#the amount of times I’ve had to rush in to stop bull from happening

[simplyghosting]

After writing a checklist for how to take care of my grandmother since I am going to away this weekend, I now know how parents feel leaving their children with a new babysitter.

[inkweaver22-blr]

Four for four baby! This is perhaps the last of my daily updates as I’ll be busy the next few days. Here’s another little filler chapter but it’s a good one as it’s the first one where we directly see references to other creators’ Monkie Kid works! There’s three references here, two subtle and one explicit. I’ll make sure to have links to each work in the notes at the end of the chapter. Hope you enjoy!

AO3 Link

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Scattered Cicadas - Chapter Four: Childish Behavior

Tang often feels like the only adult surrounded by children. Literally sometimes.

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If there was one thing Tang had learned about these timelines he kept jumping between was that they were consistently inconsistent.

The minor details that changed randomly but never really affected the outcome of the events from his original time were still abundant and rarely phased him much anymore.

(Although that one time he had platinum blonde hair had been interesting.)

It was when entirely unique situations arose that the scholar was caught off guard.

New events sprung up every now and then and inserted themselves between the original ones. As with the smaller changes, these new scenarios were unpredictable and varied wildly in scope.

A surprisingly durable MK clone that somehow managed to escape being dispelled, gaining independence, and becoming Macaque’s apprentice.

An ocean demon sinking ships just outside the bay and Sandy getting to go on that water adventure he wanted.

MK’s birth parents trying to reinsert themselves back into his life after seeing his achievements on the news.

(Tang was so incredibly proud of his kid for standing up for himself and refusing their empty platitudes. The pranks that he, Mei, and the Monkey King had pulled on them in retaliation were great stress relievers.)

Since Tang could still do his best to help out in each new event without horrible consequences, it seemed the rule of “No Interference” did not apply to them. He supposed that made sense as he had no way to predict when or if they might occur and thus couldn’t change an outcome he didn’t know about.

He was grateful for that small mercy at least.

Still, with how these cycles seemed to be endless so far, a few of these events would happen over multiple timelines.

Getting de-aged by a mischievous trickster demon or spirit was a strangely common occurrence.

MK seemed to be the most popular target for this particular curse. The brightness of his personality seemed to shine even stronger whenever he was reverted into a child, which simply made Tang love the kid even more.

(He wished he could have helped the Monkey King tear Macaque apart for kidnapping their precious little one in that cycle.)

They all had their own turns of having their biological clocks reversed of course. Mei was a little trouble maker, Pigsy was a shy and timid toddler, and Sandy liked to have things he could break apart. Tang couldn’t clearly remember the times he had been de-aged but was pleased when an exhausted Mei and Mk had said he was the easiest of the adults-turned-kids to take care of.

Then there was the Monkey King.

Having to corral a rambunctious young monkey with the strength to crush boulders and the ability to duplicate or shapeshift was not easy.

(He still had no idea how MK had managed to do it alone once.)

With the amount of times they had all been subjected to this specific curse, Tang only really had himself to blame for not seeing it coming.

Tang poured over the scroll in front of him, trying to find the counter for this timeline’s version of the curse. Behind him, Mei distracted a de-aged Red Son, or Red Boy as that’s what the small fire demon was calling himself.

Getting kidnapped by a somewhat feral child with the ability to freely toss around the True Fire of Samadhi hadn’t been the most pleasant start to his day. While being mistaken as the monk Tang Sanzang was a little flattering, the threat of being roasted over the sacred blume flames and eaten had quickly dampened those feelings.

Luckily the young demon had fallen asleep, the fires dissipating as he lost consciousness. If only Tang knew how to cast the Monkey King’s fire ward...

“Ahem.”

Tang glanced up and paled at the sight of a displeased looking Demon Bull King.

“Little thief,” the demon addressed an equally freaked-out MK. “I believe you have something of mine.”

“Father! You’re here,” Red Boy called out as he jumped from Mei’s arms. “I have wonderful news! I’ve found a husband!” He quickly ran over to a petrified MK and leaned against him like he was presenting some great treasure. “Look! Look! Isn’t he pretty?”

Tang had almost forgotten about that particular detail. If they got out of this alive he was never going to let MK live this down for the rest of the cycle. Prerogative of being a dad and all.

“What do you think father,” Red Boy continued, ignoring MK’s desperate plea for him to stop. “I can marry him, right?”

DBK’s expression was frankly unimpressed as he stared down into the hopeful one Red Boy wore. Tang had a bad feeling about what was going to happen and slowly made his way around the room to hide behind MK and Mei who were also backing away.

“No.”

Tang winced a bit at the bluntness of the answer and braced himself for the explosion that was sure to follow.

“What? But… why? WHY NOT?!”

The genuine hurt and confusion in the young demon’s voice would have made Tang feel a bit sympathetic, if Red Boy hadn’t tried to eat him of course.

“Because I said so,” DBK growled as he knelt to be closer to his de-aged son. “Now, enough of this. Time to stop being a child.”

Tang frowned. That was... not how to calmly explain to one’s child about why you were refusing their request. Not if you wanted to avoid a full-on meltdown. He should know, having to take care of a young MK multiple times.

Looking into the Demon Bull King’s scowling visage, he wasn’t sure if the older demon simply didn’t know how, or just didn’t care.

“That’s… NOT FAIR!” Red Boy’s disbelief predictably turned into anger as his hair once again burst into blue flames.

“THAT’S NOT FAIR! I am not a child!” The True Fire of Samadhi burst out around the boy, seeming to startle DBK who took a step back. Tang was just thankful that it wasn’t aimed at him this time.

“I… I’m not-” Red Boy’s anger quickly melted away, as did the fire around him. The young demon sniffed a few times before dropping onto the ground and beginning to cry.

Loudly.

“You’re recording this, right?” MK whispered to Mei.

“Obviously.”

Tang sighed at their antics and looked over at DBK. The demon still looked angry but the scholar could see the uncertainty in his eyes. He seemed completely out of his depth and unsure on what to do.

Tang took a steadying breath before mustering his courage and stepping out from behind MK. If Demon Bull King didn’t know how to act like a good father then perhaps he could show him.

If he survived this he was going to need a vacation to fight back against the grey hairs this was going to give him.

The other adults all looked at him as if he had sprouted another head as he approached the sobbing child and knelt next to him.

“Red Boy?”

“H-huh?” The young demon looked up in confusion at being addressed.

“I know that right now everything seems pretty unfair and that can be upsetting,” Tang soothed, keeping his voice steady and reassuring. “But I promise you that your father has a good reason for not letting you marry MK. Would it help if he were to calmly explain that reason without getting angry at you?” He aimed that last sentence more at DBK than Red Boy, who’s sobs had slowed.

“M-maybe…” the young demon finally admitted.

Tang turned to stare expectantly at the Demon Bull King. The demon glared down at the scholar.

“Why are you treating him like a child?”

The harshness of his tone made Red Boy start to tear up again. Tang glared right back at DBK.

“Because right now, until we can reverse this, he is a child,” the scholar snapped, his fear replaced with righteous anger. “And like every child, he deserves to be treated with kindness and respect. He deserves to be comforted by a parent whom he obviously adores and be told that it’s okay to cry. He deserves to feel safe and loved.”

The room was silent save for the hiccups and sniffles from Red Boy as they all stared at Tang. DBK’s mouth hung open as he gazed incredulously down at the human, seemingly struck speechless.

“F-father?”

The small and unsure voice of Red Boy snapped the Demon Bull King out of his thoughts, and something seemed to loosen within him.

Tang stood and retreated back to MK and Mei to give the demon some privacy as he knelt next to his son and began speaking in a hushed tone with him.

“What the hell Mr. Tang,” MK hissed into his ear as he stared wide eyed at the pair of demons on the ground.

“Language MK,” Tang hissed right back before leaning over to Mei. “I know you aren’t recording two incredibly powerful demons having a moment of vulnerability who would stop at nothing to destroy us if they discovered the existence of such a video, right?”

“Eep!” Mei nearly dropped her phone as she rushed to stop her recording and then delete the last few minutes of the resulting video.

There were a few minutes of tense silence as the three humans did their best to pretend that there weren’t two demons having an emotional moment together just a few feet away. They gave a sigh of relief when Red Boy launched himself at his father, wrapping his arms around his neck. DBK seemed panicked at first before slowly wrapping his own arms around the young demon.

Tang adjusted his glasses and gave a nervous smile to the Demon Bull King who was scrutinizing him like a particularly confusing puzzle.

At least he didn’t seem angry any more.

Perhaps they would escape this fiasco unscathed after all.

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I was not expecting this chapter to turn into another Dad Tang story. It just kind of happened that way. So onto the references!

First is Durability by TaintTheUnstoppable which is beginning to shape up into something really interesting.

Second is Little One by @its-kall-the-clown which is just a huge fluff fest capped off with some nice angst. Highly recommended.

Finally we have the Red Boy comic by @purble-turble! Now obviously the Tang in their comic probably won’t do what this one did, by this Tang is too much of a Dad to let a little kid cry for too long.

Next chapter won’t be up until sometime next week! See ya then!

[handy-dandy-monster-candy]

Inyez

Rating: NSFW Length: 5331 Pairing: Male Bat Creature x Male Reader (both cis)

xxx

Winter comes early up in the mountains, but I'm used to that. I like to sit by my living room windows and look down into the valley where I work, enjoying the way the city lights give the snow a warm glow. I figure myself lucky; I come from a happy family, I have a good career in a field I love, and I've managed to make a home out of the old observatory that sits like a squat little guardian at the top of a hill twenty minutes from the city.

My job gives me incredibly flexible hours, so I work whenever I'm awake and sleep whenever I want to. I've ended up with a mostly vespertine sleep schedule, which means I get to watch the sunset while I break for lunch. I'm a workaholic, though, so this "break" usually means that I step away from active work and focus on replying to emails from clients or looking up resources and reference images for my latest project as the sun goes down, and this time is no different.

I don't even notice the dark settling around me until I realise that I've been squinting at my laptop for the past half hour, and by then, the only source of light is its screen. I have outdoor lights, sure, and there's a street lamp or two on the way up the hill, but they amount to nothing unless they're on or nearby. I sigh and close my laptop to give my eyes a break, waiting for my vision to adjust properly to the lack of light around me.

I'm just contemplating making myself another cup of coffee when the window beside me explodes, and I have no qualms with admitting that despite being over six feet tall, I scream like a frightened squirrel. Instinct takes over and I find myself taking shelter behind my chair, waiting for the glass to settle before I risk peering around it. Adrenaline has made my vision sharper faster, but there's only so much I can make out in the darkness. I know I heard something heavy hit the floor after the crash, but nothing moves in the shadows, so I take the risk and scuttle over to the nearest switch plate to flick the lights on.

There's blood on what's left of the window and the scattered glass, and wide smears of it left in skid marks across the floorboards. Whatever has bled on my flooring is crumpled halfway behind my couch between me and my kitchen, cutting me off from any makeshift weapons I could use to defend myself. I creep around the other end of the couch with all the exaggerated stealth of a cartoon cat burglar, getting my first real look at the thing. It's dark and huge—about the size of a very large dog, at least—and even as my fingers grope for something to defend myself with, I don't take my eyes off of it for a second.

I approach the wounded creature with a skillet in one hand and a broom in the other, using the broom handle to prod gingerly at the thing that seems to be bleeding out on my living room floor. The first few pokes don't garner any reactions from the beast, and so I grow bolder, sending a silent prayer up to whatever gods might be listening that the thing doesn't have rabies or worse. I feel myself grimace as I lift one large, leathery wing to see more of the creature, only to snatch the broom handle back and away.

Whatever it was was awake, and it had been staring right at me with large, luminous eyes.

It takes me several seconds to work up the courage to repeat the action, and only then do I notice that those eyes are dazed and unfocused, shock settling in as blood dribbles down along its flat face. The creature murmurs when I prod it again—nothing I understand, but definitely something meant to be words—and that's when I realise that the thing on my floor is not a what, but a who. I swear and pace in my kitchen while keeping the thing well within sight at all times, but eventually my conscience wins out; I can't just let them bleed to death in front of me. Even knowing this, I know I don’t have the skills for what I need to do, so I pull an earpiece on and dial my cousin on my cell phone, grimacing when I glance at the time on my oven.

The phone rings a few times before there’s a shuffling on the other end, and then her groggy voice mumbles, “Hello?”

“Hey, Maraia,” I say, taking my first aid kit from beneath my sink and slipping a chef’s knife into my belt just in case. “I need your help.”

“Cuz? Do you know what time it is? I just got to bed an hour ago!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. It’s an emergency.”

I hear more shuffling, and then Maraia’s voice is much more alert. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

“Some sort of bat crashed through my window,” I say, hurrying over with my first aid kit and kneeling in the blood beside the lump on my floor. “It’s hurt real bad. Blood everywhere. It won’t make it to the vet if I don’t do something now.”

“You’re treating a wild animal?!”

“Maraia. It’s dying!”

“Fuck,” my cousin mutters, slipping back into her role as an ER nurse. “You owe me. Okay, tell me what you see.”

“Thank you,” I breathe, and try to turn off my anxiety as I listen to her expertise. First and foremost, I rush to apply pressure to a particularly ugly wound on the creature’s pelvis and thigh, cleaning and bandaging it up as best as I can once I’ve stopped the majority of the bleeding. This is about when I bump into the creature's, er, fiddly bits, barely hidden by a thick patch of fur. I work around them as I wrap him up in long bandages.

Per Maraia’s guidance, I check the creature's eyes and find wide, fixed pupils that indicate significant head trauma; it doesn't seem like he can see me, or even sense that I'm here. Still, I speak softly to him as I work, carefully picking glass and small twigs from open wounds and doing my best to clean and close them with a combination of butterfly closures and careful stitches. He whimpers and whines very softly when the discomfort is too great, but for the most part he hardly makes any sound at all, which Maraia and I agree is more worrying than if the creature were screeching and struggling with all his might.

Finally, after what feels like hours, I sit back on my legs with a sigh, certain that I’ve gotten to every wound that there is to be found. “I don’t think I can move it,” I say to Maraia, wiping my shaking hands clean with antibacterial wipes. “Not without popping something open.”

“You can’t keep it there with you,” she replies, using the same stern, reasonable tone that she uses on her children and patients. “Bats have rabies. What if it bites you?”

“I don’t think it can. I don’t even know if it will survive the night. For all I know, it’s haemorrhaging somewhere and this will all be for nothing.”

“All the more reason for you to take it to a vet! They can treat it there, maybe put it down if they have to. Whatever they decide will be better than what you can do at home.”

“I know,” I murmur, packing away my supplies. “Thanks, Raia. I’ll take care of it.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Maraia sighs, and I can hear her exhaustion creeping back into her voice when she says, “Alright. Call me if you need anything, okay?”

“I will. Sorry for waking you.”

“Oh, bull,” Maraia scoffs. “You were scared and came to me. That’s a good thing. Love you, kiddo.”

I can’t help but smile, despite my weariness. “Love you, too,” I say, and hang up once we’ve said our goodbyes. It would be cruel to leave this poor creature on my living room floor, so I haul my inflatable mattress out of storage and set it up in my bedroom, grateful for the large amount of floor space in the converted observatory. I check on my guest several times during the time it takes the bed to inflate, and then I carry him into my bedroom, careful not to jostle him too much when I place him on the air mattress.

I watch the shallow rise and fall of the creature’s chest for a moment before I look up into his elongated face, taking in his small, black, dog-like nose and the sharp teeth that I can see peeking out from behind parted lips. Two large, velvety ears poke up from the thick fur on his head, motionless in his unconsciousness.

From what I can tell, whatever this creature is appears to be around four feet tall, with long curled toes on each slender, delicate foot and sharp claws on the tips of his hairless fingers. He's barrel-chested from the musculature needed to support both arms and wings, with a slightly narrower waist and wide hips that lead to lithe, muscular legs. The majority of his body is covered in a short, dense layer of dark russet fur over deep brown skin, perhaps a shade or two darker than mine.

Whatever he is, I've read enough books and watched enough movies to know with certainty that I can't take him anywhere—not without possibly endangering him further. The last thing I want is this creature ending up dissected in a lab somewhere, or worse. I scrub my hands over my face and get up to go clean my living room, taking one last glance at the creature in my bedroom before closing the door behind me as quietly as I can.

The first night is harrowing. Batty—as I've taken to calling my guest in my head—has his first of three seizures shortly after I finish taping garbage bags over the hole in my window. I drop the duct tape and run to him when he lets out an unearthly wail, all of the air in his lungs being forced out by seizing muscles. There's nothing I can do but make sure that he doesn't hurt himself further, sitting vigil beside him until his convulsions die down and praying that he'll still draw breath when they're over.

He's unconscious for the entirety of the next day, so thoroughly insensate that I risk calling out a repairman to replace the broken window so that the cold stops seeping in. Other than supervising the appointment, I hardly dare to leave Batty's side, taking my laptop into my bedroom to do as much work there as I possibly can. I clean him up when he messes himself in his sleep, though I worry about him dying of dehydration. To prevent this, I pulse ice cubes in my blender and carefully feed him ice chips at first, being mindful of his body temperature by keeping him thoroughly bundled in blankets.

By the third day, Batty makes as if to swallow, and I drip water into his mouth in an effort to keep him hydrated. I don't know what he eats, so I climb into my car and make the drive into the city, buying a variety of potted baby foods with what I'm sure is a wild look in my eyes that keeps the cashier from attempting any small talk with me. I make it back to the observatory in record time, and though Batty doesn't stir when I waft different foods under his nose, I still manage to coax him into swallowing mixtures of meat and vegetables.

He runs a temperature that night, and I spend most of the early morning hours before dawn wiping him down with a cool cloth and stroking my fingers along his brow when he starts to shiver and mumble in his sleep. His fever finally breaks the following afternoon, and in the fading light of sunset, his eyes crack open. He's still exhausted and disoriented, though, so he only blinks sluggishly at me when I ask him gentle questions, eventually fading back into unconsciousness again. I figure it's progress.

Batty recovers slowly. For a long time, I only hear his voice when he mumbles in his sleep or when he whimpers as I tend to his wounds. Eventually, he begins to communicate with me using little humming noises, or he summons me from other parts of the house with plaintive chirps that break my heart. I carry him into the bathroom and find that he's fascinated by the toilet after startling at the sound of the first flush, though that's nothing compared to his awe when I decide to show off the shower. He's visibly disappointed when I deny his peeping requests to be carried under its spray, but he seems to understand when I explain that we should wait for his stitches to come out.

He gets a little stronger every day. After a couple of weeks, he's able to sit up for short periods of time as long as he's propped up with pillows. He holds his water bottle by himself a few days after that. Eating still takes more coordination than he's capable of, at least when it comes to utensils, but he's happy enough to nibble at the fruits I cut up for him. I take him out to the living room with me when he’s well enough, and there I play nature documentaries for him and keep him warm as the snow falls outside. He stares at the television in reverent silence when the voice of David Attenborough warbles through my speakers, and he spends the majority of the day curled around a couch cushion in a nest of blankets.

I learn that he’s as omnivorous as I’d hoped he’d be, and so I go to the store and get him a few different meats. I cook them with little to no seasoning at first, feeding him like one would a dog, but it isn’t long before he begins showing interest in my own meals, too. This urges me to start buying healthier food for myself; I figure that if I wouldn’t feed it to Batty for fear of his health, I probably shouldn’t be eating it, either. That doesn’t stop me from indulging in the odd treat, and his face when he tastes my favourite soft drink is priceless before he spits it out in shock, smacking his lips and looking at the bottle as though it’s bitten him.

“What?” I chuckle, taking the bottle from his hands and offering him a cloth. “Don’t like the fizz?”

“‘Fizz’?” Batty echoes, and I nearly drop the bottle before I can get the cap on.

“You can talk?” I ask, and I feel my eyes widen when he nods. “All this time?”

Batty hesitantly shakes his head, claws gently scratching at the cloth on his lap. “Don’t know,” he slowly replies, brows furrowing over his big, dark eyes. “I remember some. It’s hard.”

“It’s okay,” I assure him, reaching out to stroke between his ears in a way I’ve learned soothes him. “You took a bad blow to the head. I’m sorry that I couldn’t take you to someone who could treat you better. I didn’t want someone bad getting their hands on you.”

Batty nods his understanding, sighing deeply and nosing up into my palm to guide my hand along his muzzle. “Wanted to say all this time,” he murmurs, his soft, fluting voice growing weaker. “Thank you.”

I smile; my heart warms. “I’m just glad that you’re okay. I’ll take care of you for as long as it takes. Do you have a name?”

He frowns again, briefly closing his eyes. “Inyez.”

“Inyez,” I murmur, testing the name in my mouth and finding it fitting. I introduce myself in turn.

Inyez’s face relaxes into a small, sleepy smile. He echoes my name, and doesn’t resist when I tuck him back under the covers.

“Rest,” I whisper, brushing my fingertips between Inyez’s eyes. They flutter closed and don’t open again as he lets exhaustion pull him under, and I turn down the lights to let him fall asleep to the sound of whale song.

Once I know that Inyez can speak with me, I go a little bonkers with the need to provide enrichment for my guest. It’s been a while since I’ve had the company with which to play games, so I’m at once overwhelmed and exhilarated when I stand in front of the tabletop game section of the city mall’s toy store. I grab classics like Jenga and Parcheesi, but I also pick up games like Tokaido, Wingspan, and Betrayal at House on the Hill. Inyez fawns over the beautiful illustrations and pretty trinkets needed to play each of the games, and he’s held rapt by the game mechanics and advancements.

I can’t help but mirror his delighted smiles, watching him delicately place tokens on the boards with his slender fingers. The furrow in his brow as he puts together jigsaw puzzles is incredibly endearing, and he’s quick to summon me from where I’m working to show me his accomplishments. “Come!” he cries. “Hurry, come see!” My name on his tongue is the sweetest sound to my ears, and I look forward to hearing it in that cheerful tone throughout the day.

I buy an extension for the desk in my office and give Inyez his own space while I work, though more often than not, he ends up watching my monitors at my elbow, marveling at my work and asking countless questions. At his urging, I show him my digital portfolio, where I have most of my character designs, logos, and even a few structural blueprints and landscapes.

