#thankfully the brushes are quite nice to use!! even managed to find similar ones to what I use on medibang >:D

[nyaruelle-art]

Simon Peepaw, my beloved!!! 🥹

(aka me testing out drawing stuff on Krita, I'm still getting used to it, ultimately aiming to switch over from Medibang 🥲)

[winterscaptain]

fathers.

Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader a joyful future fic

a/n: it turns out the words really do fly out of you when you write in comic sans. who knew? anyways, here’s a little sunday morning angst for you. starts sweet, ends sweet. takes place au!may 2016.

words: 1.8k warnings: discussion of abuse and alcoholism (nothing too graphic)

summary: “‘why do men like me want sons?’ he wondered. ‘it must be because they hope in their poor beaten souls that these new men, who are their blood, will do the things they were not strong enough nor wise enough nor brave enough to do. it is rather like another chance at life; like a new bag of coins at a table of luck after your fortune is gone.’” – john steinbeck

masterlist | a joyful future masterlist | ajf faq | requests closed!

Aaron walks in from a very long day at the office to find you and Sean crashed out on the couch. Isaac’s asleep, too, sprawled out on his back in his Pack ‘n Play. He can hear Jack shuffling around in his room, probably on the tablet or working on homework. 

Sean has the remote loosely gripped in his hand, hanging off the edge of the couch. His head is in your lap, one of your hands in his hair, and your body curled around his shoulders. You look more like a pair of siblings or long-lost childhood friends than anyone Aaron’s ever seen - certainly more so than he would in the same situation. 

He almost envies the familiarity you and Sean have between you. Your friendship is easy and automatic - always has been.

How can two people, seemingly so similar, feel so starkly different about him? 

Aaron’s not quite sure how long he’s been standing there watching as you two sleep like a pair of house cats. Eventually, you stir with a furrowed brow, squinting into the late afternoon sunshine. 

When you find Aaron’s eyes, you smile widely and wink at him. After some delicate maneuvering in which you replace your thighs with a couch cushion and your arm with a throw blanket, you’re free of Sean’s weight and you can finally tuck into your husband. 

He kisses your head and wraps his arms around you. “How was your day?” 

“Good.” You burrow further into his chest. “Sean and I talked.” 

Aaron dips his head. “Oh?” 

“Mhmm.” You pat his chest twice and kiss his cheek. “Later.” 

+++

“Sean talked to me about your dad today.” 

Aaron freezes where he sits at the edge of the bed. You don’t mean to ambush him, but there’d never be a good time, so out with it was your best option. 

He shudders as if a chill ran through him, but the room was warm and free of drafts. Sean warned you that this might be the reaction. Even then, he only told you about his experience with the patriarch of the Hotchner household. When you’d asked about Aaron, he only paled and shook his head. 

“Ask him about it, but I won’t… I can’t do that to him,” he’d said. 

So you have. And now you wait. 

Aaron’s voice is a croak when he speaks. “What -” He clears his throat. “What did he say?”

You turn toward him, tucking your legs close to you and pulling the duvet up. “He told me a little about what it was like for him growing up.” 

“Just him?”

“Just him. He wouldn’t say anything about your relationship with your father, nor about your childhood. I didn’t push.”

You pause for a moment. He’s still frozen, but his breath picks up. Not for the first time, you notice the silver lines - scars - across his back. 

Long-healed and decades-old. 

“I realized in that moment that it’s one of the few things I don’t know about you. I knew, even when I first met you, never to ask and you never told. You’ve alluded to things over the years on cases, and I’ve seen the unique kind of loathing you have for unsubs who hurt their children.” Your voice is low, Isaac sleeping in his crib beside the bed, almost old enough to sleep in the nursery.

You hear Aaron’s breath catch and you lean forward, putting your hand beside his hip so he knows you’re there. 

“I’ve known not to ask for so long that I never did.”

A huff leaves him. “You’re not going to like it.” 

“I don’t expect to,” you reply simply. 

Aaron’s hand wanders back to find your own and he grasps your fingers like a lifeline. Eventually, he turns, sitting in the middle of the bed like a child, his legs crisscrossed with his feet nearly underneath him. 

He stares at the bedspread as he tells you about his father. A charming, handsome lawyer with a wicked vodka habit. That particular wicked habit fed into his other one - a liberal use of his belt as a tool of discipline. 

Aaron tells you about the day he was old enough to step between his parents, to take whatever his father had to throw - sometimes literally - on behalf of his mother. Evelyn did her best, kept the house together and her boys as safe as she could. It didn’t always work. 

She’d thought, Aaron shared with you, that a second child would soothe whatever hurt tortured her husband.

Aaron never resented her. Especially after starting his work as a lawyer and later as an agent, he understands how difficult - really, impossible - it is to leave those situations when you have children.  

As his parents struggled to conceive, his father grew worse. By the time Evelyn had Sean, Aaron was thankfully old enough to wrangle his father into a cold shower and into bed most nights before he could get violent. He was thirteen. 

“It was almost a relief - it was a relief - when his body finally failed him. I was barely in college when he died, and I graduated early. Sean was still little, so I don’t know what he remembers.” 

Aaron sits for a moment, thinking. “If I could hazard a guess, I’d say it was the shouting.” He shakes his head. “We were always shouting.”   

You’re both in tears now, but your crying is silent and his tears hardly disrupt his breath. 

“Almost everyone at his funeral was someone he worked with. They, of course, loved him. His functional alcoholism served to make him affable enough to make and keep friends at the law firm. They had no idea what happened after he came home.” 

 He takes another breath. “I did my best to protect Sean after our father died, to keep him safe. I know he resented me for it - might still resent me for it - but he’s alive. And so is my mom.” 

You can’t imagine what Evelyn’s been through, the peace she’s probably had in the decades she’s spent widowed. How the Hotchner line managed to survive - managed to become as kind and genuine and loving as they are - is close to a miracle. 

You tell him as much. 

He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, looking very much like the lost boy who took on too much, too fast, too early. “I don’t know how.” 

“Because,’ you say, leaning forward and crawling into his lap and wrapping around him like a koala. “You are a better man, Aaron. You won.” 

His breath is unsteady as he clasps his arms around you, his hands locked around his opposite forearms. 

“You’re a great brother, a fantastic husband, an exceptional father.” You lean back so you can frame his face in your hands. “You wanna know something?”

He just stares at you. 

“I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve heard you raise your voice at a member of our team or your family.” Your thumbs brush over his cheekbones as his eyes flutter shut. “You are a strong and gentle leader who relies on integrity rather than force to win respect.” 

You kiss his cheek and hook your chin over his shoulder, holding him as close as you can. “We’re never afraid of you. Your sons can’t wait for you to come home. They’re thrilled when they hear your keys in the door.” 

He sniffles. “I’m afraid...”

Leaning back again, you grip his jaw with a kind of gentle ferocity, forcing his gaze. “Aaron. Look me in the eye and tell me what your sons could do to push you to beat them, to physically discipline them. What would they have to do?” 

He meets your eyes, shifty and shadowed like a wild animal, and stares at you without speaking. After a moment, the wildness fades and his lower lip wobbles as he exhales. 

That’s enough of an answer for you. 

“Can’t find anything, can you?” 

Aaron shakes his head. He’s barely audible. 

“No.” 

“No,” you echo, your voice gentle and soft. Bringing his head back to your shoulder, you hold onto him, running your hands over his shoulders to soothe some of his shaking. 

Isaac snuffles and stirs, drawing your attention. Aaron looks up too, his eyes searching for his son. 

“Lemme get him,” he says. You untangle yourself and shuffle to the edge of the bed, looking over the edge of the crib. Knowing Isaac, he probably just wants snuggles. He’s the snuggliest baby you’ve ever known. 

His father’s son, certainly. 

Aaron rounds the crib and leans down, bringing Isaac to his chest. “Hey, little man. You alright?”

Isaac makes a little creaky baby noise and grabs Aaron’s shirt in a death grip. 

There are still tears streaked down Aaron’s cheeks and his breath is still a little unsteady, but he’s relaxed as he gently rocks Isaac around the room, shifting his weight from side to side. In his father's arms, Isaac falls right to sleep.

+++

Aaron’s night is fitful, but after you curl up at his side he manages to close his eyes and rest. 

You’re up before him in the morning - a rarity - finding Isaac awake and holding onto his own feet in the crib, staring up at the ceiling. 

My boy. Always happy to entertain himself. 

You pick him up and carry him out of the room, closing the door softly behind you. At this point, you’ve perfected the one-armed carry thanks to Aaron, and it usually comes in handy. 

Jack and Sean are already awake, making cereal so quietly the bowls probably deserve their own top-secret clearance. 

“Good morning, boys,” you say with a smile. 

“Morning, Mom,” they drone, in tandem, before dissolving into a fit of giggles. 

With a laugh, you find your own bowl and Sean pours your cereal just the way you like it while you pull a bottle for Isaac. 

The four of you eat breakfast in relative peace. It’s nice to have Sean here with you for more than one reason, but for now, it’s because he’s holding Isaac’s bottle so you can eat with one hand. One hand, you've learned, is decidedly better than no hands at all.

Aaron rolls into the kitchen about ten minutes after you, looking rumpled and squinty in the morning sun. 

“Coffee’s on, honey.” 

He mumbles his thanks and you share a smile with Sean.

“He’s predictable,” you explain in a half-whisper. 

Sean nods, playing at something pensive. “And old.”  

“Heard that.”

You and Sean share a look and a smile. You look over your shoulder. "Heard what?"

+++

tagging: @arganfics @quillvine @stxrryspencer @agenthotchner @wandaswitxh @hurricanejjareau @ughitsbaby @rousethemouse @criminalsmarts @shrimpyblog @genevievedarcygranger @ssaic-jareau @writefasttalkevenfaster @hotchsflower @hotchslatte @risenfox @mrs-dr-reid @captain-christopher-pike @dwellingsofrosie @pan-pride-12 @sunshine-em @jdougl-love @sageellsworth05 @dreila03 @forgottenword @aaronhotchnerr @ssa-morgan @buckybau @tegggeeee @abschaffer2 @ssacandice-ray @ellyhotchner @lotties-journey-abroad @mrs-joel-pimentel-23-25 @laneygthememequeen @violentvulgarvolatile @mooneylupinblack @ssareidbby @violet-amxthyst @zizzlekwum @lcvischmitt @qvid-pro-qvo @mandylove1000 @simsiddy @jeor @synonymforlame @roses-and-grasses @bwbatta @capricorngf @missdowntonabbey @averyhotchner @cevanswhre @joanofarkansass @infinity1321 @popped-weasels @evee87 @nuvoleincielo @ssahotchnerr @this-broken-band-girl @winqhster @reidtomestyles @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @the-falling-in-the-danger @nattylite49 @crazyshannonigans @softbibxtch @iconicc @mangoberry43 @andreasworlsboring101 @kerrswriting @mac99martin @itsalwaysb33nyou @ceceguajardo-blog @baumarvel @kerrswriting @messyhairday-me

[minor-solemnity]

Invention and Intrigue pt.3

Tag List: @jinxqsu @naps-and-lemons​ @riddles-wifey @mainlynonsense @cakesarecute

“You know, my friends call me Tom.” He interrupts you, sounding faintly amused, a small, irritatingly handsome smile curling his lips.

“And that’s what we are? Friends?”

You start meeting him more regularly after that. He finds you after dinner most nights and you spend hours in abandoned classrooms, researching and practising obscure forms of magic. Thankfully, he doesn’t bring any more fluffy animals for practical demonstrations. You swap theories and notes on cursed objects; delve deep into the histories of generational bloodline curses; and break down spells - both light and dark - into their most base forms to learn their mechanisms and constructions.

Honestly, it’s strange how easy it is to sit in companionable silence reading from the ancient tomes that Riddle has somehow managed to source. Riddle is patient and oddly kind when he explains aspects of magical theory that you don’t understand; he’s a good teacher. Given his reputation for being a studious, polite, and unendingly fair young man you don’t think this should shock you, but it does nonetheless. 

More interesting is the gratification that lights his expression when he succeeds in performing a spell for the first time, and the morbid curiosity he has for everything that could be classified as ‘dark’. You think that you should be concerned or nervous or scared but it’s difficult to summon those (very sensible, very reasonable) feelings when you are just as interested in what you’re discovering as he is. 

It’s nearly seven o’clock and you think you should probably be thinking about heading back to your common room in case Melanie starts to wonder where you are. Except… From where you’re sitting on the floor with a large, dark green blanket wrapped around your shoulders that Riddle had conjured for when when you’d complained about being cold, you can watch him without him noticing. You can study the way he curls over the book on legilimency he’s reading, head bowed, dark hair falling into his eyes and casting shadows along the sharp planes of his face. He pauses every so often to scribble down a thought or annotation and you watch the crease that forms on his forehead whenever he reaches a part of his reading that particularly interests him. He looks calm is the thing. Content. Peaceful. 

Unbidden, an image of him stretched out on a sofa, a book in his hands, you curled at his side, springs fully formed to the forefront of your mind. You can picture the way he might absently run a hand through your hair, or maybe it would be you tracing patterns against his chest… It’s a horrendously tempting portrayal of domesticity. You’re so lost in your fantasies that you don’t realise that you’ve been staring until he coughs politely and you’re brought thundering back to reality. He’s watching you with an expression that reads as part amusement and part consideration and you feel your cheeks grow warm under his scrutiny.

You get up and brush yourself off, folding the blanket over your arm and studiously ignore him. “I should… I need to get back. It’s getting late.” You say and are proud that your voice only wavers slightly. 

He hums softly in contemplation and nods. Once you’ve both gathered your things, he offers you his hand and you are reminded of the first time you’d spoken. You slumped against the wall, shivering and scared and him, holding his hand out to you like it was the most normal thing in the world. “Let me walk you back,” He says. Just as before, he doesn’t let go of your hand until you reach the entrance to your common room. When you try to return the blanket, he shakes his head and presses it back into your hands. “I conjured it for you. I’d like for you to keep it.” 

Just as before, he departs and you’re left holding the blanket, soft and warm and deep emerald green. Slytherin colours. His colours.

***

Three days later, you’re ready to take back every nice thought you’ve ever had about Riddle. You are seriously regretting ever having caught his attention. Sure, it’s been fun, you’ve learnt a lot of interesting things, and you’d be lying if you said that you’d not been enjoying getting know Riddle beyond the persona he puts forward to the rest of the school, but none of that can make up for the fact that he is leading you down into the bowels of the castle once more without a care in the world for your comfort or sanity.

“You don’t like the dungeons very much, do you?” He asks, taking in your jumpy demeanour and suspicious gaze with a sardonic smile. “Why is that, I wonder? Too scary for a good little girl like you?” The emphasis on the word ‘good’ serves both to underline the obvious sarcasm in his words and make your stomach clench in a way that is entirely inappropriate for the conversation at hand. You could curse yourself for the incredibly misplaced crush you’ve apparently developed.

You fold your arms over your chest and stare at the floor, unwilling to let him see how much his comment has affected you. You let out a shaky breath and murmur, “Self-preservation is not the same as being scared. Excuse me for not wanting to actively tempt fate and die in some godforsaken dungeon.” You snip, well aware that you’re being a little bit dramatic and not caring in the slightest. 

Riddle purses his lips together in a hard, thin line and it’s not difficult to see that you’re irritating him. “You seemed perfectly capable of defending yourself the last time you ventured down.”

“Just because I can defend myself doesn’t mean I want to have to.” You snap, following him through the door he’s holding open for you and glancing around in case this has all been some elaborate hoax Lestrange is waiting in the shadows to hex you to hell and back.

The door slams shut behind you and you whirl around, your wand outstretched. Riddle leans against the closed door, arms crossed, looking incredibly bored. “I would have hoped you’d have a little more trust in me by this point.” 

And well… He’s right, as much as it pains you to admit it. He’s only ever been kind to you - maybe a little condescending and arrogant at times, but that only serves to add to his charm. With a twinge of embarrassment, you stow your wand away and clench your jaw, unwilling to admit defeat quite so soon. “Yes, well, that was before you decided to lure me into the dungeons, Riddle. Forgive me for being—"

“You know, my friends call me Tom.” He interrupts you, sounding faintly amused, a small, irritatingly handsome smile curling his lips.

“And that’s what we are? Friends?” You stare at him blankly. Because… Well. You’re not. Friends, that is. Up until a few weeks ago, Tom Riddle hasn’t spared you a second glance since first year and why would he? You are… Well, you’re you. Angry at the world, melodramatic, and apparently, a budding dark sorcerer. It’s strangely reassuring to realise that it’s these things that he likes about you.

“Why wouldn’t we be? We’ve been spending plenty of time together, we have similar interests, we know things about each other that no one else does,” He’s circling you now, sweeping closer and closer until he’s right in front of you, perched elegantly against one of the desks. “What else would you call us?” He sounds so… calm. Congenial. Like it’s the most obvious and simple thing in the world. Except that there’s nothing congenial about the heat that flickers in the depths of his eyes. 

He cocks his head to the side, as though considering something very carefully, and then reaches out and catches your hand. With the same surprising strength that he’d displayed the last time you’d been in the dungeons alone with him, he pulls you forwards. Velocity and inertia work in tandem and you stumble towards him, prevented from collapsing against his chest only by his hand that moves to clasp your waist. Unbidden, your hands move to rest on his thighs. You can feel the way his muscles tense under your touch and you wonder if he’s as affected by the sudden proximity as you are. You wonder if his heart is tripping over itself the way yours is. You wonder (and a distant part of your mind laughs at the ridiculousness of the thought even as you think it) if he wants you the way you find yourself wanting him: entirely. You want to wrap yourself around every part of him, insert yourself into every aspect of his being. You’ve never considered yourself to be a possessive person before; you might have to start reconsidering that now.

You feel, more than you hear, his short sharp intake of breath and he spreads his legs just enough to provide a space for you. You press forward, tucking yourself between his legs, hands on his thighs, emotion and heat and, god, want flooding through you with all the unstoppable force of a tsunami crashing over a seawall. His eyes flicker between yours as he brushes a lock of hair away from your eyes, tucking it carefully behind your ear. He tilts your head up and lowers his until his lips are barely grazing yours. There’s something almost tentative about the way he holds himself, as though he’s holding himself back. 

Nervous. You think he might be nervous. And isn’t that just the most delicious thought?

Your heart thrums wildly in your chest and your fingers tighten instinctively against the fabric of his trousers. “Definitely not friends,” You whisper against his lips before you finally give in to the want that’s been building inside of you for weeks. 

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4)

[silence-burns]

Please Hate Me //part 42

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine​ Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers, banter

"Dude, you live like this?" 

Loki moved past where you stood frozen to the spot. 

"Technically, not anymore.” He shrugged and walked into the sleeping chambers to the left. 

The rooms Loki used to live in were bathed in the rays of the setting sun, coming through large windows and the balcony overlooking the golden city. Everything was grand and coated in riches, whether it be the plush cushions laid on the floor, or the masterfully woven rugs, so soft they felt like walking on clouds.

Stumbling further inside, you walked past a large sofa. You brushed the fabric with your hand, reveling in the silkiness. There were a few carved chairs and a small coffee table on the balcony. You wanted to sit out there and watch the view. Loki's rooms were located high up over the city, and allowed you to marvel over everything laid down below. You'd spend hours there, unable to tear your eyes away if only it was you who'd been born to all this wealth and grandeur. 

Standing there, careful not to be noticed from far below, you wondered how different your life would have been then. How different would it have been to have all those rooms in a completely separate section of the palace all for yourself, and getting tired just from walking from one end to another. To have shelves so packed with books that they almost sagged, and so many places obviously created for reading them in mind. To have staff clean the impossibly high windows and the plush carpet, so delicate it felt like murder to dirty it up. Or to have a dressing room overflowing with jewels and clothing so fine it made you realise how many official meetings must've required their use. 

Closing your eyes, you smelled the soft fragrance hanging in the air. 

It would be a life of wearing too-stiff, formally pressed jackets and boots always shining as if new. A life in rooms too big and too empty, no matter how many things you packed them with. A life that would make you discover all the secret passages through the palace and outside of it. A life that would make you learn tricks and magic just to entertain yourself even in solitude. One that would make you enjoy visiting other worlds, and learning their history just for the fake sense of belonging somewhere. 

You walked over to where Loki disappeared some time ago. 

The bedroom was large and dressed in easy, pastel colors with a few darker patches of green. The enchanted bag you brought with you was laying next to the perfectly made bed. Only two familiar legs were sticking from where Loki dived underneath it. 

You jumped onto the mattress and felt it bounce with wonderful softness. Rolling over the covers, you delighted in their flowery scent. 

"I'm no longer mad about why no room in the Tower suited you," you said. 

"I'm delighted to hear that." 

Cuddling a pillow, you wormed your way to the other end of the bed, curious about Loki's whereabouts. For all the noises and curses coming from underneath the bed, it seemed as if he were struggling.

"You okay there?" 

"Reaching into my spatial storage used to be easier when I was the size of an underfed pigeon. Can you get me out?" 

Standing behind him, you caught Loki by the feet and dragged him out. The box he was clutching to his chest didn't look remarkable, but neither did his bottomless bag, so you refrained from judging it just yet. 

You plopped onto the floor next to him, watching the magic open the locks. "It’s still there after all this time?" 

"I hid it in a pocket dimension," Loki said proudly. "A similar one to what my bag uses. Now, behold…" 

The box unclasped the last of the clips. There was a golden sheer to the surface of the box, shining through the curved, strange symbols along its edges. 

Loki raised the lid, and took out… a stone. 

"I'm not gonna lie, I expected something more dramatic," you said, weighing the stone in your hand. You could easily hide it in your palm. It had a nice texture, something between polished and rough, and was not as cold as a stone ought to be on its own. 

"Not everything about me has to be dramatic." 

You looked around, to the grand chandeliers hanging overhead. And to the minute details carved upon the furniture. And to the tiles laid in intricate, deliberate patterns that must've taken weeks to plan and execute. 

"...yeah, right."

You gladly gave it back to him. There was something about the stone that just made you uneasy. 

The box it was hidden in landed in the bag, just in case it was needed. Watching it disappear in the void gave you an idea that made a wicked smile blossom on your face. 

"Hey, Loki…" 

Holding his gaze, you slipped your jacket off your shoulders. 

Loki froze. 

"How much time do you think we have before anyone finds us here…?" 

He watched your jacket drop to the floor. 

"...a while, I'd wager," the words came out breathlessly. 

Blood was thrumming in his veins as you crossed the short distance between you. 

A shiver he couldn't quite control run down Loki's back as you leaned in. 

"Make me a pocket dimension - in my pocket, actually." 

Loki blinked. There were quite a lot of thoughts rushing through his head that made it difficult to focus on the jacket you held out to him with a hopeful expression. 

You saw his confusion. "It honestly never occurred to me how useful it would be, but being here, in this place, seems like a perfect opportunity. You said your magic gets weird on the Edge, but here it's free of its influence."

"That's true," Loki admitted carefully, taking the piece of clothing, still warm with life. "May I inquire what you plan on keeping in here?" 

"A sword." 

"What." 

"I want a sword. We've been sneaking around all these guards here, and they always have those really cool swords, and until today I wasn't even aware that I wanted a sword but I do. Really do. Please." 

Loki chuckled. He'd agree even if you weren't making such huge, pleading eyes to him, but it was not something he'd ever admit. 

"How do you feel about paying a little visit to the royal treasure of Asgard, then? I've heard a rumor about a few ancient swords laying there, gathering dust." 

The sheer joy that sparkled in your eyes might've been enough to stop his heart completely, were it not for the bone-crushing hug you closed him in. 

This was something he could definitely get used to, Loki thought, having his cheek kissed. Something definitely worth coming all the way back here, to this place of times long gone, despite the risk. Loki had no doubt that his life would become much more complicated were he to be discovered on palace grounds despite his exile. He could save you, probably, if he convinced everyone he had you under a spell, and had enough time to think of a good reason for that. A few guards wouldn't pose a problem, though - he only worried if they managed to set off the alarm before he knocked them out and-

A pointed cough interrupted his plans just as Loki was finishing the spell off. 

Loki looked at you. You looked at him. 

There was someone standing at the entrance to the room, poised in the final rays of sun breaking through the thin curtains. Someone with a love for dramatics. 

"I see you brought a friend, dear." 

The shiver ran down Loki's back, but for vastly different reasons this time. There were plans against the guards he could use to outsmart them. There were secret passages he might use to sneak through the palace grounds. There were excuses, lies, and half-truths that served him well enough in various instances. 

But none to be used in this one. 

"Hello, mother." 

Loki was not entirely certain why his voice came out so quiet. He was not in a very favorable position, still kneeling on the floor with you and weaving a spell over your pocket. There was little denying to be done about the fact he was supposed to be worlds away, on the very edge of the known universe and not in his old bedroom. Even if he tried, he doubted it would work. 

