pouted.

"Stop with the damn boobs. Izumi probably likes thick thighs." Tasuku frowned much to the amusement of Tsumugi and Izumi.

"Sounds more like a personal preference of yours." Itaru shot back while the pair sitting on the floor faced each other and sighed.

"Men." Izumi rolled her eyes so hard her head started to hurt. "Right, Tsumu?"

She scrunched her nose at the tutor who she was still holding onto and he responded with a nose scrunch of his own. "Right." He agreed confidently this time.

"Aw, I always knew you were an ally." Izumi cooed. "Kithes for you." She said and pressed her lips to his cheek before standing up from the floor, raising her arms above her head to stretch.

Itaru made grabby hands. "I want kithes."

The cutesy act made Izumi gag, and she shook her head. "No way. You've got your own army of wives to ask."

"Aw." Itaru clicked his tongue. "But they aren't as cute as you are." He supplicated.

"Ooh. Touché." The director whistled a pleased tune and waved at Itaru to come over. "You got me. Get over here."

The way Itaru had scrambled off the couch to trot over towards Izumi made the director laugh, and she willingly opened up her arms for Itaru to sink into her embrace.

"Ugh. Warm. Like soup." Itaru sighed. The comparison made Izumi make a noise of disgust.

"Okay, off you get." She groaned and forcefully pushed Itaru away. "I'm not kissing you anymore."

Brushing away the imaginary crumbs Itaru had dropped on her, Izumi turned her body in the direction of Tasuku, who was casually lounging on the sofa. She ignored Itaru's childish cry.

"As for you," she pointed a finger at the meathead. "score me a date with your brother and then maybe I'll give you the privilege to hug me."

Tasuku bristled.

"I am not letting you anywhere near Fuyuki." He squinted. "And I don't even like hugging you."

The whole trio in front of Tasuku scoffed, leaving him puzzled. "What's up with the reaction."

Tsumugi began to collect his unfinished quizzes, putting away his pens and answer sheet with a shake of his head. "Nothing. You're just a really pathetic liar."

"What."

Itaru grinned and trotted towards Tasuku, flopping onto the man's legs with a relaxed sigh.

"You're the lucky bastard who always gets spoiled by Izumi, ya big dumb of straight up ass. I'd punch you right now for being so ungrateful." The blond threatened.

"Aw, I never knew I picked favourites." Izumi frowned, squatting beside Tsumugi who was still cleaning up. "Tsumugi's my new number one."

The man mentioned smiled gratefully and blew a kiss at Izumi who grabbed the invisible thing and shoved it into her pocket.

Tasuku readjusted his legs underneath Itaru to properly distribute his weight. Ugh. He hated when they sat on his legs like this.

"Stop acting all lovey dovey. You two aren't even dating." The grouchy Winter Troupe member grumbled to which Itaru punched at his thigh.

"He's jealous! He wants in on the action." Itaru jested while Tasuku shot up to grab the blond by the front of his greasy shirt. "Oh God, I'm gonna die— IZUMI!" Itaru shrieked, in the middle of being violently shaken by Tasuku.

The director sighed at the commotion, sending a pout Tsumugi's way as the tutor shrugged his shoulders and gave her knee a comforting pat.

"I swear." She muttered under her breath. She stood back up to her full height and turned towards the pair on the sofa, eyes flaring with aggravated heat.

Izumi snatched the front of Tasuku's shirt just like what he did with Itaru and ripped him away from the blond with a wide eyed stare, startling the man out of his gentle bullying.

"You." She removed a hand from his shirt to tap his nose, smile fake as Tasuku blinked and stared at the canine tooth that was snarling at him. "Are being really bratty."

Finally being released from the clutches of the Devil himself, Itaru scrambled off the sofa to huddle against Tsumugi. He started to playfully cry just like Izumi did a little while ago and buried his face in Tsumugi's neck.

"I'm gonna beat your ass if you don't cool it by dinner tonight." She hissed, tightening her grip on Tasuku's shirt to pull him forward. Juuust until their noses were touching. "Got it, baby boy?"

She smiled just a little after uttering the nickname, but Tasuku huffed.

He lightly pressed his palms against her stomach to push her away, snarling. "I'm older than you."

"By a month. Get over yourself, pup." Izumi scoffed and raised her hand to roughly slap-half-pet Tasuku's cheek, using just enough force to push his face away from her.

"I'm going to my room to look at girls online." She sighed and raised her leg to dig her heel into Tasuku's stomach for good measure.