“Where is this?” he asks, hardly daring to tap my monitor screen with a claw.

“Nowhere,” I say, enlarging the image so that he can drink in the details. “Nowhere real, anyway. It’s a fantasy world.”

Inyez frowns. “A fantasy world? But it looks so real.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Well, I specialise in realism. There’s a lot of research that goes into it.”

Inyez doesn’t look entirely mollified by this response, but he subsides for the most part, only murmuring, “You even got the horns right.”

I turn my head to look down at him where he’s resting his cheek against my arm. “The dragon’s?”

“Yes.”

I can’t hold back my surprise. “There are dragons? They’re real?”

Inyez looks up at me, and I briefly get lost in his eyes. “Of course they are. They’re rare, though. Rarer than most everything else.”

“Rarer than you?”

Inyez bares his tiny sharp teeth at me in a cheeky little grin. “No. I’m one of a kind.”

I laugh, helplessly charmed. “That you are. Maybe I’ll draw you sometime.”

Inyez’s mouth drops open, eyes growing wider until I can just about see the whites. “Would you really? Me?”

“Why not?” I pull up a new canvas on my illustration programme, sketching up a quick little scene from the memory of looking down into his upturned face. He gasps softly at my side and shifts to cling to my shirt, murmuring in his strange language and making soft little cooing noises as I add colour and detail.

“Do I really look like that?” he breathes, looking from my face to the screen and back.

“Mhm.” I zoom in on the eyes, adding depth and highlights before moving to adjust the shape and fullness of the lips. Inyez goes very quiet for a few minutes as he watches the portrait come to life, only stirring to place his hand at the crook of my elbow to call my attention back to him. “What is it?”

“Do you really think I am so lovely?” asks Inyez, voice very soft and gaze shy.

I’m grateful for my dark skin as I feel warmth creep up into my face. “I do. You’re very beautiful.”

Inyez scoffs, but I can tell that he’s flustered. “You’ve only met one of us. Who are you to say that?”

“Sometimes one is enough,” I murmur, gently stroking Inyez’s small chin with a crooked finger. He makes an odd little twittering noise and hides behind his wings, and I feel my heart flutter wildly in my chest. I'm falling for this creature, I realise, and I can't bring myself to care; as far as I'm concerned, Inyez is the best thing to happen to me in a long time.

“Where do you go when you get into that terrible thing?” Inyez murmurs some nights later when we’re cuddled on the couch, his head on a pillow in my lap and my fingers gently stroking his head.

“In the car? To the city, mostly. To get food and toilet paper and other supplies.”

Inyez shifts to look up at me, confused. “You get food in that noisy place?”

I nod, brushing my hand along his cheek. “Everything we’ve eaten here, I’ve bought there.”

“But it doesn’t smell.”

“Smell?”

“The city. It smells, but the food doesn’t.”

I feel myself frown in thought. “Probably because a lot of it is washed and kept in clean places, or in airtight packaging.”

“I smell,” Inyez mumbles unhappily, tucking himself up in his wings. “When may I wash?”

I hum thoughtfully, rubbing one of his velvety ears between my fingers in a way that he likes. “Probably tonight, if we’re careful. If you really feel that bad.”

“I do.” Big, dark eyes look up from my lap, beseeching. “I don’t want to smell anymore. I want to be clean.”

“Alright,” I say, shifting to gather him up in my arms and carry him to the bathroom. “As long as we don’t scrub too hard or get your wounds too wet. I’ll still need to clean and redress them after we’re done.”

“You’ll wash me?” asks Inyez, a note of excitement in his voice. “Like lovers do! Could we be lovers?”

I can’t help but laugh, startled at the sudden change in conversation; I distract myself by fiddling with the shower controls. “We could be,” I reasonably reply, “if we both felt the same about one another.”

“Then we can,” says Inyez as he slips under the spray, cooing softly at the water’s warmth. “You think I’m lovely, and I think you’re lovely, too. It’s really that simple.”

“Is it?” I ask, dubious, even as I pull my clothing off and over my head to join him.

“Why does it have to be complicated? Is it more for humans? Is it not enough to feel safe and happy and goodness when I look at you? It’s like my heart has bitten a big, juicy apricot—it’s full of sweetness and the juice is overflowing!”

“A heart-apricot?” I chuckle, shaking my head at the silliness of the comparison. “Well, I’ll try to find you an apricot next time I’m in town.”

“Would you?” asks Inyez, burrowing against my chest and sighing. “I’d like that. I like you. Can that be enough?”

I run my hands carefully between his wings, earning myself a sleepy little burble. “I think it can.” I curb my enthusiastic reaction to this new turn of events and focus on gently cleaning Inyez’s fur to his satisfaction, and then I blow dry him until he’s warm and redress his wounds. By the time I carry him to bed—my bed, our bed—he’s limp as a noodle and snoring softly in his exhaustion, and I take great pleasure in tucking him in so that he’s safe and sound.

The next morning, I am kissed awake. That night, we kiss until we drift to sleep. Kisses and affection make up the bulk of my ‘duties’ as Inyez’s lover, and I take to the task of keeping him satisfied with relish. For his part, Inyez is content to groom me seemingly at random, running his small, clawed fingers delicately through my hair and humming to himself as he does so. I get a little less work done, but I don’t mind it if it’s to see Inyez so pleased with himself when he’s decided I’m primped to perfection.

It’s another couple of days before I give Inyez the all-clear to fly after his injuries have healed for a couple of months. We have to wait until nightfall until he takes to the air, but then he’s a dark blur against a darkening sky until I cannot see him at all. It makes me breathless when I realise that he’s lost to the night—what if, I think, he decides right then that he prefers the night and its freedoms to me? What if he misses his family, his friends, his former life. When he lands in front of me, panting and exhilarated and beautiful, I wrap him into my arms and crush him to my chest, burying my face against the side of his neck.

“What’s happened?” he asks, petting fretfully at my face and hair. “What’s wrong? Did you think I’d not come back?”

“Yes,” I say, and the word chokes me, making me realise that I’m crying.

“Oh, sweet one,” Inyez coos, wrapping me in his wings as best as he can. “I would never. Why would I? I am fed and loved and pampered, and you are a very good snuggler. You don’t even have fur, but you are very warm! Why would I leave, mm? Tell me.”

“I don’t know.” I laugh damply. “Missing your family. Your friends.”

“I’ll visit my family when my body is stronger,” Inyez tells me, tutting softly and nosing at my ear. “They deserve to know where I am, and they can come and visit us when the spring comes. They’ll be jealous of my roost and my mate.”

“Am I that?” I ask, sniffling and pulling away to look down into Inyez’s eyes. Inyez turns his face away, however, and I recognise that he is shy.

“You could be,” he murmurs, “but it’s not official yet. To do that, we have to—well, have sex. Hopefully more than once.”

“Do you want to?” I ask him, stroking between his wings so that they relax and rustle softly.

“Oh, I thought you’d never ask,” Inyez says all in a gust, looking up at me plaintively. “I’ve been wanting to have sex with you for days. Weeks, maybe.”

I can’t help but laugh again. “You could have asked.”

“I could have.” Inyez pouts. “You would have said no, because of my wounds. You treat me like I’m fragile.”

“You are fragile, in comparison. But you’re right, I would have denied you. Now I won’t. So, ask.”

Big eyes blink up at me from that small, furry face, hopeful to their core. “Really? You’ll be my mate?”

I can feel myself grinning. “I’ll be your mate.”

Inyez wriggles against me, clutching at my clothing with a sudden fervour. “Mine?”

“Yours,” I assure him, drawing him against me and carrying him back up into the observatory. The next few minutes are a blur as we leave my clothing strewn across the apartment in a trail that leads to the bed, and I manage to find a bottle of lube I haven’t touched in months but mercifully has enough for at least a round or two.

Preparation happens before all else. Normally, this is the part where I would begin to lose interest because my previous partners have treated it like a means to an end, but Inyez is so sensitive and receptive that every little touch I give him sends him into a fluttering little tizzy on the bed. His prick is slick and red when it hardens out of its sheath, tapered at the end and thicker at the base. I’ve never seen anything like it, and I play with it with a careful touch that seems to frustrate and overwhelm the small creature beneath me in equal measure.

I drink Inyez in as he squeaks and squirms with my fingers inside him, watching his claws tear tiny little holes in the sheets as he grips them in his hands and trembles like a taut bowstring. When I finally push into him, he makes a noise like an exultation, and I fight to keep myself from coming right there and then when he wraps his legs around my hips and digs his feet into my ass to drive me in deeper. He wants more of me and I give until there’s nothing left to give, letting him adjust for a moment before I take up a rhythm that rocks the bed against the wall.

I need him, too, and I tell him so as I fuck him down into the mattress, listening to him mew and moan and say my name in a way more beautiful than any I’ve heard yet. He clings to the headboard when I roll him over onto his stomach, breathless and gasping raggedly, wings trembling like they’re weathering a storm.

“There!” he cries when I angle my hips a certain way, one of his hands diving between himself and the sheets to pump away at his hard, leaking cock. “Oh, please, there! There!”

“You want it?” I ask, and I hardly recognise my own voice, so low and guttural it is.

“Yes, gods, I want it,” Inyez mewns, almost sobbing with his need. “I’m close. I’m gonna—I’m—Please—“

“Tell me you’ll stay.”

“I’ll stay!” Inyez squeaks, not a hint of hesitation in his desperate tones. “I’ll stay, I’ll stay, I’ll never leave this roost! I swear!”

“Yes,” I growl, pushing my chest down against his back and reaching a crescendo that makes the headboard hammer against the wall. I come so hard and so suddenly that it feels like I get pulled inside out from the toes on up, and my vision whites out to the sound of Inyez wailing beneath me. When I come around, we’re tangled together in the sheets and I have him on top of me, both of us panting heavily and both of my hands buried into the soft, downy fur at the small of Inyez’s back.

“Christ,” says Inyez, and I choke on a laugh, turning my head to cough.

“That’s not an expletive.”

Inyez grunts. “You use it like one.”

I laugh. “That’s fair.”

Inyez takes a long moment to gather his thoughts, stroking the skin of my torso with careful fingers. “Would you be willing to meet my family?”

I blink up at the ceiling. “Of course. How many of them are there?”

“I have six brothers and eight sisters. I’m fifth down in the birthing line.”

My eyes bulge. “How old is the youngest?”

“Tiisa? She’s six months old. The oldest is in her forties.” I can feel Inyez smother a smile against my chest. “Mother says she’s done for now. We don’t quite believe her.”

I laugh, shaking my head up at the ceiling. “I would offer them shelter for the winter, but I don’t think they’d all fit in here.”

“Oh, Mother would hate it here,” Inyez chuckles. “It would be much too quiet for her liking. She likes life with the roost. I’ve always preferred quiet. This roost is perfect for us.”

Us. The word makes my heart swell, and I bury a smile against the top of Inyez’s head. “We’ll figure something out for their visit.”

“Mm,” hums Inyez, sighing softly before he sits up and smiles impishly down at me in the darkness.

“What?”

“Again.”

“Again?” I laugh, wrapping my hands around Inyez’s hips as they begin to rock and wriggle on my lap. “I’ve created a monster.”

“Your monster,” Inyez smugly coos, kissing my chest right over my heart.

[cheonjeolmi]

Walmart Date (Modern AU)

Pairing: Hange x F! Reader

Warnings: None ( except for some tooth-rotting fluff ) 

Request?: Not requested, though my requests are open so feel free to send!

A/N: just some desperately needed Hange fluff !! Sorry for any grammar or formatting errors as its been a while since I used tumblr. In any case please enjoy the story, and follow me on twitter for writing related updates @_thexaus !

“Y/N!! Come on, come on! Let’s goo” Hange exclaimed as they couldn’t help but pace back and forth around their shared room. 

“Babe, it’s still way too early for you to be this hyper.” you groaned.

“Oh, sorry! I’m just so excited!” They giggled and brought their arms around you, wrapping you in a hug.

“We’re going to Walmart to buy some groceries and other things, why exactly are you excited?” You asked as you returned their hug.

“Yeah, but we’re still spending time together! We’re going on a Walmart date!” she continued, “plus, I’ve missed you. We’ve both been busy with work. But now that it’s our day-off, we can have our date!” Hange smiled and pressed a light kiss to your forehead, face heating up in embarrassment from the sudden kiss. 

“Aww, you’re so cute when you blush! It makes me want to kiss you even more” they swooned, peppering you with kisses, before kissing your nose then touching it afterward. “Boop!” They chuckled at your reaction. “I love you, Y/N”

“I love you too, Hange” The two of you wrapped around each other, with you listening to their heartbeat. The brown-haired scientist pulled away, retracting their arms from you

“Okay, the last one to the car is a rotten egg!” Hange laughed as they bolted towards the door, leaving you in their trail very confused

“What..?”

“Haha, rotten egg!” they said as they kept boasting about their victory. (Y/N) glared at them

“It’s not fair! I wasn’t ready and you tried to trip me at some point. Also, if I had known we were doing that, you would definitely be saying otherwise right now.” you accused your brown-haired partner

“Whatever, you’re just mad that I won” Hange turned to you with a smug smirk before sticking her tongue out, you scoffed and walked a bit further from them, deciding to playfully ignore them.

“Babe, I did what I have to do and I won so that’s all that matters,” they boasted once more, noticing you walk further from them, they let out a laugh “Are you seriously gonna ignore me?” 

You didn’t respond. Instead, you walked even further from them, creating a bigger distance than before. “Okay fine, be that way then. I’m gonna ignore you too! A taste of your own medicine, if you will.” They sighed, crossing their arms, stomping toward the Walmart in front of you both.

Although that didn’t last long since once you both entered the store, they turned to you with tears starting to form in the corner of their eyes. “Y/N!! Please don’t be mad at me anymore, I’m sorry! There, are you happy!? You’re not the rotten egg, I am!” they whined, begging for your attention in the process.

When they saw you turn toward them, their smile grew but immediately dropped when you gave them a smug look, loving the way they were acting now.

“Torture! This is torture, Y/N! Why are you torturing your cute and precious partner named Hange aka the love of your life?! I thought you loved meee..” they whined, as other people began to give you both weird looks.

“Oh my god, Hange! I forgive you. Now, be quiet before we get kicked out!” you said as they immediately brought you into a hug kissing your cheek,

“Yay, Y/N loves me!” Hange sang in delight as they dragged you along the store “So what are we going to buy?” they hummed, walking beside you. “Oh no, I forgot to make a list,” a small frown came across your face. 

“Well anyway, snacks, drinks, and ingredients for dinner. Did you wanna look around to buy something?” Y/N said turning to Hange smiling as they nodded “Okay great! We’ll meet up later, yeah?” After which they both went their separate ways.

Hange skipped around the store holding a basket filled with sweets, and a worrying amount of Red Bull. Once they finished going around getting everything they wanted, the brown-haired scientist stopped and froze in fear 

“Oh no…” Hange had gotten lost in the big store and was completely without their girlfriend and now, proceeded to exaggerate their situation, thinking of all the things that were unlikely to happen. Were they overreacting? Yes, but they believed you could never be too sure.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no no no. I have to find Y/N! Oh, I can call her-!” fishing for their phone, only to see that it was dead. “Oh come on! The day I forget to charge is the day I get lost. What are the odds.” they sighed in defeat but soon perked up, thinking of the perfect idea to get them out of this predicament.

“Calling Ms. Y/N L/N, please head down to register 5. Again, can Ms. Y/N L/N, please head down to register 5. Thank you.” The store speaker rang out  as you head over there to see what was wrong, there you saw Hange sitting down on the bench, pouting while swinging their legs back and forth.

You compared the sight to that of a child who lost their mother, which to be fair was sort of your situation right now. Hange then looked up and saw you come closer, making their pout turn to a wide grin, soon enough they ran up to you and hugged you tightly.

“Y/N!! You’re here! And you’re alive!!” Hange practically screamed as they were now reassured and weren’t alone by themselves anymore.

"Hange, what-? Of course, I'm alive...Now, start talking.” your gaze hardened against their brown eyes, they gulped from the tension and simply nodded.

“First, why’d you ask them to call me here? Second of all, why didn’t you just text or call me?” They rubbed a hand on their nape, clearly nervous as you seemed like a mother scolding their child, which was also very much true.

“Well, I um..got lost...second, my phone was dead. Also, while waiting for you, I talked with the lady at the register! Her name was Flora! What a nice fellow she was..” Hange smiled, recalling the small conversation they had, whilst waiting for Y/N to arrive at the register.

“Hi, I’m Hange!”

“Nice to meet you, Hange. I’m Flora,” “So, this Y/N person is your..girlfriend?” Hange nodded

“Ah, yes she is! Very lovely, kind, helpful, friendly, and she’s just so great!”

“Aw, that’s sweet. You must love her a lot” the kind woman said and Hange could only nod, thinking about all the things she loved about you.

“I’m gonna marry her one day. I don’t know when or where, but if I’m with her that’s all that matters'' the brown-haired scientist sighed dreamily, as they began to imagine what married life would be like with you.

“I was exactly like you once with my wife, when we’d still been dating. Her name’s Evie and now we’re married! 10 years and counting!” “Let me tell you, waking up to her every day is a dream and even after 10 years it never gets old. I’m sure it’ll be the same for you both” Hange smiled and thanked the kind woman at the register.

“Hange? Helloo? Earth to Hange?” you waved your hand against her face, which seemed to break them out of their daze and smile at you. “Oh, sorry Y/N! Were you done paying for everything?” they asked and you nodded “Oh shoot, I forgot something!”

“Oh? What did you forget? We’re not in a rush so we could go look for it” your eyes lit up in mischief “No no, it’s not that. It’s just that,” moving forward to get your head start “the last one to the car is a rotten egg!” you exclaimed, giggling as you bolted out the door, leaving Hange in the same state you had been in before. 

“Huh..? HUH!!? HEY WAIT!! THAT’S NOT FAIR Y/N!” they shouted as they ran after you, which didn’t take long. Hange caught you in their arms around your waist trapping you within the confines of their body, their chest pressing against your back. 

You moved around their hold, both of you admiring each other's features as the two of you smiled like idiots. “Hey you” they smiled, “Hey yourself” Y/N replied, snuggling closer towards the scientist.

Suddenly the air between you changed, a visible sense of longing present, “Y/N..” Hange began to slowly lean towards you, you began to do the same as your lips brush against each other, their hands move to cup your face, the kiss feeling like all the good things you could name.

Fireworks. Butterflies. Electricity.

Everything in that moment felt right and you both knew that. “Hange” you moaned into her lips as the two of you broke apart for air, which didn't last long as your lips were back on theirs. The taste and feel of their lips on yours, their scent of warm vanilla with a slight hint of earthiness to it filled through your nostrils. 

Everything about them was addicting, and it was frightening how you were willing to sacrifice a lot to be with them-- or to feel the rush of excitement, danger, adrenaline, and warmth which coursed through your veins whenever you were with Hange.

For a few seconds, everything around you was still. You feel every little detail and it's simply beautiful. It’s only but the two of you and it's unlike anything you’ve ever experienced and oh how you wished this moment could last forever.

As the two of you parted, yours and Hange's foreheads pressed against each other gently with the two of you smiling like idiots in love.

“Y/N, stay with me forever please” “Hange..I'd only ever want to stay with you anyway” they smiled once again and placed soft kisses along your face, from your forehead to your nose, and from your cheeks to your jawline bringing their lips to the shell of your ear with Hange softly nibbling on it,

“Hange-” you moaned at the action and they smirked at the way your voice slightly broke. “And another thing, I win, rotten egg.” Hange pulled back to look at your shocked expression and smiled. Admittedly, you had forgotten about the silly race as memories of the kiss you shared not too long ago, filled every space in your mind.

The coffee-haired scientist raced over to where you parked the car and you couldn't help but smile seeing their tall energetic figure make a beeline to the car, with you walking a few steps behind them accepting your defeat. God, you loved Hange so much and you knew that they loved you too, if not more.

But no matter how many times Hange had told you they loved you, you always felt comfort in knowing that, smiling once again for what seemed to be the millionth time that night.

'You're going to be the death of me, Hange Zoe.'

[notmrskennedy]

Professor, pt2

A/N - here’s part two to my little prequels - it’s the last one I’ve got written, but just know that they definitely fall in love later in my head. It’s just that the ‘in love’ part turned into Friendliness so there’s that. Thanks for sticking around bc y’all make my days

Summary - A certain professor makes another unexpected appearance and friend? 

W/C - 2.6k 

Warnings - there’s a brief stint of depression and a bit of swearing i’m sure (but what’s new)

----

Nearly 50 hours of no sleep later and Spencer Reid is sure he’s hallucinating. He knows that the hallucinations come later, that it takes more like seven or eight days to get that bad. But he’s tired and hadn’t slept on the plane and there’s no amount of coffee that’ll convince him he’s awake enough to think the scene in front of him is real. 

Because there you are, arguing with an FBI agent. While in handcuffs. He notes the darker hair and the new style and the impossible amount of dirt you’re covered in. What a weird thing to hallucinate after a bone chilling case. He hasn’t seen you in three years—by all accounts, he should’ve forgotten your face already. 

“I heard she got caught shipping body parts,” Emily says, appearing next to Spencer. She’s more put together, having passed out for the four hour flight. Her hair’s tied up and she’s got airplane coffee in her hands. He wonders if this is any more real before he hears you shouting from him. 

“Thank God,” you call, trying to wiggle out of the man’s hold, “Dr. Reid! Tell them I’m not crazy.”

He hesitantly leans over to Emily. “This is real, right?”

“Yep.”

“I’m not going to sleep tonight, am I?”

“Nope.”

“See you on Monday, Emily.”

“See you then, Reid.”

And he’s trudging forward, waving at the other agent while stifling a yawn. He forces his eyes open and checks his watch. 2:37 AM. Is he going to catch the Metro? Or is he sleeping on Hotch’s couch again? 

The pleading in your eyes says Hotch’s couch and he doesn’t argue.

“Hey, Kazinsky,” he yawns, stopping a full two feet from you and your inhumanly large captor. “What’s the—what’s the charge?”