"It's been a while," he added firmly, with a tight-lipped smile only present for a moment. 

Queen Frigga wore a smile of her own, tugged into the corners of her rose-colored lips. It spoke of things she knew and things she could see, regardless of how hidden they were meant to be. It was not malicious, though - far from it, if one knew how to interpret it. 

She remained poised by the door, in a dress of soft pastel pink. There was little surprise on her face, despite how unusual it must've been to find her own exiled son back without any warning. She radiated calm, commandeered without a hint of doubt. Loki missed her warmth. 

"Mother, there is someone I'd like to introduce to you," Loki helped you up. "This is my-" 

"Oh, finally. If you waited any longer, I'd pay you a visit myself," Frigga cut him off lightly, embracing you gently. She smelled of roses and pine. 

Loki caught your petrified gaze, but wasn't sure what to do either. Being hugged was a better alternative to having the guards called, though. You could take it. 

"As delighted as I am to see you," Loki interrupted the moment carefully, "how did you know where to find us?" 

"Palace has eyes everywhere," the queen shrugged, looking you up and down. "Thankfully, your father only has one."

Loki connected the dots. 

"Heimdall it is then, after all. I knew that bastard would have a sudden change of heart just like that." 

Frigga sighed. Her hands were gentle and soft on your face. "Welcome to the family, love." 

"...um, thank you?" 

Loki masked his laugh with a cough. It was truly a refreshing sight, to have you rendered speechless within moments. He'd cherish that sight for a long time. 

"What about some tea?" the queen asked as if things were already settled. There was very little you would deny her, but Loki did anyway. 

"Time is not on our side, mother. We were only able to sneak out for a few hours, but every moment we risk having our little trip discovered by the Edge. The tension there is… growing." 

"Dear, that place was always full of trouble. Do you have a plan?" 

She switched her focus in an instant, with a frown set between her brows. 

"We do." 

There was pride she was not afraid to show when she stroked Loki's cheek. "I can't wait to hear about your success, then."

Loki took a deep breath. "Well, there's a tiny problem we have to solve before we go back there. There's something we need from the royal treasure…"

Your eyes lit up. 

Frigga smirked knowingly. 

"I suppose with your current status, it might be difficult to get you anywhere close to it," she admitted, already thinking about a way in. 

You nudged Loki in the ribs. "What about your bag?" 

"What?" 

"Get in the bag, and I'll get you through," you explained, sweating profusely under the queen's keen eyes. "No one knows me here." 

"That's a stupid idea." 

"I love it, though," Frigga clasped her hands. "Get in." 

"But we don't even know if-" 

"Loki."

"...yes, mother."

As much as you were proud of your idea, there was one thing that didn't occur to you. Once Loki was gone, the rooms became much more quiet. 

Holding the queen's stare didn't seem like a good idea. Avoiding it didn't either, though. 

The tension made your skin itch, prodding you to move, to do anything, and most likely something stupid. Thankfully, the woman was first to break it. 

"Shall we go?" she asked, stepping towards the door with a gentle smile. 

You didn't want to. You had no idea you'd feel this awkward, even when she was giving you no reason to. Taking the bag, you followed her near-silent steps. 

"I'm afraid we'll have to put you in some less flashy clothes," Frigga mentioned off-hand, walking through a luminous hallway. "Your face might not be recognized, but you might still stand out like this." 

Watching her flowing gown, you were inclined to agree. The palace was no place for jeans. 

Your body was no place for the strange fashion of Asgard either, or at least according to your body itself. Walking in clothes cut to a different fashion was only saved by how soft their fabric felt against your skin. Still, you followed the queen to the treasury, faithfully staying a step behind as any proper servant would, or so she claimed. 

There was no hesitation in her steps as she led you through hallways with high ceilings supported by thin, ornate columns. The stained glass of the widows refracted the sun into an artfully intricate mess of colors. The guards and members of palace staff passed you on your way, but they only bowed deeply to the queen, sharing very little of their attention with you. 

"How do you like it?" Frigga asked casually when you were out of anyone's earshot. 

"I mean, this whole place is… wow. Amazing. I wish I had more time to check everything out," you answered honestly, unsure of what the right thing was to say. 

"Would you like to stay?" 

It was an innocent question, or at least it would be under different circumstances. Here, in the middle of a palace, stranded on your own without Loki by your side, it was a question asked precisely because of those circumstances. 

"I'm afraid my schedule is quite busy right now. I've got a war to stop and a murderer to find - you know, just a casual Tuesday evening." 

"And what happens afterwards?" 

She didn't seem angry, and yet there must've been a reason for her curiosity. You looked down to the bag you were still holding. "That doesn't depend solely on me." 

Frigga didn't smile, but you couldn't feel any hostility from her. If anything, she seemed quite at peace. 

The double set of high, elaborately carved doors at the end of the corridor were undoubtedly a work of art and also heavy pieces of metal, magic and gold. It took the guards a few moments of strained breathing and groans to open them for you, but any thoughts about their job vanished as you followed the queen inside. 

Rows upon rows of shining crystals of all shapes and colors crowded one of the walls. Opposite it stood the mannequins in proud poses and heavy sets of armor. High as you could see, weapons of all sorts hanged from the hooks, capable of supporting a small army. Daggers and curved swords you could recognize, as well as the lances and halberds that made you wonder what kind of monsters had they been used against in the past. 

The huge battle axes caught your eye, but there was no way for you to even lift the ones almost your own height. Beyond them, on the long tables, laid gauntlets and helmets both winged and horned or with steel fangs like a beast's, and further in - even capes made of what looked like scales or monster hide. This was a place of legends you'd never heard. 

"See anything you like?" 

Lost in your thoughts, the queen's pleasant voice startled you and brought you back to reality. 

"Everything and I'm not even exaggerating. I could live in here."

Frigga walked by the neat rows of weaponry. "It's mostly family heirlooms and loot from all the great and shameful wars of the past. There are countless stories behind every one of them, but I don't think we came here for stories. What are you looking for?" 

"A sword. Loki said we could get one from here." 

"What kind of sword?" 

"...a sharp one?" 

"I take it you don't have much experience with them, then?" she chuckled. 

"My world favors guns." 

Frigga passed the first row and walked further into the treasury. The grandeur of large pieces changed into the showcase of precision and stealth as you looked at the countless thin blades, hooks and things you couldn't really name, let alone use. You considered letting Loki out of the bag, both to have him steer his mother back to the weapons you recognized, and to check on him. Making a spatial storage was a tricky thing, he had claimed after wondering if the air would still work normally inside of it. 

Before you got the chance to do that, the queen stopped in front of a plain gray case and opened it. 

"It's a shame so many of those have to spend centuries out of use," she blew the dust off a middle length sword with a slightly curved edge. "I hope this one will serve you well." 

The blade was tinted with gray, as if melted with ash. It didn't shine, which could come in handy during sneaking around. The handle laid in your hand as if it was always meant for you. 

"Once upon a time, it was called Windcleaver," Frigga looked at you with melancholy. "It'll never dull and never break." 

"Thank you," you breathed out. Tearing your eyes off the blade felt impossible. "It's marvelous. I only hope I won't cut my fingers off before I learn how to properly use it. Are you sure I can take it?" 

"What use does it have here?" the queen shrugged, gesturing to the immeasurable numbers in the treasury. "Besides, I've heard my son promised you one." 

You carefully put the sword into your magically imbued pocket. 

"Thank you, seriously," you said again. "For everything. We knew about the risk of coming here, so… thank you for not ratting us out? And, you know, giving me this cool sword. You're awesome. I'd vote for you." 

Although voting for anyone was not a practice often used on Asgard, queen Frigga appreciated the implied meaning anyway. 

"That's lovely to hear," she said as you left the treasury and headed wherever she wanted you to go. "Especially since, as far as I could see, you plan on staying with my son, correct?" 

"I mean, I literally crossed the universe with him, twice, so I guess I do? Look, sorry if I'm not precisely who you'd prefer for your son, but I like him, and I'm not going to pretend I don't." 

You left the palace grounds through what looked like one of the main gates. The road was a wide path with olive trees growing by the sides. There was an embarrassing amount of relief you felt noticing the Bifrost getting closer instead of the dungeons. 

"Asgard is a beautiful place in many ways," Frigga broke the silence after a while. "People are happy and live in prosperity, especially on the palace grounds. But life, even here, is far from perfect. Things happen, and we can do little to control the damage they wreak upon us," she looked at you. In the dimming sun and the lanterns slowly coming back to life as you followed the road, the queen looked every bit the royal she was. "I'm glad that my son won't have to go through whatever happens alone anymore." 

Speechless, you followed her over the bridge and to the round observatory at its very end. Frigga approached Heimdall, speaking in hushed voices, meanwhile you watched Loki crawl out of the bag. With a groan, he slumped to the floor, mostly unharmed, if only a little yellow on the face. 

You patted his cheek, waiting for a reaction. "You good? How was it?" 

"...I'm never doing that again." 

"What if I pay you? I've got like—" you fished in your pocket. "Three dollars, a stick of gum, and a sword." 

"You got a sword?" that seemed to raise his attention as he pushed himself on the elbows. 

"Your mom found me one. She's really cool." 

Loki looked over to the queen conversing quietly with Heimdall. She looked the same as the day he'd been exiled. "She is." 

As Heimdall moved to ready the Bifrost, Frigga approached the two of you, embracing Loki tightly. You were aware of what happened in the past in general, but seeing the consequences of it from up so close put a weight on your chest. Switching worlds for the sake of a mission was a very different thing from being completely banned from your own home planet and leaving it for the final time knowing that you won't be able to see your family of any of your friends and places you grew up in ever again, and even you were slowly growing homesick already. Watching Loki say his final goodbye reminded you of how strong that feeling must be in him. 

"Thank you for helping us." He stepped away. "We were lucky to be found by you."

"Actually…," you hated to step in the moment, "we kind of need to push on that luck a bit more. I really don't want to come off as ungrateful, but we really need a tiny, little visit to Earth too."

"Just for a minute. Maybe two," Loki solemnly swore, remembering your completely-not-sketchy plan. 

"We just need to grab some-… thing," you added to the rising suspicion of Heimdall. "Stopping a war is not an easy thing, you know." 

With a heavy sigh of the queen, a nauseating trip across the universe and back, a tiny case of abduction, Loki and you finally found yourselves back in the familiar mud of the Edge, its stars shining just as bright as when you left it. So much has happened since you were last in the obscure forest of gnarled trees, that it felt like weeks instead of hours. You could say that thankfully, nothing seemed to have changed during your absence, but that would be a lie.

The two of you stared at the Rift. It was still a seething wound in the fabric of the universe, and just as awfully wrong as you remembered, but also - significantly smaller.

"Do you think it's because of the Bifrost?" you voiced Loki's thoughts.

"The amount of energy released by the bridge shouldn't be enough to make such a change, but… I can't see how it can be anything else?"

"So we just ignore it and pretend we haven't been even close to it?"

"Yup."

"I like that plan."

"How about we walk a little away from this floating rip of void while we're at it? I think it would be the wisest if the boy didn't see it just yet. We don't have the time to explain everything to him," Loki gestured to the bag. 

You followed him deeper into the woods, grateful to finally reach the part where life was growing back. It was a relief to leave the muddy, dusty circle of death and despair the Rift created around itself as it sucked all the energy from whatever dared to live nearby. Further away, the Edge showed off its true colors, with wild flowers blooming in tangled masses hanging overhead from the winding branches of trees that had no names. Butterflies with three sets of feathery wings crossed your path in a shimmering cloud.

"This should be far enough," Loki judged, finally putting the bag on the moss. "I still can't believe that Heimdall agreed to this."

"I can't believe your mother agreed to this."

"If you lived in the palace, you'd know first-hand what ideas she's capable of on her own…"

Loki knelt next to the bag and reached down into its depths to bring out a boy. 

The boy was no ordinary thing, both by his clothing and his abilities you were greatly interested in. The bright blue-and-red costume hid very little of how deeply in shock he was over his sudden change of settings, world, and, apparently, plans for the evening. 

He rubbed the yellow and green moss and stared at the feathery butterflies circling overhead. 

"Have I- Have I just been abducted?" Peter voiced his confusion in a dangerously high voice. 

"I'd say so, and since he's technically an alien," you pointed at Loki, "you've got the full pack."

"This is awesome!" 

Peter springed to his feet and proceeded to jump around and touch every single thing around him, startling even more butterflies into hurried flight. 

"I told you he'd love it here." 

"I never doubted it. My only concern remains over his discretion, though," Loki smiled gently, looking at the boy freaking out over the flowers, moss, ground, trees and everything alive and currently running away from him. 

"He'll do well. Hey, Peter," you said louder, "we kinda need your assistance." 

He was at your side in a flash, with hands shaking and eyes wild. "Of course! I knew you'd come back for me, guys, thank you so much, I'll do whatever I have to!" 

Explaining your half-made plan to the boy constantly jumping between hugging both of you and getting distracted by literally everything around him took you a moment. You only hoped he'd remember your words. 

In the end, Loki took the runestone out of his pocket and handed it to Peter. 

"Ten minutes ago I was eating a kebab on a rooftop and now I'm doing magic," the boy cheered. "This is great." 

"Now, focus," Loki snapped his fingers, grabbing a churned, black stone he found in the corpse of the monstrous spider that attacked you. 

Loki gently pressed the stones together and watched them start to glow. 

"You'll have to follow the light and not be noticed," he said, pocketing the spider's remains again. "It should take you straight to the person who wanted us dead enough to cast the curse. Once you find them, you get back straight to us, do you understand? There's a castle behind you and our rooms are right there, over those roses blooming-" 

"There's even a castle? I'm not leaving this place," Peter jumped on a nearby tree to see the palace better. 

Loki sighed, appreciating the hand you rubbed his arm with. 

"I'm having second thoughts if this actually is a good plan," he admitted, too quietly for the boy to hear. 

"We don't really have a choice. You said it yourself, that we'll be closely guarded. After that fight yesterday, they won't let us just roam the palace freely. And we need to know who's working against us." 

Loki nodded, painfully aware of all that. Still, it didn't sit well with him to have the boy involved in  such danger. The Edge had always been a violent place, and with the recent events, that tendency only deepened. 

"Be careful, boy," he said, once Peter was calm enough to listen. "I know we haven't explained this plan with you, but… We really need you." 

Anyone who didn’t know Peter well would think that there were tears of joy running down his face as he put on his mask and disappeared among the trees heading to the palace. Anyone who knew him well would know it was true. 

"Stop worrying," you nudged Loki. "Even if someone catches him, they won't hurt him. Besides, look at him go. He's got it. This is the perfect ground for someone with his abilities." 

"I'm not worried," Loki scoffed and crossed his arms in a very unconvincing gesture. "I just can't wait to find out who's our enemy. And if the court will side with us."

"Heimdall would see it, right? He'd help us if things go very south very fast?"

"I'd like to think so, but the only thing he can do is to inform the guards and leave the decision to my fa-... the king. I'm not sure what he'll do. This whole mission was supposed to let Asgard avoid getting any further involvement with the Edge."

So encouraging.

"I see. So how about we sneak back into our rooms before Faroq and his guards notice we're gone? Or even better - find Peter in our place, already having found that nasty spellcaster."

Loki let his imagination run wild. "...let us go indeed."

It was a good not-exactly-a-plan. Sure, it was a hasty job, written almost entirely on the go and with little thought of alternatives, had the things not worked out. But since it had taken you both to the ends of the universe and back (even with a quick stop midway for a tiny little child abduction), you wouldn't be so ungrateful as to say your not-a-plan sucked. 

A few minutes later, you were sadly forced to change your mind, as you were met with drawn out swords and even sharper stares aimed at you. The guards were posted right on the edge of the forest, where it turned into a little more tamed part of the gardens, and shedding any cover it might've granted you.

A woman in a blood red uniform stepped towards you with a scowl. "You're both under arrest. Do not move."

"That sounds a little harsh for breaking a house arrest," Loki calmly observed, moving to stand slightly between you and her. 

Your hand slipped towards your pocket and a certain gift it held.

The guard spit on the ground. "Not enough for the murderers, though."

Loki and you froze. That was new.

"Could we get some more details about what that guy just said or...?"

The woman looked at you suspiciously. She did not lower her sword, nor did she order the other guards to stand down. 

"Don't act like you haven't murdered them," she only barked out.

"As much as you don't believe us, we have no idea what you-"

"Bodies have been found a few hours ago," she cut Loki off. "A few families, living on the other side of the river. Their lives have already fed the nearby Rifts. Are you happy now?"

Far from it, you wanted to tell her and all the guards nervously waiting for the orders. If need be, they'd cut you down without a hint of regret - you could see it on their faces, in the stern looks and tense shoulders. It wasn't a question of what was the truth behind the murders. The only thing that mattered now was how well you had just been framed.

[jamestrmtx]

Fairytale Complex - [Undertale | Sans x Reader]

[Gender Neutral, Frisk's Parent Reader | Slow Burn]

Chapter Three | sans. (Part 2 of 3 | His POV)

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Still disoriented by the hug, the skeleton finds it difficult not to spare a glance at the human every so often. Though the train's near empty and it allows for some space between him and (Y/N), he still feels too close to them. It was rare for people to find a way to pay back at him for his constant joking around, and he's quite frankly bummed over learning Frisk had told on him. Though he wasn't one to use the same joke on two different people, he wanted to go a similar route with at least one of Frisk's parents, just to see how much they were alike to their child. As results of his defeat, he can only try to strike up another conversation with them while the train makes it to his stop.

"Frisk told me they lived with you only," he says, breaking the ice. "How's it like being a single parent? If you're, well... single, I mean."

He almost wants the ground to eat him up and spit him back to the Underground with how blunt he'd been just now. And while it wasn't intentional, his question along with the text messages from earlier made him feel as if he was involuntarily flirting with the human. Thankfully, they don't show an immediate reaction, and when they do react, it's followed with a smile.

"It's a bit tough sometimes, but… I'd say as long as you raise your child well and that you enjoy what you're doing, then it can be pretty rewarding." Warmth softens (Y/N)'s eyes and they appear vulnerable for just a moment. "I've raised Frisk on my own since they were a newborn, and it's been nice to see how far they've gone." The human stops talking to stare at him for a second; it's a second that takes far too long for his liking, and one where he feels as if he's being judged just as stern and ruthless as he once was during his time at the Underground. "Are you a father yourself? Your... question kind of makes me think that."

First the hug, and now this.

The kid's parent really knew how to give him frequent, near-death experiences, it seems.

"Uh…" Words stay stuck in his metaphorical throat, until he finally replies with, "No, but I hadda take responsibility over my bro when we were younger." He rubs the back of his neck and looks away from them, their eyes being far too attentive for his taste. "But I'd say it's nothin' compared to being a real parent, though."

"Don't sell yourself short," they say, nudging his shoulder. "I'd like to meet your brother someday. What's his name?"

"Papyrus -- the one you mentioned earlier."

"Do you have pictures?" 

It's almost impossible for him not to be amused at how excited they seem all of a sudden, yet he fights back a chuckle, not wanting for it to be taken the wrong way. He proceeds to search through his phone for a picture of his brother, stopping when he finds one with Frisk in it, too. "Here he is," he says, holding the phone out for them.

He scoots back as subtly as he can manage when they move a bit closer, ending the space of one seat once left between each other. Now, he sits right beside them, and he begins to wonder over how normal it is for a human to be this way; open and chatty. Surely, and just like how every other monster type was different in their own way, then humans had to have similar differences, too. As a result, Sans tries not to let (Y/N)'s sudden proximity get to him and ignores the weird feeling in his non-existent gut when he meets a bit closer with their face, greeted with intrigued eyes and an equally curious smile. "He's so grown up already. I honestly thought he'd be younger based on what you and Frisk told me!"

They move back a little, finally allowing him space to let out a breath and contemplate just what was that weird feeling from earlier ago; the monster couldn't possibly have developed a crush already, and it was far too silly and farfetched to even think about. Simply fooling around a little through text and having them hug him to backfire his prank wasn't near enough for any sort of attraction to build up yet. He tries to tell himself that time after time again, though he can't forget the gentleness of their touch when pulling him in for that hug, nor can he ignore how blatant and bold he'd been with them through texts. Still, if anything had to be fueling those feelings of his, it had to be the sheer lack of contentment he'd been experiencing as of recent, deeming him more vulnerable when it came to making and maintaining new relationships with others.

Sans was down, and while he didn't want to admit it, he needed to go back to some sort of routine and professional counseling to get him back on track. Even Frisk had seen him at his worst at one point, going as far as to admit he'd given up, yet now he's here again, and with the company of their primary caregiver, to boot. The human's eyes stay on him even as he stores the phone away, incrementing the same strange feeling from before. 

"How do you feel being out here now?" they ask. "If you lived underground, I'm guessing up here's much warmer, right? …Or at least most of it, I expect!" They seem to recall something and take a quick moment to gather their thoughts. "Your contact information said you worked in Snowdin, Waterfall, and Hotland. Is… Is the name Hotland true to its name?"

"Very," he says, chuckling. "And Snowdin and Waterfall, too." He knows he's not making eye contact anymore, so he tries to look at them again, but can't bring himself to no matter how many times he tries. "That's actually part of what I wanted to talk to you about."

The human nods with a smile, signaling for him to carry on speaking. The monster finally manages to look at them directly, aware this was most likely the last time they would smile at him after he told the truth about all the stuff that took place back at the Underground. Surely, and just as he suspected was something (Y/N) wanted to talk with him about, a parent wouldn't feel too fond knowing most of his kind had tried to hurt and chase after their child at one point. He's already anticipating an inevitable downfall in the barely-relationship he has with them, but that doesn't stop him from trying to make himself acquainted with them before any of that ever came to be a reality.

"I was wonderin' if you wanted to see what it's like down there," he says, setting those thoughts out to rest. "It could help you understand your kid's journey better, and you could also learn more about my kind, too."

When their smile grows, he almost feels a pang of guilt reach the very center of his ribcage. Knowing he'd hit it off well with them and knowing it wouldn't last long made him feel worse at every second he kept secret all the mistakes his kind made on their own. "I'd love to," they reply, eyes almost lighting up in joy. "So I assume you would be the one showing me there, then?" Sans nods and watches as they rummage something from their pocket, retrieving a notepad and pen; both are patterned with bunnies all over, a sight that makes the monster wonder if that stationary was a gift from Frisk. "That reminds me," they add, offering both items out to him. "Could you tell me if I'm missing anyone on this list?" He takes the items and ignores when their fingers brush with his, just as gentle as the hug felt. "It's supposed to be all the monsters Frisk made friends with there." 

"Sure," he says, flipping the notepad open. A grin returns to his face when he remembers just how many friends Frisk made back there, and how many more they would've likely made had they met the monsters on different terms, and had they stayed at the Underground for longer than they had. "It's gonna be one helluva list, though -- Kid made more friends than I can count."

They cover up a laugh, saying, "Didn't you used to be a scientist? I'm sure you know way more math than me."

"Maybe that's why it says past scientist 'stead of former?"

Though Sans had been joking around himself, he sees a frown fall on the human's face, a sudden change of expression followed by them shifting on their seat. "I'm sorry," they say, meeting his irises. "That was a rude question, wasn't it? It's… It's not exactly polite to bring up a stranger's past like that, isn't it?"

"I mean, yeah, but…" He pauses to observe their change in expression, far too concerned over something so trivial. "I'm okay with being honest, and that's exactly why I'm here, anyway." Their distressed expression stays intact, showing they barely took his words as true. "There's a lotta stuff I could've done and approached differently during my time at the Underground, and now I wanna change that." He doesn't know why he's running his mouth now, but one thing's for certain, and it's that he wants to keep on talking. If he was the judgment card out of all the major arcana, the human sitting next to him had to be either the tower or the hermit. "Maybe I can't tell you all about it right now, but there's a lotta stuff I need to clear up and come clean about before we can get to know each other better."

The train halts and the doors open, his stop finally marking itself on the screen. Only two of the few other people present stand up, and him and (Y/N) are the last two to exit. He walks with them side by side, continuing with the conversation until he finds the place he'd be inviting them over to.

------------------------------

Finally there, Sans goes with the human to a diner both Grillby and Muffet were jealous of, and just by stepping into the building, he can already tell why. It smells heavenly, its interiors look straight out of a home renovation magazine, and it's bustling with people, but it's still spacious enough not to make the surroundings feel stuffy or cramped. Most occupied tables have a room with a view sort of attraction, large glass panes allowing customers to observe the inner workings of the mall from the comfort of their seat and a cheap and warm meal. As a consequence, there's a couple of empty tables left farther away, these having the privacy of low lighting and no windows nearby, a spot more than adequate for the conversation he would soon have with Frisk's parent. He points at it with his irises and tells them to sit there while he goes to make both orders at the counter.