Just to let him know that she's still the boss in their little group. <3

"Text me when Omi finishes cooking tonight." Izumi pulled away from Tasuku before he could wrap his fingers around her ankle and trip her up, giving him the middle finger with a teasing smile as she walked backwards into the hallway.

"That's our Queen." Itaru sighed dreamily.

Man. If Izumi was the only woman left on earth he'd probably kill Tasuku and Tsumugi to keep her all to himself.

....Too much? Too much.

Tasuku was still grumbling to himself, rubbing the spot on his stomach where Izumi put her foot earlier. He winced.

...Hmph.

"I'm gonna pound her into the gr—" Tasuku made a sudden move to jump off the couch, but was stopped.

Tsumugi chuckled and held Tasuku by the back of his shirt to prevent the taller man from chasing Izumi down the hallway. "No you aren't."

"He really is a murderer." Itaru laughed in shock, bracing himself against the couch he was sitting on earlier.

"Yeah." Tasuku scoffed with a smile, turning towards Itaru. "And I'm gonna be sending you to your grave first."

The smile was....eerie. Itaru could feel the hair on his neck stand tall.

He slowly began to shuffle towards the hallway. "...I'mgonnagolookatboobswithIzumi." He said in one breath and then dashed down the direction of the director's room.

Tsumugi took a single glance at Tasuku and shook his head. "You are such a handful sometimes."

Tasuku pointed at himself and gaped.

"ME?"

[phantomphangphucker]

Ectober Day 22: Lose - Keen Of The Green Chap.2: Hack Up A Ghost Or Two

Kwan’s always been the kinda guy too clean up others messes, you could say he was the teams mother hen, but this was kinda ridiculous. But at least he wasn’t cleaning up after his teammates for once.

Casper High was much more used to Danny and his general.. weird, now. To the point that people would give him random ghosts -usually plants, Whisps, or Blob ghosts- they found. Or if they were getting chased by or spotted a ghost people actually ran to him. The real surprise and improvement was that the teen wouldn’t run away from ghosts now, which everyone was in agreement he had been doing to try to ‘hunt’ the ghost in private, and would actually just eat what people brought him like it wasn’t as absolutely weird and messed up as it was.

Though seeing the switch flip in him between random Highschool senior loser to predator, if someone did manage to lead a ghost to the teen, was freaky and even rather scary. Some folks watched purely out of morbid curiosity others in some odd attempt to be supportive of the local monster. His friends were the only ones who seemed genuinely unphased. Which did make some wonder just how long this had gone on for, if the boy was born like this, or the really unpleasant thought that his parents messed him up.

He didn’t like that stuff being questioned though so no one did. They just treated him like they had before excluding the, probably odd and messed up to anyone outside of Amity, support of his oddness.

No matter how used to this they were though, Kwan was honestly not prepared to walk into Fenton throwing up chunks of a ghost into the school toilets.

Kwan blinks and opens and closes his mouth a few times before finding something to say after opening the -unlocked, what was Fenton thinking?- bathroom stall door. “Ate too much or something? And Fenton, for future reference, for the love of everything, lock the door”. Fenton predictably flips him off over his shoulder while hacking some more.

Kwan sighs, muttering, “why am I always the one to walk in on this stuff”, and walks over to the teen. Kneeling down and rubbing Fenton’s back like he does for his bros when they drink way too much. At least he made it to the bathroom. That was something. Todd literally never did. It was to the point he was banned from drinking heavily at anyone’s house other than his own.

Fenton grumbles, “you-”, hack, “-just have really bad luck”.

Kwan nods, agreeing that might be accurate, “well I’m not sure if this should be more or less embarrassing for you or me”.

Fenton makes a few gagging noises, “too sick to-”, hack, “-be embarrassed”. Which again, Kwan will admit is fair. Vomiting into a toilet, especially a public one, was always embarrassing but no one really thought about that in the moment. Especially if he couldn’t even be bothered to lock the bloody door.

After a bit Fenton sits back on his heels, arms on his knees, and looks to Kwan, “ugh, probably gonna get sick a bit more before it’s outta my system”. Kwan gives him a probably rather pained cringy smile at that, though noting how the whites of the smaller teens' eyes were pale green; which he doesn’t think has been something anyone has seen before. Maybe Fenton was actually sick? “Getting what out of your system?”.

Fenton rubs the back of his hand over his mouth, scowling down at the green smeared there, before actually answering, “ah. Well”, readjusting and shaking his head while mumbling something about him probably deserving some answers for this shit. Which while Kwan doesn’t actually think is the case, he still would like to know. Finding out things about Fenton has become kinda a fun game. So he keeps his mouth shut and lets Fenton continue, “so I had -let’s call it ‘breakfast’- things didn’t smell right but I’ve barely had any sleep and do I really care? No. I’ve drunk rotten milk before. But now I’m pretty well positive someone went and ecto-poisoned the NeverWoods or something”.