Kazinsky shakes his head, not daring to let you any slack. You’re bouncing on your toes, trying to contain yourself. He gets it. It’s not everyday you get arrested. He hopes. But ever forgetful of the whole being arrested bit, you keep jerking to move the hair out of your face. Kazinsky takes it as trying to escape and jerks back harder. 

“We picked this one up for transporting illegal…stuff, Doc,” Kazinsky mutters with half a shiver. “Thought I signed up for white collar, mail fraud type stuff. Not unpacking human remains type stuff.” 

Spencer pinches the bridge of his nose. Scrubs his hands over his face. Takes one more long look at you, obviously losing your mind. He knows a lot can change over three years, but you never seemed the ‘illegally transporting dead people’ type. Until he remembers your fun fact from that lecture all those years ago. 

“What happened?” he sighs.

All too tired for this bullshit, he wishes he could force the story out faster, but your face just keeps contorting with the story you’re so obviously trying to spin for both of them. You try to pull out of Kazinsky’s gorilla grip again, and Spencer notices the way Kazinsky winces every time you pull. Something wrong with his wrist?

“Dr. Reid,” you finally begin, “I was in Guatemala, studying these mummies we found in a cave. One of the bodies just needed further examining and so I was just shipping it back because it’s not like I can stuff a two thousand year old body in my carryon.”

All Spencer can do is raise half an exhausted eyebrow that prompts you further, red tinting your cheeks. 

“Look, I’ve been trying to tell Mr. Man Hands over here that I’ve got the paperwork in my bag, but after our little disagreement, I’ve been arrested.”

“Disagreement?” Kazinsky snorts. “You tried to dislocate my wrist!”

“Well, I can’t help it if you don’t announce yourself before grabbing me.”

Whatever desperation and pleading you’ve had, you’ve thrown out the window to stare down Kazinsky. Spencer has a new appreciation for the fact that he’d been wrong all those years ago. You aren’t fragile. You’re as strong as a femur bone with all of the—probably justified—anger of a bull towards a matador. 

But you turn back to Spencer and your gaze softens. Melts into the young professor he met all those years ago. He’s gotten over his crush—he’s definitely in love with Maeve—but you’re objectively beautiful. Despite the self-cut, terribly choppy bangs, or the light dusting of brown dirt that you’ve covered in. You’re pleading for his help, he knows it, but he just wants to go home. 

He’s reminded he’s better than walking away and ends up giving Kazinsky a tired sigh. “I’ll take her off your hands for you, Kazinsky.”

He wonders vaguely what Maeve will think of this when he calls her in 24 hours. He wonders if she’ll appreciate the gesture he’s made for an old acquaintance. No matter what though, he knows she’ll gasp and giggle and say something like ‘oh those anthropologists! Such a funny sort. At least it’s a better science than geology!’ and they’ll laugh together like old lovers. 

Kazinsky drops you in Spencer’s lap and runs. Human remains could be the BAU’s problem for all he cared. He liked mail fraud. 

Once Kazinsky’s out of sight, Spencer pulls the handcuff keys from his pockets and pulls the cuffs off of you. You breathe out a thankful sigh, trying to rub the future bruises away. You turn back to face him, tucking your hair back behind your ear, studying him through your lashes. He can’t be bothered to notice anything much more about you. He’s dead on his feet. 

The hand you place on his elbow jolts him away. Your eyebrows scrunch and he swallows at the concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighs, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I’m just—we’ve been working an abduction case. 48 hours non-stop—“

He yawns again and you can’t help but mirror. “Did you know that chimpanzees and dogs are also empathetic yawners?” 

He smirks. “I did know that. Seriously though y/n, what’s up with the body?”

“I promise it isn’t illegal,” you rush out, just to receive a raised eyebrow. “The Institute I’m working for made some kind of deal with the Guatemalan government that I’m not really privy to, but I’m the only one qualified to handle the remains. Plus, I’ve got a reputation for being found with body parts so its—it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

He sighs again. He wants to tell you it sounds worse. That it sounds like you’re stealing on behalf of the Institute. That they’re doing what museums always do—pilfer and loot. But you sigh and hang your head and don’t exhibit one sign that you’re trying to trick him. Sure, you might’ve lied a bit about manhandling Kazinsky, but you sure as hell seem like a doctor just trying to do her job. 

“Look, call my boss. He’s waiting for me anyway. I’m sure the paperwork just got lost or customs is just as stupid as I think they are.”

Spencer nods. He pulls his phone out and punches in the number you rattle off. In ten seconds he’s speaking with Dr. Russel Bailey, head of the anthropology department at the Institute. There’s a quick relay of ‘yes, she’s authorised to have the body’ and ‘no, please don’t arrest her’ and ‘we’ll sort this out in the morning’. 

And once he’s hung up, you’ve already got your car keys out. “Do you need a ride home or anything?” you ask and quickly tack on, “I’m just trying to say thank you. Promise I’m not creepy.”

Spencer laughs and nods and drags his feet after you. He does need a ride home because he knows he’ll fall asleep on the metro. You talk incessantly about your trip to Guatemala on the walk down to your car, and he knows he should be listening. But he can’t. He’s too busy moving one foot in front of the other. 

And by the time you’ve punched his address into the GPS, he’s fast asleep, softly snoring. 

#

Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. Maeve was dead. 

Nothing else really matters now, Spencer thinks on repeat. She was the only good thing I had and now she’s gone. Maybe I don’t even matter. 

There’s brief moments between this line of thinking where he can listen to the three dozen voicemails he gets left everyday. Telling him that they’re there for him. Telling him it’ll be okay. Telling him it was okay to grieve. 

Was it grieving if he just wants to melt into nothingness? To die without actually killing himself?

It’s during one of these brief moments that he gets the voicemail he’s accidentally been craving. He doesn’t want to want it. He doesn’t want to want anything. He wants to melt and starve and wither until no one thinks about him ever again. Because she’s not here and he can’t for the life of him figure out why he wants you. 

You’ve been gone. Researching your way through the Sacred Valley in Peru, making nice with the locals and scavenging bones like an angelic vulture. You’ve been there for the last month and can’t possibly know about Maeve’s death—it takes him another hour to get back to thinking about you. It’s still September, he thinks, and you’re supposed to come back around now. At the end of the month, he’s supposed to pick you up from the airport. 

Because after saving you from an arrest, you’ve been exchanging noncommittal letters and phone calls. He’s got a thin stack of photos that you’ve sent from your trip. But you aren’t Maeve. You never were. You never will be. 

He doesn’t know why he wants you to call him, but he does. 

Maybe it’s because you’re new, you aren’t tarnished by the history of Spencer Reid. Maybe it’s because you’re the only one who doesn’t treat him like he’s labelled: fragile, handle with care!

He listens and your voicemail is a sort of sing song. “Hola Spencer! I’m calling from some Peruvian payphone. I should be in the states in a little over 24 hours. I’ll call when I land. Hasta mañana.” 

 The next voicemail comes with: “Finally got back to the apartment. I didn’t think I’d miss the sound of guinea pigs running around. Weird. Anyway, call me when you can.”

And the third: “Spencer, seriously, why aren’t you picking up? I’m not going to have to break in, am I? Call me back.”

Culminating with: “Reid, I swear to fucking god. If I find you dead in that goddamn apartment, I’ll beat your body so bad you won’t make it the fucking afterlife.”

There’s a knock. One he won’t answer. One he doesn’t want to answer. He doesn’t want the pity or the advice or the dejectedness. He wants to float down a river and drown. 

The knock becomes a little more insistent. And now there’s voices attached. He can make out JJ’s voice, “He’s—he’s going to be okay. He’ll come back out when he’s ready.” Following is who he thinks is Penelope, though if it is, she’s far too quiet. One set of feet retreat. He can see the shadow from a pair of shoes and he wonders why Penelope is staying so long. Maybe she’s brought another basket. 

There’s one more knock—probably to ensure he’s not coming to the door—before a jiggle to the knob. And swearing. And jostling. And squirming. And pop. There’s a distinct swinging open of the door and a pair of boots tapping over his hardwood. 

Maybe this is how he dies. Miserable. Covered in snot and tears. Slippers half on. Depressed on the couch. 

“God, you idiot,” a voice breathes, pausing to take in the disarray. He vaguely remembers redecorating—throwing everything everywhere. The feet become more impatient and frantic and heavier. His doors all open and close and he can’t bother to correct the burglar. He’s right here, waiting, patiently waiting, for this intruder to kill him. 

A fantastic way to die. He wonders if you’ll want to look at his bones. You’ve mentioned wanting to. 

“Sound off, Reid,” you command. He knows its you. No one else could replicate that tremble in your lips, the break rolling off your tongue. 

“Y/n,” he croaks and he wonders how long ago was the last time he spoke. 

Light streams in as you flick open the curtains, bites into his skin with a hiss. You take in his disheveled state with no apprehension. Like you’ve expected this. Like you have no pity to give him. Maybe this is why he wanted you to call. 

“You broke in,” he mumbles and you shake your head. 

“I wouldn’t have to,” you begin to yell, just to lower your voice and grit your teeth, “if you would’ve fucking answered the door.” 

You always say there’s a time and place for everything. There’s nothing to top the word ‘fuck’ and he knows that you’re beyond angry. Beyond concerned. Beyond terrified for him. 

“What happened, Spencer?” you whisper, moving to sit down on the floor in front of him. You’re close enough he can smell your perfume, see the pleading look in your eyes. There’s no pity. If he could find the words, he couldn’t thank you enough. 

He could reach out and hold your hand, but that seems too far. Too much. So he swallows down the tears and whispers back, “Maeve died, y/n. She died because I let her.”

“Stop it,” you order. You’ve got a hard set in your eyes, the kind that he last saw when you stared down Kazinsky. “Stop that right now. You can’t stop the world from spinning, Spencer. You can’t stop the sun from coming up. You can’t stop what you don’t know to. I might not know all the details, but I know you. You’re a diligent man and I wouldn’t expect you to do anything less than everything for the woman you love.”

You place a delicate hand on the couch next to his and you sum everything up very gracefully. “Hindsight is a bitch, don’t let it make you hers.”

He can’t stop the twitch of a smile. Can’t stop the crack of happiness that bleeds out because you’ve decided to be so ridiculously you. No one’s ever called him diligent before and seems more fitting than fragile.

“She’s still dead,” he settles on and makes the bold move to slide his fingers under yours. It feels like such a betrayal to Maeve—is he supposed to touch another woman when he couldn’t even touch the love of his life?

You just squeeze his fingers, warm and present and decidedly alive. “Yeah. She is. You’re welcome to wallow for as long as you want, but you need to eat. We’ll see if I can remember how to cook with modern appliances.”

Your smile is contagious enough that a fleeting smile reaches his eyes. You pat his hand and stand. “I’m going to the store, and taking a key this time. I promise I’ll be back. I’m stickier than a public indecency charge.”

You chuckle for the both of them and carefully make your way out of the apartment. He listens as you take a key and tries his best to psych himself into a fit of hunger. It isn’t until you’re singing in Spanish, something sizzling on the stove, that he realises that the pain in his gut is the hunger, and not just misery. That he should probably get up for at least a minute. Just to satisfy the curiosity of what that smell is. 

Maeve would’ve liked you, he decides. Maeve would’ve really liked you. 

And it’s the first peaceful thought he’s had in weeks. 

[deanzboyfriend]

Spencer Reid x Daughter! Reader [discontinued - rewrite is in consideration]

aight bet this is -basically- part 2/ continuation of the teaser I wrote :0 Ok, so I ended up deciding it to be an xdaughter!reader so I apologize if anyone was expecting something different lmao.

A/n: part 3 is not happening, I apologize. :)

-previously-

“Do you have any idea how you do that?” He asked me. “Umm not really. I’ve just always been able to do it. I’m 95% sure I have an eidetic memory, but I’ve never done tests or anything.”

“How would you like to come to our headquarters sometime and learn some more about what we do?”

-present-

I stood there shocked for a moment. "M-me? I um, I'd be h-honored!" I said, quite enamored at the fact that they were asking me of all people.

"I mean, I've read plenty on the workings of an FBI facility, as well as the work you guys have done, b-but actually going into one to study it? Oh my lords that's a whole 'nother deal! That's twice the amount of information at least, as well as more closer to accurate observations! Not to men- I'm rambling crap." I blushed a bit and pulled out my phone.

"let me um, just, make a phone call home. Vee is used to me staying late after school, but um, ill just call her to make sure she knows." I went outside in the hallway to call her.

-Third POV-

"Vee? You think that's her mother? Does she refer to her mother by her first name?" Morgan questioned towards Reid.

"I'm not sure, but it's definitely her guardian. Who else would she call to make sure they knew she wouldn't be home at her normal time?" Morgan nods as you come back into the room.

"I'm all good to go now. I'm assuming I'll be riding with you two?" They nodded. "Hey kid, do you know how long it'll take us to get there?" Morgan asks, wanting to see what else you could do.

"Well, the normal time between there and here would be around 45 minutes, but taking into the account the traffic level averages at this time and assuming we take the quickest route, it would be close to that, but slightly longer so approximately 55 and a half minutes." Morgan just laughed as you got into the back seat.

"How'd you figure that one out?" He asked as we started our way out of the parking lot. "Well, I've looked at a map of Quantico once before, and the quick route is 45.3 minutes away from my school. Since it's after school and a lot of parents are headed this way to pick up their kids, the traffic levels increase by 6 percent. So I averaged it out and added time based on the added percentage.”

“Reid, my man, she’s like the kid version of you. How old are you kid?” Spencer has been awful quiet, as he was using this time to observe you. “I’m 15. I skipped 7th, 8th, and 10th grade. I personally don’t think that intelligence can be accurately quantified, but I certainly have my theories. I’m not entirely sure about my dad, but I know it’s possible that I got my eidetic memory from him. While having an eidetic memory is extremely rare, It has been proven that memory ability can be passed down genetically. So, theoretically, it’s highly likely.”

The two men in the car looked at each other. They were definitely going to have to find out more. Spencer listened intently as you rambled on about other topics as they continued on their path to the bureau. “We’re here kid. Get your stuff ready.”

-Your POV-

I still couldn’t believe this was happening. Me, an average student, who was an outcast was about to learn more about profiling INSIDE OF AN FBI BUILDING!!! I never thought this would happen to me in all my years. The building was quite large. They gave me a visitor’s badge at the front, and I still had to get my bag checked. Once everything was accounted for, I followed Agent Morgan and Doctor Reid to the bull pen.

“My chocolate thunder, you’re bac- oh! who have you brought with you today? Hi! I’m Penelope Garcia! Who might you be?” I blushed and smiled at the brightly-dressed woman.  “I’m Y/N Barton, pleasure to meet you!” I couldn’t stop smiling as I marveled at the size of the building. “Based on my estimates of what I could see from the outside, you have to have at least 10,354 employees working in this building as a whole. This specific branch can’t have more than 500 employees though.”

“What- hang on-” Penelope typed something quickly into her phone. “You sure she isn’t a mini-Reid?! Those numbers were exact, and she’s never been here before!” I watched as she looked at me in awe and then what looked like realization. “Actually-I’ve um- got important stuff to do in my lair OK BYEEE!!!” Agent Morgan just laughed and patted me on the back. “Don’t take offense to her quick exit, kid. She’s always like that.” I smiled at him as I sat down at what I assumed was Doctor Reid’s desk.

I looked around and saw that a tall, professionally dressed, dark haired man came and talked to Doctor Reid. “I’m assuming he’s the boss? He’s probably wondering why there’s a teenager in the bullpen of a government building...” I said, nervously laughing. “Yeah he is. Aaron Hotchner. He’s the unit chief of the BAU team. He has a, what we like to call, a “resting Hotch face” if you know what I mean.” I couldn’t help but laugh.  Doctor Reid came back and stood next to Agent Morgan. “Did I miss anything?”Agent  Morgan spoke up.“Nope, just the kid guessing the exact amount of employees here and actually getting it exact according to Garcia.” Doctor Reid smiled at me.

“I got approval from Hotch for you to observe us if we go on a local case and for me to do some tests for you so you know more about what you’re capable of.” I gasped and jumped out of his chair in excitement. ““Oh my goodness! I’m so excited! Thank you Doctor Reid!!” I eventually composed myself and sat back down, blushing.

“Just Spencer is fine. You’re quite the interesting one.” I just looked at him in awe. It was nice that someone could say anything like that to me.  I stayed in the bullpen for the most part. I met the rest of the BAU team and told them I would be observing them on their next local case after getting permission from my guardian. They were all really nice. JJ told me all about her son Henry, who is just so cute! I offered to babysit if she ever needed it.  Emily talked to be about all the places she’d been to, and taught me some words in Italian since I mentioned I was interested in learning. 

-Third POV-

Garcia rushed out of her office with a file in hand, headed straight for the bullpen. She called out to Reid as she arrived. “Reid, a moment?” She asked him in a semi-whisper. He followed her into an empty office and she closed the door. “Garcia? What’s this about?” He looked concerned and confused.

“Ok, so, you know how we kept saying it was funny how similar Y/N was to you and that she was basically the mini-you? And you talked about how she mentioned that she had an eidetic memory and thought that she got it passed down even though it was extremely unlikely? Well, I actually got a good look at her earlier when we met and she looked a lot similar to you so I thought I’d-” 

Spencer cut her off. “Garcia! The point?” She looked at him with wife eyes. “Sorry! Just- look for yourself.” She handed him the files she had printed. He opened them and read them at lightning speed, and when he finished, his eyes were wide as saucers. He looked up at Garcia. 

“She’s your daughter.”

——————

JESUS CHRYSLER that took me too long to plan out. Anyway, hope y’all liked it! Sorry if there are errors 😳

Part 3? 👀

[likesomekindofcheese]

Promised: Part One (The Great mini-series)

Pairing: Grigor Dymov x fem!Reader

Word Count: 2,878

 From this Anon Request:  ahhh im so happy that you'll write for grigor, gwil seems to be under hyped these days. can i request grigor having to be in an arranged marriage because peter somehow fucked up another treaty and the only way of fixing it is through an alliance (we can just ignore grigor being married already)

A/N: Of course! I hope you are okay with it being a fem! Reader. If not, just let me know and I’ll write a neutral version!

Anyways, enjoy the first part of this mini series of Peter being...Peter and you are Grigor getting into an arranged marriage to fix it up!

“This wine tastes like shit, where’s the vodka?”

The bread roll you had been chewing on nearly fell out of your mouth in surprise. This was the man you had been expecting for weeks. The Lord and Sovereign of all of Russia. The son of Peter the Great, a legendary warrior king beloved by all who knew him. He even shared a name with this godly figure.

The second he announced his arrival sent everyone in your house into a giddy panic. The manor was cleaned inside out. Every butler and maid lined up outside for his entrance in their most pressed uniforms. Your family and you had put on your finest garbs as well. You had even bought a new dress for the occasion, a pink silk gown with white cloth down the sleeves, and a white middle part while long bows decorated your cream stomacher.

Every soul in the manor was there when his carriage arrived to greet and curtsy to him and his friend, tour the house, and serve him a meal featuring the best cuts, foods, and drinks available, some of which were gifts from the locals honoring his appearance.

And he just called your finest vintage wine shit.

Every pulse in your house was heard in that moment. Your mother gasped a little at the sound of such language used at the table. Especially from him.

“We…we have whiskey to be served after, it’s stronger” you suggest meekly.

“I suppose, just something stronger than this,” his companion next to him reasoned.

He was a man who was perhaps in his thirties at most, brown hair barely seen beneath his dusty wig and in a dark green jacket, only a few steps below Peter’s finery. He swirled the glass with his large hands and took polite sips of it. You looked for a reaction to the taste and barely saw one.

“You want the emperor to drink shit wine, then!? What kind of hosts are you?” Peter asked, leaning back in his chair.

He was far more relaxed than the sea of straight backs of everyone at your table. He even tossed the glass over his shoulder.

KKKK!

A servant behind rushed up with a broom to sweep up the bits.

Your mother and father looked at each other questioningly.  Your brother normally had a healthy appetite, but his fork paused in mid-air since the wine complaint.

With a little sigh, your father turned to a butler and asked him to retrieve a bottle of whiskey and to look for any spare vodka at once.

Looking at your brother, the sanguine chatterbox, you saw his face had paled and his jaw was still tight. Looks like it would have to be you then to alter the mood and keep the peace.

Turning to the Emperor’s companion on Peter’s right, you began to shyly greet him “Sir...uhm…I’m sorry, I forgot your last name…”

“Dymov,” he answered kindly.

His eyes softened. At least he seemed less of an unpredictable bull as his friend.

“Sir Dymov, what is the weather like in Russia? Is it as cold as everyone says?” you questioned.

“Oh, yes, very! Some winters have crowds of people wearing fur coats indoors and gathered around the fire,” he explained.

Peter cut in, chewing on the meat with an open mouth as if he were a cow in a field, “which is why we need to drink vodka to stay warm. Speaking of which, where is your butler and why the fuck hasn’t the vodka gotten here yet?!”

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Later that evening, there was some parlor entertainment as usual. Coffee, whiskey, and vodka were all served and seemed to be drank in generous amounts.

It began with you showing your musical gifts. You were to sing as your father accompanied you on the pianoforte. Your breath was feeling higher than what was needed for healthy singing. You could not help but gape at the two Russians who seemed to analyze you. They were hard not to ignore since they were both astoundingly tall, Peter only barely taller. Sir Dymov listened attentively, hands leaning against him as he and the emperor were offered the softest chairs.

But Peter was somehow enraptured. He looked right at you and was still, listening to it the whole time.

You noticed his eyes were not on your face. And your pink dress was as modest as your mothers.

Forcing yourself back into the music, you picked a spot in the parlor, near a bookshelf, and stared at it, trying to focus on the music and words. Lose yourself in its brief escape.

There was polite applause following. When you curtsied, you put a protective hand over your chest.

Your brother, more inclined to the world of theater, offered a reading of some texts by the finest playwrights of your land. Everyone listened to him as they settled for cards at a table, but you stood a while to focus on your knitting. Nerves had shot through you and you had to do something with your hands that would calm you more than cards with the boorish guest.