"Aren't we splitting the bill?" they ask, a hand already searching around for their wallet.

"I made the invite, so it's only fair I pay," he replies, winking at them. "Besides, after what we're gonna talk about here, you'll probably be mad enough to never talk to me again."

"How does that correlate with us not splitting the bill?" They quirk a brow, smile, and take a seat at the empty table nonetheless. "And who says that? We haven't even gotten to talk about anything too serious yet."

He laughs. "Believe me when I say the situation down there was a big ol', complicated mess." His gaze wanders to the counter, seeing only a line of two people waiting for their turn. "So here's to hopin' a lunch with you and treating you to it makes things a lil' bit less tense between us."

"You're trying to bribe me with food, is what you're saying?" Their smile grows and they relax on their seat.

He snickers. "Depends on how ya look at it, pal."

With that, he leaves the human at the table and goes off to the ordering line, setting the topic aside from his mind to focus on making the orders and taking the correct amount of currency used at the Surface. It takes no longer than five minutes for it to be his turn, though when it's time to finally say both orders, he freezes and so does the cashier when he looks at the table Sans had just walked out from. The name tag on the man's uniform shows to be a familiar last name; it's the only other last name besides (Y/N)'s found in Frisk's full name. 'Jerry', his first name reads, the owner of the name being a six foot tall hunk with tanned skin, plenty of muscle, blond hair, a sharp jawline, and every other feature one could expect out of the typical jock character seen in some American movies he often found thrown at the Underground's dumpster, source from where Alphys got her anime, Mettaton his glamour, and Napstablook their music.

The man's customer service smile falls to a near death stare when he meets with Sans's gaze, his glare and height enough to make the monster feel cornered.

"Is that (Y/N) over there?" Jerry asks, pointing with his eyes over to where they sit at. "What's a guy like you doing with my ex?"

Sans grins, resists the urge to roll his irises, and lifts his gaze up higher, not wanting to be towered over by the man behind the counter. "What about you, pal? That ex you're talkin' about, Frisk, and even CPS have been lookin' everywhere for ya. And now you jus' suddenly appear outta nowhere?"

"Oh, that's real damn rich coming from a guy who threatened my kid with death."

Oh.

Oh no.

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[lowkeyjustvibing]

Fic time again

Pairing: Truce poly + Reaper and Epic

Prompt: Just some chaos

Also! We have:

Enby Nightmare, Reaper, and Horror

Neopronoun Error (string,strings,stringself)

aro/ace Ink and ace Reaper

Also human versions ‘cuz    y e s

*CRASH*

“YOU BETTER NOT HAVE BROKEN ONE OF MY VASES INK!”

“You’re legit dead, bruh.”

“Shut up and run before they see us!”

Nightmare stormed down the hall, their tentacles thrashing wildly and just barely avoiding breaking some things themselves. Things like this (Which were once a rarity) had become quite common ever since the truce and the events that occurred as a result. In short, after peace was finally brought to the multiverse, both the Star Sanses and the Bad Sanses both realized just how dull life was without the other group present in their lives. 

The solution? Get everyone to live in the same house.

And since Nightmare was the only one in possession of a building big enough for all of them to live in, the Star Sanses just moved in. It was difficult to get used to the sudden change in living arrangements. Fights would break out on a daily basis over small things and it would be up to someone else to keep the peace. However, once they all managed to get used to each other, things went a lot smoother.

Or rather, smoother than before.

Nightmare finally reached the living room, sighing as they saw the shards of porcelain covering the floor.

“And this was one of my favorites too.” They muttered, picking up the shards.

Thankfully, one of the nice things about being covered in sentient sludge is that it works as great glue. In a few seconds, the vase looked back to normal (If you ignored the subtle cracks covering it).

“Now where’s that clumsy squid?” They mused, scanning the room.

At that moment Dust walked in, probably having heard all the commotion as well and coming to see what happened. When he saw Nightmare, he gave a small wave before flopping onto the couch and curling up under the blankets.

“Hey!”

Nightmare jumped and Dust practically flew off the couch, immediately grabbing the pocket knife he carried, manifesting a few blasters, and pointing them at the now wriggling blankets.

Nightmare just sighed, signaling Dust to calm down, “Ink, come out from under the blankets.”

After a few minutes of silence, the artist was heard quietly cursing before sheepishly poking his head out from under the blankets, “Um, hey Nightmare?”

Suddenly, another person emerged from the blanket as well, “It’s his fault, bruh!”

Nightmare just sighed again, pinching their eyebrows, “What have I told you about roughhousing outside of the gym and your own rooms?”

“Not to...” Epic and Ink responded simultaneously, both staring at the floor.

Dust just snickered, de-summoning the blaster and putting away his knife, “What is this, the seventh time you guys have broken something just this week?”

Ink stuck his tongue out at the other, getting rewarded with a similar action. 

“That doesn’t matter,” Nightmare said, “Ink, Epic, you two are doing extra chores this week.”

“What?!” Epic cried, “I didn’t even do anything, bruh!”

“Yes, because Ink decided to break the vase with no prompting.”

Epic just huffed and folded his arms, grumbling something unintelligible. Ink looked equally annoyed but seemed to accept what Nightmare said. 

“Oh yeah, Nightmare.” Dust suddenly piped up, “I think Error wanted you. Heard string say something about Reaper harassing strings.”

“Not again...” Nightmare muttered, walking off and leaving the other three to do their own thing.

On the way to where they believed Error was, Nightmare passed Dream’s room where he was helping Horror read a story Killer had gotten them for their birthday. It had taken a while for Horror to be comfortable asking anyone to help them read. They felt embarrassed that they couldn’t read on their own due to not only being slightly dyslexic, but also having poor vision. It always Nightmare happy to see somebody helping them. After a few moments, Dream looked up and saw Nightmare. He waved, smiling brightly and Horror glanced up, waving as well. Nightmare returned the gesture before continuing down the hall, they had a job to do.

“HI NIGHTMARE!”

Nightmare jumped, their tentacles instinctively sharpening and pointing towards whoever scared them.

“OH!” Blue cried before lowering his voice, “Sorry, I forget how loud I can be sometimes.”

After recovering from the shock Nightmare smiled, ruffling Blue’s hair, “It’s fine, you just surprised me.”

Blue beamed, giving them a hug, “OK!”

They returned the hug, giving the shorter and giving him a peck on the cheek before letting go, “Forgive me for my abruptness, but I have something to take care of at the moment. See you again later.”

And with that, they left a very flustered Blue standing in the middle of the hallway. Now, to finally find Error. They thought, a determined glint in their eyes. No more distractions.

“Sup Boss.”

Nightmare just barely suppressed a groan, “Damn it.”

Killer scoffed, “Well, I didn’t realize how little you liked my presence.” 

“You know I didn’t mean that.” Nightmare responded, continuing down the hall with Killer now practically skipping along behind them.

“Then what’s got ya’ so riled up?” Killer asked.

“I’m trying to find Error but I keep getting distracted by people.”

“Why ‘re ya’ trying to find strings?”

“Dust said something about Reaper harassing strings and I want to make sure Error doesn’t kill them.”

At that, Killer instantly tensed up, though he quickly hid his reaction, “Oh, you got any idea where string is?”

“Unfortunately, no.”

Killer didn’t respond, only speeding up and quickly overtaking Nightmare. In turn, Nightmare began speeding up as well to keep up with him. They expected Killer to become worried once he found out Error was even mildly inconvenienced. Dust and Horror were also very protective of the glitch. They all saw strings as a parental figure of sorts (Along with Nightmare). 

“Calm down Killer.” Nightmare said, reaching out and grabbing his shoulder.

Killer flinched and seemed to calm down a bit but he still radiated worry and anger, “Sorry, I’m just worried about strings.”

“I am too but you just need to calm down.” They responded, “It’ll be OK.”

Killer grumbled something but agreed following right alongside Nightmare.

“I wonder where-” Nightmare was cut off by a glitched out shout of frustration followed by a surprised yelp, “Found them.”

Killer broke into a run and Nightmare just walked along after him.

“Killer! Get away before I touch you!” Reaper cried, instantly stumbling backwards upon seeing the other.

Killer just scoffed in response and turned to Error who was still glitching slightly. It was obvious string was just frustrated with the pesky god, passive aggressively turning away from them.

Reaper finally steadied, brushing themselves off, “Well, that was an unexpected turn of events.” after regaining their composure, they turned to Error and did a dramatic bow, “Forgive me for my insolence my sweet cherry blossom.”

Error ignored strings blush and the fact that parts of strings were pixelating in and out of existence, “ץєคђ ฬђคՇєשєг, ןยรՇ ๒คςк ๏ŦŦ ๒єŦ๏гє เ ๔๏ ร๏๓єՇђเภﻮ ฬє ๒๏Շђ гєﻮгєՇ.”

Reaper took that as a win and grinned, spinning on their heel and walking down the hall, “I look forward to our next encounter beautiful~!”

“Sƚυριԃ ϝʅιɾƚყ Ⴆαʂƚαɾԃ.” Error muttered, though string wouldn’t deny the smile that tugged at the corners of strings mouth.

“You OK Error?” Killer asked, careful not to be too close without permission.

String nodded, “Yҽαԋ, αʅʅ Շђєץ ԃιԃ ɯαʂ ριʂʂ ɱҽ σϝϝ. Nσƚԋιɳɠ Ⴆιɠ.”

“They’re lucky I can’t touch them or else they’d be in danger right about now.” Was all he said, scowling at the floor.

Nightmare finally stepped forward, having just been watching the interaction, “Well, I’m glad nothing too bad happened.”

“Eαʂყ ϝσɾ ყσυ ƚσ ʂαყ σƈƚσρυʂ.” String responded.

Nightmare rolled their eyes, “My goodness, I thought we were over the whole octopus ordeal.”

“Never will be goop lord!” Killer said, instantly going from brooding to playful.

They sighed in disappointment before picking Killer up with a tentacle and motioning for Error to follow, “Anyways, it’s movie night.”

“Is it my turn?!” Killer asked, swinging his legs though being careful not to kick Nightmare.

“No, Cross.” 

Killer groaned loudly, “Oh come ON! You know full well he and Epic are gonna’ make us watch the Bee Movie again.”

Nightmare just shrugged, “I don’t make the rules.”

“YES YOU DO!”

“Irrelevant.” 

Error snickered quietly at their debate, “ʏօʊ ȶաօ ʄɨɢɦȶ ʟɨӄɛ ǟռ օʟɖ ʍǟʀʀɨɛɖ ƈօʊքʟɛ.”

“Bold of you to assume we aren’t.” Killer retorted.

“I’m pretty sure we all are.”

“Whatever.”

They walked in silence for a moment before Nightmare turned and rapped loudly on a nearby door, “Epic, Cross, stop making out and come to the living room. It’s movie night.”

After a few moments of frantic shuffling from inside the room, Cross opened the door, looking quite disheveled, “H-hey Nightmare, we’ll be out in a minute.”

Somewhere inside the dimly lit bedroom a frantic voice whispered, “Close the damn door, bruh!”

Killer burst out laughing, Error barely kept stringself from glitching out from laughter, and Nightmare chuckled before closing the door in Cross’s flushed face. 

“Oh they are NEVER living this down!” Killer wheezed and barely managed to pat the tentacle holding him, “H-here, just put me d-down, I need to go tell the other two.” he wheezed out.

Nightmare set him down and after a few moments of trying to catch his breath, he was off, jogging down the halls and calling for Horror and Dust. After he was out of sight, Nightmare turned to Error.

“So,” They started, “Are you SURE you’re OK?”

Error looked at them in confusion for a moment before nodding, “Yҽαԋ, ʝυʂƚ ɠσƚ ƈαυɠԋƚ σϝϝ Ⴆყ Rҽαρҽɾ. I'ɱ ϝιɳҽ ɳσɯ.”

“Alright,” Nightmare responded, giving strings a soft kiss on the forehead, “but if they ever make you uncomfortable just tell them to back off. They’re a clingy flirt but they know to respect boundaries.”

String was now a blushing mess and Nightmare reveled in that fact, deciding to fluster strings more. 

“I hope you know I love you.” They mumbled, moving closer to Error (Who thankfully didn’t move back)

String was glitching hard, not from how close the other was, but from how flustered strings was.

Nightmare decided to continue, embracing strings in a loose hug, “You’re so wonderful, I could never live without you.”

“₦-₦ł₲Ⱨ₮₥₳ⱤɆ...” Error responded and upon hearing how bad string was glitching, Nightmare backed off slightly.

After a few moments, string pulled them back into another hug, burying strings head into their shoulder. Nightmare was caught off guard but smiled and proceeded to hum quietly while holding the other. They occasionally gave more compliments just to see Error get flustered again while they both stood there in the empty hallway. After some time, Nightmare found themself wanting to make the other all the more flustered, just to see what would happen. They lifted a hand to strings cheek and moved strings so that they were face to face. The only warning Error got was a mischievous look in Nightmare’s eyes before their lips met. It was brief, nothing too long so as to not cause Error to crash, but Nightmare savored the brief moment.

After a few minutes of stunned silence, Error’s cheeks began to burn. String glitched sharply, trying not to crash as Nightmare began to regret the impulsive decision.

“Are you O-” Nightmare started but was stopped as Error, in a similar moment of impulsivity, kissed them again.

Now it was Nightmare’s turn to be caught off guard but they weren’t about to waste this. They kissed back and absentmindedly began fiddling with strings hair. 

That was until they heard the sound of a phone camera clicking and snickering from a bit down the hall. They both instantly looked over and saw Cross and Epic snickering as Epic pointed his phone at them. The effect was instantaneous. Error crashed, scratchy dial up noise filling the hall and Nightmare’s tentacles sharpened and pointed towards the other two as their cheeks turned bright red.

“Go.” Was all they said and Cross instantly grabbed Epic and sprinted down the hall, cursing as he ran.

Nightmare uttered a few curses themself and turned back to Error who was still rebooting. It took a minute but string eventually finished, blinking a few times to clear the lingering pixels and error signs.

“₮ⱧØ₴Ɇ Ⱡł₮₮ⱠɆ ₳**ⱧØⱠɆ₴!” String cried, the glitches returning for a moment before calming down.

“Calm down Error.” Nightmare said, barely retaining their own composure, “It’s not like they can even do much with that picture anyways.”

String muttered something incomprehensible before just groaning and resting strings head on Nightmares shoulder, “ƈǟռ ʏօʊ ǟȶ ʟɛǟֆȶ ƈǟʀʀʏ ʍɛ? ɨ'ʍ ȶɨʀɛɖ ռօա.”

“Of course.” They responded, doing something similar to what they did with Killer and carrying strings in their tentacles.

They had discovered that while physical contact still caused strings to glitch occasionally, somehow their tentacles didn’t seem to trigger it. So, of course, whenever Error crashed and was too tired to walk much, they would always carry strings in his tentacles. As they walked, Error sighed contentedly and buried strings head in the mass of pure negativity. Nightmare couldn’t help feeling proud that they found a way to practically smother Error while not hurting strings, something very few could accomplish. They eventually got to the theatre room where everyone was either chatting amongst themselves or engaged in the giant pillow fight occurring in the middle of the room.

“Are we watching a movie or...?” Nightmare said, their voice seeming to magically project to every corner of the room and quelling all the chaos.

“I’ll get popcorn!” Dream said, jumping to his feet and running to the kitchen as Blue and Horror followed. 

Nightmare sat Error down gently on the couch, making sure string was comfortable before moving around the scattered cushions and sitting next to strings. It took a few minutes for the other three to get back and by then, the movie was already chosen. As expected, it was the Bee Movie. Everyone was either howling with laughter or completely enraged by this development. The popcorn bowls were distributed across the couch and floor where everyone was sitting and the movie started. No one was watching the movie. Instead, they were all either talking or cuddling with the nearest person. Nightmare did the same and cradled Error in their tentacles along with Blue, who just happened to be sitting nearby, and reading a book.

The thing that snapped them out of the world of the thick novel was loud snickers coming from one side of the room. Killer, Horror, Cross, and Epic were all just barely keeping from bursting out laughing at something Ink was showing them. Out of curiosity, Nightmare reached out with a spare tentacle and snatched the sketch book, earning an indignant shout from Ink. They ignored it and opened the sketchbook, skipping past a few other, incredibly well done, drawing to what the other four were looking at. 

So to say that they were shocked upon going from a drawing of a forest the looked like it was a picture and not hand drawn to some horrible amalgamation of Barry B. Benson and Shrek was an understatement.

Error (Who just recently woke up) and Blue saw the drawing and started snickering as well. Nightmare just stared at it in disgust and confusion.

“I don’t understand why you waste your incredible talent on such horrendous things.” Was all they said before giving the sketchbook back.

“Whatever Mr. Grumpy Pants.” Ink huffed, holding the book close to his chest as if someone else was about to take it as well.

After the laughter died down they all returned to what they had been doing. It was still odd to many of them. The fact that some were sitting side by side with who used to be their mortal enemies was still a foreign concept but it wasn’t unwelcome. 

“Love you guys.” Dust whispered and everyone in the room looked at him in surprise.

After a few moments of Dust feeling incredibly self conscious about the fact that everyone was staring him down, Error responded.

“ʟօʋɛ ʏօʊ ɢʊʏֆ ȶօօ.” String said, cuddling closer into Nightmare.

A chorus of “Love you”s Rose from around the room as they all relaxed, enjoying the feeling of peaceful quiet. Well, at least until tomorrow when they were all reenergized and ready to cause more trouble.

--------------------

I FINALLY FISHING FINISHED OH MY GOSH

This took SO long to do (Almost completely because I procrastinated so long-) and I’m glad I finally finished it! 

I hope this makes yalls as happy as it made me while I wrote it :)

[derireo]

sad little pair ↦ itaru & izumi

cw: high school au, a story spoiler or two from kniroun. angst? hurt/no comfort?

"Hey." Izumi gently pokes Itaru's arm with the button of her pen to catch his wandering attention. It's currently study hall, but Izumi can't focus, and her friend doesn't seem too keen on doing work either.

Her prodding at his arm makes Itaru look up from the intricate wood patterns on his desk. His overgrown fringe falls over his eyes, but he can still see Izumi.

He rests his cheek in his palm, gaze staring at her through his fingerprint stained glasses. "What."

His tone is uncaring, but Izumi knows he's just bad at his delivery. She quietly gets up from her chair to stand beside Itaru's desk, and she crouches, hands gripping the edge of his table.

Her eyes are sparkling, albeit dimly. It looks like she has an idea in mind.

"Let's dip." She murmurs with a little upwards tilt to the corner of her mouth. "I wanna go home."

Itaru lazily nods his head in agreement. "Same."

Izumi's light up just a bit more, and Itaru feels kind of happy although he was barely able to lift her mood.

"Let's go at lunch." Itaru suggests to which Izumi smiles.

“‘Kay.”

"Sometimes looking at you makes me feel sad." Izumi mumbles softly, sitting cross legged above Itaru's head as he lies on the floor with a handheld game console in his grip.

She says that sentence with a barely amused smile, but it only makes Itaru scoff half-heartedly. He takes a glance up at her towering figure as he feels her fingers brush back his messy fringe.

"Then stop looking at me." He shrugs.

His tone is indifferent, but Izumi knows that his response is lighthearted. She smiles a little more. Readjusts his glasses for him.

"But looking at you can also make me happy." She urges, just in case there was a little part of Itaru that was annoyed with her comment. Izumi's fingers help keep Itaru's hair away from his face as he plays his game. "I feel less lonely.”

Itaru looks at her again, clearer this time now that he paused his game to pay more attention to the conversation they're having. "Well. We're friends.”

He puts his handheld console on his chest, screen down. Folds his hands above his stomach as Izumi playfully flattens his fringe to cover his vision.

"Yeah." She says after a pause. "But sometimes I feel like you get tired of me. My presence can be a bit much. I know.”

Itaru scoffs. "What presence? And if I was tired of you, I'd have left long ago." His voice tells Izumi that she’d gone and upset him.

"Where is this coming from, Tachibana?" Itaru asks her. His pink irises glimmer in the lowlight of the living room as he searches Izumi's face for any non-verbal cues. He doesn't find any

"I don't know." Izumi shrugs. She fixes his fringe and moves to shove her hands between her thighs to warm them. "The night makes me think.”

Her expression is slightly bashful, but it doesn't endear Itaru one bit. He crosses an arm beneath his head and gently reaches out to poke her cheek with his hand

"And it's still the afternoon. Stop thinking so hard.”

And, well... Yeah. Okay. She can probably do that.

Izumi turns her head to look out the window of her living room and smiles blankly. She nods in acknowledgement, looking back at Itaru with an eerily unfocused gaze.

"Yeah..." She trails off slowly.

It makes Itaru want to sigh.

Her mom never really liked showing her face when Izumi was around. And when they did end up seeing each other at home, Izumi's mom wouldn't stay around long enough to hold a conversation.

She'd leave the room if Izumi entered, and sometimes she'd even leave the house if she found no reason to stay.

This started around the time when Izumi's father left, so really. Izumi was just stuck.

Stuck being alone.

Itaru understands why she's being like this right now, but it still makes him wonder: Doesn't she get tired of feeling this way?

"Looking at me now, how are you feeling?" Itaru asks quietly. He watches her movements through his overgrown fringe and he can tell that she's slowly beginning to smile again.

"...I'm happy." She murmurs.

"Less lonely?" He asks another question.

"A little." Izumi frowns. Her brown eyes meet Itaru's, and she reaches out to lightly pat her palm against his cheek. "You're lonely too."

Her gentle touch isn't enough to quell the annoyance that flares inside of Itaru when she points out his similar problem. He still tries to keep his ill-temper at bay, though. For the sake of Izumi.

He blinks his eyes twice, thrice. Gazes up at the ceiling with pursed lips and an indifferent hum.

"I don't think I am." He argues, voice quiet.

It makes Izumi smile again. It's very much like him to pretend and deny things about himself.

"You and I both know that we're hanging around each other more because that guy is gone."

The mention of 'that guy' makes Itaru sip in a quick breath. His pink irises grow sharp as he looks at Izumi who was staring back; looking innocent as if she had done nothing wrong.

"Don't mention him." Itaru says lowly.

He didn't really care about the incident that had happened weeks ago anymore, but just remembering that he was friends with that type of person was something Itaru wanted to forget.

"If only he hadn't pulled that stunt, I'm sure you'd be with him instead of me right now." Izumi muses; observant as always.

And well, she's probably right. At this time of day, he'd usually be in the classroom with his 'friend', talking about Knights of the Round Table. Itaru only talks to Izumi after school, when he walks her home or when he stays over to study.

It's rare for him to be with Izumi for longer than three hours a day, actually. So it's funny. Funny how Itaru doesn't even know if he considers Izumi a friend.

A real one.

Does she consider him a friend?

Is she lying when she says he makes her feel less lonely or is it true?

And why does it feel like he's being selfish?

"Do you feel like I'm only using you as a substitute for his absence?" Itaru asks after a while of silence between the two students, and he frowns, vision briefly going out of focus due to Izumi going back to playing with his fringe.

He gives Izumi time to mull over her answer to his question, but Itaru's only given a shrug.

"I guess, but it doesn't bug me."  She starts, pinching a few strands of his hair between her fingers. "I'm a nice replacement, don't you think?"

Her teasing smile is what barely makes Itaru chuckle, but the young boy goes back to his normal brooding.

"I'm sorry."

The apology makes the girl pause in her messing around with his hair and frowns down at him. She couldn’t see the hundreds of thoughts that ran through his head, but it felt like she still saw right through him. "...Why?"

"I didn't mean to cast you aside." He mutters quietly and scratches his cheek, eyes darting between his friend's face and the ceiling of her living room. "I left you alone for too long."

"It's okay. You two were always happy when talking about Kniroun." Izumi shrugs. She doesn't really understand why he's feeling bad.

She knows that Itaru feels more comfortable around Tonooka than he feels with her so how can she blame him?

Itaru doesn't want to think about Tonooka. "I should have kept you some more company, at least."

"It's okay. I'm fine with the quiet walks home."

"Izumi. I don't... Ugh, I—I don't want you to say that." Itaru grasps for straws at this point. "You need to be more vocal with your own thoughts, wants, and needs."

"Well... If anything. I just want us to stay friends. For a long time." Her wish is simple and barely satisfies Itaru's need to feel less guilty, but he doesn't argue.

He gathers the courage to look at Izumi again and feels himself falter when he notices her smile.

"Do you think we can manage that?" She asks him, innocent.

And don't get mad at him, but the question almost had Itaru laughing at the absurdity.

People don't stay friends after high school.

People in high school aren't worth keeping as friends.

Itaru doesn't want to make a promise he can't keep.

"I don't know." He says honestly, lightly brushing away Izumi's hands from his face. "Seems a little difficult."

"Since our interests don't really align, right?" She says what Itaru had been thinking and the blond frowns.