Kwan blinks, well that was a dick move. Sure the NeverWoods produced a lot of ghost plants and the Whisps and shit but that was cool and the things were cute. He even had one of the little blob guys as a pet, Fenton had nonchalantly given him food for the little guy. Which was weird ‘cause he had been nervous the odd teen would try to eat his pet or something when he found out. Like how some people ate rabbits and horses. Shaking his head a little, “so... so this is more, uh, food poisoning than anything else?”. Fenton shrugs but holds up a finger and leans back over the toilet; promptly throwing up again. Fenton grumbling after hacking a bit, “I’ll be fine”.

Kwan believes that, when is Fenton ever not okay? “Eh, this is as good an excuse as any to skip health”. Fenton chuckles a little, “your fault for putting it off ‘till senior year”. Kwan just shrugs and gives an agreeing, “yeah”, but hey, at least it was easy.

Kwan speaks up again as Fenton’s just been leaning over the toilet hacking and make other sounds the jock was more used to hearing late at night than mid-morning, “I'm guessing that whatever was done to the woods ain’t good for all the ecto there?”.

Fenton hacks a bit more, “no man, obviously”, spits into the toilet bowl and turns to look at him, “if I can’t handle it in my system then they certainly can’t”. Kwan frowns, “well damn”, speaking back up at Fenton rolling his eyes and turning back to the toilet, “so... what we gonna do about it? I take it goth girlfriend isn’t going to take that lying down, especially with you hacking into a gross ass toilet over it”, making a point to chuckle, “though hunter girlfriend might approve of it”. Pretty well everyone called those three friends of his his girlfriends and boyfriend, largely because it was funny. Fenton predictably moves his arm back to shove him over. Him banging the stall door open as a result and just letting himself land on the ground -kid was strong alright?- just as Dash and Dale come in.

“There you are man! We’ve been looking- hey is that Fenton?”. Said teen just groans, it sounds more out of annoyance than sickness though, even if he does throw up again.

Dale chuckles, “well looks like someone’s losing their lunch, or breakfast really. Or did he just spend the whole night drinking”, and smirks.

Kwan gets up and closes the stall door to give the kid some privacy. “More like got second-hand poisoning. Someone went and poisoned the NeverWoods or something like that”. Both other jocks scowl immediately. Dash snapping, “oh that is so not cool”. Dale nodding in agreement, “we should pummel whoever”.

That gets a chuckle from inside the stall, “I’d place my bets on the G.I.W., my folks ain’t the type”, followed by more hacking and spitting sounds, “and Val knows better”. They all know that what he means by that is that she wouldn’t go poisoning a place she knows is something of a ‘hunting ground’ for her friend. That girl hated ghosts a lot but not enough to go getting a living person -humanity questionable or not- sick. And his parents really were the more ‘shoot their heads off’ type. Kwan hums, “see now this sounds like a good excuse to go ransack their compound”. Dash and Dale immediately grin meanly, “oh Hell yeah. we’ve been waiting for an excuse to do that”, which as true. The whole town hated those men. For a lot of reasons. Everything from blowing up buildings to murder attempts to trying to tax them for the ghost problem; plus, the town all agreed they were way too violent with ghosts. Even Valerie/Red did.

Fenton grumbles, “this town is insane”.

Dash rolls his eyes, “says the guy who eats ghosts”.

“The fact that none of y’all even-”, hack, “-treat me weird over that now is part of the insanity”.

All three boys make waving off motions at the door, “eh, we love and support our local monster”.

“Then why do you still shit-kick me?”.

Dash smirks, “got an image and norm to maintain. Highschool hierarchy to uphold, Fenton”. They all hear the teen grumble back, “you know normally, sheep don’t go around poking wolves”. They decidedly ignore the low-key sorta implied threat of him eating them; everyone knew by now that the kid wouldn’t actually do that. Alpha predator or not. Even if he probably could.

They can hear him flush and get up, opening the stall door seconds later. His face looked practically flushed a kinda sickly green, he glares at them anyway, “if you’re really gonna do that then you have my full support and involvement”. That makes the three jocks grin and cheer. And all it takes to get Fenton’s three friends in on it was dragging Fenton over to them and blurting out that the G.I.W. poisoned him. Which they oddly seemed less surprised and more just fed up about.