“May I sit here, Miss Y/L/N?” Sir Dymov asked to the spot next to yours.

“Yes, you may…” you answered, finishing a row of purl stitches.

As he sat down, he even offered to hold your yarn and straighten any strings.

“Thank you for the dinner, and the reading, and the music and everything, it was nice, far more peaceful than at home! And God knows, I could…we all could use some peace…,” he turned away briefly to keep a small eye on Peter.

“Sir Dymov, why would you need peace? Is it the war with Sweden?” you asked curiously.

His angled face looked oddly dark, despite the glow from the fire.

“No…Just a little bit of personal heartbreak, Lady Y/L/N. And your song was about love, so I was reminded of her.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” you asked

Flinching away, you cursed the impulse. It might be too personal.

“She rejected my marriage offer. She’s uhm, uh…how do I put this politely… she’s Peter’s mistress,” he explained

“Oh.”

“And she said she would not give up her position after our marriage, so she said I could either have to be married to her but share her with Peter or she would not consider my offer at all,” he sighed.

Setting your knitting away, you looked up at him with empathy.

“Sie Dymov, that sounds hard. But I can’t imagine how her saying yes would make anything easier…”

“I do miss her, and she’s in court so I see her still every day,” Dymov complained.

“You’ll find a way through heartbreak. I’ve had some of my own, but something better might happen!” you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Once you set things down and decide to join the card table, you see Peter look up from his cards and scowl.

“You know, this is dull. Where is the louder singing? The wild dancing? The animals? No wonder people die here so much, they become bored!” he spat throwing off his hand onto the table.

“Things here are…a little quiet compared to your mighty empire,” your mother answers with a plastic smile. “But we make do…”

“I’m practically dying of boredom. How the hell was my father friends with you lot?” Peter asked.

Your father’s head ticked to the side, his eyes getting bigger.

“We were friends since our youth, and he loved all of us,” he said, words tinged with a subtle venom.

Your mother cleaned up the cards, and your brother paused his dramatic reading.

“Your highness, we can all retire if you don’t want to play anymore. I think traveling all the way here from your palace must have been exhausting. Is there anything else you need to make your stay here more comfortable before tomorrow?” she asked.

Peter’s eyes glinted up at you. Your body cinched as if ready to fight or flee.

“How about you offer to bring your daughter Y/N to my bedchambers for tonight, that would make me a lot more comfortable!”

Dymov’s jaw dropped. Your father stood up a little to get out of his chair but he was beat. In a flash, your brother slammed his book shut and rushed over, staring the ruler of Russia in the face.

“How dare you treat my sister like one of your whores?! Never!” he yelled.

“It’s my right as your guest?” Peter rebutted with a bizarre calm.

“After we’ve been kind to you? Gave you our best food and wine, housed you in our nicest room?” your brother roared.

You wanted to shrink yet you were frozen. Your father walked to your side and put an arm around you.

“You can have anything you want, but you’re a married man, Peter. My daughter’s dignity is important to me, as is your own wives. I don’t want to insult her as well,” he reasoned.

“Honor? Honor? You all only spit about honor when you live shit lives with shit food and shit company!” Peter argued.

The warmth of your father’s presence left you as he walked forward. Scuttling, your mother stood by you to take your hand in his place.

“Your highness, I knew him like a brother. If Peter the Great was here…” your father warned.

“He isn’t here! And I’m the Emperor now! And he isn’t!” Peter bellowed.

So on. And so on.

You retired early, your mother by your side to escort you as you saw your father and brother arguing back and forth. The only ally Peter had, other than his title, was Dymov holding him back. To protect or stop him, you could not tell.

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

The next two days there was such bad blood it was unbelievable. There were no fun outings as planned. You ate alone. You hardly saw anyone. Any room you walked into; you could hear yelling.

Your father made sure you weren’t alone with Peter, but it seemed his eyes had gotten distracted with the fighting. Hopefully, he was joking. Partly.

One night you snuck downstairs to have a glass of water and heard a few words despite yourself.

“That’s it! I leave tomorrow morning! And you can forget my support and all your fucking soldiers, too!”

“Your highness, our money is about to get tight. And our people need it even more than us!”

“Too fucking bad, then!”

Oh no…Russia is our enemy.

You cried yourself to sleep that night. The idea of now starving. And your brother was about to marry a woman he loved in a fortnight. How could he provide for her or any future children? How would all the people who depended on your generosity fare with reduced funds? Worst of all, Peter had his quick moods and ideas. What if he declared war out of spite from this one visit?

You never met Peter the Great. He sometimes seemed like a kindly fairy god father in some ways he had been mentioned. His love of your house and your country and his friendship with your father. Financial support given when needed. How so much was funded and gifted and provided thanks to his generosity.

How could any of you live after that? Even with the embarrassment alone of being insulted by an emperor?

As you woke up, you only had barely time for breakfast when your mother entered.

“Y/N…we would like to talk to you.”

“Mother, I have breakfast. And I was hoping today I’d practice my music and finish that scarf,” you dismissed.

But from the look on her face you had no choice.

“It’s important. And you must be there.”

She walked you over into the main table where days ago everyone dined awkwardly. The Emperor and his companion were there. Peter pouted yet Dymov’s face looked as if he had seen a ghost and his folded hand were shaking a little.

As you sat down in your chair, every eye looked at you, there was a moment of tense silence.

“Well, what is it?” you asked.

“We’ve reached an agreement with Peter…” your father began.

“Are we going to lose…lose everything?” you asked anxiously.

Your heart was tolling in your eardrums as the words left your lips. It had been the question that kept you worried for days.

“No, your family is going to be fine…” Dymov assured, a hand placed over his mouth.

“You can still have some of my father’s money and support from the Russian crown and our fucking alliance even!” Peter threw in, hands going up.

“But…”

“But what?” you said.

“You have to bring half of your army to fight for me, Sweden’s trying to invade us and we need men. And some of your relatives have to swear loyalty to me. But that promise needs to be secured.” Peter continued

“How? We are already sending you soldiers and subjects? What else would do it?” you asked. Although your gut was telling you the answer.

There was a little pause, but quite an evil smile from Peter.

“There has to be a marriage. Your brother’s betrothed. So you’ll have to marry into Russia to secure it!” he revealed.

Blinking, the wind was knocked out as if you had been punched in the stomach.

“Sir, you’re married to…to Sophie! That Austrian girl!” you cried.

“Sophie? She isn’t Sophie anymore; she’s already christened by my church with a new name: she’s Empress Catherine of Russia now. And since she will be your ruler and you will address her as such! Might as well christen and give you a new name too!” he scolded.

“Of course, I mean I will but…but…who do I have to marry? Do you have any…any brothers?” you fret.

Numbness gripped your hands and nausea gripped your stomach at the thought of marrying a copy of Peter.

“I’ve got no brothers, no male relatives of age or alive for you and I want this contract done soon so…”

His head turned to Dymov with a congratulatory pat on the back.

“It’s Grigor here you’ll have to fuck for life in about a month!”

Grigor’s ears turned pink and he looked up at you, lips tight.

And if I say no? you start to wonder, tasting the words.

But what choice did you have?

“Lady Y/L/N, I promise, this isn’t any easier for me either…” he finally said. “I know this arrangement isn’t coming the way you expected…and I’m just as shocked as you are.”

Would you put your family’s and your people’s future down the drain? Would you let them become bankrupt, ruin your father’s memory of his friend, and make enemies with one of the richest, largest, and most powerful countries because of your selfishness?

Besides, no suitors had been calling you, really. None likable or with good intentions at least. You were getting to the age of spinsterdom. You knew you had to be desperate if you wanted any sense of security for yourself or your family. Who knew if another offer like this could be made?

Taking a deep breath, you looked Peter in the eye.

“I will do it. For my family and for everyone who we look after.”

Peter produced a document agreeing to the engagement, marriage, and benefits it brought. You and Dymov signed it.

Afterwards there was a small service in the chapel to pray for the future and for this marriage. But you were half in another world, unaware this was happening. Dymov seemed to flush between being pale or being red.

Immediately later, they decided all was well and to make plans to leave. Before packing, Dymov approached your parents and you in the parlor.

“I have to alert you of something that will happen, when Lady Y/L/N arrives…there will be a test done by the priests to see if she’s, uh, pure…and it involves checking her…” he gestured to his pants.

You let out a shocked gasp. What kind of kingdom were you about to be thrown into?

“I just wanted you to know, so you wouldn’t be shocked,” Dymov added on.

Your mother took your hand again and rubbed your knuckles soothingly.

“We have family physicians here. Trusted friends. They will do the examination and sign a document right before she goes. There will always be a chaperone until the marriage, to make sure everything is by Russia’s standards,’ she insisted, squeezing your hand extra tight.

Before they left the whole family saw off the Russian party. As Dymov turned to you, his blue eyes darkened slightly. He bowed lowest for you and kissed your hand.

“I’ll write to you as much as I can. You can call me Grigor,” he said.

“I guess you can call me Y/F/N…Grigor,” you replied

“Goodbye, Y/F/N. We will see each other…before the wedding. Soon.”

As kind as the gesture was, your brain had not stopped reeling. It remained even as you stood there, watching the carriage trot away. A pair of blue eyes even looking at you sadly from the window.

He seemed to have the same concern

How could you travel to live in another country ruled by someone like Peter?

And how could you love, much less marry, a man you just met?

Taglist: @queenlover05​

The Great Taglist: @stardust-killer-queen​ @itsametaphorgwil​ @freaking-nix​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @grigorlee​ @themficsilike 

[honestsycrets]

The Gilded Cage V: Broken Veil

❛ pairing | Brother!Oleg x sister!reader, Ivar x RusPrincess!Reader

❛ type | multi

❛ summary | Oleg snaps. 

❛  warnings | incest, graphic scene between Oleg and the Reader, assault, obsession, anger, jealousy, controlling!Oleg, vaginal bleeding, fingering

❛ sy notes | heed the warnings.

Word of the arranged marriage carried ear to ear. Whatever Oleg believed the correct time to be, it was not the image that the old bulls had for your marriage. Vasilii and Dmitrei know rushing you to your room night after night is a disastrous decision. Even so, they held their ground in the pin-quiet hallway, even when Prince Oleg came from his new chambers with Princess Katya and stood in front of your door. Dmitrei grasps the door as if to whirl it open. A motion that is promptly waved off by Oleg, who stands with his arms turned one over another. Oleg’s sharp eyes shift over the shafts of their spears.

“I am sure you have your opinions on my sister’s arrangement.” Oleg glances between one and the other. His lip quirks, amused as he leans forward, hands on the cheeks of the old dark-haired men who stand there.

“We have some,” Dmitrei says, deadpan in his tone.

“I knew you would, Dmitrei,” Oleg acknowledges. “You’re are like father. Just like him.”

“It comes with serving him for so many years,” Vasilii interjects. “And now, his favorite child.”

“Then you understand the arrangement’s need to keep her at home.” Vasilii watches his frown of disgust-- one that wears openly on his brother’s dangerously indignant peppered cheeks. Oleg times his words with Dmitrei’s eyes, catching him in his distaste. “I am arranging the marriage for the upcoming days. I can only imagine that as her sworn olden guards, you would protect her in this venture.”

Vasilii sets his spear against his chest. “We were under the belief that the wedding would be on a later date.”

“So did she,” Oleg motions. “But she is aging. The people are talking. I need her to marry soon. You understand, huh, Dmitrei?”

This is what keeps him in line. A love for a princess they brought up together. The guards nod together-- and Oleg knocks at the door. Within moments, it opens. Oleg pulls back, admiring your new, beautiful dress. Your hands settle over the top of your furry hat, feeling somewhat naked without your usual headscarf. Oleg takes your hand, joyously spinning you around, your dress spinning along with you. You don’t share his excitement. You hardly even want to look at Oleg. Much less be on display for him.

“I feel naked,” you complain, despite your dress kissing the floor. It’s tailored too tight with its gold embroidery and rich red silk. Your hair-- it’s uncovered. Something that is unfamiliar to you. In some regard, you would usually cover it. At least in public.

“What are you talking about?” Oleg laughs heartily. “This is how Katya dresses. You are a vision!”

“Without my headscarf or temple rings?” you complain.

“Who needs these things?”

I do, you wish to say because you feel naked. Another complaint niggles at the back of your head, twisting, cutting your stomach open. You set your hand over his firm bicep, walking in time with him. Outside the hall, you’re met by Katya and a wavering Ivar, who step in time with Oleg to breach the grand doors of his castle.

“I wish to show you something, sister.”

“What is it?” you ask.

He rounds the corner, finding a cage wrought in heavy metal on the ground. Sitting there, as you quickly take notice, is a beast in heavy furs. Your hand comes over your mouth when you realize that the beast is not a beast-- but a human, who regards you with exhaustive eyes in his tiny cage.

“Dir,” you drop your brother’s arm, collapsing on the ground before him. Your fingers curl around the heavy metal separating you from him as if to touch the ring piercing his beautiful and cut up face, but Oleg quickly rids you of that by forcing you back up to stand.

“He wanted to be a big dog, my sweet. See how I’ve given him his wish?” Beside him, Igor barks humorously with Ivar, and you aren’t sure where he’s come from. Only that this isn’t entirely correct either.

“Let him go. It isn’t right. He is--” you beg, standing upright. Ivar lacks any words. Not in the face of Oleg’s scrutiny. He tames his expression evenly. Katya’s eyes boredly rest on the goods of merchants.

“Where he needs to be, hm?” He murmurs, then relaxes into a smile. “Igor.”

His nephew steps up. You glance between the two of them, allowing for Oleg to set your arm over Igor’s, and your stomach curls. Katya took Oleg’s other arm. One day, of course, you would marry the young man before you. He is of a good age. A man for all regards. Yet ten years separate you from him. Igor glances to your arm, almost confused, but not altogether unwanting. It would not be the first time he escorted you somewhere.

“Yes?”

“Your wedding will be in a week. Arrange accordingly.”

With that knowledge, Oleg walks ahead with his new, beautiful wife. It leaves you with nothing and everything to deal with. Igor at first holds all the emotion in his face. Then none of it-- because he was the Prince. The Prince that would soon rule. The weight of that knowledge has been lost to him. A spike of something bitter and awful twists in your stomach, wondering what confusion he was in now. You are locked into this as much as he is, the young man that stands before you, his black hair cut to the side, doing nothing to obscure the shock over his eyes.

“Who am I to marry?” Igor asks you, despite all the evidence laying there before him. It is the worst kind of responsibility, you suppose, and yet you can’t help it. This was what it was and that should make telling him easier, but it doesn’t.

Ivar catches your hesitance to telling him. For what it was worth, he motions toward you. You’re momentarily thankful he would do such a thing-- to speak in the failure of your ability to speak the truth.

“Her.”

Your fingers caught in your mother’s old crown. The Grand Princess was never a title you wanted. It led to the necessity of… politics and all the things that entailed. Being who you were, you would always have this expectation of looking over your back. Now? Even more so. The door behind you opens. Heavy footfalls mark that it’s Oleg back inside the tomb. You don’t turn to meet him.

“You are still upset with me.”

You pause, setting the crown upon the stone coffin. His footsteps carry closer. In a mere few steps, you can feel him behind you, hovering. His large hands shift your long hair over your shoulder, catching your wrist as you bring your hand up to your chest.

“Say something.”

On the back of the weight of all that had happened in the past few days, you stay wordless. Oleg sprung to jerk you around, forcing you to face him. His chest heaves, eyes wide in his frustration.

“Speak to me,” Oleg begs, and yet, screams all at once. He scrambles to find words as he fights with his own frustration. “Please.”

It’s the one and only please you would get that day. Your wrists are caught in his, and you want to jerk back, slap him, punch him. But you’re exhausted from the day’s activities on the back of preparing for this wedding. Seeing the priest-- pretending like you simply didn’t want to go hide in your room. “I have nothing to say to you. Leave me.”

He hisses. “It is a marriage. What about this do you find so difficult?”

“You.” A long pause-- you can hear the loud thumping of your heart and nothing else. You anticipate something. Nothing. Everything from him. “You arranged this marriage out of your own sick selfishness.” You twist your wrists loose, jerking back. Your legs scratch against the coffin, which you so gently set a hand to, revering the Saint inside. “I give you everything I have, Oleg, and you still want more. What else do you want?”

In the absence of words, Oleg snatches you up by your waist. He settles you over the stone grave, and you suckle a forceful amount of air in— looking to the place where his dead wife was.

“Oleg, the—“ his thumbs pry your legs apart. He guides himself between them. “What are you doing?”

His lips press into yours without warning. You’ve barely managed to raise your trembling hand up to his tunic when his lips took yours in, gliding over your untrained lips in a small kiss primed with desperation for a response. They simply take yours in once, then twice, and you move to pull away— but he stops you with his hand to your cheek.

He needs this, you decide. For whatever the reason was, he needed you to kiss him and love him and be his. Everything is suddenly more clear. His beard scratches against your safe face with every shift, and you don’t know what to do— instead ripping your face from his fingers, shifting aside. Oleg’s kisses shift. They catch your shoulder.

“Oleg.”

You gasp as his fingers caress up your thighs, shifting your long dress up and away from your skin. It’s not that he’s never seen you before. He has. Countless times. But it’s defiled now-- the way he looks at you, drinks you in over his dead wife’s coffin. Your hand connects with his chest. A painful gasp falls loose from your lips when he seizes a clump of your dark hair, tugging your head with emphasis.

“Stupid whore--” he leers hatefully, and the tears prick at your eyes, legs quivering as his large hand grasps the mound of your sex. A sob breaks loose from your lips. “I know where you’ve been.”

“What do you mean?” you say, although it comes out as a choked out cry.

“You’ve been fucking that Viking.”

“Ivar?”

“Of course, Ivar. You’ve been visiting him,” he snarls, shoving his fingers forcefully inside of you. You squirm back, tears streaming your cheeks, making sense of what Oleg is doing. The choked out sob that force your eyes tightening shut, closing as if you imagined him away, he would be away. Except-- when they open again, Oleg’s head is turned uncharacteristically. As if he’s made one huge mistake by burying his fingers so deep. When he pulls his fingers free, blood smatters them.

“Fuck.”

His eyes settle down. He glances over your crumpled body, his shoved between your legs. A warm wave of remourse takes him over. Because he knows what he’s done. Or, perhaps, he knows that you would not fight him in his inspection of your body. You would lay there. As you were now, trembling over his wife’s grave.

“My sweet…” he wipes his fingers off on your skirt, smearing your virginal blood. His crumpled fingers come over your shoulders. “I was mistaken. You-- you haven’t been with the cripple. You’ve been--”

“Faithful to you. To Novgorod,” you sob out, twisting and pulling your hips out toward your mother’s crown. You snatch it, allowing for Oleg to step aside. A prompt swing of the great doors is marked out by the boom of a guard.

“Prince Oleg, Prince Dir has escaped!”

You take the opportunity in swiveling your legs onto the ground, rushing to escape your enraged brother by following the guard out, a limp in your steps. You top out on the tile floors, catching Vasilii’s arm. He straightens you, looking you over for signs of a beating.

“Where is Dmitrei?” you gasp out, holding a hand over your womb.

The old bull says nothing, glancing aside.

“He…” he mutters. Oleg steps out beside you, forcing his hand over your shoulder, and your skin crawls around the spot he made contact. You shrug away from him. Oleg finishes his sentence for Vasilii, motioning him in another direction. “Resigned his post. Come.”

You’ve never been unprotected before.

You sat in Ivar’s room, gazing out toward the cut out designs of the palace toward the merchants below. It was a good time before Ivar’s door opened once more. You weren’t sure how you felt about the events of the night. Only that-- what Oleg felt was not what you thought all your life. Love, or lust, you could not place. On his fingers, he held your first time with a man. Nothing like you would have thought, or felt, or was made out to you by your mother. It was a bad thing, you told yourself, and pushed the thought aside for the moment.

“You’re here?” Ivar says, hobbling on his crutch toward you. You shift so that he might walk around you, shrugging the furs off of his shoulders onto his bed.

“Yes,” you reply. “I… heard my brother escaped.”

“So it seems. The dog lives to hunt another day,” Ivar muses with a small cut sigh, collapsing on his bed. His face wears a certain level of humor. Although, his voice is somewhat dispassionate with a lack of trust, and perhaps you deserve that. You’ve been so busy with Oleg.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” Ivar laughs.

“You know,” you say gently, and make your way toward him. Ivar sits upright in his chair. Perhaps expecting some manner of intimidation. Why would you intimidate a man like him? Not a king, but a caring man. You’ve had enough of Princes and Kings to last yourself a life time. Your knees fall onto the ground below you, a painful thump between your legs.

“Don’t… believe I do.”

“For caring for my brother,” you continue, looking over his braces. Your fingers dance over the locks, catching Ivar’s eye as you gingerly unlock the braces, learning as you went to remove them from his firm thighs. You regard him with friendly mirth. “I’ve been a poor sister to my other brothers for Oleg.”

“Oleg has power.” Ivar observes. His words are simple, tone contemplative and cautious. You nod, “But that is not why I love him the most.”

“Then why?”

“Do we ever know why?” you suggest, removing a brace with Ivar’s shift of his hips. “We simply know we love.”

“There is a difference in loving and fucking your wife in front of your sister.”

Had he noticed? The memory burns in front of your mind all of a sudden. Katya’s cocky smile, overthrown arms, excessive acting of Oleg’s sexual prowess. You think, no doubt Oleg did this for a reason. Was he hoping you would be jealous?

“I don’t know about that,” you give him a falsely stern look. “He has always pulled these antics. He used to pull Dir’s budding moustache in the Banya, thwack him with hot cloth.”

“It is an unusually full moustache,” he notices.

“Well, the Rus can grow hair where the Vikings cannot,” you tease, rising up once the second of the braces were removed. Ivar’s full lips curl, as if to ask you what you mean, when your jeweled fingers pinch his tiny moustache above his lip.

“What is that to mean?”

“It means you don’t have hair! You are like a baby!”  