Izumi smiles kindly, not at all upset. Of course, she knew. Itaru, busy with his games, busy with his studies, busy with anything else that didn’t pique Izumi’s interest. He sees her the same way; busy with acting, busy with working, busy with self-loathing.

None of that interested Itaru just as much as Izumi to him.

Funny, that, although they were completely different, they were also quite similar.

Lonely. Closed off. Acting like someone they’re not.

“I’m surprised we’re still friends.” Izumi muses, brown eyes staring straight through Itaru as his eyes looked up at her ceiling.

“We tolerate each other, if anything.” He says, avoids returning Izumi’s stare. His throat bobs, and suddenly there’s a vine of guilt climbing up his spine and wrapping around his neck.

He’s making it sound like he doesn’t consider her a friend; disregarding everything he said earlier in their conversation.

But, after Tonooka...he isn’t sure if he even wants one anymore.

There’s still a lot more he can lose if Izumi turns on him too.

Their silence stretches on for what feels like hours after Itaru’s last statement, Izumi’s eyes unblinking and void of any emotion. She isn’t sure if he’s pushing her away, having experienced much harsher treatment from her mother, but she prepares her heart for the icy hurt that would soon come.

Itaru’s uncomfortable by her stare. Almost like she’s staring at the floor and not him.

Almost like she’s choosing not to see him.

“How am I making you feel now?” He asks, quiet, as to not startle her.

Her unfocused eyes revert themselves at the question, and thankfully, he’s in her sights again. Itaru lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and runs a hand through his hair.

“Um.” She starts, wringing her hands in her lap. Her lips are red with how much she’s been biting them, and she looks almost conflicted. Like she didn’t want to tell him the truth.

Itaru reaches out, tenderly brushing his fingers against her cheek. “You can tell the truth.”

She barely registers his touch; something that doesn’t happen often. Izumi loves it when he initiates physical affection, but it seems that she doesn’t even notice this time around.

“Lonely.” She says, softly. “You want to leave.”

Itaru flinches at the sudden warmth of her tears dripping onto his fingers, and his breath catches when he sees that she still isn’t blinking.

Her face doesn’t move a muscle although there are tears leaking from her eyes and Itaru has to drop his hand from her face so that they would stop sliding down his arm.

Her voice is oddly calm, void of the sadness that her eyes show and Itaru sits up with an anxious feeling digging into his stomach.

“I didn’t say that.” He croaks. There’s a fire crawling up his throat that makes him struggle to speak, the burn making him stumble over his words as he reaches for Izumi’s shoulders to pull her limp body into his chest.

“I just—I-I...I don’t know if I can promise that I’ll stay.” He says truthfully, but still winces at the words that brought no comfort.

“It’s okay.” She speaks into Itaru’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around her.

Her nose stings and brings a fresh wave of tears to pool in her eyes. She laughs it off though, albeit weakly, and lets her face twist into a pained expression when she knows Itaru isn’t looking at her.

“It was fun being your friend.” She whispers, lifting a heavy hand to comfort Itaru by patting his back.

As they say. Nothing lasts forever.

[anyarally]

Logan Meets a Mer

Sanders Sides Fanfiction Virgil X Logan (Analogical) 3,133 Words   Ao3 Link

Logan was out on the sea yet again, dragged along with Roman and his self-proclaimed ‘merry crew’. He usually stuck to the lower decks, at his desk trying to study and write about any new findings he procured on these trips, but Roman called him and Remus, his co-captain and twin brother, up to the upper deck for a ‘bffs meeting’ as Remus called them. Or, you know, a top-secret meeting for the higher ranks, but tomato tomato. Little did he know he'd see something unbelievable that day.

Logan was out on the sea yet again, dragged along with Roman and his self-proclaimed ‘merry crew’. He usually stuck to the lower decks, at his desk trying to study and write about any new findings he procured on these trips, but Roman called him and Remus, his co-captain and twin brother, up to the upper deck for a ‘bffs meeting’ as Remus called them. Or, you know, a top-secret meeting for the higher ranks, but tomato tomato.

Logan sighed, putting a ribbon in his journal and his quill in his ink jar and going upstairs to where Roman and Remus were.

“Sir, this really isn’t a great time, I was about to-“

“Specs! How many times do I have to tell you now to call us sir! We think of you as an equal.”

“Yeah Logie-bear! Just because we’re captains and you’re not and we’re cool and you’re lame doesn’t mean we’re better than you!”

“Well, sirs,” Logan adjusted his glasses, “maybe if either of you simply called me my name, I wouldn’t be so inclined to not call you yours either.”

Roman loudly clapped his hands together, “Anyway! I have some very important and top-secret news for you all!”

“We have some top-secret news for you all! Jesus, Roman!”

Logan cleared his throat, “First of all, if both of you knew it shouldn’t be ‘you all’. Secondly, could you two please just tell me?”

“God, Logan, you’re no fun! Whatever,” Remus led the way to the back of the upper deck, pulling back a curtain to something Logan had never seen before. And that was saying something.

Logan looked up, mouth agape, at a merman. He always assumed they were just legend, he could barely believe his eyes. He slowly walked up to him, but when the merman started hissing he stopped advancing. The merman had short shoddily cut hair, giant pointy teeth, beautiful dark scales that shined purple in the light, left eye purple, right eye green, and scales on his face, specifically under his eyes.

“I, erm, you’re… magnificent.” Logan gaped, looking up at the mer.

The mer only hissed again, but if Logan hadn’t been so flustered himself he would’ve noticed the red forming on the fleshy parts of his face. Then, suddenly, the beautiful creature screamed .

A demonic double voice emanates from the beautiful beast, causing Logan, Roman, and Remus to hurriedly cover their ears. Eventually, it got high enough to break a glass mug, and then the mer took a break to breathe some.

Once he was done, Remus took down the net and looked at the two agape men, “Let’s get him downstairs. We don’t want the rest of the crew to see him.”

Logan and Roman nodded, finally broken from the trance, and helped Remus carry the now exhausted mer.

They laid him down in the tub for now, and Roman and Remus left, leaving Logan to watch him.

Logan scanned over the beautiful creature with his eyes, noticing his chest moving up and down. He has lungs. Good. He gently brushed his fingers against his tail, noticing the scales don’t feel… healthy. If he had been with the brothers when they caught the merman, he would’ve thrown him right back overboard. It’s dangerous and harmful to keep native sea life for too long, even though Logan wanted to study it far more than the crew presumably wanted to sell his scales.

Logan sighed, went to his room, got his journal and quill, and came into the bathroom to sit on the floor and write until the mer wakes up.

Sure enough, after about an hour and a half, the beautiful merman woke up. He slowly blinks his eyes open, but when he sees Logan, immediately starts hissing.

“Shh! You don’t want the boys to come!”

The mer turned his head in a questioning manner but ultimately quieted down.

Logan let out a relieved breath, “Thank you. Now, can you understand me?”

In response, he got a garbled mess of what sounded like dolphin noises? But then the mer coughed and replied, “Sorry, haven’t talked above water in awhile.”

“Fascinating! Do you have a name? Have you been above water before? Are your scales supposed to feel like that? Why do you have hair? Is heterochromia rare for merfolk too? Do baby mers nurse? How-”

“Hold up, you need to calm down like holy shit humans can talk. My name is Virgil. That’s all you really need to know right now.”

Logan sighs, “I suppose. Nice to meet you, Virgil, I’m Logan.” he held out his hand for Virgil to shake, and he just looked at it. “Very well, I understand your lack of trust towards me. If it means anything to you, if I were on the upper deck when you were caught, I wouldn’t have let them bring you on the ship.”

“Them?”

“Roman and Remus, the co-captains of this ship.”

“Co-captains?” Virgil said skeptically.

“I know, it’s idiotic, but their father only had one ship to give and they kept arguing about who could own it, eventually coming to the consensus that they could both be captain.”

They talked back and forth for about half an hour when Virgil started scratching at his scales. Logan grabbed his hand, and Virgil yanked it back aggressively, gently cradling it close to his chest.

“Apologies, I’m aware you’re not fond of… touch from me. I was simply trying to stop you from scratching, it can’t be good for you.”

“It gets this way when it hasn’t been in saltwater for too long.” Virgil snapped, anger clear in his tone.

Logan looked away, mumbling something.

“L? What was that?”

“Could I, erm, would you like me to let you go?”

“Dude that’s literally all I’ve wanted this whole time.”

“Oh. Ah, I see, you never said so.”

“I never thought you would say yes, and I thought my tone gave it away!”

“Apologies, again, I have trouble with emotions and tone and such,” there’s a long stretch of awkward silence, which Logan interrupts with, “anyway, escaping?”

“Oh, uh, yeah man I’d love that.”

“Very well. It’s almost sundown, after then the twins will go to the lower decks for supper and likely a party with the crew, then bed. It will not be suspicious for me to miss this, I rarely come anyway. If we stay quiet, they should not suspect a thing, and even if they hear my footsteps they will assume I’m coming out to look at and chart the stars like I do most nights. As long as we can hide the sound of your tail, we should be set.”

“That’s too many ‘should’s for me to be comfortable with. But, it’s the best plan we’ve got I guess.”

“Indeed.”

That night, everything surprisingly went off without a hitch. Logan managed to get Virgil off the side of the boat unharmed and undetected, but the next morning is where things get a little rough.

Logan looked out at the sea, sighed, and went back to his room. No going to sleep at this point, Logan decided to sit at his desk and write.

‘Sea Log #9.18 (CONT.)

Today, I met a rare creature I previously believed was simply a myth. I suppose the best name for him would be a merman.*

His scales were dark with a purple shine to him, and he thankfully was willing to answer some of my questions eventually,** but on this page, I have chosen to focus on this particular merman’s personality.

Once he trusted me enough to start speaking (English, surprisingly), he told me his name was Virgil. I learned that he doesn’t have many friends under the sea, just one best friend and a brother. His best friend’s name is Janus, he’s half eel as opposed to the more fish-like features Virgil has. His brother’s name is Patton, he’s very similar to Virgil, just with a blue shine to him and different scale placement on his face. He mentioned Patton’s vision is very bad, perhaps I could find a way to get a prescription and make waterproof glasses of some kind.

What am I saying, I likely will not see Virgil again, much less his family. I helped him escape, and I do not regret it.

Apologies, that was a falsehood. I do regret it, but not for the reasons I normally would. I feel something for this merman. I do not entirely know what, but it is something. I do know that I miss him. I miss him in a different way than I miss my work on land, closer to the way I miss my mother and Sparky, but still not quite.

I have made sure to leave space at the bottom of this page, so I will add more later. I believe Roman and Remus may be able to help me with this, but I will have to wait to ask. I didn’t bring any books on psychology along on this trip, and I suspect the twins will be less than pleased at me letting the merman go.

*double-check and correct if needed at a later date

**diagram and explanations on next two-page spread (pages 19-20)

Satisfied with his journal entry, Logan put his quill away and closed his journal, putting it away on the shelf above his desk.

He stretched his arms and glanced into his bathroom, seeing the light coming out and realizing he unintentionally pulled yet another all-nighter.

Sighing, he changes his clothes anyway to make it seem like he had slept, fixed his hair in the mirror, and started heading to the upper deck.

“Lo-lo! You’re finally up!”

“Sir, the sunrise just happened.”

“Ugh, you’re such a downer! Hey, where’d that mer get off to? I haven’t seen it since yesterday.” Roman asked whilst cleaning his sword.

“Sir, he is gone.”

“Gone?! Gone where?!” Remus screamed, Roman paused in his cleaning.

“I, ahem, I let him go.”

“You. WHAT.” Roman loudly stated in the most intimidating voice Logan had ever heard.

“Sir, it was inhumane to keep him here, you must know that.”

“It wasn’t human, Logan! Remus, throw him in a holding cell, we can’t trust him anymore.”

“Wait, sir-” muffled pleas continued to come from Logan as Remus muffled his mouth with his hand.

“Okie-dokie bro-bro!”

Remus quickly threw Logan into a cell, easily ignoring Logan’s cries as he did so. Logan wasn’t particularly known for his brawn, it wasn’t very hard to overpower him.

Remus waltzed on out, whistling as he went.

“Remus, didn’t Logan take the merman to his quarters?”

“Yeah, I think so, should we go check them out?”

Check them out, they did. In his quarters, the co-captains found his journal and Remus of course had no problem invading the sailing master’s privacy, so he opened it up immediately, flipping to the most recent page. On it, Remus saw a two-page spread of the merman, and when he went to the page before, his eyes widened.

“Roman, come here for a second.”

“What is it, Ree? You never use my whole name,” Roman looks over Remus’s shoulder, “holy shit. Remus, I think I’ve got a plan.”

They smirked at each other, taking the journal and going to the cell Logan was being held in.

“Hey, specs!” Roman yelled, causing Logan to quickly look up.

“Look what we found!” Remus holds the journal above his head mockingly.

Roman yanks the book out of Remus’s hand, “‘ I miss him in a different way than I miss my work on land, closer to the way I miss my mother and Sparky, but still not quite.’ You’re clearly in love with him, nerd! He must at least trust you, with all the personal info he gave you, so I think you’d make for perfect bait!”

“Wait, no! You can’t hurt him! It’s not our place, he belongs in the ocean!”

“Ooh, and maybe this Janus and Patton will come too, they sound pretty!”

“No! You can’t!”

The two twins just laughed. Remus opened the door to the cell and grabbed him, holding him while Roman put handcuffs on him, and then bringing him back to the upper decks. Once they get up there, Remus pushes Logan, making him stumble forwards, stepping on a net trap and effectively trapping him.

“Stop this at once! It’s not ethical! It’s not humane!”

“You can just say ‘right’ you know! Ugh, even when you’re dying you’re the biggest nerd in the seven seas,” Roman laughs while Remus just looks to the side.

Roman pulls a lever, pulling the net holding Logan up above their heads and putting him above the ocean.

“No!” Logan grunts, chained wrists grabbing the ropes.

“Yeah, keep that mouth talking, specs! The louder you yell, the faster that thing will come for you!”

Out of spite, the sailing master stays completely silent, not even moving enough to rustle the ropes.

He stays quiet for almost two hours, the co-captains trying everything they could think of without moving him from above the water to make the poor man yell, only making the ropes make some noise.

Eventually, Roman realizes he could look in Logan’s ship log for info on mers, and sees that they have an incredible sense of smell, especially when it comes to prey. They can apparently smell the blood of their prey and their friends, easily differentiating between them.

Roman smirked as he showed the line to Remus, but he just looked away again, “Ro, are you sure about this? I mean… I don’t wanna hurt him.”

“What are you talking about Ree, we need those scales!”

Remus raised his voice, alerting Logan of the argument, “No, you need those scales! I don’t care, Roman!”

“Oh fuck you, Remus. I’ll do it myself.”

Roman uses the lever to bring Logan close. He grabs his foot, yanking it through one of the squares in the net. Grabbing the boot and throwing it into the ocean, Roman uses his dagger and quickly slices the back of the struggling man’s ankle, hitting an artery before he levers him back over the water.

Logan tries to pull his foot back in the net but just ends up making the blood come out quicker.

Off in the distance, they hear a scream. Logan looks out to see a giant splash of water and what looks like but a black spec in the distance. He gulps.

The almost demonic screeching gets louder and louder until they see a giant splash right beside Logan’s net.

Virgil jumped up like a dolphin, doing a flip and diving back in, screeching the whole time. When he resurfaces to the right of Logan’s net, he hovers with the water just under his eyes for a second, and as he rises so his mouth is above water, two mers pop up behind him.

The one on the right of him has green and yellow scales covering the left half of his head, an eel eye on that side and a human eye on the other. The creature has long dark green hair growing out of the human half of his head which floats around him at the top of the water.

The other looks a lot like Virgil, with similar skin and hair tones, but instead of black scales with a purple shine, he has a grey tail with a blue shine to them. His scales also didn’t accumulate in certain spots like Virgil’s, they were speckled all over his face, like freckles.

“Virgil! You have to leave! It’s a trap!”

Virgil looked up towards the yell, eyes widening at the state Logan’s in. His bloody foot, broken glasses, his bruised cheek, and his reddened handcuffed wrists anger Virgil to the core. He sternly but lovingly says, “It’s okay Lo, we’ll get you out of there.” Virgil turns back to the co-captains, “Let him go, or we’ll sink your ship and take him ourselves!”

“Or,” Roman pulls out a pistol, mahogany with gold accents, and aims it at Logan, “We could shoot him now, and no one wins! Or I suppose you could give yourself and your little buddies over and he lives, whichever you prefer.” Roman smirks.

Remus gasped as he pulled out the gun and aimed it at Logan. “Ro, aren’t we taking this too far? We can’t kill Logan, right?”

“We’ll be fine without a sailing master for a couple days, Ree, we’ll kidnap a new one soon enough.”

“Roman, that’s not why and you know it!”

“Jesus Christ, Remus, we’re not gonna just give up mer scales for your stupid crush!”

“Why you-“ Remus growled, tackling Roman, making his finger slip and shoot the gun.

Time seemed to slow down for Logan as he did his best to get out of the way, the bullet hitting his shoulder. He yelled out, and Virgil screeched.

Virgil looked to the co-captains, eyes turning black, but was surprised to see Roman unconscious on the ground.

When everyone was shocked by the gunshot, Remus had hit Roman in the head with the butt of his dagger, effectively knocking him unconscious.

Remus and Virgil made eye contact, Remus sighing, “If I get the net into the water, can you help him? We don’t have a doctor.”

Virgil almost couldn’t hear Remus’s uncharacteristically quiet voice, but responded with a nod, “My brother knows healing magic.”

“Good.” Remus cut the rope to the net, making it fall into the water with a giant splash.

Virgil and the other mers immediately dove under, Virgil getting to the net first and cutting Logan free with his sharp teeth.

“Janus, cast the spell.”

“Got it,” the eel mer closed his eyes and brought his webbed hands to his temples, opening his now glowing eyes and saying, “KFIV VMVITB MLG HPRM ZMW YLMV IRHRMT ORPV GSV HSVKZIW GLMV.”

Logan opened his eyes and gasped, breathing water, and looked around confusedly. When he reached out for his glasses, he put more strain on his bullet wound, making more blood to float out of it and disappear into the water.

Virgil grabbed Logan’s glasses and handed them to him, continuing to scoop him up in his arms. “Shh, you’re okay now. I’ll explain everything as soon as we’re somewhere safe. Patton?” he held Logan out to the mer with a blue shine.

Patton nodded, gently touching Logan’s uninjured arm. Logan watched in amazement as the injuries on his arm and ankle went through an accelerated healing process, the bullet floating out of his arm and both wounds closing up until they were simply scars.

Virgil thanked the now panting Patton and closed his eyes as giant shadows enveloped the three merfolk and one human, transporting them away from Roman and Remus’s ship.

Don't freak out, there will be a sequel! It'll probably be in a bit though. I've already picked a prompt for it and a basic story outline though, so it's happening! Sorry this last chapter is so short, I just really felt that's where it ends. Oh and just an fyi Logan is (or was lol) Roman and Remus's sailing master, but he was not kidnapped! Pirates often kidnap sailing masters but Logan was there willingly. :) Everyone who read this story, you get a cookie! Anyone who solves the cipher gets a second cookie! Prompt: Trapped in a net

[some-dr-writings]

Danganronpa V3 boys and their SHSL Survivalist friend/SO

Instead of sitting around waiting for a request I’ve decided to take it upon myself to take hold of my fate and kick off this blog with an imagine and one-shot. This is the imagine. I hope you enjoy.

Shuichi Saihara:

·       A person who practices outdoor survival skills as a sport or hobby. Shuichi first met such a person through Kaito who had eagerly dragged them into those nightly training sessions as well as Maki. Though their idea of “training” was certainly something to behold. Pushups - nah, they’d suggest rock climbing. Pull-ups - Nope, swimming against a river’s current was much more enticing. Communication and talking, sure, as long as it was done on a camping trip to the woods where no one brought any supplies. Thankfully, such training rarely happened, but when it did it was always the most excruciating exercise Shuichi ever had.

·       Funny thing though. Outside of training the Survivalist always spent time with Shuichi. Asking if he was feeling alright, or if his muscles were sore. If he were hurting, even the smallest, slightest bit, they’d carry him over their shoulder to the nurse’s office despite his flustered protests.

·       They even had taken interest in his work, offering their assistance. For infidelity cases they taught Shuichi how to sneak around and follow people without them knowing as if they were out hunting. They showed Shuichi how to find animal tracks even in the most unlikely of places for his missing pet cases.

·       When it came to cold cases or cases that didn’t involve physical activity Shuichi would sit with the Survivalist by his side, explaining the case and how to connect evidence and statements to reveal the truth. When they struggled Shuichi would go step by step, leading them gently through critical thinking processes ‘till they finally arrived at a logical conclusion, even if it weren’t his own. In fact, seeing how others could view the case helped Shuichi broaden his own skills as a detective.

·       Overall, the Super High School Level Detective and Super High School Level Survivalist balanced out one another nicely, teaching the other skills the former lacked.

Kaito Momota:

·       “Survivalist, huh... Well I bet they never survived the vastness of space before!” With that thought in mind Kaito sought out the Super High School Level Survivalist. Surely, they’d make for a great training partner! After all, Kaito had to go through survivalist training himself to be an astronaut. And surely the Ultimate Survivalist would take interest in surviving the greatness of space! They just had to train with him! And if not, then Kaito would just convince them, he was Kaito Momota, Luminary of the Stars, he’d figure out something!

·       Unsurprisingly, said Survivalist was nowhere to be found. Luckily some students from their class knew where the Survivalist was training. England’s Wychwood Forest. Great! With the help of Rantaro, off Kaito went...

·       What Kaito made up for in raw determination, he lacked in foresight, not having researched anything about the forest so he... he didn’t know the place was also called “The world’s most haunted forest”

·       And that was how the Ultimate Survivalist found the Ultimate Astronaut, screaming at every little noise... even the sound of his own screaming.

·       Not the best first impression, but Kaito was quickly able to brush it off and finally train with the Survivalist, but... just not in a forest.

·       The Survivalist and Kaito got along like two peas in a pod, especially after Kaito saw how the Survivalist looked after his sidekick Shuichi. Every moment spent together was called ‘training’, dedicated to getting stronger in any sense of the word. Even simply laying on some cool grass in the dead of night racing to spot navigational stars first was training. Everything they did together was a friendly competition of sorts, pushing each other to be better.

·       On one such night between rounds of star searching Kaito actually pried his gaze from that beloved mysterious expanse that loomed above him. Instead he glanced to his side, in that moment, realizing the person beside him was one he simply couldn’t see not beside him when he finally blasts off away from this planet.

Ryoma Hoshi:

·       Ryoma didn’t think much of the Super High School Level Survivalist at first. Ryoma never went out of his way to meet others, and with his reputation of being a convicted criminal not many approached him. So, when the Ultimate Survivalist eagerly approached him, he was quite surprised.

·       “You must teach me THAT, whatever THAT was!” Not knowing how to respond, Ryoma simply stared, dumbfounded. “The thing you did when dodging that attack!”

·       Moments prior Ryoma had successfully dodged one of Kokichi’s pranks. “Ah, the Shukuchi Method.” He didn’t even think about it. Though it had been so long since he had used it, it seems that method was still muscle memory... When was the last time he used that method? Back when he played tennis...he knew that, but...

·       Ryoma was abruptly snapped from his thoughts, seeing those lively, sparkling eyes. “Shukuchi Method? That’s what it’s called? Please, you have to teach me!”

·       And thus, began the Survivalist’s escapades in trying to convince Ryoma to teach them. Wherever Ryoma went, Survivalist followed, much like how a duckling would. For the first day of this they’d ask Ryoma to teach, to which he’d decline, to which Survivalist threatened to follow him around till he agreed to do so. And that they did. They were the first person Ryoma met in the morning and the last person he saw at night.

·       When asked why they wanted to learn so badly, the Survivalist listed off application after application they could see using the method to improve their own talent.

·       After the first day though, the Survivalist occasionally asked to be taught, but also just asked Ryoma other questions, such as for his name. Then day after day, they’d just talk. And with each day, less and less would the Survivalist ask about the Shukuchi Method. Till they never mentioned it even once. Even after weeks, and months.

·       “... If I taught you the Shukuchi Method, would you leave me alone?” With a confused expression the Survivalist looked to Ryoma, who was stoic as always, yet... the tone in his voice was off somehow. Did it waver? “No, you’re my friend now! You can’t get rid of me that easily. Sorry Ryoma, but you’re stuck with me for the long run.” A light chuckle escaped the man. Truthfully, Ryoma felt guilt for not having taught Survivalist long ago, for unintentionally stringing them along and for them being with a guy like himself, yet... it was nice always having someone around.