Ivar tsks his tongue, adorably cute, as if he was of the upmost confused-- and conflicted with the statement. He forces himself off of the chair, crawling over toward his bed. “Do you say that because I crawl where I go?”

It’s dread, terrible dread, that hits you at that statement. You rush to sit beside him on the bed, taking his hands clad in gloves, holding them over your chest. “As god as my witness, that was not my intention.”

“I know.” Ivar says, cheesily so. “You are so easy to tease.”

“Ugh!” You throw your hands up, away from Ivar’s hand which lingered at your breast, before pulling back. It’s then that Ivar’s hand shifts down. Not to tug your skirts up or off like Oleg, but to trace the a smear over your lap. When you look to the spot, you suddenly are colored with shame and regret.

“What is this?” Ivar smooths out the fabric. “Blood?”

Before you can respond, Ivar swivels on the bed, pressing his nose against your fabric. That was all it took for him to know that it was. Your cheeks heat up by the realization that he likely knew it was blood Oleg smeared on your dress. “Where did it come from?”

“I…” you stutter, not at all thinking there was anyone left to answer to. For after all, your parents were dead. The one you answered to was Oleg, who would not dare come here after what he had done, insisting that you were in bed with a heathen. “I should not have been sneaking in your room at night.”

Deep down-- you knew this wasn’t your fault. Any reasonable brother would have had a lady test your body. Inspect you like a proper person in place of forcing his fingers up your body. Ivar speaks with a gentle cadence.

“Did he hurt you?”

“It was only an instant,” you explain. “He thought we were together in bed.”

“Only an instant…” Ivar mutters. “May I see you?”

“I do not think--”

“My fostra. She knew how to… ease these things. Her name was Helga.”

“It is not proper for a woman to expose herself to a man.” You say, as if you recited your mother’s words yourself. If she had known the sort of woman that Oleg married… well, she would have locked the Princess Katya in the Banya and burned her to the ground herself.

“It is not exposing,” Ivar insists. “It’s caring.”

Caring. Like you did for Oleg. When his heart was broken, fingers dropping the knife coated in his wife and lover’s blood, you took it from him. You cleaned the blade, brought Oleg to the warm bath, washing the crusty blood from his hair, and kissed every need on the top of his little head.

You never expected to have someone to do so for you.

“Okay,” you lay back, your head upon the downy pillows. You worked the dress up, shyly tugging it past your mound, and watched as Ivar rut around the room. When he at last came back, a cool sting of water ran over your thighs. Oh you exclaimed out loud, even with Ivar’s cloth kindly massaging the ache between your legs.

“It’s not that cold.”

“You put an icy cloth on your--” god preserve you, you couldn’t say what it was, “and see how you like it!”

“I have,” Ivar shrugs. “It is good.”

“That is disgusting,” you laugh, back arching into his careful hands. Then, at last, you release a hopeful sigh. Because Ivar has wiped away the blood, and rolled down your dress, rolling his hands over your belly. It’s good-- his care, his… what you might say is love. Love of healing, you might say. It looks strange on him.

Ivar collapses beside you. He glances over your soft features, pressing his lips close to your ear. “I did not release him for Dir’s sake,” Ivar says. “I did it for Igor. And you.”

“Me?” you laugh. “You hardly know me.”

“Maybe.” Ivar acknowledges. “Maybe I do. I am a god, you know.”

“I’ve been cared for by a god,” you giggle, thinking on for a moment. “I wish I knew where my god has gone.”

Ivar holds back his response.

“Do you mind if I stay here?”

“Here?”

“For the night.” You say-- it’s not as if Oleg didn’t know where you had run off to. He knew that Ivar was your night trip. He knew that you enjoyed him. And now, he knew these trips were not a sexual one. It was safe.

“No,” Ivar turns his hand toward your stomach, quivering as he massaged the growing knots out of your stomach, almost as if you were with child. You roll into his arms, finding comfort when your cheek set against his tattoo. Although his tattoos were frightening-- he was not. His steady heartbeat lined the words that would leave his lips before you collapsed into a whirlwind of exhaustion of the day’s trauma. “Stay with me.”

@tephi101 @alicedopey @supernaturalvikingwhore @tootie-fruity @titty-teetee @queen-see-ya-in-valhalla @ethereallysimple @deathbyarabbit @deathbyarabbit @readsalot73 @natalie-rdr @lol-haha-joke @lisinfleur @hissouthernprincess @marvelousse @dangerous-like-a-loaded-pistol @vikingsmania @wish-i-was-a-mermaid @lif3snotouttogetyou @gruffle1 @cris101071 @gold-dragon-slayer @babypink224221 @wonderwoman292 @naaladareia @beyond-the-ashes @generic-fangirl @chinduda @laketaj24, @peaceisadirtyword, @ly–canthrope @cris101071 @daughterofthenight117 @unassumingviking @ladyofsoa​, @inforapound @winchesterwife27​ @feyrearcheron44​ @readsalot73​ @squirrelacorngliterfarts @gold-dragon-slayer​ @medievalfangirl​ @sallydelys​  @bluearchersstuff​ @affectionrabbitt​ @whatamood13 @notyouraveragegirl17 @igetcarriedawaywithyou​ @unacceptabletatertots​ @ivarandersen​ @stra-vage​ @beyond-the-ashes​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @mblaqgi​ @wuxiesalt @hopplessdreamer​ @therealcalicali​ @rekdreams-fandom​ @moondustmemories​ @athroatfullofglass @poisonedjoinery​ @strangunddurm​ @shookforyoojung​ @peachesnpisces​ @tierneygonzalez​ @hexqueensupreme​ @nohemi2500​ @queenmissfit​ @alicedopey @dmv49 @sallylebecks @terrainhead​ @mybarnesmyhero​ @youurkryptonite @lif3snotouttogetyou​ @vikingsmania​ @looneytunes20033​ @bat-fam-blob @oneofthelothbroks @lovelynerdytraveler @chinduda @whatamood13 @honeyofthegods @ilvebeenabad @queenbeeta @heavenly1927 @holydream @kingniazx @cynthianokamaria @starrmoondaisy @tgrrose @stillreadingfantasy @the-jess-life @didiintheblog

[veorlian]

no. 4 from the 'good parts' list for Joan/Harding for DA DWC, if you fancy? <3

thank you!! this was such a delight to write, this is one of my absolute favourite prompts <3

written for @dadrunkwriting

4. We slept in the same bed for space reasons but now we’re just waking up and there’s something about your bleary eyes and mussed hair from this list

Joan figured that the Maker must have been having a laugh when He, in his infinite wisdom, decided to make the Emprise.

Well, Joan amended, He’d probably been having a laugh when he invented all of Orlais.

It wasn’t a long journey from Skyhold to Emprise du Lion, but it was a pain in the ass. Scout Harding had taken up the role of fourth member of the party by virtue of being the only one with any sense of direction in the snow. And sweet Andraste, there was a lot of snow.

The wind began to whip up, sending small crystals of ice lancing across Joan’s face. Impressive, really, given that she was bundled up to the approximate size of a marshmallow. She could hear distant shouting. She shifted her massive earmuffs out of the way to hear Harding better.

“Storm coming, we’ll need to stop for the night,” Harding called over the wind. Lace, she’d said Joan could call her. “There’s a tavern up ahead I’ve been to a fair few times.” 

Joan let out a tiny sigh of relief. At least she wouldn’t have to spend another night in a tent. With the snow.

Unfortunately, as it happened, the inn was almost full-up. The inn-keeper anxiously explained that there were only two rooms left. Bull and Dorian agreed to share with a surprisingly minimal amount of bickering. Which meant that Joan was sharing with Lace. 

What the inn-keeper neglected to mention was that there was only one bed per room. Joan had blushed crimson red from the tips of her ears down to her toes when she realized. She had the thought that she should nobly decline and sleep on the floor, but she was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

The first thing that Joan noticed when she woke up was the warm feeling of an arm loosely slung across her waist. The pieces from the night before slowly clicked into place as she slowly opened her eyes, squinting in the early dawn light.

At some point in the night, she’d turned to face Lace. She was, at the moment, immensely grateful that she had. She had a front row seat to the most beautiful sight in Thedas.

The bright light, glinting off of the freshly fallen snow, filtered in through the heavy curtains. It highlighted the freckles that dappled Lace’s face like a constellation. Scars danced across her skin, reminders of the number of fights she’d won (and lost). Her long hair, normally neatly braided back, was in wild disarray. In the light, it shone like molten copper.

They say that things that are beautiful are graceful and delicate, and that things that are sublime are overwhelming and unknowable. As the air left her lungs in a rush, Joan realized that Lace was both.

Joan wasn’t particularly given to religion, she’d known too many members of the Chantry for that. But in the early light of the morning, with Lace’s arm wrapped around her, she felt dangerously close to having a religious experience.

That thought was driven from her head when Lace made a small noise and snuggled her face against Joan’s shoulder. Joan’s heart stuttered to a halt, and she momentarily forgot to breathe. She must’ve made a sound, because Lace shifted next to her.

“Morning,” Lace said blearily. Joan could get used to hearing that. For the rest of her life, in fact. She badly wanted to run a hand through Lace’s hair, to find out if it was as soft as it looked.

“Did I wake you?” she asked instead.

“No, I always like to get up with the sun,” Lace explained. A delicate blush dusted her cheeks when she realized her arm was still wrapped around Joan. “Oh! Sorry, I’m a cuddler. Should’ve mentioned.”

“No worries,” Joan said faintly. Lace nodded awkwardly and shifted to get off the bed.

Joan couldn’t say what made her reach out. Loneliness, maybe. A bone-deep sense of want that, for just a moment, had been quieted by the feeling of Lace’s arm around her. Whatever it was, she found herself reaching out for Lace’s arm. Lace turned to face her, her green eyes still soft from sleep. Joan hesitantly cupped her face in her hands.

“I think I’d like to kiss you,” she rasped. A radiant smile broke across Lace’s face, brighter than the sun glinting off of the freshly fallen snow.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

[talpup]

Summary: Yami Sukehiro just wanted to join the Magic Knights and make his mentor proud. He knew there would be trails. He knew trouble would come his way. Knew he would be faced with discrimination for being a foreigner and a peasant. What he didn’t know. Didn’t expect. Was that literal Chaos would come his way. That he and his mentor’s sister would be at the center of world ending trouble. Or that he would fall in love with his mentor’s sister and face more than discrimination; but the jealously of Nozel Silva who loved the same woman he did.

Please remember this fic is rated mature and has warnings of violence, abuse, sexual tension, eventual sexual behavior, and other possible triggers. For a full list of story tags please check the fics AO3 (link to that at the top of my tumblrs homepage).

Chapter 93

Jax, Yami, and Teris landed in Saussy. After a two day flight, all of them were glad to be off their brooms.

Ill tempered, Yami grumbled. “Come next Entrance Exams we really have to get someone capable of long distance travel. It doesn’t even have to be a spatial mage at this point. Air, wind. Heck Fuegoleon can make some kind of fire lion, right? We should’ve brought him.”

Teris frowned at the mention of her cousin, the two still not having made peace from their argument the day of the Star Awards. “He’s not a Black Bull.”

“Still could’ve asked him for a ride.” Yami shrugged.

“Or I could have simply light traveled us.” Teris said.

“As much as hate flying by broom, I’m not rolling the dice on getting burned and blinded unless I absolutely have to.” Jax said.

“I’ve been practicing and gotten better.” Teris said.

“Thanks nice.” Jax quipped.

“It’s not as if we’re not on our way to see an excellent Healer.” Teris played.

Jax stared at her unamused.

“Without rest from taking down that gang you came across on your trip to see Zora, light traveling the three of us this far would taken too much out of you.” Yami told Teris.

“Yami’s right.” Jax said.

They were close enough to the Spade Kingdoms boarder that Jax wanted his Vice Captain's as fresh and full of mana as they could be. He missed the days when Yami and Teris could simply feed off of each other’s mana. No doubt they did too. Glancing at them, he wondered if they would ever be able to do so again.

Taking in the village, Teris thought of the time had Yami gone on a mission only for her to return from her birthday at Nova house to find him mad and refusing to speak to her.

Thinking of that same mission, Jax asked Yami. “You’ve been here before, right? The time you, Bronn, Olsen, and Iban dealt with an outbreak of Wild Fire.”

“Never came into town. Saw the place from the hills though. Lots of caves in there. Either of you?” Yami asked.

Teris shook her head.

“Use to come to Saussy for a day every other week.” Jax told. He smirked, recalling the amount favors he had ended up owing Bronn for the many trips.

“Family?” Teris questioned.

“Girlfriend.” Jax answered. “My first, actually. Was on a mission my first year as a Magic Knight. The thugs we were chasing came upon this girl and her friend foraging in the woods.” He jutted a chin towards the forest to the west of town. “They took the girls as shields. Long story short we took the thugs into custody and she was so thankful and impressed she agreed to let me call on her. We were together for a little less than a year.”

“What happened?” Teris asked.

“The following years Magic Knights Entrance Exams. The Azure Deers took on this girl, Belinda. She caught my eye as soon as Julius introduced us. I never returned to Saussy after that.”

“You just left her!” Teris exclaimed.

Yami laughed at both Jax’s story and Teris’ reaction.

“I was young. And clearly much more uncertain about who or what I wanted than Yami was at that age.” Jax said, giving Yami a wink.

Teris followed her Captain wondering if the second girl he mentioned was the one the Spade Kingdoms Sorcery Lance had eluded to the night of the Wild Fires in Hage and Hornsby.

Jax stopped at the door of the place that matched the address on Gilly’s letters. He thought it best to check in here than go knocking on the door that bore her room number. Gilly might’ve been an adult; but she was still an unmarried woman who lived alone. Jax didn’t want to start the towns rumor mill going or call Gilly’s image into question.

The door opened to reveal an older, though not elderly, woman. “Magic Knights. You lot are sure quick. We even got three of you, huh? Come in. Come in. She’s in the kitchen. Name’s Mora by the way. I own the place.”

Yami shared a look with Teris, not recalling Jax saying anything about anyone expecting them. They followed Mora through to the back.

“He messed her up pretty bad. Good thing she’s a healer else she’d be in a lot of pain. We haven’t had a proper healer in town for years before she came along.” Mora said, over her shoulder.

“You’re talking about Gilly.” Jax realized, looking at the short woman.

“Of course. Did they not relay my message before sending you?” Mora asked.

“Jax! Teris. Yami. Wha—what are you doing here?”

Jax and Teris stepped passed Mora toward Gilly.

“What happened?” Teris asked, taking in the Healers bruises and bandages.

“I can only do so much magic on myself. It has the same effect as on anyone else. If I do too much, I’d just fall asleep.” Gilly explained.

“Which wouldn’t be a bad thing. You need your rest.” Mora said.

“That’s not what Teris meant.” Jax said, finding his voice. He glared at Gilly’s injuries as if they offended him. “Did the guy that’s harassing you do this?”

Gilly’s lip twitched, embarrassed at causing Jax any trouble. “I told Mora not to report it. I can’t believe your squad got the call. Or did you ask Commander Greywright to inform you of disturbances in and around Saussy?”

Teris looked at Jax. When he didn’t respond, she nodded. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Gilly’s eyebrows furrowed. “Then why are you here?”

From near the rooms entrance, Yami said. “Doesn’t matter. Where is he?”

Gilly shook her head. “I don’t want any trouble. It’s why I told Mora not to report it”

“We don’t always get what we want. You should know that better than most.” Yami said.

Casting Yami a look over her shoulder, Teris told Gilly. “Trouble’s already found you. Let us take care of it, so he doesn’t trouble you or anyone else anymore.”

“I can tell you where he lives, but I doubt he’s there. Maybe Seihi knows what holes he hides out in.” Mora said.

“The Village Chief?” Teris asked, turning to the woman.

Mora nodded.

“Where will we find him?” Yami questioned, hoping this Seihi knew. He didn’t fancy spending days searching the countless caves of the surrounding hills.

“Town hall of course.” Mora said.

Ready to go, Yami looked at Jax. But it was clear the Captain didn’t want to leave Gilly in the state she was in. “Teris and I will go. Maybe you should stay here in case he comes back around.”

As unlikely as such a possibly was, Jax gave Yami a nod.

Yami looked to Teris. “Ready?”

Teris gave Gilly a small smile. To Jax, she promised. “We’ll get him, Captain.”

Yami turned away, Teris following him back to the front of the house. He opened the door and blinked at the man standing in front of him.

“Yami? What are you doing here?” Jack questioned, hand still raised to knock on the door.

“I could ask you the same.” Yami said.

“Captain Win got a mission order about some retired lady from Healer’s Hall being beating near unconscious.” Jack said.

“You’re here for the same reason we are.” Yami said, stepping outside.

“They sent two teams of Magic Knights?” Jack questioned, dubiously.

“The woman attacked is a friend of the Bulls.” Teris said, closing the door behind her.

“We’re on our way to see the Village Chief.” Yami told.

“Is that the person who attacked the lady?” Jack asked, following Yami and Teris down the walkway.

“He’s the one who might be able to tell us where to find the guy.” Yami said.

Jack looked over at Teris. “Haven’t seen you since the Wild Fire in Hornsby.”

“Nearly two months is far from long enough to go without seeing you.” Teris muttered, thinking two decades wouldn’t be long enough.

Yami huffed in amusement. While he was curious why Teris couldn’t stand Jack, Yami didn’t care what she thought of his friends. Though admittedly he had tried to get Teris to give Jack a chance the night of the Star Awards, thinking it would be easier on her if she found a way to tolerate the Green Mantis.

Yami gave his friend a shrug, thinking that if an evening of alcohol couldn’t warm Teris up to Jack then nothing could.

Jack grinned at Teris. “I’m impressed, Princess.”

“Don’t call her that.” Yami told.

Jack’s eyes flicked to Yami before focusing back on Teris. “Didn’t think you’d be able to hold your drink against me and Yami. Must’ve gotten a lot of practice at those fancy boring parties you high-ranking folk have.”

Teris smirked, feeling pride at having impressing Jack. Then remembered that she didn’t care what the man thought and faced forward. Truthfully, the only reason she had held her own that night was because her system was use to the higher alcohol content of her preferred mead. Even then, she had gotten a bit tipsy. Though she couldn’t blame the events of that night completely on that.

Reaching town hall, Jack rushed to open the door for Teris, grinning as she glared.

“She doesn’t want to be friends with you.” Yami said, as he passed.

“Who says I’m doing it to be friends?” Jack asked.

“You’re doing it to annoy her.” Yami realized.

Jack’s grin widened.

“Fine. Hate each other all you like.” Yami said.

“I don’t hate her.” Jack said.

“Pretty sure she hates you.” Yami told.

Drawn by the sound of the door opening and closing, a man came out of a side room. “Are you the Magic Knights Mora called for? Or the ones Captain Jax said he was sending?”

“Both.” Yami said. He jerked a thumb at Jack. “He’s official. We were sent by Jax.”

“Master Seihi?” Teris questioned.

“Just Seihi is fine. Thank you for coming.”

“The old woman said you’d know where to find the man who attacked Gilly.” Yami prompted.

Seihi shook his head. “I don’t; but I got someone who can show you. That’s if he’s up to it.”

“Just try and stop me, Seihi.” A boy said coming from the same room the Village Leader had.

“It’s Master Seihi to you.” Seihi said.

“Who’s this?” Yami questioned, looking the kid over.

“One of the village orphans.” Seihi answered.

“Name’s Magna.” Magna said, extending a hand to Yami.

Yami noted the boys bruised face before looking down at the offered hand. He turned back to Seihi. “Can’t the kid just tell us where to find him?”

“He’ll only get in the way.” Jack agreed, smirking at Teris who shook Magna’s hand.

“You won’t find the place without me. He’s hiding out in a cave at Blind Bluff. That’s my spot. No one else knows where it is or how to get there.” Magna said.

“If that were true. Then how’d he know about the place and kick you out?” Yami asked.

“I’m fine and can still fight.” Magna said.

“Fight? Don’t know about that. But you got some spunk kid. Alright, show us this supposedly unfindable place.” Yami commanded.

93.2

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Jax asked.

“Maybe I would have if you showed up last week for Vanessa’s birthday party.” Gilly said, and immediately felt guilty.

Sinking into a chair beside her, Jax sighed.

“I didn’t want to be a burden.” Gilly admitted, feeling foolish.

“You’re not. Looking after you… It’s what Bronn would've wanted.”

“You got real responsibilities, Jax. You shouldn’t have to look after me. I’m a grown woman. I can take care of myself.”

“Clearly.” Jax looked over her battered face.

Gilly’s eyes hardened.

Running a hand through his hair, Jax reasoned. “You’ve seen enough Magic Knights carried into Healer’s Hall. Even trained fighters need someone looking out for them.”

“I didn’t want to be a burden.” Gilly muttered, again.

“It’s not a burden to take care of your own.”

“But I wasn’t a Magic Knight. Wasn’t even married to one.” Gilly finished, softly.

“You made my best friend happy and a somewhat better man. Not to mention the number of times you’ve helped out me and my squad. Magic Knight or not, you’re a Black Bull, Gilly. We take care of our own.”

93.3

Magna had led them through the woods east of Saussy, and up what had looked like a small hill that ended in steep cliff.

“It’s a blind jump down. There’s no lip to land on. You have to swing into the cave.” Magna said.

“How’d you find this place?” Yami asked, looking over the cliff.

“I know every inch of this forest.” Magna said.

“No family or friends?” Teris asked.

“Master Seihi looks out for me. Taught me right from wrong. Did the same with Wright, I think. Too bad he didn’t learn.” Manga said.

“That the name of the guy that attacked Gilly?” Teris questioned.

Magna nodded. “He’s about twelve years older than me. Still acts like a young thug.”

“I don’t like the idea of dropping in blind.” Yami grumbled.

Jack cackled. “You scared, Yami?”

“No, you String Bean idiot.” Yami told the Green Mantis.

“What’d you say, you over-muscled Bull Brained--”

“Yami’s right.” Teris interrupted Jack. “A blind jump is one thing. But we’ll be going from daylight into a dark cave we don’t know the layout of. I’ve done a blind jump before. Hardly fun when there’s a lip to catch you.” She looked at Jack thinking his gangly height would be an asset. But Yami’s weight and size could be a problem. “How’s the space in there?” She asked Magna.