Rantaro Amami:

·       Rantaro had actually met the Survivalist long before either were invited to Hope’s Peak. On his many adventures searching for his sisters they bumped into one another. They ran into each other many times actually. Each time the Survivalist would guide Rantaro through any terrain, searching for whatever small town Rantaro was looking for and Rantaro would buy them a big hearty meal that was heavenly compared to the plain fish and berries they had grown so accustomed too. Then after that meal they’d go their separate ways till they met again several months later on complete accident.

·       When they did find each other at Hope’s Peak, it was quite odd. They weren’t huddled close in snowy mountains, they weren’t trudging through a humid rain forest trying to fend off the many bugs, they weren’t even dragging one another through some desert! They were just at a relatively safe and peaceful school with other people.

·       It was nice being able to chat for hours on end of their old adventures together. Survivalist would tease Rantaro for not having gotten muscular even with how much traveling he did and Rantaro would tease Survivalist for how socially awkward they tended to be, having not spent too much time in human society. This lighthearted teasing managed to subdue the stagnant air about them. Even without the thrill of danger around every corner they still found joy and comfort in the other’s company. It was a relief to them realizing their friendship was able to run much deeper than merely the thrill of exploration they often experienced with the other.

·       But that didn’t mean the thrill of adventure wasn’t missed, so whenever Rantaro left the school to go searching once more, he was sure to tell his best friend and companion, and they stuck by his side for every last excursion, now not daring to leave him ever.

Gonta Gokuhara:

·       The moment Gonta saw the Survivalist, Gonta knew they’d be great friends. They were being kind to bugs! When the giant wild looking man came charging at the Super High School Level Survivalist, they almost crushed the poor cricket they had just helped escape from being trampled in the noisy classroom.

·       From that day onward Gonta happily introduced his new friend to his bug companions and even invited them to his lab. With how kind Gonta was the Survivalist couldn’t refuse his offers, though they did fear the man. If he found out the Survivalist had to resort to eating the relatives of such beloved companions on occasion... The Survivalist never dared to finish the thought and focused instead on not accidently mentioning that the particular species of stink bug Gonta was so happily showing off was delicious, tasting like apples.

·       With each visit to the lab or escapade out bug hunting the Survivalist found an appreciation for the little creatures outside of nutrition. Many were quite pretty actually. And seeing the variety of inventive ways bugs adapted to harsh environments tugged at the Survivor’s heart strings, realizing how they themselves were quite similar to them in that aspect.

·       Though it may sound strange Gonta saw his and the Survivalist’s relationship to be symbiotic, like that of the ant and aphid. The ant, the Survivalist, would protect Gonta, the aphid, who in return for the protection provided food - knowledge of insects.

·       From what did the Survivalist protect Gonta from one might wonder.

·       Homesickness. Even with his beloved insects around, often times, he found himself missing living outside of human society and with his forest family. But the Survivalist reminded Gonta so much of home. Though they weren’t a wolf or lizard person, they had that...for lack of a better word, calm wildness.  Like Gonta for much of their life they lived outside of human society and being able to speak with someone about his home and they truly understood what he was speaking of...knowing Gonta had a connection with a person like that always pulled his lips into a smile.

·       So, whenever the Survivalist left for an adventure with Rantaro, it hurt, but seeing them return with a bug case in hand, some new insect friends they had made on their trip, it filled Gonta with unimaginable joy.

Kokichi Oma:

·       Ah, the entrance ceremony, a staple of High Schools all across Japan. The time where all the new students gather and listen to the principle and others of authority welcome them all with open arms! A rather boring event, but one that could easily be livened up. And what better way than to greet his new classmates than pranking everyone all at once with fireworks and paint! Though enacting such a plan would take time, lots of time. So, for several days before the ceremony he prepared.

·       Unfortunately, on one such day Kokichi was caught by some security near where the ceremony was to take place, a place none of the students were allowed, and so, a chase ensued.

·       As Kokichi dashed down hall after hall he took a sharp turn around the corner, crashing into someone. Perfect. Kokichi flipped on the water works, crying out, saying the mean guards were chasing after him for no reason at all and how he oh so badly needed help! And help the person did, hiding Kokichi and telling the guards they hadn’t seen him. With the guards gone Kokichi stepped out of his hiding place and thanked the person, now he could get back to preparing!

·       The person quickly left but took a moment to glance over their shoulder. A strained smirk emerged on their lips as a stifled laughter manage to seep out. They wished Kokich good luck with ‘catching his prey’.

·       Soon after the day of entrance ceremony came, and it was marvelous! Well, except for one thing, that person who helped Kokichi, the Ultimate Survivalist, managed to avoid the prank! Now this will not stand. And so Kokichi dedicated himself to giving them the greatest scare and laugh of their life in retaliation!

·       ... Or so he thought. No matter what he pulled, they managed to outmaneuver him! Exploding school supplies? Nah, moment they picked it up, they threw it out the window. Fill their classroom with laughing gas? Nope, they always left the room moments before his trap went off. How were they doing this!?It was as if they knew it was going to happen...wait.

·       Well he got his answer one afternoon when he tried to tackle the Survivalist from behind with joy buzzers under his clothes. They dodged his attack much to his chagrin. “Survivalist! Why are you so mean to me!? I just want a hug.” Seeing those crocodile tears come cascading down the Supreme Leader’s cheeks they decided to speak out. “I’ve played the role of both predator and prey many times. I always keep a close eye on my environment, even if it means crawling through the vents at night.” Kokichi blinked, the tears instantly disappearing. “Huh...Not gonna lie, getting that out of you was much easier than I expected. I didn’t even have to prod at you at all.” “No decent predator would not have noticed my skill level at this game by now, so I decided to just save you the trouble of confirming your suspicion. I found all your traps before you got to set them off. And now, this game can really begin! So, catch me Oma! I want to know what truly being caught off guard in one of your surprises is like! I’m sure it must be thrilling!” Oh, this was going to be fun, especially when Kokichi finally wins.

·       Every day thereafter was filled with excitement and suspense. Especially days when nothing happened and all they did was talk. Both in this game of cat and mouse trying to outsmart the other with everything they had! Never knowing what was to come next, they were always on their toes, one searching for opportunities and the other searching for any sign of an attack, both adding lulls into the action making the next attack more thrilling. Even when Kokichi did win, the game continued. After all, even if he won once didn’t mean he could get consistent results. Besides, he saw no reason why he would take away an excuse to spend time with such a fun person.

Korekiyo Shinguji:

·       It all started when Kiyo entered his lab one morning, finding one of his artifacts was missing. Though very concerning, his attention was focused on the small note that was left in it’s place. ‘Go to the track’ it read. There he found another note instructing him to jog around the mile-long track twice. For the time being he decided to play along, curious as to the intentions of the person behind these notes. When he finished a new note had appeared, instructing him to go to the cafeteria where there was a meal being prepared for him. Once he was there another note was with his meal telling him to return to his lab, where his artifact had been returned... Quite an intriguing person to put Korekiyo through all that. What could their aim be, he wondered. Little did he know he’d learn that the very next day.

·       Like the day prior one of his artifacts were missing and a note was in its place. Once again, he was led to a location, told to do an exercise, but something different happened. As he was doing some push-ups, someone approached him. “You’re doing it all wrong.” Kneeling beside him they moved him so everything was in proper place saying there was no point in this if he was just not going to do it properly.“Ah,theUltimateSurvivalist.Soyou’vebeentakingmyartifacts.”He then gestured to the note they held. “...I didn’t know how else to get you to leave your lab, you never leave the place.” “Well, now that you’re here, why are you having me do this?” “You look like a twig! How do you not break in the wind!? You need help! I didn’t think my word would be enough to convince you so, I held one of your precious items hostage.”

·       And that was how Korekiyo began doing light exercises with the Survivalist. Exercising was not Kiyo’s forte but getting the chance to converse with a person who had minimum contact with society intrigued him to no end. And he got them to speak of their travels, and the many remote places they had gone to. With each location spoken of, Kiyo added knowledge of the history of the region. Particularly he spoke of legends of warriors since those intrigued the Survivalist the most. On occasion they even tried recreating some, like the labors of Hercules or legends of Beowulf or the adventures of Fionn mac Cumhaill.

·       Their friendship was very unlikely, even chaotic at times when recreating myths went awry, but it was always fun and fascinating. A friendship neither would trade for the world.

Kiibo:

·       Though it was not often Kiibo had the chance to speak to them, he held great admiration for the Super High School Level Survivalist. He always saw them moving and running around the campus almost nonstop. They were always looking for ways to get better, asking others to teach them like Ryoma with his Shukuchi Method. They seemed to stop for nothing!

·       Even the most unlikely of things they did to improve. Kiibo learned this when one day he was passing by the Ultimate Light Music Club Member’s lab and saw the Survivalist singing with a microphone in hand as the owner of the lab wailed away on her guitar. All too quickly their session had come to an end, and Kiibo was caught staring. The Survivalist swiftly skipped up to him before he had the chance to leave.

·       “You wanna give singing a shot Kiibo?” “Ah, no I couldn’t. My singing is lacking, dangerous as Shuichi puts it. Even if I practiced it wouldn’t get better. I want to improve, but I can’t. The only way I can, would be with help from someone like Miu or Dr. Idabashi. I...I am a robot I can never improve myself on my own but you can! I find that to be an amazing ability, but even more so is how you work so hard for that.” “Really!? I wish I was like you, Kiibo!” That comment caught the robot off guard. “Kiibo once you get an improvement you get to keep it forever! If I took a break for even one day my muscles and body would lose some of the improvement I had gained yesterday or even more. I have to constantly push myself lest my skills and body get rusty from lack of use for even a short time, and getting back to the high proficiency I was at before would be extremely difficult. The human body is ridiculously temperamental while you don’t have to worry about such things. And I even have to focus on specific parts and not just my whole body, like singing to increase lung capacity. And Kiibo the improvements you can gain are limited only by the imagination while the human body was much more restrictive. You can be so much greater than me or anyone else at this school!”

·       That day changed a lot of things for Kiibo. It got him to be able to see his existence from a slightly different perspective, even if only for a moment. And after that day the Survivalist would approach him, asking him if he would spot them during their exercises. During these times they and Kiibo would try to come up with ideas to improve his body. They would come up with ideas to improve their exercise regimen. They’d throw out any idea at one another, no matter how ridiculous or impracticable. In the end all that really mattered was the thought behind it, wishing to help the other even in the simplest of forms. No matter how simple they wanted to help. Even if it was just Kiibo cheering on the Survivalist to push on through one more lap than they did yesterday. Even if it was just the Survivalist sitting by Kiibo’s side as he was getting a maintenance check. No matter how simple, or insignificant if seemed, they ended up supporting the other in any way they could, hoping that in doing so the other could at least get a glimpse at just how great they could be because the former certainly could see it, and they would both agree that the other was absolutely amazing and filled with endless possibilities. They just needed to see it and they were the one who was going to show that to them.

[girlsluvbot]

MATCHMAKER pt.1

pairing: roseanne park × fem! reader

genre: fluff, angst

about:

matchmaker /ˈmatʃmeɪkə/

noun

a person who arranges marriages or initiates romantic relationships between others.

"an enthusiastic matchmaker who continually tried to pair off the difficult bachelor with unattached ladies"

a/n: i'm back!!! hehe this goddamn thing took so long to write, i both despise and adore it with every fibre of my being. enjoy my blood, sweat and tears in the form of a fic.

You loved your job. Very few people are lucky enough to be able to relate to that statement, and you were thankfully one of them. Hell, not only did you love your job, you were extremely good at it.

Since you were a little kid, writing nas always been your biggest passion. Wether it was writing short stories, poems or essays about the french revolution, you were always happy when you were able to put your feelings and thoughts onto paper. This was the main reason why you became the manager of your local newspaper during middle school, high school and eventually even university.

You've won multiple writing contests and even people who had no idea what your name was knew one thing about you: you were an amazing writer.

Years of practice, your impeccable set of skills and a recommendation letter from your university professor secured you a job at Vogue almost immediately. After all this hard work, you finally achieved everything you were looking for. You were truly happy.

Until this very moment.

"Well, I don't know," the woman sitting in front of you made a disgusted grimace, "it just lacks any emotion whatsoever. I've quite literally never read something so stiff and akward."

And here they were. The first words of criticism you have ever recieved. You were so used to everyone praising your work, you didn't know how to react or respond.

Three months ago, you would have never gotten into a similar situation: simply because there was nothing about your work to critize. But a lot has changed in the past few weeks, and not exactly in the good kind of way.

When you first joined Vogue, you were the head editor and journalist of the spread dedicated almost entirely to interviews. Thats what you did, talked to celebrities and wrote about them. And that's what you were good at, almost too good.

Just a year after working in the magazine you got promoted. You were still the head editor, but now of a completely different part of the journal: one dedicated to a single topic. Love. This was bad news, very bad news.

Why, you ask? The reason was fairly simple but no less embarrassing. Even as the head editor of a spread all about love, you've never experienced it yourself. In other words, you've never been in love. And how are you supposed to write about something you know nothing about?

Your boss looks at you and shakes her head. She reaches for the stack of papers on the table in front of her and starts reading, "For example; 'His lips brushed against mine. They were soft. The kiss was short but sweet. I loved it.' What the actual heck? I kiss my cat more passionately than this." she took off her glasses and started massaging the crook of her nose.

"Listen, Y/N, I've read your previous pieces and they were simply wonderful. But this? I don't even know what else to say without hurting your feelings."

"I'm so sorry. I know, it's just that I dont have much experience in said area." you don't finish the sentence, hoping she somehow gets the memo. She doesn't.

"What area?"

"Love. I dont have much experience with love." you blurt out the words that have been on your mind nonstop since the day of your promotion.

"Oh, you poor thing" she leans back in her chair, her eyes scanning your every move, "Isn't that unfortunate."

You nod your head slowly, trying not to get offended at her words full of pity.

"How are you supposed to write romance stories then? This won't work." the woman grabs a post-it note

"Are," your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, "Are you firing me?"

"Are you crazy? Of course I'm not," she hands you the piece of paper with a phone number, "We just have to improvise for the time being. Do you know Roseanne Park? She's the manager of our Matchmaker spread. You can be her assistant for the next few months, help her around, learn a thing or two. Hopefully your writing wont be so...bland after."

To be completely honest, you didn't handle changes well. Maybe that's why you were standing in front of your new, and hopefully temporary, bosses office, trying to build up the courage to knock on her door.

One of the reasons why you were so nervous was that Roseanne Park, the manager of the Vogue Matchmaker was insanely attractive. Admittedly, you did some online stalking the night before- okay, a lot of it. Here's the thing; you were a planner. Whether it came to your career, writing or even relationships, you liked to beprepared.

That's why after a few hours spent on the internet, you knew everything. The name of her sister (Alice Park), if the had a pet (yes, a fish named Joohwangie) and who her favorite band was (The 1975).

You weren't usually like this, so head over heels for a girl you haven't even met. But your writing, the reason you were here in the first place, didn't usually suck so after all, some things really do change easily.

Just as you reached for the dark wooden door in front of you, it opened before your hand could even touch it's sleek surface.

"Oh!" the tall woman stopped in her tracks. Thanks to your thorough internet digging, you instantly recognized her. Roseanne Park. Your new boss. A 'matchmaker' if you will.

"You must be Y/N! I've heard that you're going to be my assistant for a bit." your cheeks heated up for no apparent reason. Did she know the reason why you got transferred here so quickly? Every molecule in your body wished and prayed to every possible god out there that she didn't.

"Yeah, that's me!" you finally composed yourself enough to speak, but that didn't mean your voice didn't sound like one of a twelve year old boy going through puberty- high pitched and squeaky.

You examined her face more in depth, and realized quite a few things:

She was somehow even prettier in real life. How? you had no idea. Some people just really won the genetics lottery, you thought.

Her hair was red. Like undeniably, undoubtedly red. In all of the pictures you found yesterday it was either brown or black, so this change caught you off guard. You couldn't complain though, because this girl looked like a hotter version of Ariel with a much better sense in fashion (and music).

"Have you been standing out here for too long?"

"Oh no, I just arrived." lying has never been so easy.

"Great! I'm gonna go downstairs to grab a package but you can look around the office while I'm gone," she opened the door a bit to let you walk in.

You did as she told you and entered the room. The door closed behind you without you noticing, the only thing you could focus on was this girl's office. It looked just like you would imagine heaven to look like- full of light, white furniture and expensive looking leather couches.

There were pictures everywhere: a dozen of four young girls (one of them being Roseanne), a few more of her with famous celebrities and one of a familiar looking face- her sister.

You carefully walked towards the table in the middle of the room, not wanting to damage anything. You noticed quite a bit of unexpected clutter, and above everything a print of the brand new Vogue issue. A woman on the cover flashed you a beautiful smile as you picked it up. The headline stated: Kim Jisoo talks acting, NYFW and love.

You flipped the glossy magazine pages to find the spread dedicated to said interview and noticed just what you were looking for: the author of the article. The credits at the bottom of the page revealed a nice surprise- Author; Roseanne Park.

"Well what do you think? Is it a good article?" your soul almost left your body when you realized who was standing next to you. You quickly put the magazine down, "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to touch your stuff. I just saw the cover and..."

"Oh my gosh, are you kidding? That's completely okay, I don't mind." she pointed to the journal, "That interview is actually one of the favorite pieces I ever wrote, and not just because it's about Jisoo. Plus, my friend took the pictures, so it was extra fun." She opened the spread again and pointed to a name credited right next to hers, Photographer; Lalisa Manoban.

"Oh wow. I've seen her pictures before, they're really good. I with I could take photos like that. Seriously."

Here's one thing to note: when you're nervous, you ramble. Like a lot. Some people would say its better than staying silent, but let's be honest- it's like stepping into a puddle instead of mud. Not a disaster, but there's still plenty to complain about.

Thankfully, Roseanne only giggled, "I know exactly what you mean. I hope you'll get to work with her someday."

You both stared at the magazine spread for a second before Roseanne broke the silence.

"But now, let's get to bussines. Sit down please, this might take a while," she pointed tkwards one of the leather couches you noticed earlier and took a seat at the other side of the table.

"So, as you probably already know, my name is Roseanne Park. As a manager of Matchmaker, my job is to read these letters," she grabben a handful of papers for emphasis, "and respond to them, give advixe basically. The title 'Matchmaker' comes from the fact that the majority of the letters talk about love. Any questions so far?"

When you shook your head no, she continued, "As my assistant, your job is fairly simple. You're going to sort and read through the hundreds of letters I recieve weekly and pick the most interesting ones for me to feature. And occasionally, you might accompany me to a few interviews. Sounds good?"

You slowly nodded, processing all the new information. Letters, answers, interviews and a hot boss. That doesn't sound so bad.

"Great. So Y/N," she suddenly stood up, "Would you mind going with me to Subway? I'm starving."

By the time you were finished with lunch, you had a new point to add to your list of realizations about your new boss:

She loves food, and by loves I mean LOVES.

The moment you arrived at the restaurant, food was the only thing she would talk about. She told you about what she had for dinner and breakfast, what kind of snacks she hid in the office and what kind of salad she was getting alongside a baguette.

After she actually managed to get a bit of calories into her system (thanks to a foot-long chicken turkey sandwich) the conversation finally got more interesting.

Don't get me wrong, you could listen to this girl talk for hours, no matter the topic. But after listening to a thirty minute long monologue about why pineapple pizza is the best thing ever invented, even you have reached your limit.

"So," you start, in an effort to break the ice, "how long have you been working at Vogue?"

She squints at the toast in front of her, trying to remember, "About five years? Yeah, it's gonna be five years in May."

"Oh wow, that's impressive."

She tilts her head, "Is it? I mean, when you work as often as I do, time just goes by. I don't even remember the last time I went out with my friends to discuss something that wasn't work related."

You pout, regretting the choice to ask her about work.

"But at the same time, I love what I do so I can't really complain. What about you though? Why did you decide to become a journalist?"

"Oh, I started just a year ago. And I studied literature, so I guess becoming a journalist made sense."

"Why did you study literature then? There's so many other better paying jobs out there."

"I don't think anyone works in such a field for money, that's for sure," you try to lighten the atmosphere, "Well, my mom wanted to become a writer, but she got pregnant before she could finish her book and she's been pretty much busy ever since. I guess her love for books kind of rubbed off on me."

Roseanne nods, to let you know she's listening. "I'm glad you and your mom have such an important aspect of your lives in common. My mother wanted me to become a lawyer, I doubt she's ever read even a single fiction book in her entire life."

"What does she think about your job now?"

Her lips tighten and she crosses her arms. "I don't know. I haven't talked to her since," her eyes seem empty, their signature spark gone. You can tell you struck a nerve. "I haven't talked to her since I moved out."

"Well, I'm sure that she's proud of you," you can't help but add.

Rosie lets out a dry laugh, "You don't know my mother then," she slowly pushes her plate away, "I think I'm full so I'm gonna head back to the office."

Sometimes it's better to keep your mouth shut. You learned this the hard way.

You head back after your lunch break ends, alone. Even though Roseanne walked you through everything she expects you to help around with, you know that your job doesn't start and end with sorting through letters.

You softly knock on the office door before heading in. She's already sitting there, behind her desk. Without looking up from her laptop, she scoffs, "You're late."

"It's just five minutes," you shrug, not taking her tone seriously. Finally, she raises her sight to meet yours. Even without her saying anything, you understand. Do not play around with fire.

You mumble an apology and quickly run to the small hallway at the other side of the room which leads to your own (significantly smaller) office.

"What makes you think I'm done?" Turning around, you notice that her eyes are piercing through your back. Unsure of what she expects you to do, you walk back in front of her.

"While you were out there doing god knows what for two hours," you resist the urge to roll your eyes, "I already did your job and sorted through the letters. You're welcome."

She walks around the table and pushes a thick stack of papers against your chest, "That means you'll be doing my job and write replies to them. Can you handle that?"

You try not to show her how terrified you are. You? Giving relationship advice? Sounds like a recipe for a royal disaster. Instead, you rise your chin and smile, "Yes ma'am."

She visibly winces at the formal title, but still nods and returns to her seat. You take this as a sign to head back to your spot and do your job. Well, her job for now.

You sit down calmly and shuffle through the papers, trying not to look too freaked out. What the heck are you going to do now?

A quick peek at your boss reveals that she's either busy with work or just flat out ignoring you.

Trying to remain collected, you pick out the top letter from the pile. The first paragraph reads:

Hi Rosie! I'm a huge fan of your Matchmaker spread :) I never thought I'd be the one writing you a message but here we are hahaha. (Let's hope this gets featured!)

You roll your eyes but continue reading,

Me and my boyfriend have been dating for just about two months and I would describe our relationship as 'lowkey'. We first met at a bar a last year but we surprisingly didn't immediately hit it off.

With a raised eyebrow you skip over a page full of sappy descriptions and relationship stories, before getting to the end of the letter.

So what should I do? He's really sweet but I'm not sure if I'm ready to meet his family just yet.... please help! Love, Courtney.

You fold the paper back to it's original state with a quiet gulp. What on earth did you get yourself into?

[lucy-sky]

Important Negotiation (Ezra x Reader)

This is my second fic about Ezra. I’m still not very confident about writing him, but I just had to return to this character one more time (at least) because the stories in my head want to be told no matter how silly they are :DD Ezra’s speech is still a huge challenge when English is not your native language, but I tried REALLY hard. Apologize for any possible mistakes, and once again, any feedback is greatly appreciated!

Summary: What happens if two touch-starved idiots harvesters accidentally meet in the shower after a hard working day, and one of them is Ezra?.. Apparently you're in a pretty awkward situation, which requires a serious negotiation...

Warnings: Uh... I can identify this fic’s genre as “soft porn without plot” I guess :’D Although it only contains heavy petting not the actual sex, I think it turned out quite sensual?.. 

Words: 3 176; gif by me (plz credit if using)

Tags: @biobiopsy​, @rzrcrst​ (I’m not nearly as good as you, but I’d be happy if you took a look... as an expert, you know :D)

The corridor is dimly lit and quiet as you walk to the bathroom. It’s your usual habit to go there after the rest of the crew is already in their quarters preparing to sleep. Since it’s basically the only place you could get some privacy, you don’t want to be in a rush because there’s someone else waiting to use the shower. You prefer taking your time after a hard working day.

The contract you’re currently engaged on is quite profitable, the crew is nice too; all of them are experienced harvesters you could learn a lot from, so you consider yourself lucky. Yes, the work is exhausting, but you believe it’s worth it. The only thing that gets on your nerves sometimes is that your employer is really strict, obsessed with the rules. Each day is precisely scheduled: what time you get up, eat and work, the curfew hour... Relationships with the crew are also strictly regulated. No inappropriate actions or contacts allowed; it’s called work ethics - your employer points. You all are here to do the job, not to make friends or have affairs. Maybe it’s for the best, but sometimes you feel like you’re suffocating. So this time of the day, when you quietly sneak out of the room you share with another female member of the crew, and head to the shower is like a breath of fresh air. This time only belongs to you.

You sigh deeply as you strip of your tank top and sweatpants and get under the warm streams of water. Today was really exhausting, but thankfully there’s only one week left until the end of this contract. One week and your crew will leave the Green with solid sums of money in your pockets and you will finally be able to have proper rest. And for now you need something to ease your body and mind.

Sliding your hand down your lower belly, you close your eyes and the image of a man appears in your head. Sometimes you think you should be embarrassed because recently you often catch yourself on fantasizing about one particular man… Who is your fellow crew member.

You cannot tell exactly when it started. Was it after the first time you were assigned to work in pair, or a bit later? Perhaps after the first time he called you “little one” - a moniker he gave you as the youngest member of the crew. You’re also not sure why you find this man so attractive. Maybe it’s his deep brown eyes, or his lips that look so soft… Or his ridiculously messy dark hair with a small blond streak in it… Or is it his fancy manner of speech and the sound of his voice? Anyway, you were attracted to him and you couldn’t deny it.

Sometimes you have a feeling that the attraction is mutual. There’s something in the way he talks to you, something in his smile and occasional touches… But even if it’s so, you’re not here for romance. Rules are rules. So all you could do is touching yourself in the shower, imagining how his touch and his kiss would feel on your bare skin - the only luxury you could afford.

Throwing your head back a little, you sigh with delight, and let his name silently fall from your lips:

- Ezra.

You’re so lost in your fantasy that at first you don’t even register someone else’s presence in the room. Suddenly the sound of a man clearing his throat practically makes you jump. Quickly you step out of the water stream and grab a towel from the hanger nearby to cover your nakedness. The next second you realize who’s standing in front of you.

It’s him. Ezra. In flesh-and-blood.

You blink stupidly, struggling to identify if it’s really happening or you’re experiencing some weird sort of hallucination caused by exhaustion or whatever it is in the atmosphere of this goddamn planet.

- Calm down, little one, - the man says in a quiet, soothing tone. - I apologize... Kevva knows I had absolutely no intention to startle you like that.

- Wh… What are you doing here?.. - You manage to mumble.

- Same as you, I believe, - he shrugs. - I intended to take a shower, and since the door wasn’t locked, meeting you here was the last thing I expected to happen.

Only now you notice that he’s standing in front of you wearing nothing except a big towel wrapped around his hips and a pair of rubber slippers.

- Did I… Did I forget to lock the door?.. - You blurt out, asking rather yourself than him.

- Apparently so. Or… Allow me make an assumption… It could be something that you wanted to happen subconsciously, without realizing it to the full extent.

- What do you mean? - You frown at his words. - And why are you still standing here? An adequate person would already have apologized and left.

- I might not be adequate enough but I’m not ignorant either, - Ezra says, mischievous sparkles playing in his eyes. - Pardon my boldness, but I suppose I know exactly what kind of an action was interrupted by my unannounced appearance.

Instantly you feel the blush creeping up on your cheeks. Of course he saw you pleasuring yourself. You don’t even know how long has he been around. You want to sink under the ground. Why wouldn’t he just leave? Does he find joy in torturing you like that? You want to hit him in the face, and normally you would do exactly this, but for some reason now you’re just frozen in place.

-   But I assure you, - Ezra continues in the same soothing tone. - It’s a completely natural thing. We’re human; we need each other. Physically too, among other things. You think I don’t know why you’re doing it in the shower? I’m familiar to this, girl. For sure we can satisfy ourselves without any difficulties, but warm water just makes it easier to pretend you’re in someone’s arms. I myself experience this firsthand. Let’s face it, little one. It’s been a while and we both are starving for a simple skin-to-skin contact. So… If you will indulge me, I’d be more than happy to propose my assistance. And being a gentleman, I’m not inquiring any sorts of favors from your part, believe me. It’s just a suggestion from one solitary person seeking for some warmth to another.

- Okay, I’m confused right now... What kind of assistance are you talking about? - You ask, narrowing your eyes. Actually you can’t believe your ears - did he just suggested to help you getting off? Seriously?

- I think I made myself clear enough, didn’t I? - Ezra cocks his head examining your baffled expression.

- Yeah, okay... But what makes you think that I can say yes to this?

The corners of his mouth twitch into a smug smirk.

- Forgive me, little bird... Of course I cannot asseverate that, perhaps my eyes and ears are just playing tricks on me, but... I might have noticed you uttering something very similar to my name.

- What...

Now your face is not just blushing. It’s burning. You didn’t think it’s possible to make you even more embarrassed than you already are, but he just did it. You’re lost for words. It clearly makes no sense to deny the obvious now that you were caught in the act...

- There's nothing to be ashamed of, little one, - Ezra says quietly with a sudden tenderness in his voice. - For what it's worth, it's only chemistry... After all, let's just endorse the reality that I would already have left, or you would have slapped me in the face if only we weren't attracted to each other since day one. You're not the first day in the business and I'm convinced you're pretty much capable to push back against me or any other intruder. And yet, I'm still here.

You think about his words for a couple of seconds. He's right, you have to admit. You sensed some sort of vibes between the two of you since the beginning. So if you both have sympathy for each other - what are you losing? In fact, only a few minutes ago, weren’t you busy imagining how his lips would feel against your skin?..

-  And dare I say, - he adds as if he read your mind. - If it wasn’t for the sake of annoying work ethics we’re bound to follow, I’d probably be more precise in my intentions since the very start.

He makes an expectant pause here, cunning brown eyes scanning your face, waiting for a response.

- So, birdie... what do you think?

- I think you talk too much.

You didn’t intend to sound this bold, but Ezra chuckles contently.

- The answer is positive, I assume?

- Correct, - you reply, unintentionally copying his strange manner of speech, something you noticed not the first time you did while talking to him.

This conversation is so weird... As if it’s some kind of... Negotiation? You’re still feeling awkward, but Ezra’s smile is warm and reassuring as he makes a step closer.

- Than let’s reject the useless pudency, shall we?

His hand reaches yours; fingertips brushing against your knuckles, making you release the grip on the towel you’re covering yourself with. Your heart is beating way too fast. You have no idea why you’re so flustered, as if it’s your first time… You imagined this so many times it’s hard to believe now it’s happening for real. Inhaling sharply you close your eyes and let the towel slip down to your feet. When you open your eyes again, you find him silently admiring you with lustful eyes.

- Aren’t you the finest creature, little one, - he proclaims.

- Your turn, - you try to sound confident, but your voice betrays you, trembling a little. Ezra smirks at this.

- Your word is my command.

His towel falls on the floor as well and you can hardly take your eyes off him - he’s so beautiful to you, all of him. Tanned olive skin, scars on his upper body, a trail of dark hair beneath his belly button... You’re not sure what to do next, but he’s suddenly gentle as he takes your hand and leads you closer to warm water still pouring from the showerhead. He positions himself behind you and you shiver when his lips are finally against your skin. He places soft kisses along your shoulderblade, then gently brushes your hair aside to kiss the nape of your neck. You bite back a moan when he reaches the spot right behind your earlobe. He’s so impossibly close you can feel his hot breath as he whispers:

- So what do you want me to do, little one?

- Touch me.

- With the utmost pleasure.

His hand immediately skims up the curve of your thigh, and your skin breaks out with goosebumps at the contact when he cups your breast. You gasp and he hums in approval, caressing your soft flesh before giving your hardened nipple a light pinch. You’re about to scream when his free hand palms your mound. You’re craving for more, but Ezra is unhurried, dragging his fingers along your slit to spread the wetness between your folds slowly, as if you have all the time in the world… And then your body jerks when he strokes the very tip of your throbbing clit with his finger. He teases you like that a bit more before finally adding so much needed pressure. Your knees go weak at the intensity of the sensation. You can’t even explain why it feels this good. He doesn’t really do anything you couldn’t do yourself, but his fingers just feel differently, both rough and deliciously tender if such a combination is even possible, and the way he’s holding you tightly against his frame and nuzzles into your shoulder just makes the whole act even more intimate.

- F-faster, - you plead in a shaky voice, feeling the tight knot in the pit of your belly is about to burst.

A whimper, a bit louder than you wish it to be escapes your parted lips when you feel his warm tongue on the side of your neck. Immediately, Ezra's hand covers your mouth and you’re internally crying in frustration as he slows down his movements.

- Shhh, be quiet, little one, - he hushes and his hoarse whisper against your ear gives you chills. - As much as I appreciate your grateful response, that'll be a shame to get fired only a week before the contract ends, right?

You nod in agreement, humming into his palm as he keeps going, increasing pace and pressure again until your body finally surrenders. Digging your nails into his hip in search for some support to keep balance you shudder, coming hard on his fingers. You’re trembling in his embrace, overwhelmed by this blissful sensation: warm, pulsating and so incredibly sweet, sweeter than all honey in the world. The pleasure runs through you in swift waves, and when the last tremors of your climax subside, you feel like melting into a puddle against his firm chest.

- You alright, little one? - Ezra asks. His arms are still around you, fingers drawing circles on your belly absentmindedly. It tickles a bit, but you don’t mind.

- Mhm… - You make lazily. - Uh...thank you…

- The pleasure is mine, - he smirks, placing a kiss on the top of your head.

His warm body feels like home. All you wish for right now is to stay like this forever, never losing the physical contact.

There’s something else you wish for though.

He’s undoubtedly hard against your backside, and you can’t fight the sudden urge to touch him. The man lets out a ragged breath as you reach behind you and let your fingers trail down his lower belly. Now it’s his turn to shiver in response to your gentle caress.

- Little one, - he sounds a bit raspier than usual. - I meant it when I said I’m not requiring favors...

- What if it’s not really a favor, - your palm wraps around his length, giving him a light squeeze and earning a quiet grunt from him. His cock is warm and thick, and feels amazing in your hand. - What if I just want to touch you too?..

- Therefore, I dare not protest, - you sense a hint of relief in his voice and smirk under your breath. He definitely needs it even more than you, and frankly speaking, you think he deserves it.

Ezra’s hips jerk a bit as your thumb makes contact with the tip of his cock, brushing against it softly. Encouraged by his reaction, you give him a couple of firmer strokes causing him thrust into your hand.

- Kevva, that feels good, - he mumbles, and suddenly you desperately want to see his face. You need it. So you turn around.

He opens his dark brown eyes to meet your gaze. The look is so intense it gives you shivers, and without any second thoughts and useless doubts, you press your lips to his.

He responds immediately, kissing you back feverishly, like a starving man, humming against your mouth, and you have to suppress a moan again at the delightful sensation when your tongues touch. Ezra’s hand grabs the back of your neck, pulling you even closer. His plump lips are almost as soft and nice as you imagined, only better, because they are real. You keep working on him, stroking him up and down in a steady pace, and you break the kiss only to taste the skin on the crook of his neck, hot and salty under your tongue. Your fingers run along his pecs and collarbones and you wish you didn’t have to keep quiet because you really enjoy his grunts and ragged gasps. There's something very satisfying in realization that you make him feel this way.

You increase the pace as the thrusts of his hips become more erratic and he tightens the grip on your hair. You kiss him again and he hisses into your mouth and bites on your lower lip almost painfully, but it’s a good kind of pain. You feel him throbbing and swelling, and a couple more movements of your hand finally bring him over the edge, his warm load spilling on the floor and your lower belly.

- Damn, birdie, - Ezra breathes out, relaxing against the tiles and pulling you closer to his chest. - I fully realize that current circumstances are far from being perfectly romantic, but still I must confess here and now - I’m pretty much into you, y/n.

You’re surprised to hear your name from him. You’re not sure, but it’s probably the first time you hear him saying it. For some reason it feels important. Despite the circumstances, it gives his confession even more value.

- I’m pretty much into you as well, Ezra, - you smile. - Even though you’re by far the biggest weirdo I’ve ever met.

- Why is that, if I may be so bold as to ask?

- Well, you know... That massive speech you delivered to convince me... Wasn’t it easier to just come over and like... kiss me maybe? - You shrug.

- That might be. But I wasn’t certain I’d not end up with a black eye or a bloody nose in this case... Simply due to your dexterous self-preservation instincts, - he chuckles and you scoff into his chest.

- Yeah, this is actually very likely of me. Who can blame me though?

- Wasn’t even trying. It’s the world we live in, little one. You have to be tough and cautious; otherwise your chance to survive is quite slim... And you see, I, on my part, am being cautious too...

- You’re really good at negotiating, I must say...

You both laugh quietly, as Ezra wraps his arms around your frame and lets his fingers run through your damp hair. You stay like that for a little while, simply enjoying the intimacy of the moment and the warmth of each other’s bodies.

- I have to make a point, - Ezra goes after the pause. - That normally I possess much higher levels of stamina. It’s just the months of touch starvation took their toll... We’re only human as it was stated in previous conversations...

- Right... - You smirk, tilting your head to look him in the eye. - I might give you a chance to prove it than... Once we’re done with this goddamn contract, of course.

- Sounds like a tempting offer, birdie, - Ezra grins before leaning in to steal another kiss. - I’m ready to negotiate.

- This is gonna be a long week… - You murmur softly, kissing him back.

***

Thank you for reading!

[bellatrixobsessed1]

Kissing Dead Pearls (Part 27)

The sky was a watercolor backdrop of searing oranges and yellows and pastel pink. Against it, holding a surfboard was a petite silhouette. “She’s too small to be any good.” Chan remarked. 

“I thought that it was the other way around, dude.” Ruon Jian shrugged. 

“Maybe if you have the right size surfboard. That one’s too big for her.”

To this Ruon had nodded in agreement. It didn’t bother Jet like it bothered the rest of the team. Chan and his girlfriend were particularly annoyed by the mistake. They could tell that she was new to the sport, unlike themselves. They have been doing it since childhood. 

Truth be told, they were afraid of her. Afraid that her mistakes would cost their team a victory that they hadn’t even had a chance to begin working towards. That first practice was a mess. Jet had watched her rather closely; every time she lost balance and every time she charged towards the wave too early or too late. She never seemed to have them timed right, could never seem to sense the water in the way a seasoned surfer would. She just didn’t have the connection. 

She took a deep breath. It was an hour and a half into a three hour long practice and she had yet to pull off even the most basic maneuver. But more than anything, Azula wanted to make her father proud. Truthfully, she had come to decide, within the first twenty minutes, that she hated surfing. It didn’t come naturally to her as volleyball did. She was furious with herself for having missed volleyball tryouts in favor of trying something new. 

She could have been on her way to becoming the star athlete of the middle school team. She could have been an hour and a half into praise and cheers. Instead her teammates were glaring at her. Even the coach’s formerly sympathetic eyes were clouding with impatience. She knew that he’d only let her on the team because of her father and his father’s legacy. 

She also knew that it was becoming abundantly clear that she didn’t share the family talent. She cast one more forlorn and longing glance at the volleyball in her sports bag before closing her eyes, readying her surfboard, and dashing towards the water. 

This time she was going to do it. She knew that she had timed the wave right. If only she had timed throwing her surfboard down correctly. Another wave took the board out from under her feet. 

No one bothered to tell her that she was supposed to go belly down and paddle out to the wave. 

Not even the coach. 

She was never one to quit. The only thing more dishonorable than a failure was a quitter. She would ride the failure out and probably with more success than riding any wave. A week into her new sport and she was only just starting to catch onto paddling out.

Azula was certain that balance wouldn’t be a problem. Toph had been kind enough to let her borrow her skateboard. The way she and Toph saw it, skateboarding was basically surfboarding without water. She did just fine maintaining her balance on the skateboard and by the end of the night she was even doing some decent tricks. 

So why the hell couldn’t she catch onto surfing?

She came to find that it was a simple as not being able to catch a wave. As simple as not knowing what to do when she finally did. She knew that once she figured out how to pop up that she would be able to stay standing and ride it out, but the waves were relentless and knocked her into the blue before she had a chance. 

Three days into week two was when she finally broke down. She was crying on Sokka’s bed about how Zuzu was mad at her for trying to one up him and how it wasn’t worth it because she wasn’t even good. How she wished she would have just gone for volleyball. 

He treated her to ice cream that she didn’t think she deserved, but Kya had insisted and Hakoda and Katara made it special.

Jet watched her cross the beach. “I’m surprised she’s even showing up still.” Chan’s girlfriend had commented. 

“I wouldn’t if I was that awful.” Ruon noted. 

“I wonder if her dad beats her for not being able to carry on the family legacy.” Jet didn’t know the girl’s name but even Chan looked at her and muttered, “too far.” Jet might have slapped her if he didn’t have a moral code. 

Azula held her head as high as she could for how many times the waves pulled it under. She had enough grace, he could see it in the way she paddled, the way she cut seamlessly through the waves. He could tell that she was getting used to timing and catching the waves. But she never managed to fully stand up and the one time she did, she hadn’t known what to do next. 

He watched her drag herself and her board back to shore. Long locks of hair hung down her back, shimmering in the setting sun. She wore a seashell bracelet around her slender wrist. Her skin was tanned nicely and her eyes reflected the sunlight so well. 

The rest of the team called her the weak link but he called her beautiful. 

The rest of the team called her the weak link but he called her untrained. 

He spent his entire weekend doing what their coach should have done. And she caught on fast. Who would have thought that actually teaching her what to do would have made such a significant difference.

When Monday came around, she walked onto the beach with a surfboard fitted to her smaller stature and a more confident stride. 

If she could have some success with a board that was not properly sized, she could do wonders with this board. 

For the first time she’d managed to catch a wave. Albeit, not on her first or even fourth try. But ten minutes in, she caught one and rode it out. Practices went that much smoother, she was beginning to learn and perform the basics. 

It wasn’t the remarkable and impressive transformation she had hoped for.

It was so ordinary. 

But it was enough to bring her from dead last to third from the bottom--and on a good night, four away from it.

The season had ended and she vowed to do volleyball next year. But the next year rolled around and her teammates were disappointed to see her dragging her board up the beach. 

A summer practicing with Jet and Sokka had done wonders. 

Chan, his now ex-girlfriend, Ruon, and the rest of the team hadn’t been there to see her practice. It was just as well. It was more satisfying. 

She went first. Her paddling was stronger, her carves smoother, her balance expectedly impeccable. She pulled off her first roundhouse cutback.

Azula was a thrill for Jet to watch, she always was. That determined and driven look and the victorious one that usually followed. They were stunning. She was stunning. Especially now that confidence was thrown into the mix. He more than admired her haughty stride back up the beach and past the rest of the team, “you’re up Chan.”

.oOo.

Azula takes Sokka’s hand and they slowly pad along the sand. He is so close to the sea that almost took him and yet he grins, wide and beaming. It is probably because he is with her. He stops to brush the hair out of her face. 

He leans in for his kiss only to get a mouthful of hair courtesy of the wind throwing it back across her face. He sweeps it aside again and this time she holds it back. 

She closes her eyes and tilts her head up, she looks serene and blissful. 

It makes him want to hurl.

Jet turns away before their lips make contact. With more force than necessary, he takes another bite of his chili dog. He doesn’t even like chili! Yet the flavor is still more pleasant than the look of Sokka locking lips with his ex.

He feels bad for feeling so appalled considering how much less tense she is, but it hits him quite mercilessly that he could have never made her feel that way. If only he’d met her first. If only he had been the childhood friend. 

If only he’d asked her for a date when he’d first had the urge. That day when he saw her silhouetted against the sunset with a surfboard in hand. 

Maybe if he’d held her a little closer when teaching her to balance. Maybe if he’d cheered her on a little more, she would have asked him. 

Maybe he would be walking down the beach with her. Instead he finds himself furious. After everything he’d done for her, she’d snub him like this? It was he who helped her work from no skill whatsoever to the surfer that the rest of the team strived to be. 

He helped get her through the past few months of summer and now she was ignoring him more or less completely.

“Still brooding?” Katara asks. 

He takes another angry munch of his chili dog. 

“Why are you watching them make out if it makes you angry?”

He thinks that maybe he wants to be angry because that is better than feeling let down, used, and miserable. “Maybe if I watch hard enough, she’ll see my charm and makeout with me instead.” He mutters.

“Ew.” Zuko grumbles. Apparently the concept of it is enough to drive him right back to the smoothie bar. Granted, he makes a similar face when he gets within sound range of the couple. Jet swears that if Sokka had the strength, he would quite literally lift her off of her feet. 

Thankfully he is still too weary for that and has to settle for a careful hug. “I’m going to go share a smoothie with Zuko, you want anything?” Katara offers.

He shakes his head. 

“You sure? We’re going to be heading back tomorrow, so now’s your last chance to have one.” 

“I’m sure.” 

He hears that light and warm laugh and frowns deeper. He wants to be happy for Azula, he truly does. But he can’t force happiness. He hears the shifting of sand and a shadow falls over him. 

“Exactly how long do you plan on staring at my daughter for?” 

Jet tenses up. He gives his body enough slack to muster up a single shrug. “Until she stops being so annoyingly beautiful, I guess.” He, to Ozai’s dissatisfaction, slips up. 

“If that is the only reason you are upset to have lost her, than you didn’t deserve her.” 

He wonders how many times Sokka was told that he wasn’t good enough for Azula, if he had been told at all. “It isn’t. It’s just the easiest reason to explain.” 

When the girl’s father doesn’t respond, he continues. “She’s talented and clever. She’s…” his mind wanders back to the stormy beach. “Strong and determined. I think that she might be unstoppable…”

Ozai nods. “Even so. You knew what this trip was about when you stepped aboard the ship. It is not her fault that you were not prepared for the outcome.” He pauses and clasps his hands behind his back, fixing Jet with a stern look. “If you trouble her over her decision, I assure you that there will be a free spot on your surf team.”

Jet suppresses a scowl. The old man did more to hurt his daughter than Jet himself could ever hope to do and he had half the mind to inform him of such. He curbs his tongue. “I don’t want to hurt her.” But he wishes that she wouldn’t hurt him. “Should I talk to her?”

Ozai shakes his head. “Unless it is about surfing or another mundane topic. She will speak to you about it when she is ready.”

Jet sighs and rests his chin in his hands as Ozai makes his way towards the smoothie bar. He feels as out of place as Azula must have while carrying a surfboard much too large for her. He doesn’t belong on this trip. With this family. 

Azula leads Sokka back to their beach towel and, in the shade of their umbrella, begins unpacking lunch. It probably has all of Sokka’s favorites. 

He hears the sand sift again and the clunk of a glass on the wooden table. “There’s a shot of rum in yours. Don’t you dare mention it to anyone on this beach.” 

Jet takes his beverage and sipis it. “And yours.”

Ozai holds out his receipt. There is only one alcoholic drink and Jet can taste the rum on his. 

“You could use a drink, boy.”

Azula settles into Sokka’s arms and Jet can’t disagree. 

[solavillain]

Pas de Deux Ch 5: Stranded

+pairing: Spinel x fem!Reader +genre: Drama, romance, angst, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers +warnings: None (for now) +word count: 6.7K +Chapter 5 / ? previous || next

Read on AO3!

You’ve lost track of how long the injector has been flying across the open ocean. The sun has been up for a while now, so you’d guess it’s close to midday. Spinel has relaxed her grip on you, thankfully, leaving your mouth uncovered, though it’s not like you have anything to say to her. She’s also unwound most of her arm from your mid-section, leaving you mostly free save for a couple wraps to keep your arms pinned.

Spinel has barely moved, only occasionally blowing on her horn to adjust course. You suspect she has no idea where she’s going, or if she even has an endgame for taking you in the first place. Once the Crystal Gems get Garnet’s memories back and deal with the bio poison, you’re confident they’ll be able to track you rather quickly. At least, you’re hoping. Pearl didn’t even know what the injector was, so you’re not sure how she or Peridot would be able to track it from so far away, and the warp system only takes them to very specific locations...

Maybe you’re less confident than you thought.

You sigh and shift a little, feeling the scorching heat of the sun bearing down on you. You don’t want to be the one to break the silence, but you’re hoping she’s going to land you somewhere soon. You’re starting to need water, and you’ll need food eventually as well.

“Try not to think about it, Y/n,” you coach yourself, “it’ll just make it worse...”

So you settle for leaning back on the top of the injector, and try to relax. Spinel flinches at your movement; you can feel her hold tighten briefly. Well, you are laying on her arm now, you suppose.  

“Whatever. It’s not like she can be any more uncomfortable than I am right now.”

As the minutes pass, and the sun continues to warm you up, you feel yourself drifting in and out of sleep...

x * x * x * x * x

The feeling of movement around your waist jostles you from your rest. You jolt upright, turning to look back at Spinel, who blushes and turns her head after removing her arm from you.

“Just needed my arm back,” she mumbles, avoiding your gaze. “Besides. I think I found somewhere to...land. And we’re gonna need to ditch the injector somewhere.”