“The entrance is small. You might be able to fit through fairly easy.” Magna told Teris. He looked at Yami. “Don’t know about you. The cave closes in right away and doesn’t open back up for seven or eight meters.”

“We’ll be lined up and tripping over each other if we all go down there.” Jack said.

“I’ll go.” Teris said.

“Why do you get to go? You’re not even suppose to be here. This is my mission, therefore it’s my call.” Jack said.

“What was your rank again?” Teris questioned Jack.

Scowling, Jack muttered. “Stupid Vice Captain.”

Ignoring him, Teris turned to Yami. “You heard Magna. It’s a small entrance and closes in. Even if you could fit, you wouldn’t be able to move. And I highly doubt Beanstalk would be able to properly stand.”

Yami smirked. Teris did often use nicknames so her doing so meant she was either warming up to Jack, or really hated him.

“What are you thinking?” Yami asked.

“I light travel in. Surprise and subdue this Wright and bring him back out.” Teris replied.

“I couldn’t care less about the bastard being blinded for good. But if you’re in the back of that cave and there’s no fire, you’ll be hard pressed to use your magic and unable to light travel out of there.” Yami said.

“I can still do magic in the dark.” Teris argued.

Yami shook his head. “Your magic will be sluggish and not as powerful.”

“It’ll still be faster than most and powerful enough to get the job done.” Teris told.

Magna looked back and forth between the two. “I can help light up the cave. I haven’t gotten my grimoire but I can throw a mean fireball.”

“That’ll work.” Yami said.

“What? Yami. You can’t be serious.” Teris exclaimed hoarsely least Wright hear.

“It’s either that or Jack is going down with you.” Yami said, knowing which she would choose.

“Fine.” Teris snapped. She pointed at Magna. “You stay out of his reach.”

“I just want my home back.” Magna said.

Teris looked at him feeling bad that he lived in a cave with no one to care for him. “I’ll give you a second to get down there and light up your fire ball. Soon as you do, close your eyes and turn away.”

Magna’s eyes narrowed. He wasn’t some kid that needed to be shielded from seeing violence.

Yami plopped a heavy hand on Magna’s head. “She’s serious. After you’ve lit your fireball, look away till she’s given you the all clear.”

“What kind of magic does he have?” Teris questioned Magna.

“You’re just asking that? I thought you were suppose to be the smart one.” Jack taunted.

“Invisibility. He’s so bad at it, he may as well not bother. Instead of turning invisible, he just turns super blurry.” Magna said.

For some reason that made Teris like the man even less. She could imagine someone like him wanting to use his magic to peep in on girls but getting caught and becoming bitter.

Disgusted, Teris grumbled. “Let’s get this over with and get back to Jax and Gilly.”

93.3.2

Yami and Teris let Jack take Wright in since it had been his mission. It would mean the Green Mantis’ would get the stars; but that’s not what this had been about. And neither wanted to have to deal with the man or hassle of taking him in.

As they made their way back to Gilly’s, Yami looked down at Magna. The boy looked a bit sunburned, but no worse for having been near Teris’ light travel.

“Not bad kid.” Yami praised.

Magna looked up at Yami, beaming with pride.

As if he had been waiting on the other side, Jax opened the door at the first knock. “Took you long enough.” He looked at the two Vice Captain's, then the kid they were with. “Did you not find him? Where is he?”

“Easy there, Captain.” Yami passed Jax, Magna on his heels.

Teris entered and told. “The Green Mantis got the call Mora mentioned. Jack showed up and saved us the trouble of taking him in.”

Yami looked back at Teris. “That almost sounded like something nice.”

“Hardly. Though I suppose he does has his usefulness.” Teris said of Jack.

Jax gave a satisfied nod. Healers, Sentries, and Investigations Mages might not receive a pension when they retired; but that didn’t mean the Clover Kingdom completely forgot about their service. Along with sending Magic Knights out when a case involved them, any criminal act against a retired Healer, Sentry, or Investigations Mage always bore the highest sentence. In any case, Jax would be appearing before the sentencing judge to make sure this man got the harshest punishment possible.

“Did he give you any trouble?” Jax asked.

Yami scoffed. “Never got the chance to try. Not the way Teris light traveled into that cave. The guy was badly burned and will be lucky to recover his full sight.”

Jax gave another nod, darkly pleased at that. He looked at Teris wondering how she felt about possibly leaving a man partially blinded and saw that his Vice Captain’s expression was far from troubled. Jax guessed that despite Teris’ claims of not being all that close with Gilly, Teris truly did view the Healer as part of the Black Bulls family. He gave a smile at the thought.

“Thank you.” Mora told the Magic Knights. “That girl has quickly become like family. The way she dots on my boy.” Mora shook her head over come with emotion. Taking a breath she went on. “Saussy went a long time without a healer of its own. But to have someone like Gilly… It was worth the wait.” She gave the Magic Knights a smile. Seeing Magna, she tisked. “Look at you. Go get yourself cleaned up. You’re staying for supper.”

Hungry as he was, Magna didn’t like being told what to do. “Am not.”

Yami placed a heavy hand on Magna’s head. “Men don’t refuse an earned meal after a hard days work.”

Magna looked up at him and then back at Mora. “Fine. I’ll stay. But there better be pudding for dessert.”

Teris smirked at Yami. Turning back to Jax, she asked. “How’s Gilly?”

“Better. She’s resting up in Mora’s guest room. Didn’t want to go back to her place, even with me here.” Jax said.

“It’ll take some time before she’s fully comfortable, but she’ll fine.” Teris said, thinking of the scare she had in the slavers cell during the Nine Day War. She had long since moved past it; but was still visited by the occasional nightmare.

As if reading her mind, Yami stepped closer to her, chest brushing her back.

Hungry long before he got a whiff of whatever was cooking in the kitchen, Yami asked Jax. “Are we staying to eat?”

“After what you told that kid about not refusing a meal, you sort of have to.” Jax smirked.

“It smells really good.” Teris commented.

“It does.” Jax agreed.

“You mean you haven’t been in there sampling?” Teris teased.

“I was repairing Gilly’s apartment door and table.” Jax said.

“Only after I kicked him out telling him I didn’t need no taste tester.” Mora said from the kitchen.

“The woman knows how to wield a spoon.” Jax murmured in warning.

93.3.3

Though they were invited to stay the night, Jax was eager to get home. He undoubtedly had apologies to make to Julius and Greywright for his cryptic note and hasty departure; never mind the journal in his desk drawer waiting to be read. He just hoped the thing had something in it that would give them insight into the Agents of Chaos’ next plans.

Flying over the trees Yami felt a powerful presence from the forest below. It was there one moment and gone the next; making him wonder if it had been there at all.

Eyes lifting from the treetops, Yami looked at Teris and Jax wondering if they had sensed it too. Seeing Teris laugh at some comment the Captain made, Yami looked back down at the area they were passing. It hadn’t been Ki he had sensed; but Teris’ sense of mana was greater than his. If she hadn’t sensed it, he couldn’t say what it was he had felt.

Looking back up, Yami considered mentioning it to Jax and asking to stop and investigate. They were Magic Knights after all. But his gut urged him against it, and his gut had never steered him wrong.

“Yami?” Teris called.

Yami looked over at her, an instant smile creeping onto his face. He couldn’t have stopped the smile if he’d tried. Foolish as it was, even the thought of Teris made him smile.

“You’re beautiful.” Yami said, wind stealing away his words before they reached her.

Teris flew closer to him. “I’m sorry. What?”

“Let’s hurry back so I can kiss you.” Yami told.

“Not if I kiss you first.” Teris said, with a blush.

“You’re welcomed to try, Princess.”

Comments are VERY MUCH appreciated and really make my day. Thank you to those who have left hearts. And a special THANK YOU to those who have recentlycommentedor re-blogged. Itreally meansa lot.

Next chapter snippet:

“They’re fine. Their mission was interrupted by someone claiming to be a member of the Agents of Chaos who says they’re seeking refuge.” Greywright told, wondering if his expression had been similar to Teris’ when he had heard Venice and Bran’s report.

[blackcloverdatabase]

English Translation of Novel 3: Chapter 1 – Gold & Black - (Part 2 of 2)

Here’s the second half of Chapter 1 from Book of Yuno. Again, I don’t have another picture to use as a header for this chapter, but at least there’s still plenty of Golden Dawn and Black Bull action. This half focuses much more on Yuno and his relationship with Asta, both in the present and how they were in the past, but Yami also gets to show off a bit, too.

If you missed Part 1 of this chapter, you can read that here

--- Gold & Black: Part 2 ---

“Any luck, Yuno!? Did you find him!?”

“No…… I guess you didn’t find him either.”

As they were sprinting across the garden, Yuno met up with Asta. After deciding that they needed to find Yami, Klaus and Mimosa searched the North and South gardens, Yuno and Asta searched the East and West gardens, and Bell searched for Yami from above. Yuno and Asta just finished searching the West garden, so they were about to search the East. Asta cursed upon meeting Yuno,

“Dammit, these gardens are too big! Add them all together and you’d have a village!”

“It’s not that big. It just feels that way to you because your limbs are so short.”

“Not that again, you handsome jerk! Even if my limbs are short, I make up for it with my physical strength!”

After saying this, Asta laughed, and said with a huge grin on his face,

“Anyway, it’s been a real long time since we’ve been together this long, hasn’t it?”

“What’s with you all of sudden……? Well, you’re right. When we were in Hage Village, we spent a depressingly long amount of time together.”

“Hage Village…… When I think about how things were back then, it’s almost unbelievable how we’re now in the Magic Knights, performing missions every day as if it were only natural.”

Maybe it was because he was with his old friend, but Asta’s thoughts were very out-of-character for him. However, Yuno replied,

“……No, maybe that’s the case for you, but I was extremely capable even when I was at Hage, and I could use magic very well, so I don’t feel very strongly about this at all. It felt only natural that I would be in the Magic Knights.”

“I definitely don’t want to hear that from you! I mean, you were a total crybaby when you were little! Compared to how you were then, who you are right now is totally unbelievable!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t even remember crying when I was born.”

“Nobody would remember that! Look, I’m begging you, so work with me a little here! I wanted to feel nostalgic together!”

Yuno was lying earlier. Of course he remembered. When he was little, he was a crybaby who always clung behind Asta. He found the world frightening. Always scared, he could never take a step forward. The one who gave him the courage to take that first step was none other than Asta. The Yuno that exists today is here because of that day when they decided to share the same dream, because of that moment when they decided to compete over who would become the Wizard King. Instead of following behind him, he wanted to see the same scenery as Asta. In other words, the reason he has been able to do his best all this time is all because of Asta.

“…… Stupid Asta. We’re in the middle of a mission. Now’s not the time to start acting so nostalgic.”

Of course, he had no intention to ever say all that. It would be too embarrassing. He was sure that, even in the future, he’ll continue to dodge the issue by joking around like this. Besides, the best way to thank Asta is through his actions, not words.

“I don’t intend to lose to guy like that…… I’ll be the one who becomes the Wizard King.”

Recognizing Asta as his rival, he intends to continue competing ruthlessly with him. This is the form that Yuno’s gratitude takes.

Of course, that’s not the only reason he has been working so hard. It may have been Asta who gave him his dream to become the Wizard King, but now, Yuno wants to fulfill that dream through his own will. Well, it’s also a fact that showing the results of their efforts to each other has been a good way to motivate each other’s growth. Besides, he can inspire Asta more by making jabs at him rather than by giving him a simple “thank you”.

Just as Yuno expected, Asta looked dazed for just a moment before smiling belligerently,

“Hah!? It’s obvious that I’m the one who’s going to become the Wizard King!”

“No, it’ll be me. You should become the Nostalgia King.”

“The Nostalgia King!?”

“Ah, there he is! Yuno, I found Yami!”

Bell descended from the sky, circling about through the air as if she were in a great hurry.

“He’s really close by, but something really terrible is happening, so hurry it up!”

“…..Something terrible?”

Bell repeatedly nodded her head up-and-down in response to Yuno’s question.

“I don’t know what happened, but Zable and Yami are already face-to-face!”

 “They’re over there, right beyond those thickets!”

Yuno and Asta sprinted at top speed to Yami as Bell directed them to his location. Asta said with a pale face,

“H-hey, Yuno? Just making sure, but if Zable has this magical tool……... this ‘Original Sin’, then aggravating him would be real bad news, right?”

“Yeah. We don’t know what could trigger a rampage.”

In other words, they were currently in a state of emergency. If Yami, the man known as the God of Destruction, has made contact with a man as arrogant as Zable, there’s no way something won’t happen. This time, it was Yuno who asked Asta,

“Still, even Captain Yami wouldn’t suddenly get violent with someone he just met…. right?”

“…… I don’t know, but about six seconds after I met him, I got iron clawed.”

“………Let’s hurry.”

“Yeah!”

The two surpassed their limits as they ran, crossing through the thicket. Upon doing so, they found themselves in front of a wide court-like field, similar to those maintained for sporting events.  In the middle of that field stood……

“C-captain Yami……. And Zable!”

They were quite far away, so they weren’t clearly visible, but they could tell that the two were in some kind of confrontation. There were countless broken wooden puppets strewn around them, but Zable, at least, looked fine.

…...Or, at least, that’s what they thought.

*THUD*

Zable fell to his knees before collapsing to the ground. His sanity still appeared to be intact, but his face was swollen, and his clothes were torn.

“…………”

And, with his collapse, his wooden doll had crashed into his entourage, causing them to fall to the ground as well. Beaten up, shivering, and shaking, they mumbled things like, “I don’t want to die…. I don’t want to die…,” and, “I’m sorry… I’m just a bug, a worm…”.

Before Yuno and Asta was a picture of Hell, one that far exceeded even their worst fears.

“……….”

The person who created this misery, Yami, casually waved his hand at Asta, Yuno, and Bell, who all stood utterly speechless.

“Oh, it’s you guys. Hey.”

“Don’t just say ‘hey’…… C-captain Yami, this is……”

“Hm, oh, these guys?”

Yami answered Asta’s question while lightly kicking Zable with the tip of his shoe.

“While I was taking a nap, these guys suddenly woke me up, smashed my wine bottle, and, as an added bonus, they even kicked me…... I’ve told ya before. Naps are good. They increase your productivity in the afternoon… I was thinkin’ I should let them experience some of that productivity personally,”

Then, he drew his sword, seemingly out of nowhere, and pointed it toward Zable as he continued,

“And give these guys a nap they’ll never wake up from.”

“That’s called ‘death’, you know!!? Wait, seriously, please stop! We have to ask them some questions!

Asta rushed to Yami in desperation while Yuno dragged Zable’s body away from him. Glancing at Asta, who was now caught in Yami’s iron claw, Yuno called out to Zable,

“Hey, you. Are you okay? I can use a magic tool for healing and… hm?”

Yuno noticed something peeking through the gaps in Zable’s torn clothes. There was nothing written on its cover, and it wasn’t even colored. It was a pure white grimoire. However, Zable already had what looked like his own grimoire in his book pouch. In other words, this was……

“Aah……AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!”

Seeing this, Yami picked up Zable’s followers by the armful and said,

“Hey Goldy, get away from him. Kid, come with me and help me carry away his lackeys to safety…... actually, just throw ‘em as far as you can.”

As instructed, Yuno quickly separated himself from Zable while Asta threw his lackeys as far as he possibly could. Right after doing so,

“AAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!”

From Zable’s body… no, from the white grimoire sprouted a series of white torrents made of mana. They were like large tentacles wriggling about. The tentacles spread radially with Zable at the center and began to indiscriminately attack everything in the garden, gouging the ground and smashing what was left of the wooden dolls into dust. If Yami’s instructions came just one second later, Zable’s followers would have been caught up in the destruction. Seeing Zable clad in a seemingly infinite number of white tentacles, Yami once again said as if this was all someone else’s problem,

“So, it was him after all.  He had that magical tool… what was it called again… that ‘Original Sin’.”

When Yami said this, Asta, who had taken out a large sword from his grimoire, turned his head toward him in disbelief.

“Woah! Captain, you knew!?”

“Yeah. I could tell by reading his Ki.”

“Then why did you beat him up so bad!?”

“Why? Because I was pissed that he woke me from my…. No, I did that because we need to know exactly what happens when the ‘Original Sin’ goes berserk. Also, because I was pissed that he woke me from my nap.”

“That’s the real reason, isn’t it!?”

“Shut up! Anyway, this is just what I planned, so it’s all good!”

The tentacles wriggled about before beginning its attack against Yami and the others.

“…Though, this rampage is just a bit more showy than what I was expecting.”

While slicing through the tentacles that fired toward him, Yami ran straight for the mansion.

“I’ll go evacuate the people at the mansion, so, in the meantime, I’m leavin’ the tentacles to you.”

“Huh!? Ah, yes sir!”

Asta yelled in bewilderment as he swung his sword, cutting down tentacle after tentacle. In contrast, Yuno couldn’t help but think his usual, “You can’t be serious……”. Yuno figured that the reason Asta could react immediately to such unreasonably unclear instructions was that those instructions were part of his everyday work environment. Talk about depressing.

That aside……

“……Asta. There was a white grimoire in Zable’s chest. That was probably the ‘Original Sin’. Our first goal should be to break that grimoire.”

“Got it!”

After hearing Asta’s reply, Yuno opened up his own grimoire. Despite the rapid development of the situation, Asta was Yuno’s rival, and all that effort he had put in as his rival showed.

‘I can’t let Asta be the only one looking good here,’ Yuno thought.

“Let’s go, Bell. Full power.”

“Understood!”

A violent gale blew with Yuno and Bell at the center.

“Uoooooooooooh!!”

Asta rushed toward Zable while dodging, no, mowing down the tentacles that attacked him.

“Wind Creation Magic: Wind Blades Shower”

Blades of wind materialized above Yuno’s head, slicing the tentacles that were approaching Asta from behind and overhead. The tentacles regenerated instantly, but there was a slight delay before it could attack again. Asta pierced through that gap, narrowing the distance between him and Zable. As Asta used his mobility to get closer, Yuno used his magic to support him. Using this strategy, they were able to steadily reduce the distance between them and Zable.

They never planned this out before. This was simply the result of them being together for over a decade. They could understand each other’s thoughts without exchanging words and then anticipate each other’s moves accordingly. For them, cooperating in battle was as natural as breathing.

“AAAAAAH! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!”

Taking Asta’s presence as a threat, nearly all of Zable’s tentacles were sent toward him, surrounding his body in the shape of a dome.

“Yuno!”

Asta turned around and called out to Yuno, but this was not a call for help. Yuno nodded and used another one of his spells.

“Wind Creation Magic: Heavenly Wind Ark”

An ark created by wind took Yuno’s body and flew into the sky, passing over Asta, who was being attacked by the tentacles. His goal was Zable himself. Yuno had dedicated himself to providing back up for Asta when Asta was taking on the tentacles, but now Yuno aimed for the currently defenseless Zable. The two understood each other’s strategy right away, and they began acting on it in an instant. It took a moment later for Bell to understand what they were planning, which made her purse her lips in displeasure.

“Let me in on this, too! I’m a girl with both great comprehension skills and broadmindedness, you know!”

“Bell, you’re too noisy. Also, you don’t really give that impression. We’re going to establish contact with Zable.”

While dodging the number of tentacles that went after him, Yuno made a nosedive for Zable and cast a spell,

“Wind Magic: Crescent Kamaitachi”

A blade shaped like a crescent moon crashed near Zable’s feet, kicking up a large cloud of dust. It’s not that Yuno missed. If that attack had hit Zable directly, his body would’ve been sliced in two. Yuno’s goal was simply to blind him. Taking advantage of the dust cloud he had created, Yuno jumped off his ark of wind and landed right before Zable’s eyes. He quickly reached out his hand for the white grimoire in his chest, the ‘Original Sin’. However……

“Ah…… Gah…… S-stop! Stop it! Don’t…. touch that!!”

Zable clutched the grimoire in his arms as his tentacles began to focus their attacks on Yuno. Without even using his wind magic, Yuno grabbed the ‘Original Sin’. Upon doing so, Zable tightened his grip around it.

“Aah…… Please…… This…… Just this…… Don’t take this away….. please!”

“……..Zable, you were still conscious?”

“…….If I don’t have this….. Aah……. I’ll be……. weak again!”

Ignoring Yuno’s question, Zable only continued to scream unintelligibly. It seems that his consciousness was still intact, but it was terribly clouded. All that remained was his determination not to hand over the ‘Original Sin’.

“I……Ah…… obtained this…… Guh…… and change….d.”

Blood poured out from his eyes and mouth, and even the way he was suffering seemed to change. Yuno didn’t fully understand what was going on, but he could tell that it was a dangerous omen.

“Hey, you’re going to die. Let go of that grimoire.”

“No…… way…… Guh…… I don’t…. want to go back……. to being powerless……”

He may end up severely injuring Zable, but Yuno felt that he had no choice but to use his wind magic. Preparing himself for the worst, Yuno built up his magic, but then,

“…….This world…… is scary…… You can’t survive…… without power……”

Yuno saw that a light of consciousness remained ever so faintly in Zable’s eyes. Those eyes looked as if they would cry at any moment. They were weak, sorrowful eyes. Yuno remembered a person whose eyes and words were like Zable’s. They reminded him of his younger self.

Yuno was able to change because of Asta. However, there was probably nobody by Zable’s side. That’s why he got involved with taboo magical tools, like the ‘Original Sin’. Thanks to that tool, Zable changed. In other words, the ‘Original Sin’ is to Zable what Asta is to Yuno. Because of this, for just a moment, Yuno was a little hesitant to steal the ‘Original Sin’ away from him. That moment of hesitation proved to be a fatal mistake.

“….GAH!”

A single tentacle passed through the gap in his wind magic, landing a crushing blow on Yuno’s side. The impact broke his posture, leaving him vulnerable. Targeting his weakened state, a countless number of tentacles shot toward Yuno.

‘This is bad. I won’t be able to block them in time!’

But, just when Yuno braced himself for the attack, a gust of wind blew past him.

“UOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAH!!”