You roll your eyes and look back out towards the sea. There’s a small island up ahead; that must be where Spinel means to land. As you loom closer to the landmass, a sense of dread washes over you. You’re really going to be stuck on a random island out at sea...with a Gem who knows nothing about the needs of humans.  

“Um,” Spinel starts, clearing her throat before continuing, “I’m gonna...drop you off on the island and then fly the injector somewhere. Got it?”  

Her tone changes drastically with those last words, from timid to jeering. She narrows her eyes at you, almost tauntingly. It’s as if she wants you to fight back, like she was taunting Steven with earlier.

But you weren’t going to give her the satisfaction.

“Yeah, whatever. Just don’t kill me in the landing,” you say sarcastically. You can barely bring yourself to look at her for long. The betrayal of taking you, of trying to hurt your friends after all you’d been through today...it had been one thing for her to attack the Earth when she was lashing out from anger and hurt, but it was another thing entirely for her to do...this. Regardless of your hopes for her friendship before, you couldn’t see yourself forgiving her after all this.

Spinel lands the injector on the edge of the island’s beach, and moves towards your position on the edge of the ship.

“I’m gonna have to lower you down, Y/n,” she says quietly, still avoiding your gaze when she’s close to you.

“Fine,” you reply stiffly. “Just make it quick.”

She complies wordlessly, wrapping her arms around you and lowering you to the ground. She lifts the injector off without another word, and you’re left to fend for yourself momentarily. You decide to get right to it, knowing that you’re going to need protection from the elements, and most importantly a clean source of water.  

You wander into the small forest that sits in the center of the island.  

“At least it’s not a complete desert island,” you think to yourself, grateful for the treetop cover. Shade will be nice- you can feel yourself beginning to burn after the long hours atop the injector. “I’ll also need water, food, fire...”

Suddenly, as you walk towards the forests’ center, a gleeful thought strikes you. It’s a small chance, but what if this island is the island that the Watermelon Steven’s live on? You’ve heard Steven talk about them before, how he’d accidentally created an entire Watermelon People with his healing spit back before he knew how to use the power properly. They had apparently been quite useful in the past, and Steven even had the ability to inhabit their bodies when he was asleep- this could be your way out of here!

You race through the forest, taking note of a couple streams of water that you pass by, but after a few minutes of jogging you reach the other side of the island. You stop to catch your breath, hands on your knees. You can’t help feeling dejected by the apparent lack of Watermelons, but...

“Maybe they’re at one of the other ends of the island?” you think hopefully, and begin to make your way through the forest again, at a slightly slower pace this time. This time you pass a couple small waterfalls, flowing into pools of clear water. You’re grateful that you won’t have to worry about water, at least. Food was another matter entirely. You hadn’t seen any fruit trees or animals on the island, and of course if you did manage to find the Watermelon Stevens, you obviously couldn’t eat them...so what were you going to do?

You shake your head, pushing away the thought. That was something you’d worry about later. You weren’t hungry yet, at least, so that could wait.

Once again you arrive to the end of the forest, back onto the beach. You sigh and slump down into the sand, lying on your back. It looks like this is a totally different island from the one you’ve heard about. Your hope is dwindling quickly that you’ll be able to get back to Beach City...

“What are you doing?”  

A high-pitched voice startles you out of your thoughts, and you bolt upright. You turn to see Spinel standing behind you, arms crossed.

“What the hell does it look like I’m doing, Spinel?” you ask accusatorily, “I’m doing nothing. I’m literally doing nothing because you’ve stranded me on this island for absolutely no reason, and I just ran up and down this place making sure I had what I needed to actually survive. Something I’m sure you didn’t consider.”

She turns her head to gaze out at the sea, once again avoiding your eyes.

“Yeah, well...I guess I didn’t really consider a lot of things recently,” she mumbles.

Your eyes soften at that, your heart hurting once more for the tortured Gem. Some part of you wants to talk to her, really talk to her, but...

“I can’t forgive her. Not for this,” you remind yourself.

You sigh and bring yourself to your feet, brushing off the sand from your clothes.

“Whatever. I have work to do to make sure I live through this.”

With that you turn back towards the forest, trying to remember the (admittedly scarce) survival knowledge you’d picked up here and there. You begin to make your way towards the trees, hoping you can find some branches and leaves big enough to make some sort of shelter.  

“C-can I do anything to help?” a small voice sounds out behind you.

You freeze in place, not wanting to turn to face your captor just yet. The way she sounds...your heart hurts for her, yes, but she doesn’t seem to really grasp just how messed up the situation is that she’s dragged you into.  

Finally you turn to the Gem, who is standing rather awkwardly, unsure what to do with her long limbs.

“I guess...if you want to look for some big leaves, or some sort of bowl-shaped thing that I can store water in, that would be helpful,” you reply.

She nods stiffly and parades off into the forest, looking rather determined. You shake your head and follow her, branching apart to scour for things you may need for whatever shelter you can manage to throw together.  

After about an hour, you’ve managed to gather a few larger palm leaves and some branches. You note that palm trees are scarcer than you would have thought for an island, and you briefly fret about having a receptacle to drink from if Spinel isn’t able to find anything useful.

After assembling them in a pile near one of the waterfalls under some larger trees, you’re fairly wiped. The sun is still beaming overhead, but it’s definitely moved west- you'd guess it was somewhere around three or four in the afternoon. You decide you have enough time to rest a while before you begin trying to assemble a makeshift shelter.  

With a plop, you seat yourself on the large rocks surrounding the waterfall, wiping sweat from your brow. Summer without air conditioning was the worst, especially in a tropical zone. You briefly consider going for a dip in the small pool the waterfall flows into, but you don’t want to dirty possible drinking water any further. So you sit for a while, zoning out and gazing at the landscape of what was to be your new home for the foreseeable future.  

After about twenty minutes, you hear footsteps approaching, and you turn to see Spinel. She’s carrying some leaves similar to those that you found, and a couple concave rocks. You hoist yourself to your feet and move to stand in front of her, wanting to get a closer look at what she’s found.

“I’m not sure if this’ll work exactly, for whatever you need it for, but...here.”

She thrusts the objects at you, then stalks her way over to a tree to lean against it, glaring out into the forest.

You roll your eyes for what feels like the millionth time today- your companion certainly lived up to her moody appearance- and take a closer look at the rocks. They’re just dipped in enough that they could be used for bowls or cups, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Sure, you could have drank from leaves, but that would be wasting valuable shelter resources. You’re relieved Spinel was able to find something, and you place the rocks gingerly near the waterfall so you remember where they are later.

“All right...well, thank you for these,” you say to the Gem, gesturing towards her findings. “They’ll be really helpful.” You pause for a moment and look over your pile of gathered materials, considering whether you want to ask her for help with this. Eventually, you sigh, and relent to the fact that you can’t do this part on your own.

“Could you, uh...maybe help me with building a shelter? Humans...we need to keep warm at night, and be protected from things that are outside and could hurt us,” you explain after seeing her confused face. “So I need to build a little tent out of these so I don’t get sick.”  You try to keep any animosity towards her out of your voice, figuring she won’t want to help if you’re upfront with your current dislike for the Gem.

Spinel nods and pushes herself off the tree, uncrossing her arms and moving towards the pile. “Yeah, sure, whatever. Whaddya need?”

You furrow your brows and tentatively pick up a branch and a leaf, trying to figure out the best way to go about this.

“Um...well if I just position this here...” you mumble to yourself, a flush spreading across your face as you realize you have no idea what the hell you’re doing.

“Uh...I think it’s supposed to be a triangle shape?” you question, more to yourself than anything, since obviously Spinel wouldn’t have any idea either.  

You hear an odd noise, and glance over to the pink Gem. Her face is contorted, and you realize she’s trying to hold in laughter. When your eyes meet, she lets it all out, almost doubling over, and your flush deepens. Though with fondness or embarrassment, you’re not sure.

“Ahh, I’m sorry, Y/n,” Spinel manages to gasp out after a moment, “Y’just... you always seem like you know what’s goin’ on, and seein’ you so unsure was...well, pretty damn hilarious.”

A small smile finds its way to your lips, and you can’t help joining in with a chuckle at your own expense.

“Heh, well, it’s my first time ever trying to build something like this...it’s not every day you get kidnapped to a remote island, right?” you try to joke back with her.

The smile runs away from Spinel's face so quickly, it’s almost like it was never there. Her body tenses and she turns back to the materials pile, picking out a few branches.  

“How d’you want these?” she asks tersely.  

“Shit. Why did I say that? That was the worst joke in the world! It hasn’t even been a day,” you think, before realizing something. “Wait. She’s the one who kidnapped me. Why am I feeling bad for pointing that out? Ugh.”

You bend down next to Spinel, and begin to try out different positionings for the branches and leaves, Spinel helping out here and there with heavier things.

x * x * x * x * x

A couple hours later, you stand back and admire your shabby work on the shelter. You ended up having to make a lean-to in between two larger trees, as you had nothing to tie the branches together for the shelter to stand on its’ own. Spinel helped more than you’d like to admit, and you’re grateful that you at least have somewhere semi-protected to stay tonight.  

Your eyes widen as you realize something- that you’re an idiot.

“I forgot to try to make a fire! Shit!”  

Your outburst startles Spinel, who had been ruminating silently by the waterfall pond. You dash around, looking for small kindling to lay out over larger sticks, and looking for rocks that might spark if you hit them right, as well as stones to encircle the base.

Spinel watches you curiously, not seeming particularly interested in helping out. You chalk this up to her not knowing what to look for, and resolve to ignore her gaze while you busy yourself searching.  

As the sun moves further across the sky, you finally manage to assemble something resembling a camp fire. You’re not sure if the rocks you found are going to work to spark the fire, but you figure you can always try the stick rubbing method as well. You sit down near the fire, which is set up a short distance from your lean-to- close enough that you’ll still be able to feel warmth while inside, but far enough away that it won’t set the thing on fire (you hope.)

You settle in, figuring this may take some time. Spinel shifts uneasily from her spot back by the pond, and you sigh softly, making a gesture for her to come sit by the not quite yet a fire.

You’ve done some thinking today, and you’ve resolved that while you may have lost respect for the Gem, you don’t want to make your life any more miserable than it needs to be while you’re stuck here. You don’t forgive her, per se, but you also don’t want to sit in silence for who knows how long. And knowing what you do about Spinel, she doesn’t want that either.

“C’mon, Spinel...the fire’s not started yet, but you don’t have to sit alone.”

She ducks her head and stands, moving to sit across from you, her knees pulled to her chest and her head resting on them. Her gaze looks far away; she’s staring into the forest, looking forlorn. You knew most Gems didn’t get tired, not in the way humans do, but...she did look exhausted. Today took a toll on her.

You wrack your brain, trying to think of something- anything- to say to Spinel, but you come up short. What conversation topics do you bring up with a kidnapper? Who you thought had become a friend? You shake your head and get back to trying to start the fire. You don’t want to make things awkward again like earlier...

x * x * x * x * x

It feels like you’ve been at this for hours. At one point you gave up on the rocks and switched to the stick method, groaning in frustration every time you thought you saw a spark and it disappeared. Eventually you switched back to the rocks, completely unsure which was truly the best method. Spinel had gotten up a while back and informed you that she was going on a walk, to which you nodded and said that you’d be here. She seemed pleased by the affirmation and went on her way.

Now, though...it’s almost completely dark outside and still no luck. You slump forward, elbows on your knees and head in your hands, feeling defeated.  Footsteps approach from behind, and you don’t need to turn to know Spinel is back. Deserted island, and all that.

“Hey...” you call out half-heartedly, not looking up.

“It, uh...doesn’t appear to be going too well,” Spinel comments as she sits across from you.  

You just groan in reply and toss the stones to the side, too tired to keep trying to light the damn thing.

“Mind if I take a crack at it?” Spinel asks, tentatively picking up the discarded rocks.

“Knock yourself out,” you say, gesturing to the unlit campfire.

The pink Gem gives it her best for a good ten minutes, but still no spark.

“I think I just have the wrong kinds of rocks,” you say sadly. It’s starting to get cold out now, the nice cool breeze from when the sun was out now carries a chill in the air. You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to stay warm.

“Hmm...” Spinel stands, looking for something on the ground. “What was that other thing you were tryin’ earlier?”

“Oh, the sticks? Yeah, that can work too, but it’s a lot more difficult since you have to maintain a constant speed and pressure. My arms are too tired now to do that again,” you reply, feeling the ache in your arms from almost three hours of work.

Spinel spots some sticks she deems worthy and plops back down in front of the fire site, a determined look in her eye.

“So, whaddya do for this again?” she asks, gazing at you across the way.

You walk over and show her to lay the flatter stick down, and to run the length with the shorter stick rapidly, creating ash that you drop into the kindling.  

“All right, I think I got it,” the gem replies, and begins to work the fire. After a moment, your eyes widen as she picks up the pace rapidly- you always forget Gems don’t have the same limitations humans do when it comes to speed and strength. Her arms blur and her face twists in concentration; after only a minute you’re already seeing smoke.

“Woah, great!” you exclaim, “Okay, now move the smoking bits to the kindling!”

Spinel doesn’t appear to have heard you, however. She continues scraping the sticks, picking up the pace still. You’re growing increasingly worried, when-

“Oh! Oh!”  

Spinel panics as the sticks themselves ignite. She was moving so fast, you guess she bypassed the kindling step...

“Ah, Spinel, it’s ok! Just toss them in the middle of the fire, this is wonderful! Be careful!” you add as an afterthought.  

Spinel follows your directions, and after a few minute of stoking, you have a contained campfire. You settle in with a sigh, away from where the smoke is blowing, and begin to get warm.

“Thanks, Spins,” you say gently, the nickname slipping out once more. You giggle quietly as she blushes and settles in closer to the fire, but surprises you when she meets your eyes this time.

“Ah, gee, no problem. Least I could do...”

You nod and give her a terse smile, and go back to holding your hands to the fire to warm them up.

“Should I talk to her now? About...everything?”  

You debate internally for a moment, before pushing through the awkwardness and blurting a question out.

“So...why did you do it?”  

Spinel looks at you blankly. “Do what?”

“Uh, you know...take me? Bring me here?”  

Her eyes narrow and you look away, face burning.

“I took ya to make those nobodies feel the way I feel. And...” she trails off, making you look back up at her. Her features are softer now, kinder, as she contemplates what to say next.

“...I meant what I said. When I took you. Felt like you were the only one who didn’t hate havin’ me around. At least, when I was...the way I was before.”

“Spinel...” you say softly, unsure if you should move closer or not.  

“But now, well. Guess you probably hate havin’ me around too, huh? Can’t say I blame ya. After all that I’ve...put you through. Done to you.”

You sigh in disappointment as the Gem works herself up. “Spinel, I...I can’t be the one to comfort you. Not right now. I don’t hate having you around, but...I’m not exactly thrilled to be here, either. I just-”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right. I’m s-sorry.”  

Spinel bunches her knees up to her chest and puts her head down between them. You’re concerned, but...you meant what you said, too. This isn’t something that can just be written off and forgotten about with a few self-deprecating remarks from Spinel. You resolve to be as kind to her as you can be- no more ignoring her like earlier- but you’re not going to rush in and help her figure out all of her shit, either. She needs to be the one to do that.  

After another half hour or so, you’re feeling warm again, and drowsy. You stand slowly, and Spinel flinches and lifts her head at the sudden sound.

“Just me,” you explain. “I’m just tired. Gonna go try and sleep in the tent thing. Are you...” you trail off, unsure if you should ask. But you do anyway.  

“Are you gonna be ok out here alone? I know Gems don’t sleep.”

“Y-yeah, I’ll be fine. You go rest,” Spinel says as she waves you off, turning to stare into the crackling fire.  

“Okay. Thanks. And uh, make sure the fire doesn’t burn the place down,” you say, trying to lighten the mood.  

She gives you a half smile at the joke, “Heh, don’t worry ‘bout it. I’ll keep watch for ya.”

You give her an awkward thumbs up and head to the lean-to, shaking your head at yourself. Gazing at the sorry bed and pillow of leaves you attempted to make, you worry if you’ll even be able to sleep at all, but...you have to try.

As you lie down, you’re happy to know that the heat of the fire still reaches here, and you can see Spinel sitting by it. Makes you feel safer, for sure. You let the dull crackle of the flames lull you to sleep...

x * x * x * x * x

You wake with a jolt as you feel a small pain in your arm. You look down and see a mosquito happily drinking away.

“Gah!” you exclaim, smacking the bug and bolting out of the tent.  

“Huh? What'sa matter?” Spinel says, her speech slightly slow. You briefly wonder if she had drifted off by the fire, even Pearl had been known to sleep occasionally if she had been overworked. And Spinel had definitely never rested before, not if she had been standing in a garden for 6,000 years...

“Oh, uh-” your mind snaps back to the present. “Just a bug bite scared me, that’s all. Sorry if I disturbed your rest,” you reply.

Spinel relaxes, seemingly relieved that you weren’t in any danger. She stands, stretching out her already stretchy limbs after sitting the whole night. As she moves around, your stomach growls impossibly loudly, and you flush in embarrassment.

“Uh, what was that?” Spinel says, trying to hide a smile. “That came from...you?”

“Ugh...yeah, it did. I’m starving...I don’t think I’ve eaten since my lunch break two days ago? Shit. With everything going on there wasn’t time. And I didn’t think to look for food yesterday...”

You walk over to the waterfall and pond, grateful that you have water at least. You take a few sips from the rock Spinel had gathered, wincing at the taste of the water. Definitely isn’t salt water, but it’s not exactly Aquafina, either.

“I gotta find food today. Fish, fruit, something,” you continue to explain to the Gem. “I need to know I’ll be able to survive here.”

“Oh, yeah, guess that’s pretty important,” Spinel agrees, and moves to stand by you. “I’ll help out today too, hmm?”

You smile up at the taller Gem and nod, grateful you won’t have to do everything alone. As you comb through the island, you can’t help glancing at your companion a couple times. She seems unbelievably determined to make up for what she’s done, darting around, stretching up to look in trees for fruit. You have to smile at the use of her form- something that was once menacing is now almost...endearing. But still, it’s hard to forget her wrapping you up and taking you away from everything.  

You furrow your brows and turn back to the tree you were looking in, feeling as if your heart is torn in two. You want so desperately to just start over with Spinel, but you know that all that she’s done to you will always be in the back of your thoughts. You just feel immensely conflicted. It’s easier to focus on simply surviving for the time being.

By midday, the two of you agreed to meet back up at the campsite, having split off from one another to cover more ground. You were able to find a couple coconuts that you have no way of breaking open, but no fruit you could eat right then.

You slump against a tree, waiting for Spinel to arrive, hopefully having had better luck than you.

“Y/n! Is this somethin’ you could eat?” Spinel calls out as she rushes into the clearing. Your eyes widen at what is in her arms- bunches and bunches of bananas!

“Ohthankgod,” you manage to get out before you grab some from the Gem, who looks bemusedly at you through the large quantities of fruit. You open a banana and take a bite, almost groaning at the taste. It’s just a simple banana, but god did it hit the spot. You go through three more fruits before you begin to feel full, and you slide down against a tree, finally satisfied.

“Ahh...thank you so much, Spinel,” you say, eyes closed in bliss.  

She chuckles and walks up next to you, her arms free of the fruit. She put them down by the lean-to a few minutes ago- you'd have to build some sort of container for them later so they don’t get dirty or bug infested.  

“Food is...so weird,” Spinel comments, looking down at your sitting form. “Dunno if I’d ever try it.”

You shrug, glancing up at the pink Gem. “Amethyst actually loves eating food. And uh, other non-food items too, for some reason. She’s wacky like that.” You smile fondly as you talk about your friends’ odd habits, suddenly missing her. If everything was normal, you’d probably be hanging out right now...

But nothing is normal, so you’re not with your friends. You’re with...her.

With a sigh you bring yourself to your feet, and walk away from Spinel, not wanting to say anything that might make things awkward again. You move to crouch by the bananas, trying to think about the best way to tie them up or store them. Spinel approaches from behind you, staying a foot or two back.

“What, uh...what now?” she asks, a hint of nervousness in her voice. You can tell that she must have sensed your mood change, and you feel a twinge of guilt. You don’t want to keep making her feel worse, but you can’t help but continually cycle between feeling fond of her and wanting to get off this damn island she’s stranded you on.  

You stand once more and turn to face her, hand on your hip as you ponder your next course of action.

“Well, we need to store the food safely, so they can’t get bugs in ‘em or get all mushy if it rains,” you say, mostly just thinking out loud. “I guess we could make another small lean-to and try to wrap them in palm leaves...”

Spinel nods and begins gathering the leftover materials from the first lean-to. “Whateva you say, toots. You know more about this stuff than me.”

You start to move to help her, when the pet name she called you registers.  

“Toots?” you think, blushing furiously as the nickname replays over and over in your head. “Where did that come from? Gosh...”

You resolve to try to not let the name render you incompetent, and begin to help Spinel, both of you working in tandem as you had last night to build a smaller hut.  

After around an hour, you stand back and place the finishing leaves on and in the lean-to, making sure all the dirt is covered up. You wrap bunches of bananas as best you can with the few leaves you have left, and shove them into storage.

“There!” you exclaim happily, “It’s almost kinda cute. Little banana hut.”

You look down on your creating with an odd sense of pride. It almost feels...nice, knowing you’re not entirely terrible at surviving in the wild. Though, with little to no danger on the island, you suppose it never would have been too difficult in the first place.

The sun is making its’ decent once more, and you realize you need to stoke the fire again before it gets cold. Luckily there’s no need to go through what you did yesterday; you can just take some smaller kindling and spread it around the fire, which should bring it back up in no time.  

As you work, Spinel begins pacing around the clearing, and when you glance up at the Gem, she looks strangely nervous.

“Spinel? You all right?”

She stops in her tracks and turns to reply. “Oh, heh, don’t worry ‘bout me, Y/n. Just a little antsy.”

“Oh, ok...do you want to go for a walk?” you ask softly. You realize you’ve been at the campsite for hours now, and aren’t surprised that the abandoned Gem doesn’t like staying in one spot for too long. You figure that’s why she must have gone on a walk yesterday too, and why she’s always eager to help on the excursions around the island. Makes perfect sense.

Spinel visibly relaxes at your suggestion, and shoots you a kind-hearted smile. “Yeah, that would help, I think.”

You nod and finish the work on the fire quickly, spreading and lighting kindling. When the fire is big and crackling once more, you stand and brush off your hands.  

“Wanna go walk around the beach? I bet it’s nice right now,” you say, gesturing in the direction of the closest shore.

Spinel nods, clasping her hands in front of her, and moves to walk next to you. When you reach the edge of where the trees and the beach meet, you almost gasp. The sky is a beautiful gradient of purple, blue,  orange, and red. The backdrop of the sky against the perfect shore is almost unreal. You’re reminded of the tranquility of walking in Beach City at night, the sea spray just reaching the boardwalk, the sound of the waves piercing the silence of the night.  

“Wow...” Spinel breathes out, moving closer to the edge of the water. “I never...I haven’t realized how pretty this planet can be.”

You let out a light chuckle, and move to stand next to her in the surf, your arms almost touching.  

“Y’know, stuff like this is why the Crystal Gems protect this planet so fiercely,” you explain, thinking of your friends fondly.   “They came here because of Homeworld, but stayed because of all this. And I guess the people weren’t so bad, either,” you joke, nudging your companion lightly. “Rose...uh, Pink Diamond, I guess you would know her as. She found love countless times through the years, so I was told. But none as great as Greg Universe- Steven's dad. That’s why she decided to...give up her form, you know. To give Steven life, bring him into the world. She saw something wonderful here and wanted to contribute in her own way.”

You look over at Spinel after you’ve finished talking, and see tears welling in her eyes.  

“Oh no, Spinel, I’m so sorry, I didn’t even-”

“No, no, it’s ok!” She cuts you off, sniffing and wiping at her eyes, tear marks still untouched. “I just...I didn’t know that about her. I didn’t know why she came here and...left me. There’s still a lot I don’t know, I think, but … somehow, hearing that helps a little.”

She takes a shaky breath in and turns to face you, gripping your arm with one hand.

“Y/n, I-”

Suddenly, a clap of thunder sounds out from behind you, startling you both. You turn to face the noise, and your stomach flips. A giant storm is almost right over the island, coming from the east, away from the sunset.  

“Oh my gosh. Shit! The fire!” you exclaim, turning away from Spinel and racing back towards camp, frantically trying to think of a way you can salvage the fire.  

From the looks of the storm clouds, you’d guess you have maybe 15 minutes before the rainfall reaches your little island. You’re hoping it’s just going to rain, maybe some thunder- hoping like hell this isn’t a tropical storm you have no way of preparing for.

“Uh...crap what do I do?!” you shout, frantically darting around aimlessly, trying to figure out some make-shift way to protect your camp.  