Asta flew by with astounding speed, striking Zable with the flat end of his sword and launching Zable’s large body into the air. Then, with the edge of his sword, Asta sliced the ‘Original Sin’ that fell from Zable’s chest in two. With that, the ‘Original Sin’ turned to dust and dissipated into the air. At the same time, the tentacles also faded away.

“Hey, are you all right, Yuno!?”

After confirming that all the tentacles had completely disappeared, Asta ran toward where Yuno sat, having fallen from exhaustion. It seems that, during the battle, Asta was able to hack his way through the tentacles to make his way to Yuno.

“Yeah…… Sorry.”

“Don’t give me that! You totally spaced out when you saw the enemy’s eyes! That’s not like you at all!”

Though Yuno had only hesitated for a brief instant, Asta had seen right through him.

“……Jeez. Here, can you stand?”

Asta said with a smile as he held his hand out to Yuno.

“………”

Yuno smiled wryly to himself. ‘Asta was to Yuno what the ‘Original Sin’ was to Zable’. Even if it was just for a moment, Yuno berated himself for thinking something so foolish. The ‘Original Sin’ was nothing more than a tool. Moreover, it was a dangerous tool which gifted the user power without effort, a tool that could easily be used for the wrong reasons. The existence beside Yuno is a person who made him stronger by working hard and by competing with each other. When one of them does something wrong, the other can scold him. When one of them can’t stand, the other holds out his hand so that they can walk together again. For Yuno, Asta is……

“Get a hold of yourself, Yuno! You’re my rival after all!”

“……Yeah.”

Yuno took Asta’s hand and stood up, and with a small smile said,

“………You saved me. Thanks.”

Yuno then looked at the fallen Zable. If Zable had someone like Asta beside him, then this probably wouldn’t have happened to him. Conversely, if Yuno didn’t have Asta beside him, then maybe he would have been like Zable, too……

“……..Ughh……..Ugh”

Hearing Zable’s groans, Yuno and Asta raised their guard. However, they didn’t feel any evil mana from him, and it didn’t look like he was going to start moving. He was simply moaning out of pain.

“……Bell, Asta, you two should go look for Mimosa. I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Bell and Asta nodded energetically before heading for the mansion. Noticing Yuno’s presence, Zable spoke as if it were difficult for him to even talk,

“……I-It looks like I…… caused a lot of trouble for you…… I’m sorry……!”

‘So that’s what his real personality is like?’ Yuno thought.

Dealing with the aftermath of their mission went quite smoothly overall. First, Mimosa treated the injuries of Zable and his followers. While she did that, Yami and Klaus explained what happened to the guests and the sponsor of the party. In addition, they enacted a gag order on everyone present, elaborated on the dangers of the ‘Original Sin’, and emphasized that it was a tool that nobody should dabble in.

“……I see. You obtained it at the black market…… That means it will be difficult to identify its source.”

After Yuno, Bell, and Asta contacted the Magic Knights Headquarters and requested transportation for Zable, they all stood guard as they waited for the Knights to arrive, but……

“Perhaps. Moreover, this was over a month ago. The store I bought this from might not even be around anymore, and even the store owner said that the details of the ‘Original Sin’ were unknown. I’m sorry that I can’t be more helpful……”

In complete contrast to how he was before, Zable answered Yuno’s questions humbly as he bowed his head in shame. Once he was released from the curse of the ‘Original Sin’, it was clear that he was an extremely gentlemanly young man. He obediently accepted his crimes, testifying how he had obtained the ‘Original Sin’. Bell and Asta were ready to give him a lecture, so seeing him like this was a bit of a letdown. After experiencing such a surprising change (well, Zable simply reverted back to normal), Zable continued to speak with unease in his voice,

“However, the store owner did say... the ‘Original Sin’ raises its owner’s magic power during battle, but when not in battle, it sucks away its owner’s magic and stores it, little by little. Also, once it accumulates a certain amount of magic, it self-proliferates by creating ‘manuscripts’. That means that my copy is probably not the only one on the market.”

“……Well, you’re probably right about that. Your copy also wasn’t the only one that store was selling, wasn’t it?”

“That’s right. Of course, the degree that it changes its owner’s personality and the amount of power it gives and takes is probably different for each manuscript, but……”

‘This looks like it’s going to be trouble…...,’ Yuno thought to himself as he clicked his tongue. Even Zable, a gentle person with very weak mana, transformed into that just by obtaining the ‘Original Sin’. If an evil person with strong mana were to obtain the ‘Original Sin’, then they would be even more troublesome. Reaching the end of his patience, Asta interjected,

“I’ve been thinking this since you started talking, but, you kinda seem… like a real nice guy! Why did you get involved with such a dangerous tool!?”

“A ‘nice guy’, huh? Ku ku, it makes me happy to hear that, but……  you can’t survive in the world of nobles with kindness alone.”

“I was blessed with being born into a powerful family, but I have weak mana and a timid personality…… Nobody ever said anything bad about me to my face, but behind my back, they were anxious about appointing me as the next head of the family, and they even started to question if I would be able to get married and leave an heir.”

Not expecting his problems run so deep, Asta’s mouth hung open, making Zable laugh at himself derisively as he continued,

“I guess I was rushing. I wanted… magical power, at least, so I ended up depending on such a dubious tool, resulting in this mess…. I’m truly sorry for being such a bother.”

As he finished, Zable bowed his head toward them.

“And, thank you for stopping me. I’ll be sure to reward you handsomely after I’ve paid for my sins.”

“Huh? N-no, you don’t need to do that! You’re such a nice guy that…... I kind of feel bad for arresting you.”

“If a time comes when even a pathetic guy like me can start over again, I’ll be sure to work hard and obtain real strength. Instead of relying on tools, I’ll change myself with my own strength!”

“Jeez, you’ve left nothing for me to lecture you about! H-hey Yuno, can’t we get this guy pardoned or something!? He just got possessed by some bad mana for a bit! I’m begging ya, let’s just look the other way this time!”

Asta misguidedly begged Yuno with tears in his eyes. Yuno ignored him and said to Zable,

“As a goal, ‘I want to change’ is far too vague. It’s better to set that as a long-term goal while setting short-term goals as well. That will give you a roadmap that’s easier to follow.”

“Huh? Y-yeah……”

Zable replied vaguely. Yuno’s advice was so abrupt that Zable didn’t realize it was directed toward his earlier decision.

Yuno averted his eyes a bit before continuing,

“Long ago, I knew a person who would say the same things you’re saying now, but…… I think if that person had been given this type of advice back then, things would have gone more smoothly for him. It’s no big deal, but…… try it if you can.”

It was too embarrassing for him to say out loud, but that person was, of course, himself from the past. However, there was a time when he recklessly trained with his magic, and he wondered if he would’ve been able to train more efficiently if someone had given him that advice. Because of this, Yuno wanted to meddle just a bit.

“……Thanks to his efforts, he was able to join the Magic Knights.”

And while he was at it, he decided to try meddling even more.

“You sort of resemble that person, so I’m sure you’ll be fine…... Do your best.”

“…………!”

Zable looked taken aback before looking down with a small smile on his face.

“’You’ll be fine’ and ‘Do your best’…… huh? Ku ku…… Nobody has ever said that to me before…… I see. So, being told such words makes one this happy…….”

He continued to smile as he said this, but as he continued, his eyes became clouded with tears. Yuno didn’t feel that he said anything important to him, but he hoped that his words would prove to be at least a little bit useful to Zable, a man who resembled his former self so highly. If his words do prove useful, he’ll be very happy. Such was the heartfelt atmosphere Yuno and Zable established before Asta destroyed it by saying,

“H-hey…… what are you talking about, Yuno!? We’ve been together since forever, and I don’t remember anybody like that! This is scary! Tell me straight, what the heck did you see!?”

“Are you stupid? Nevermind. I already know the answer to that.”  

“……Ah, I know! You’re talking about your past self! Ha ha~, but since you were embarrassed about it, you said it was someone you knew! I’m right, aren’t I!?”

“You’re so tactless. Well, I already knew that.”

“Ah, there they are! Everyone! Over here!”

At that moment, a voice came from the mansion, followed by the sound of multiple footsteps.

“……Ah, that girl, it’s her, isn’t it!? That girl who was making eyes at Yuno, Dina!”

Before this, Bell was sitting bored on Yuno’s shoulder, fidgeting about. However, hearing Dina’s voice made her hiss like a cat. Just as she suspected, Dina was coming toward them from the mansion, with the girls that were with her earlier behind her…… no.

“That boy is Yuno-kun!? Oh gosh, he’s a total hottie!”

“I saw your battle earlier~. You were suuuuuuuper cool~!”

“Hey, that Asta kid is pretty cute too once you get a close look at him!”

Dina brought along several dozens of girls with her, who were all frantically running towards them. Asta shouted as he gazed at the sight in wonderment,

“H-hey! What’s with those girls!?”

“These girls said they all wanted to talk to you two after watching you fight! Of course, I feel the same way!”

‘For a selfish reason like that……,’ Yuno was already sick of that kind of stuff. Bell inflated her cheeks more and more as she protested,

“You obviously shouldn’t! Anyway, Dina was already like this, but what about the rest of you!? You all were acting coldly toward Yuno and the others earlier, and yet now you’re trying to act all chummy with them!”

“Now, now, don’t say that, little spirit with a freakin’ huge forehead. The organizer of this party also wants to thank us.”

Yami entered the conversation as he approached from behind the gaggle of girls.

“He says he’ll set us up with all the booze we want for free…. Heck, he’s even willin’ to setup an afterparty for us. He’s doin’ all this for us, so it’d be rude to refuse him, right? Plus, it’s free booze.”

As usual, he made no attempt to hide his real intentions. Klaus, who stood beside him, coughed once before speaking,

“Moreover, there are people who want to share a drink with Mimosa, Captain Yami, and myself now that they know we are Magic Knights. They collaborated with our investigation, so we cannot simply turn them down.”

What he was saying certainly sounded plausible, but it sounded forced as he said it, and it looked as if he was checking Yami’s expression the entire time. Apparently, this middle manager was a victim of the God of Destruction’s harassment once again today. Beside him, Mimosa was shivering with tears in her eyes as she said to Asta and Yuno,

“Y-Yuno-san, Asta-san…… Don’t tell me… you guys aren’t coming? You guys won’t leave me behind at a…… at a matchmaking party, will you?”  

In response to her supplications, Asta scratched his cheek.

“I don’t really get what you’re talking about, but this means I’ll get to eat more tasty food like earlier, right? Then, I’ll definitely go! Now that you mention it, this has been bothering me for a while now, but what’s a ‘matchmaking party’?”

Asta said absentmindedly as he headed toward the mansion. Watching Asta’s back, Yuno had one thing to say as he sighed with a blank expression on his face,

“……You can’t be serious.”

 After that, they handed Zable over to the Magic Knights who arrived at the mansion, thoroughly conveying his extenuating circumstances. They also described the entire battle to the Magic Appraisal Division, reporting that the ‘Original Sin’ disappeared once it was destroyed. Once that was finally done, they returned to the party. What was waiting for them was a flood of nobles, who rushed toward Yuno and the others with hearts aflutter, but…

“Hey, you! You’re wearing too much perfume! You’re trying to leave your scent on Yuno, aren’t you! And you over there! You’ve been holding that small glass with both of your hands for a while now!  You’re trying too hard to look cute! Women like you aren’t qualified to talk to Yuno!”

Bell floated above Yuno’s head, dissing all the young women who were flocking to him,

“When it comes to weight training, you might have the impression that you’re supposed to train all your muscles at once, right? But, that’s not true. It’s important to concentrate on training one portion of your body at a time. My recommendation is…...”

Asta was talking about weight training,

“P-personally, I think that a healthy relationship between a man and a woman should start by exchanging a diary with each other! I-I also think that this should be done for a two-year time period!”

Klaus transformed into the incarnation of straight-lacedness,

“O-oh dear! Your breath smells really bad! Does anybody have any magic to fix this man’s breath!? I’m begging you, please save me!”

Mimosa was mowing down any man who attempted to woo her with her natural airheadedness,

“Huh? My annual income? Dunno. Now that I think about it, I’ve never bothered to count, cuz’ I’m usually broke by the time payday comes, anyway. You’re askin’ me what I spend it on? Gambling. Also, alcohol and smokes.”

With lifeless eyes, Yami took swigs of his drink as he blithely talked about his risky lifestyle. As they became unable to endure another second of this matchmaking party from hell, the nobles left the venue one by one. By the time an hour had passed, no one remained except for the Magic Knights of Gold and Black.

And, on the following day,

“This is the written report by Klaus’s group concerning their contact with the ‘Original Sin’ a few days ago.”  

Vangeance was sitting in his office at the Golden Dawn’s headquarters. The man who presented this report to him was his close aide, Alecdora Sandler. Vangeance thanked him as he took it, reading it over carefully and silently.

“……I see. As we thought, when the ‘Original Sin’ goes out of control, it manifests its tentacle magic. This report is consistent with the others we have received.”

“Yes. We are still unsure of what causes it to run wild and whether tentacle magic is the only type of magic it can manifest… there are still many things we do not know, but, slowly but surely, we’re gathering information.”

“Right…… Thank you for the report. You may leave now.”

Vangeance said before returning to reading the report in silence. Sandler made a short reply and a three-leaf salute before leaving.

“……. I see. So, it amplifies its owner’s magic……”

Shortly after reading the report, he stared out into empty space. And, though there was nobody else in the office, he spoke as if there was someone with him.

“……It really is just as you said… Patry.”

He said to himself as a cryptic smile floated to his lips.

--- Gold and Black: The End ---

Sometimes, it may seem like I’m taking liberties with the translation by adding slang, but it’s really there in the Japanese text. Case in point, the light novel literally uses the word “Diss” when describing how Bell was “dissing all the young women”. For some reason, I can’t help but crack up when I see slang like that written in a Japanese novel.

Zable turned out to be a lot different than what I was expecting. I love how Asta’s reaction to being flirted with is to talk about bodybuilding. And gosh, Mimosa can be savage when she panics.

For obvious reasons, Patry isn’t mentioned at all in the other two light novels, but I’m glad his existence (and Mereoleona’s!) finally gets acknowledged now that we’re all the way in novel 3. He even gets to make an appearance… all the way in chapter 4 of Book of Yuno, which is what I plan to work on next!

[onepdumpsterfire]

As long as you don’t question why, what was is? 1,600? people are living together or at least like 8 of them, this’ll  make sense.

Thatch and Reader are indeed together in this fyi

Thatch X Reader

“What are you doing?” asked Edward Newgate or ‘pops’, as all of his kids called him. “Taping pigeon heads to all of Thatch’s faces,” I replied as I continued to deface their family  photo wall, “I wanna see how long it takes for him to notice.” Stopping my movements, I turn to face him, “It’s fine, right? It’s only for a little while.” Pops laughs, amused by our shenanigans. “It’s fine, my child.” Pops walked past me to his study.

Thatch and I have been pranking each other ever since I put Viagra in his drink while we were playing poker with some of his brothers then left him to deal with the embarrassment by himself. At the time, when Ace and I found it while looking through Marco’s things we’d thought it would make a funny prank.

Let me explain. Marco, one of Thatch’s brothers, is a doctor; or at least that was his reason for why he had the Viagra in the first place. That excuse was absolute bull and all three of us knew it. Anyway, Ace, another brother of the many Thatch has, and I were being little shits as per-usual. We were going through Marco’s things, waiting for him to give in and let us borrow his car like he always does, after we annoy him for a little while. We told him we just wanted to take it for a spin, but we really wanted to race each other and learn how to do wheelies. He knew it would be something stupid like this; that’s why he was trying not to relent this time.

Honestly, I’d found it really funny at the time, so I laughed about it once I found the little bottle of pills. 

“What’cha find?” Ace walked over from where he was looking, so he could get a better look at what was in my hand. 

“Pffft. I didn’t know you needed help getting it up, bro.” Ace chortled out, making Marco, who was on his bed trying to ignore us with his computer, shoot up and at us.

“I-I have these because … because I’m a doctor,” Marco stammered out with deflating confidence, “I have pills laying around everywhere.”

“Well, that’s concerning,” I send him a shit-eating grin.

“Here,” he defeatedly tossed Ace his keys. 

We couldn't contain either of our laughter after Marco pushed us both out, telling us to just leave him alone then slammed the door on us. 

“Did you see how red his face was?” Ace asked between giggles. “It’s ‘cus I’m a doctor,” I mockingly parroted before falling back into a fit of laughter, “yea right.” Suddenly our hysterics were interrupted by a loud banging from the other side of Marco’s door. Hurriedly, we got up and ran downstairs before he decided to take back his keys.

Downstairs Ace turned to me to gloat about what he’d stolen. “Look what I got,” he thrusted the bottle of pills in my face, devil horns practically growing on his head with the devious scheme he must have gotten. As fun as it is to go along with his antics, he left himself wide open. How could I not poke fun at him? I’d be a terrible best friend if I didn't take advantage of this wondrous opportunity. 

“You took the Viagra? Didn’t think you were that old,” I chortled at him with a shit-eating grin on my face. Closing the distance between us, I lowered my voice, “you need a cane too?”

Ace glared at me as he shoved his hand on my face and pushed me away, “No! Not because of that!”

“Yeah, okay. Whatever you say, gramps.” I continued to mock his growing agitation, “really seem defensive about it though.”

“Shut up,” he huffed, “ I just thought it would be a funny prank.” 

“Getting someone hard is...funny to you?” I clasped both of my hands in front of my mouth before pointing them at him, a pity-filled look on my face. “Do you need some help? ‘Cus I think we can find a good thera-”

“You’re not funny, shut up.” Ace rushed to grab one of the couch cushions before throwing it at me. “I’m serious, Ace! I’m here if you n-” He threw another pillow at my face. “Oi! I'm trying to be a good friend!” Giggling, I picked up both pillows and hurled them back at him.

Our little pillow fight was short-lived; we had to stop when Vista came in and yelled at us to clean up the mess we’d just made. Though our fun may have been killed, the wheels were turning in Ace’s head. He whispered to me that he had a plan and to just go along with what he did; then LEFT ME TO CLEAN THE WHOLE MESS BY MYSELF. It wasn’t much but there was no need to tell me to go along with anything if he was just gonna leave me. Betrayal? Payback? Backstabbing? Who knows but by the time he came back there was a change of plans.

Ace wanted to do a bit of gambling. And what's best for that? Poker. He invited some of the others in the house to come play with us, making sure to invite two of the biggest gamblers here. Jozu and the man of the hour, Thatch. Those two were crucial to our plan happening because not only were they two hard-headed to let the other win, they also had this weird gambling rivalry going on. Before the game, I’ll slip some of the pills into Thatch’s drink and then fold. Leaving him to choose between admitting defeat to Jozu or to keep being stubborn to the bitter end. 

To make sure our plan went perfectly I was sent to gather the drinks and snacks for the game while Ace was standing guard with the others; waiting for my return, stopping them from going into the kitchen until the deed was done. Can’t say it didn’t irritate me a little. Here I am walking with a shit-ton of chips and dip, making a second trip for the seven drinks, but I digress. 

It didn’t take long for me to get everything together and slip the aphrodisiac into Thatch’s drink; now everything is in place. All that’s left is to take my seat and wait for the fated time.

--

About halfway through the game, I felt Thatch slip his hand between my legs. Resting it just below my sex; roughly gripping my thigh as he uncomfortably shifted in his seat. A sign from him that he wanted to move somewhere to be together for a while, but before he could get the chance to pull us away from the game I so casually remembered that Marco had lent us his car keys and folded.

“You guys are just too good at this,” I fake pouted, throwing my hand in. Two games in and never even came close to beating the gambling addicts of the table.

“Hey, Ace. Didn’t Marco give you his car keys earlier? Let’s take it for a spin before he regrets it.” I pulled away from Thatch’s grip to go stand by Ace. 

“Didn’t take you for a sore loser, Y/N” Vista commented, “Weren’t you guys the ones  who wanted to play poker in the first place?” Jozu remarked giving us both a side glance. “Yepp,” Ace chimed in, popping the ‘p’ for added effect. “But before he regrets it we gotta go now. He rarely lets us borrow his car,” shrugging he got up to leave.

“He lets you borrow it all the time,” Jozu accused him, smelling something fishy about the whole situation. He can be too intuitive for his own good, but considering what we’re doing, I doubt he’d be able to figure out what’s happening. I hope…. 

Ignoring the accusation all together Ace, an excited Haruta who was yelling about joining us, and I followed him out. 

“Give it up. Marco let him borrow it until he scratched it last month; I’m surprised he even let them borrow it this time.” Rakuyo said after we’d left, doubling the amount he’d put in, full confidence on his hand. “Really? That was such a nice car too. Wonder how he convinced Marco to let him borrow it again.” Vista chimed in, engrossed more in his cards than the conversation.

“They’re definitely up to something though,” Jozu gave the quiet Thatch a side glance, taking his silence as a bad hand. “Oh, yeah. Definitely. Those two together are always up to something.” The statement was shared by all of them. They knew too well than to give us the benefit of the doubt.

Thatch finally decided to speak up as well. “Actually, I think I still have some paperwork to do so I should probably…” he pushed his chair back, hoping that when he got up he'd be able to hide his erection from the group. “Chickening out, are you thatch?” Teased Jozu, “couldn't even finish the game like a man, but I understand if your beginner's luck has run out. But stick around and I’ll show you a good hand.”

Eye twitching and unable to drop the gambling rivalry the two had going, Thatch scooted his chair back in with uncomfortable determination and the stubbornness that outmatched his girlfriend’s, “beginner? I’ve played this for longer than you have. If you could stop running your mouth maybe you’d have a better chance to beat me, but until then I won’t let you have such an easy win.”

--

Normally their games last a bit longer but after an hour or so I got a call on my phone. Guess he couldn’t keep it up for much longer. 

“It's Thatch,” I made a motion for Haruta to lower the music. “What's he want? Did he lose Jozu and came to cry to you about it?”

“I’d know if you’d give me a second to answer,” I put the phone up to my ear and a finger to my lips so that he’d shut it for a second.