Spinel looks almost as panicked as you feel, and you can tell she has no idea how to help, not that you blame her. In the end you decide there’s no real way to protect the fire, so you settle for shoving some sticks and kindling into both lean-tos, hoping they’ll stay dry enough to be able to start a new fire tomorrow. You deflate as you feel small rain drops start to touch your skin, and you look helplessly as it picks up and puts out your fire that you and Spinel worked so hard to light. It almost makes you feel like crying, honestly. Not to mention that you know you’re going to be freezing all night now as well. Luckily the palm leaves seem to be staying on the branches fairly well, so you can at least dry off.

“Ugh, this is the worst,” you say, turning to a soaked Spinel. Thunder booms overhead and makes her jump, and you realize she probably has no context for anything that’s happening.

“Oh! It’s ok! It’s just rain,” you explain, feeling a bit like Steven. He’s told you of the time Peridot had to learn about rain, and then all the new Homeworld Gems did as well.  

“It’s gonna be cold and wet for a while but it just seems like a regular rain storm, so we’ll be ok,” you continue. “But uh, I need to make sure I stay warm so I don’t get sick.”

You glance to the larger lean-to, and groan slightly when you realize Spinel will have to sit in there with you until the rain stops.

“Um, let’s go sit inside,” you mumble, quickly taking the Gems’ hand and pulling her over to the hut. You duck under and move to the corner, making room for Spinel. It’s a tight fit, but you can at least lean against the far “wall”, which is really just the tree it’s propped up against, covered in branches and leaves.  

You settle in and find yourself shivering, your clothes and hair soaked thoroughly. Spinel notices your shaking and concern flashes across her face, her brows knitted together. As you wrap your arms around yourself, trying in vain to warm up, Spinel moves closer to you.

“Uh...listen, y’don’t look too hot there, uh...I could try and keep you warm if you’d like,” she says softly, staring at the ground between you.

Your stomach flips at her suggestion. You’re not entirely sure why, but the prospect makes you...nervous and excited at the same time. You don’t want to make things awkward or weird, but...you really need to get warm.

“O-okay, just so I don’t freeze, all right?”

She nods in agreement and scoots over until she’s directly next to you against the tree.

“I...think this would work best if I wrap you up, uh...like before. At least for now, until you feel warmer?” she says hesitantly, clearly not wanting to make you more uncomfortable.

Your heart beats faster as you nod, and move forwards so she’s able to reach all of you. She stretches her arms to wrap around your middle, and then your arms, encircling them slowly, glancing at your face every now and then to gauge your reactions.

For the most part you feel okay, though you can’t help flash back to the moment when Spinel took you. But this is so different, it’s...strangely comfortable. And definitely helping with the warmth. You shift back against the tree, trying to get in a position that you can stay in for a while. And trying very hard not to think about how good this feels.

Spinel leans back with you, staring anxiously down at your wrapped form.

“Is...is this ok?” she asks quietly, sounding unsure.  

“Yeah, this is...actually helping a lot,” you admit, noticing that you’ve stopped shivering. A sigh escapes your lips as you settle back further, closing your eyes. “It’s actually...really relaxing...”

You’re suddenly very warm and sleepy, and after all the hard labor you’ve been doing the past couple days, you’re not surprised in the least.

“Is it ok if I try and sleep?” you ask Spinel, your eyes still shut.

“Y-yeah, you should rest, Y/n,” she replies kindly.

You stay silent after that, and try to drift off to the sound of the rain and the feeling of being held. Your current position is making it rather difficult, however, as every time you start to fall asleep, your head droops forward or to the side and the sudden motion wakes you back up.

“Ughh...” you groan in frustration, opening your eyes and leaning your head back against the tree. “I’m so bad at sleeping sitting up.”

“Lemme help,” Spinel suddenly offers, and she moves as close to you as possible, keeping her arms stretched around you.  

“Lean on me,” she suggests, looking down to her shoulder.

Your eyes widen and your face heats up, and this time it’s you avoiding Spinel’s eyes as you nod and settle in against the taller gem. She’s strangely comfortable, for such a thin being.  

“Thank you, Spins,” you say sleepily, thankfully slipping back into your drowsy state once more. After a few minutes, you feel Spinel’s head rest against yours, and as you drift off in her warm embrace, you realize you could get used to this.  

[johnjohnsonjohnson]

I’m dumb, now read this

Warm afternoon on Cross street, sounds of loud talks, children's laughter and occasional car passing by in haste were filling the air, creating a soothing but lively music that everyone associates with The City. I was contributing to my part, humming to myself an old melody, with my walking cane in my hands, I rarely used it, being still younger than most of people I spent time with, it was more of a decoration at this point, same could be said for my suit and my top hat. -"Ah, yes, a day for myself, finally!"- I thought as I watched world around me, all the beggars, all the shops, all the kids, and all the adults- "there is going to be a movie at 7 o'clock, oh but I'm too far, unless I..." I stopped by a small intersection going between 2 large housing block, so slim that no car could pass, nor more than 3 people side to side. -"Oh well.. I guess it will be a good change of pace"- I thought as I slowly descended into shadow engulfed passage. Moving forward, the sounds of the main street faded as clap of my boots hitting the ground, water seeping down from drying clothes and occasional sound of people, coming from the tall apartments. Further I went, the sounds coming from the concrete blocks became much more common, I could almost make out what they said, but I didn't wanted to, it's bad to eavesdrop on others.   Soon, the passage ended on a small open area with entrances to housing blocks, a shop, and a barber, owner of which was peacefully smoking he cigarette. I knew that I made a mistake, the street I had to follow was definitely longer. -"great thinking mr useless"- I called myself-" I need to find a way out, I still have a chance to get home in time..." My eyes looked at the back aisle between a shop and a barber, definitely not made to be used as a passage, but I was out of ideas. Moving forward, hard stone turned to dirt.. or rather mud, the ground was really mushy and gave out a weird smell, thankfully, it was just cleaning water and booze probably, anyone can accidently drop a bottle out of his window, I know that from experience. The sounds however became even more faded and replaced by distant car horns and a squishy mud that my sad boots had to endure, and the light howls of the wind. -Beautiful... - I said to myself, with annoyance in my mind- I could have gotten by the normal route, but no.. let's try something new... The space between the buildings was just wide enough for me to walk in, but I could feel my shoulders rub against the plastered walls, it was getting harder to walk there, or maybe I just thought to not get any more plaster on me, whichever it was, it made me uneasy, but I finally got free, but I didn't arrived at my destination, I was... I didn't even knew where I was. Before me was a quite wide street, partially taken by cheap flee market, people were selling mostly books and a used cloths, mostly with a old, foldable tables to keep their "valuables" as clean as possible, but many didn't had that luxury, sitting on the cold ground, with only thin layer of material under themselves. Some people were already taking notice of me, half of them smiling, hoping for a wealthy customer, to make their day, other half however was either angry or preoccupied with various magazines, I however moved past them, which was probably disappointing for them, and turned right, while doing so I accidently brushed against someone, I didn't know who it was so I just muttered silently and coldly. -Excuse me..."what an imbecile". I moved forward, ground was less muddy and more dirt-like now, which was nice, but I was still a bit lost , I needed to find a way out not to get in time for the show, but just to escape this part of The City. And then, the sounds became interesting. I heard my steps, firm and heavy, but now there were sounds of other people's steps as well, three people to be exact, two were heavier than me, and one was extremely light, it was almost unnoticeable. Suspecting the worst, I picked the pace to try to lose them, I couldn't go too fast however, with my bear like body, I was afraid I will fall to the ground, turning corners, getting progressively faster and faster, the steps always behind me, I could feel myself sweating a bit both from rising fear and a running which my walk became, but then I fell down. -End of the road, huh?- that's when I was sure that I was followed by three people. -What is the meaning of this?!- I slowly got up, getting dirt off myself, before looking at people that followed me, I was quite surprised, as I saw that two of them were built like a truck, they looked like they were made primarily of mass to make them look as intimidating as possible . The third however looked as if he wasn't even human, resembling more a shadow, a living pile of tar, with slight hit of something similar to a muzzle, but it was hard to say, maybe he was just dirty, but I didn't care enough to ask. -I noticed you didn't bought anything at our majestic market... then slammed your fat frame against me, and we don't like that behavior here- "thing" said with voice like slimy tentacle penetrating my ears- I think you need to pay a "travel fee" -I don't think I will- I muttered and began to walk again, but I soon stopped, when I heard a shot hit the ground next to me, a warning from the "thing" that made me flinch. -Oh, but I know you will- Turning around, I saw the gun in very bad condition , pointed at me, as the "thing" got closer- if you won't reach for cash, I will. Slimy hand moved closer, and almost touched me, which I found revolting, instead I slapped it away and moved back a bit. -You have some balls to act like that on MY territory! - it said, shaking his hand a bit and pushing the gun against my chest, which was also awful, it left big greasy circle on my suit, of course soon worse happened. In my futile attempt to save myself, I decided to act, striking the tar monster with my cane, making him bend a bit, and giving me a slight chance to escape. -Don't let that fuck run away!- Tar said as I tried to run, futile attempt with my bear like physique, as soon I was pushed onto the ground again, probably by one of the burlier men, but this time I decided to stay down and gather my thoughts. -"maybe I can pay him to leave me alone..." My thoughts were interrupted, as I heard the "thing" talk again. -Usually I don't like taking money from corpses, but for you I will make an exception - Not seeing anything I imagined that it was pointing the gun at my head, unless he had one of his goons do the dirty work for him - See you in hell yo- His voice was cut short, as a powerful as noise of a cannon, came, with it a hiss of a bullet, which pierced the "thing's" head, making me glad I didn't saw it, must have been a bloodbath. -Holy shit, run! - One of the goons said as soon there was another shot, and a loud thud of a body hitting the floor, the other one must have gone away. Completely terrified, I slowly raised myself, not sure what happened, looking for my top hat, I didn't even noticed that I lost it. -Come on... where is it? - I looked behind me, it was right next to the lifeless body - Oh god... I hope it isn't dirty. I picked up my hat and brushed off any dust, and dirt, soon however I heard light steps coming from behind me, they were slow, light, with a sound of something metal hitting each other, slowly turning around, I saw him, stranger was dressed as in a cloak so long it almost made his leg movement impossible to notice, it was also incredibly filthy all covered in blood , bottom also sporting  a lot of mud stains, and the top crowned with what appeared to be grease stains, his face was covered with some kind of mask, making out his long muzzle, his eyes were cold, pupils dark as a void itself, and he moved closer to me. -I better... yes.. - I began to run back, my shoes splashing into a pool of blood, but I just run back, turning corner as soon as I could. It was hard to see where I was going, as the passages were smaller, and then trapping me at the dead end, with a wall, not too high, I could have climb it easily, if there wasn't something, or rather someone behind me. -Mph... - Stranger said before I turned around, startled. -Thank you for your help, but... but...- I moved back a bit. I think Stranger tried to say something but his mask made it hard to talk, but he must have knew about it, because he kept his talk to a low hum. -Ah... yes, yes... I should pay you for your act.. yes..let me just - I saw how his eyes got angry for some reason, but I took out my wallet, and opened it, much to annoyance of the Stranger. -No you... - He spoke, pulling his mask up a bit, I saw his creamy and orange fur and what appeared as bunch of whiskers, as well as some blue spots of paint, but we were both interrupted by the loud sound of pair of people running towards us, could have been police or more goons, but I wasn't taking my chances, with shaking hands I threw my hat over the fence and then began the climb myself, which was easier said than done, but I managed to do so before anyone, apart from that stranger saw me. Hitting the ground 3rd time I started to curse this day, I was tiered, exhausted, hungry, I decided to end that day short, tomorrow I would do all the relaxing, for now I just wanted to lay down, and not think of today. I brushed dirt off myself and off my hat, before putting it on, I left the passage, as I gladly saw perfectly cut stone pavement of the main street, going to it quickly, and realizing my "shortcut" almost worked, but I wasted so much time in the dark passages it didn't matter, and I didn't care about it, with a quick walk I rushed through the city street, the sweet melody of The City came back, but this time it only made me mad. After a small walk I reached my housing block, I got up to my floor and took out keys to my house. The typical sight of mess and chaos of my house greeted me, as I walked in and locked doors, taking off my clothes, and cleaning my face off all the cosmetics I had put on at the morning,  after which I collapsed onto the bed like harder than ever before. However, the terrific events for me didn't start nor ended here, I woke up with sore throat in the middle of the night, I got up and got myself something warm to drink, all the light coming from massive widows of my apartment, making everything look as if no one lived here, but there I was sitting by the window, half awake, I almost thought I heard something, to calm myself, I grabbed a cigarette and lit it, taking a slow and calming drag, trying to get myself a bit more relaxed and calmed. I opened the window, slowly, to air out the room, get rid of stale warm air, but as I looked out, my face went pale and made me regret ever getting up tonight. There he was, in his long cloak, soaked with blood, moving slowly but surely, looking around mostly at the apartments with lights on, but he briefly looked up at mine, hopefully he didn't saw me, if he even was here, at that point I didn't knew if he was real or just figment of my imagination, cigarette butt kept slowly burning in the old ashtray, as I run to hide under blanket on my bed, like I was a child hiding from  a monster. -Please go away, please - I whispered softly to no one- please... leave me alone, please...

[not-a-princess-but-a-queen]

@agnesmontague wanted jonmartin Valentine's Day stuff!! I hope you like it! Honestly... I couldn't resist a bit of canon angst though so be warned.

Jon shook off the cold as he entered the Institute, pulling off his soaked coat from the rain. As he made his way to the Archives, he started to realize a large amount of pink and red decorative hearts and such around the place.

Frowning, he realized what month it'd just turned. Ah, February, he thought. Great.

While he wasn't adverse to Valentine's itself, the commercialization of it irked him. He also didn't appreciate having to defend his relationship status or dating habits to the public, who all seemed to either pity him or assume he was some type of love Scrooge.

Well, at least the Archives should be relatively free of decoration. Though he won't put it past Tim or Sasha to do something on the week of the holiday.

He was proved correct when he entered the office to see Sasha decorating the assistants desks. When she asked if he wanted his desk done as well, he shook his head and she shrugged.

"I'm bringing us all presents next week so suck it up for that at least," she called at his back, making him humm and wave dismissively at her, closing the door on her and Tim's chatter.

.....

Jon mostly managed to ignore the upcoming holiday and the days passed fairly easily until the day itself came. He was actually surprised by a call from Georgie. He'd contacted her for the first time in months over some information for a case and while he knew nothing romantic was coming from it, it was very nice to hear from her again.

As he entered the Archives, he found it empty except for Martin. He was shuffling through the files and looked up as he entered. "Morning!"

"Morning. Where are Tim and Sasha?"

Martin shrugged. "Break room I think? They left some candy and cards on your desk! We all got some," he held up a box of chocolates with a shrug.

"Thanks. I'll expect the results of the research into the Vittery case by the end of the day."

Martin nodded and Jon set in to work for the day. Thankfully all of the statements today recorded fine electronically. Jon couldn't help but feel relived as the Carlos Vittery case and left him quite shaken, even if he had tried to dismiss it on the record.

That was why when Martin came back to him with apparently nothing concrete, he was, well, less than understanding. With all that had happened, he had completely forgotten the little stack of cards and candy on the corner of his desk until he was getting ready to leave as the sun set that day.

Sasha had left a similar box of chocolates for everyone and a quite adorable card with a cartoon Kracken on it, making him smirk a bit. Tim had given him a card that claimed "You had me at impeccable spelling and correct use of grammar " with the note that

This is what I thought you'd give us, made me think of you. Have a good one, Boss ;)

Jon snorted to himself, shaking his head. They had all really been quite relaxed over the holiday, not pestering him about his plans, nor expecting him to join in. It did make him feel like a bit of an ass for not reciprocating for them.

The feeling only increased when he saw a black cat plushy sitting behind them with a little note with his name in Martin's familiar handwriting. Frowning, he remembered the conversation he'd been drawn into while the assistants had been discussing family pets over lunch. Martin had never had any but Sasha and Tim had both had dogs. When Tim had asked if Jon was a cat person he'd agreed, telling them about the Admeral but leaving out the fact that he was with Georgie now. He'd been her gift for Christmas when they first moved in together.

Brushing a had over the soft plush he sighed. Well damn.

.......

He got more candy and some small trinkets for Sahas and Tim and didn't think much more of it, but It took him nearly a week to find a suitable present for Martin. He'd seen the post it's with sprawled poetry over his desk and thought that was a good bet, but he'd had no clue of where Martin's taste ran for authors. Keats seemed like a good place to start even if it wasn't Jon's favorite.

He'd tucked the book into his jacket that morning, and set it on his desk, waiting for Martin to show up. He hadn't by lunch and Jon was starting to get worried when his phone buzzed with a text.

Martin: won't be coming in, my stomach is all squirming

Jon frowned and set his phone back down. Well there went that plan. He supposed it could wait until Martin felt better. His thoughts were interrupted by Sasha barging in with another statement and he went on with his day.

[babywarg]

Drpepperony Prompt: Stephen rescues Pepper, who had been kidnapped by a cult, it’s just too bad his outfit matched his surroundings so well when Tony showed up.

Thanks for another absolutely fun prompt! 💕

This one sort of operates in a similar setup to a previous DrPepperony fic also written for @mistressstrange, where Pepper goes to Nepal looking for a way to help Tony, and finds Stephen. Also a pre-relationship fic. The circumstances are just a bit different here.

[9/16/2019: Have to put up this obnoxious note again: NOT ACCEPTING NEW PROMPTS AT THE MOMENT. Thank you for understanding 💕]

***

It was a mystery to Stephen how so many people left Kamar-Taj disillusioned, then formed their own religious groups.

As Master of the Mystic Arts, he found himself having to bust one too many former Masters who built up honest-to-goodness cults that used magic indiscriminately.

Many of them used black magic, too. But then, he supposed the temptation not to do so was simply too great, once one had broken free of Kamar-Taj’s tacit restraints…

To be fair, most cults were relatively harmless - dealing less in magic, and more in self-actualization and healing. Those did not need busting, only close surveillance from the Masters based in the Sanctums nearest to them.

And then, there were some downright dangerous cults that had to be busted multiple times.

“Rupert,” Stephen greeted, the business end of a magical sword pressed against his much larger, burlier captive’s left carotid artery. “This makes what - the third time?”

“Fourth,” the man in his grip growled through gritted teeth. “And this won’t be the last time either, Strange. You really should put stronger locks on those things you Kamar-Taj jokers call jails…”

“You know as well as I do,” Stephen admonished, “it’s more of a reform school than a prison. We never punish, Rupert - we teach.”

“You teach,” Rupert-the-cult-leader spat. “The world is cruel, Strange. It needs more warriors, fewer teachers.”

“Yeah, well, the world needs fewer cruel people, too. Like kidnappers.” Stephen glanced around at the room. “Where are you keeping them?”

Rupert sneered. “You seem to know everything - you tell me.”

Stephen sighed. Knocked out his captive with a fast sleep spell. Diffused his weapon, and set about finding the tourists that the cultists had kidnapped.

He smiled a little to himself as he remembered Wong warning him not to go alone, because Rupert’s cult was larger than it had ever been, and Stephen surely couldn’t take on all of them by himself.

Sure, Wong, Stephen silently chuckled as he stepped over knocked-out cult members who were dressed in Kamar-Taj novice robes.

He used a spell to ferret out a corner of the makeshift temple that was hidden away by magic. One quick incantation, and the deflective barrier was broken.

The handful of kidnapped tourists fled toward the exit he pointed to.

Except for one.

“There were more of us,” she said to him. “They must be held elsewhere in the building. We have to find them.”

“No, I have to find them,” Stephen corrected. “You have to get to safety.”

“You saved me,” the red-haired, blue-eyed captive answered. “Where you are is safety.”

…Okay. Inaccurate, but a surprisingly nice thing to hear.

He decided it wouldn’t hurt to have her along. She carried herself with the confidence of someone who knew self-defense, at least…and if his earlier brush with Rupert and his feeble followers was any indication, he could defend the both of them well enough.

He soon learned that her name was Potts. Pepper Potts. Like all the other kidnap victims, she had come to Nepal as a tourist. And, like all the others in her group, she fell into Rupert’s cult’s clutches because she was promised an audience with a reclusive but powerful guru.

She had no idea that said guru (was named Rupert and) had plans to use her and her companions as pawns to spark some sort of conflict. What kind of conflict, she wasn’t quite sure - but in the end, it didn’t matter.

“I heard there were teachers here who could do…amazing things,” Potts told Stephen as they walked down long corridors, careful not to trigger magical traps. “Healing things.”

“Was that what you were looking for, Ms. Potts?” Stephen asked. “Healing? For yourself?”

“Help,” was the quick reply. “For someone I love.”

…Oh. So she already had someone.

Of course she did.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” Stephen offered. “Maybe I can be of service.”

Potts eyed him sidelong. “Are you going to tell me you’re some sort of guru, too?”

“A doctor. Actually.” Stephen smirked. “Not to brag, but before I came here, I was – “

He didn’t finish that sentence.

A wall exploded just beside them. And before Stephen knew it, a literal iron fist was around his neck.

When he was able to focus his eyes, through the haze, he found himself face to face with a shell of pure, cold metal.

The Iron Man.

“Tony, no!” Stephen heard Potts yell. “He’s all right! Let him go!”

Thankfully, the Iron Man obeyed Potts at the drop of a hat. Stephen fell to the floor once released.

A quick check told him his throat wasn’t dangerously constricted, but he could already feel the start of bruising.

“You take a leave for ‘reasons’,” the Iron Man said to Potts in a clearly worried, slightly miffed tone, “and I track you and find you in the company of a bunch of wackos and one weirdly good-looking cultist - ”

“Cult?” Stephen scoffed from the rubble he was lying on. “I’m from a completely different organization than these bozos. One that harnesses true power.”

Both the Iron Man and Potts stared down at him.

”…Yeah, that sounds like a cult,“ the Iron Man pointed out.

“It’s not a –” Stephen started to argue. But Potts didn’t let him finish.

“You were spying on me??” Potts exclaimed.

The Iron Man retracted his helmet with a frustrated sigh…

Bringing to light one of the most ruggedly handsome faces Stephen had ever laid eyes on.

Might have been the dust and sunlight pouring in through the hole in the wall messing with his vision. But goddamn, he was in the presence of so much pretty…

…both of whom seemed to forget that he was even there.

“Pep, the Mandarin fiasco just wrapped up,” the Iron Man - Tony - pleaded passionately. Without the mask’s mechanical amplifier, his voice sounded small, human, helpless. “You’re still recovering from that. Even if you said you needed time alone, did you really think I wouldn’t make sure you were safe? Really??”

“That’s not the point, Tony, you promised you were going to take things easy.” Her stressed-out sigh echoed Tony’s from just a moment ago.

“I know, honey, I know I promised, but it’s hard for me.”

“I know that, too, Tony. Why did you think I was here in the first place? I was trying to get some help for you. Something that may help you calm down.”

“You know what would help me calm down? You not getting into trouble!”

“Trouble isn’t something either of us can control, Tony. And I suppose getting rid of all your suits was just an act?”

“Of course it was! I had to keep just one suit, to protect you!”

They were going to bicker all day if Stephen didn’t do anything, so he got to his feet and cleared his throat.

“Hate to break up this…touching reunion,” he interrupted, “but Ms. Potts said there were more people in need of rescuing. So if you’ll excuse me…”

“Hold it, gorgeous,” Tony snapped at him. “I’m coming to help.” He faced Potts again. “You are not. You’re going somewhere safe if I have to carry you there.”

Potts looked like she was preparing for another shouting match. But somehow she managed to calm down and loudly sigh “Fine.”

She stepped up to Tony and planted a quick kiss on his lips.

“Take care of him,” she instructed. “If he wasn’t around, I would’ve wrung your neck.”

“ ‘Thanks for coming to save me, Tony,’ ” Tony said softly. “Sure might have been nice to hear…”

“Except it wouldn’t have been true.” Potts was smiling now. “He saved me, not you.”

With that, she turned and made her way to the exit.

And Tony had no one else left to talk to but Stephen.

“Well,” he tentatively began, “suppose some thanks are in order, Mr…”

“Strange.”

Tony had a myriad of reactions at his disposal. But he chose to laugh as he said “What?”

Stephen inwardly shrugged. “It’s…Strange.”

“You're telling me.” He decided he’d talked enough. “C'mon, sexy. Let’s go find more folks to rescue.” He patted Stephen’s shoulder as he walked past him.

Stephen wasn’t altogether happy with being so easily dismissed. But there was an urgent task at hand, so any discomfort would have to be addressed later, if it was even still necessary.

Besides, saving people in the company of this impulsive, filter-less guy might not be all bad.

He wouldn’t mind being called “sexy” for a little while longer.