On the other side of the line, I was greeted with Thatch’s needy lust-filled voice. “Hey, babydoll. You should hurry back here,” He breathed heavily on the receiver before grunting. “I want you on your hands and knees, begging to suck on my co-”

“I'm gonna stop you right there, you're on speaker” I interrupted him, my face beet red, one more word from him and I’d spontaneously combust. Thatch sputtered on the other end “O-oi take me off speaker.” I laughed at his expense. He wasn't really on speaker, but he didn't need to know that.

On my end, Haruta was looking at Ace for answers, but he was too busy laughing his ass off, already knowing what kind of call I'd gotten. “Hey tell me what’s happening! Don’t just laugh!” Haruta whined at Ace, but all he could do was say bits and pieces of the story amidst his laughter. Leaving him Haruta put together what he’d heard. Once he finally understood he made a disgusted face. “Gross! Thank god you actually didn’t have it on speaker,” the all too innocent Haruta said, trying not to think what his brother could have possibly said to me.

Thatch later found out what I had done because blabber-mouth Haruta went home to tell loose-lipped Rakuyo about what had happened. Rakuyo, having thought it was funny, told everyone else, much to Thatch’s dismay. And thus the pranks started.

At first, Ace was in on it too; up until he fell off a tree trying to drop spilled milk balloons on me and fractured his wrist. Pranks were banned for a while but soon continued when Thatch connected party poppers to the door so when I opened it they would go off in my face. In retaliation, I put a lot of food dye in his coke bottle so his mouth would turn black. He changed the password to my phone with a clue as the lock screen background. The answer was the beginning lyrics to the song ‘baby shark’.

Once I'd managed to get in I found that he'd downloaded a ‘shark theme’ into my phone. Then later I found out he also put the shark theme as my ringtone. I got him back for that, then he did the same. we kept going back and forth in a never-ending cycle up until we got to this point.

Finishing up putting pigeon heads on Thatch’s pictures, except for one that was a chicken head, I taped a drawing that I’d made to the back of the chicken headed Thatch picture. I’m sure he thought he’d won when the pranks ‘stopped’ though he’d soon find out why.

About two weeks it took him to notice. I’d come over to help Izo with some things when out of nowhere we hear ‘what the hell? Y/N!’

Giggling I waited with Izo to see what he’d do, and he didn’t disappoint. He hadn’t known that I’d come over so he gave me a call. “Hey there, love of my life. How are-”

 “Y/n did you put-”

“It's rude to interrupt someone, babe. But yes, yes I did.” I pause for dramatic effect, “almost two weeks it took you to notice.” I hung up on him, opting to yell the last part up the stairs so that he could hear it from where he was, “you should check behind the chicken!”

Thatch's P.O.V.

After they’d hung up I didn’t expect to hear their voice yell at me to look for a chicken, so I may have jumped up a bit. Regaining my composure I yelled back “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Stop yelling,” Jozu came out of Pop’s study with him in tow.

“Maybe check the pigeons you failed to notice for half a month?” Pop’s gave his input as he walked away from both of us. “Did everyone notice them except for me?” I asked rhetorically, irritated at my lack of observance.

 “Yes, we did,” Jozu pointed at a picture that was on the far right of the wall. That must be the infamous chicken headed Thatch. I lifted it off the wall, feeling a piece of paper crinkle behind the frame. Turning it around I was met with a drawing Y/n made. “You’re such a dork,” a goofy smile plastered on my face.

“What is it?” Jozu moved next to me to have a closer look. “Ah! So you are a chicken!”

[star-birthmark]

The Ultimate Vow (A Prosciutto Timeline): Prosciutto X Reader

Here is the really long Prosciutto fic that I’ve been working on amidst finals. Here’s the thing: you’ll see it’s another dramatic telling of a La Squadra childhood, using the name HCs I posted. I just couldn’t get this out of my head but I don’t want to be known as a one-trick pony. 

Anyway, without further ado: Prosciutto X Reader (4.5k words)

CWs: parent/child arguing, smoking, not sfw-ish

“And they all lived happily ever after. The end.”

1980. The young woman closed the book and looked down at the two contrasting faces of the two children before her. One of them, her daughter, was grinning ear to ear in excitement, her cheeks beautifully rosied in wishful thinking. The other, her beloved son, about three years younger and five years old, in disgust at the romantic fluff, his little overbite biting into his lip in thought, a tick he always had. 

“Oh… what I’d do to have a happy ending like that…” 

The little girl hummed pleasantly, standing up from her spot and swaying back and forth as if dancing with her imaginary prince. Her younger brother rolled his eyes and laid back in his bed as his sister waltzed with herself across the bedroom floor. 

“Lucia that’s enough excitement for one night. Come join Andino, that story was supposed to put you to sleep.” 

The little girl pouted. “But I can’t just go to bed now. Not when I’m picturing the perfect romance with my future husband and me!”

A young man came up behind his wife and they together stared down at their children in bed with loving smiles. Still, the little boy wasn’t having any of it, he was too tired. 

“Will you knock it off Lucia?” The little girl ignored him.

“Oh, it’ll be perfect! He’ll be just like daddy and take out all of the bad people in the city. Then my love’ll meet me and the two of us will fall madly in love under our hero names until we’re finally ready to settle down and then, there’s gonna be all these fireworks, he’ll whisper his real name to me and we live happily ever after. Ah! It’s so romantic!” 

The little boy’s interest remained peaked, turning over to his sister at that last part. 

“What do you mean his real name? You’re gonna marry someone and you don’t even know their name?” 

His sister rolled her eyes and shook her head at her silly younger brother, all while their parents look at each other, perplexed how their daughter knew such a mature practice. The father cleared his throat and knelt down to his son. 

“You see well… there’s this common practice that since it’s dangerous to do what I do, I have to stick with my ‘hero’ name during most times of the day. When I was younger, before I met mom, I went by my hero name at all times for safety. It’s a show of love son, to tell someone your real name. It shows that you’re willing to trust someone with your true self, even when others want to use your true self against you. I love your mother, and I trust her. And one day you’ll meet a girl who you’ll trust, and as an ultimate vow, you’ll tell her your real name. And if she’s a ‘hero’ as well, then she’ll tell you her real name. And Lucia will one day have a man say his real name to her. It’s the ultimate show of trust.”

The little boy sat in his bed stunned, infatuated with the idea of one day meeting someone that he could put his true self towards. Staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom after everyone had left, he vowed to himself that he would find this girl one day if it was the last thing he did. 

1988. The air hung heavily in the kitchen, the only sound being the occasional winces spilling from the young male’s lips as his mother quickly moved to disinfect the cut at his temple. He continuously tried to nudge her off, grumbling that he could take care of it himself, but the woman kept him tightly in his grip. 

“We have to hurry.” The preteen glanced over at his mother, a confused look dawning his face.  

“Why?” The woman turned her head hearing the clinking of keys right outside the front door, and her eyes widened in desperation. 

“You’ll find out soon.” She dropped her supplies and stood up, wiping off her hands on a nearby washcloth before taking hold of the boy’s shoulder.

“Leave. Go to your room. Now. Join your sister.”  The young teen, only about thirteen years old, looked back and forth between his mother and the loud crash of the front door swinging wide open. 

“Wait what do you mea-”

“WHERE IS HE?! WHERE IS THAT IDIOT?!” 

The woman rushed forward towards the furious man and held her hands out to block him from their son. The man kept trying to scoot past her, but she kept her ground, wondering why her son wasn’t moving from his spot in the chair and running into his room for protection. The boy stood up from the chair, having never seen his father so incredibly angry, genuinely wondering what he had done. 

“Salvatore, stop it! Don’t hurt him. He didn’t know.” 

“Like hell he didn’t know. All his life I’ve been training him for these things and this is what the coglione does?! This is what he fucking does?!”

With that, the man nudged past his wife and strode over to his son, looking him down in deep contempt and disgust. Still, though, he had raised a stubborn son, with young Andino not flinching in the slightest under his father’s penetrating gaze. Salvatore Russo bit the inside of his cheek, breathing heavily through his nose like an enraged bull. 

“What. Have. You. DONE?!” 

Andino blinked back a little at the sudden volume shift but kept his ground. With a clenching of his fist, he looked up at his father with a defensive air. Why was he in the wrong? He saved a little girl’s life for god sake! Who knows what would have happened if those men had gotten to her? So why the hell was his father so angry? 

The mother inched closer to the two of them, placing a soft hand on her husband’s shoulder. 

“Andino… head back into your roo-”

“I did nothing wrong! She called me her hero! Just like how I call you! What would you have wanted me to do?! Let them kill her?!”

The father growled before swiftly gripping onto his son’s shirt tightly and pushing him back into the wall. The mother squeaked timidly at the sight of her flesh and blood being attacked by seemingly the love of her life, knowing that what the boy did was wrong and that she shouldn’t interfere, so she didn’t. 

“How naive can you be?! I’m not a hero! I’m not a goddamn hero! I called myself a hero when you were little so you wouldn’t know what I really do! But you’re older now, so stop bringing up that hero shit. 

That girl was the daughter of a man from a rival group in the area. Those men chasing her were my men. We were only going to take her for a short amount of time and then we would have returned her unharmed once her father paid up. But since you let her escape and go into hiding, we don’t where she is, or where her fucking father is! God to think you just happened to be there to ‘save the day’ huh?! Nice going… champ.” 

The teen gulped at the usual term of endearment that came from the man before him, staring into his fury fueled eyes before his father let him go of his shirt and took a few steps back, causing the boy to fall to the floor. Andino rubbed the back of his head in pain, feeling tears come to his eyes as his mother rushed over to hug him tightly for comfort. 

“I’m sorry padre. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t want her to get hurt.”

The man stared down at the floor, lighting himself a cigarette to calm down, shaking his head. 

“Well, you weren’t Andino. You weren’t doing the right thing. Thanks to you, I’ve become the laughing stock of this town’s gang for screwing this up. What have I taught you? A true man doesn’t start talking until the job is done. Don’t go getting all heroic on me.” 

The boy flinched, not wanting to picture his old man, his hero, as the butt of anyone’s joke, someone to be made fun of. Even if he didn’t want to be called a hero anymore, the young teenager still thought of his father as such.

The woman sighed. “Come on dear. He didn’t mean it.” 

Andino stared down at the floor, still encased in his mother’s arms, his lip quivering. Finally, he worked up the courage to look back up at his father and opened his mouth. 

“I’m sorry, really. I just wanted to save someone for once. Not be the bad guy like you. Not be… a mafioso.” The man looked down at his son, a playful scoff at his lip. 

“Aww… the poor boy didn’t want to be a mafioso no more. You hear that Giuseppina, he doesn’t want to be a mafioso no more. It’s like he doesn’t realize that he was born a mafioso! And he’s going to live as a mafioso! And he’s going to die a mafioso! Are we clear?!” 

Andino flinched before nodding obediently. “Yes. We’re clear.”

With a heavy sigh, Salvatore knelt down to his wife and son, looking the boy dead in the eye. 

“...Padre?” 

Andino felt a heavy pain place down on his chest as he saw a glossiness begin to form over his father’s eyes. The man (about to burst into tears as he realized the fate that awaited him for the failed mission), sighed heavily and held a hand out to his boy. When Andino held out his hand as well, he watched as his father carefully took a ring off his finger that had been next to his wedding ring, and placed it in the boy’s hand. Then, in an act that only shocked little Andino further, the father lunged forward and hugged his boy tightly, whispering that he loved him. The boy’s mother watched the whole interaction with total awareness of the situation, even if the teen was still confused. With a shaky breath, she closed her eyes and spoke. 

“Andino. Why don’t you go to bed?” 

The blond looked between his parents, the reason behind their sudden anxiety suddenly starting to dawn on him. The pain in his chest only worsened and he slowly stood up from the floor and began to leave the room. Before he could head to bed for the night, the young man turned around to see his mother hugging his father tightly on their kitchen floor, the man beginning to wildly sob for fear of his life. The boy soon walked down the hallway, hearing the house phone ring in the living room. His father went to pick it up, the caller instructing him to head to the headquarters immediately for them all to ‘discuss’ the failed mission. The man steeled himself and closed his eyes, saying he was on his way. 

The clicking of the phone hanging up and the clicking of the boy’s bedroom door closing filled the silent house. The man calmly slipped his coat on, gave his wife a loving kiss, and made his way out the door, careful not to slam the door behind him. 

Hours later, Andino stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep. Rising from his bed, he glances down the hall to look into the kitchen to see his mother treating his father’s cuts and bruises, his old man still crying tears of joy of just being alive. His mother moved to kiss her husband’s temple. 

“It’s okay Salvatore… it’s okay. You’re okay. You can trust me.” 

He rushed back to his room, hoping that with the way his life was headed, he’d have someone to care for him as his mother cared for his father. To call his name, to treat him like a human being, and just not a slave to the famiglia. 

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

1994. The young mafioso, only nineteen, waded through the crowds of people inside the bar, heading towards the countertop. He had just finished his errands for his father, running about the city, intimidating those who refused to pay their debts, and negotiating in his old man’s place with other Passione members. His busy capo father was too booked to celebrate a job well done with his own son, so Andino, the lowly apprentice, sat by himself at the bar. He was drinking and just listening to the music until a hand sneakily placed down on his leg and crept up slightly until moving away. The young man looked over at the young woman now sitting next to him, a smirk playing at her dark lips before they mutter a ‘hello’ to him. Andino looked her up and down, noting she was about his age, subtly dawning the standard golden pin over her black mesh top. His scan of her incredible curves, the mysterious lighting of the bar, and her heady perfume filling his nose caused the young man to chew nervously on his lip. The young woman chuckled and inched closer. 

“What’s a man like you doing alone here?” 

“Nothing you need to know about.”

“Aww… you’re no fun. I’m only trying to do you a favor. Someone as handsome as you doesn’t deserve to be alone, looking all sad like that. Come on, let me join you for a drink at least. We both got the pin, I just finished a couple errands. Let’s celebrate a job well done together.” She smiled and his breath hitched in his throat. 

The young mafia novice ordered two more drinks for him and his new friend, and the young woman already knew she had him wrapped around her finger for the night. 

“What’s your name?” She was taken back, usually, guys didn’t care. 

“...Mascarpone. Yours?” 

“Prosciutto.” 

Hours later, neither party would let the other breathe, their desperate lips refusing to leave the other’s, both of them drunk out of their minds. Prosciutto’s inexperienced hands roamed her body as both of them entered the hotel room, his partner for the night just happy with herself that she was able to manipulate him so well. Finally letting each other go, both adolescents made quick work of their clothes before returning their lips to their rightful place of contact, collapsing against the bed, heading into the early hours of the night.

Prosciutto laid on his side on the bed, bare underneath the covers, watching the woman before him reach into her purse, pull a cigarette out and light it, his cheeks innocently reddening with every glimpse he received of her naked chest. She took a puff of the tobacco before looking down at him in the silence. 

“Do you want one?” She asked. 

Prosciutto gulped before shyly nodding. Taking the lit cigarette in his hand, the young mafioso inhaled the smoke, only to choke once it hit his lungs. Sitting up in bed, the young man smacked his chest to recatch his breath. The girl soon sighed and took the cigarette from him, rubbing it out and waiting for him to calm down. When he was finally silent again after a few minutes, she pouted and rubbed his arm softly to calm him. 

“You alright?” 

“...Yeah.” 

“Good. Come here.” 

She giggled devilishly and leaned in, moving to passionately kiss Prosciutto in his flustered state. Dominating the embrace, her forceful lips pulled a small whimper from the naive man’s lips. Pushing him back down onto the bed to straddle his hips, Mascarpone lustfully took her partner’s mouth over and over, making him unable to speak or even breathe. When she finally released him with a bite to his neck, the two of them gasped for air, their lips swollen and chaffed from so much contact. The manipulative mafiosa grinned and ran a hand through her hair. What a fun, gullible, little boy she had found. He was more fun than any of the rest. 

“You’re so cute Prosci. Can I call you that?” 

Prosciutto couldn’t find it in himself to meet her gaze, given the lack of clothing between the two of them. Shyly, his cheeks scorching, he nodded. His lover giggled, moving her hand up to his chest, her fingers splaying apart over his heart, feeling his rapid heartbeat. She smiled, taking his chin in her hand and jerking his head to face her. 

“Good. I couldn’t call you anything else.” 

She grinned, leaning down to give him a quick peck on the lips before getting off him. Prosciutto sat up in bed, watching her quickly redress, taking the notepad from the hotel desk, and handing him a piece of paper with her phone number. The young man looked between his lover and the paper, smiling innocently to himself before speaking. 

“...You could call me Andino.” 

Mascarpone stopped in her tracks, turning around to see this starry-eyed boy in bed, completely aware of what he had just done. 

She scoffed, unable to believe that she was hearing. “Excuse me?” 

Prosciutto stared down at his lap, tucking a piece of his wavy blond hair behind his ear. 

“I just figured since you said you couldn’t call me anything else, then I’d give you something else. My name. My real name is Andino… What’s yours?” 

He glanced up at her, seeing her expression of irritated disbelief, then disgust. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Andino was taken back by her spiteful whisper, unsure what to say. 

“...No? I’m n-”

Before he could finish, his lover for the night strode over to the bed once more and landed a hard slap to the young man’s cheek. Clutching his face, he glanced up, his confused eyes meeting her enraged, tearful gaze. 

“What was that for?! The fuck are you doing?! 

She shook her head in awe at his sheer stupidity. “What am I doing?! Do you know how dumb you are?! You don’t even know me you… you… you idiot!” 

“I’d like to know you more.” 

“You better grow up soon Prosci. Cause you’re going to be dead within the next month if you say that to every girl you come across. You can’t just say that dammit! Oh god… Why the fuck did you have to tell me that?!” 

“I-I… I don’t know. I just feel some sort of connection with you so I just-”

“Well, I don’t feel anything! I don’t! I was just using you for a night alright?! How dare you think you’re special enough to tell me something that important, and then expect I’ll tell you the same thing! So if you think I’ll even consider seeing you again, you’re dead wrong. Figlio un’ Puttana. Grow up Prosciutto. The mafia is so much more horrific than you think. Naive moron...”

Marscapone grabbed the paper, tearing it to shreds. Turning to the door, she gave him one last look of contempt, before slamming it hard, leaving to man stunned in the silence. 

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

2004. Prosciutto stared out the window of the bedroom, watching the first telltale signs of the morning begin to spring up into action. He always did get up early in the morning, even when he was little. There was always so much to be done. So many people to take care of. The blonde let out a lazy yawn and stretched at the edge of the bed, rubbing the back of his neck to rid the area of an annoying ache. When he tried to get up though, an arm coiled around his waist, accompanied by a small, raspy groan telling him to stay. Prosciutto smiled tiredly and turned back to see you beginning to wake. With a heavy sigh, you sat up from your spot on the bed and nudged closer behind him, your bare chest pressing against his naked back while you both stared out the window at the waking city of Naples. You rest your face into his shoulder, gently pecking the base of his neck affectionately, causing your fellow mafioso’s breath to hitch.

You chuckle a bit. “Do you have a mission today?” 

Prosciutto shook his head slowly before turning around to face you with a smile. “Do you?” 

You give him a smirk before shaking your head, only to let out a cackle as your love pushed you back down to the bed and began to teasingly lay kisses all over your neck and chest. His fingers in tandem scale down your sides, causing you to giggle wildly at the touch.

“Prosci, we need to head to work!” 

You try to object amidst your laughing. Prosciutto turned his head to look up at you, your eyes meeting his intense gaze before he leaned in to give you a heated kiss. You squirmed a bit under his passionate advances, but once you gained your footing, your arms snaked around his neck, your legs entangled with one another’s, and you asked against his lips for more once he broke the kiss for air. Prosciutto looked at you confused. 

“More? But you said we had work?” 

You watched him about to get off of the bed to get ready, so willing to tease you even after all that excitement. Nope, you weren’t having any of it. Grabbing him by the shoulders, you turn the both of you over so you’re straddling his waist, chaining him to the bed with a full view of your bare form. You gave your boyfriend a loving smile, moving to stroke his cheek and tuck a stray piece of blond hair behind his ear. The blonde purred a little and moved to put his hands on your waist. He then grinned his signature grin. 

“Come Bambina. Let’s have the morning just to ourselves.” You agree eagerly and gladly take his lips in yours, reaching down to cover both of you with the blanket to guard against the cold winter air.

When you were first assigned to La Squadra, you were by extension immediately assigned to Prosciutto, with Risotto Nero figuring that it’d be a similar situation to Pesci in that you seemingly required proper training before you were ready to bear the moral weight of ending a life. It wasn’t until the first mission that you had with your ‘tutor’, where you killed the target more efficiently than he could have ever done, did the senior assassin ask how you were so comfortable with the mafia life. 

You explained you’d always been in the mafia, your father was, your mother was, your siblings were. It was only by extension that you would be as well. You had seen more violence as a teenager than most adults can even imagine. From that point on, Prosciutto felt an immediate comradery with you, wanting your help on duo missions now that Pesci was able to act on his own. Soon, that comradery turned into seemingly unrequited lust, into indulgence, into love. And now, you two had been dating for three years and were so much more than teammates. You ignored his past of constant lust for others, trusting wholeheartedly that it was just the two of you now. And you wouldn’t want it any other way. Neither did he. 

Prosciutto loved you more than anything in the whole world. But he wasn’t sure about so many things. Countless nights the two of you laid in bed together, you mumbling about wedding plans and even the idea of having children, and Prosciutto absently listening. The grown man, now hardened by his life as a criminal, had become much more wary of the world around him. He trusted you, having put his life in your hands several times, and vice versa, but he couldn’t bring himself to take the next step with you. This life you two had together was just too dangerous for any of those naive wishes, something he learned long ago. He could never be a hero. He couldn’t be a gullible, well-meaning, lovesick little boy anymore. 

The assassin couple soon rose from the bed, both the man and woman entirely satisfied after indulging in each other’s bodies. Prosciutto watched your bare form stretch and soak in the sun spilling in from the window, nervously reaching into the bedside drawer to grab a cigarette after putting his pants on. Prosciutto slipped on his pendant, then his yellow dress shirt, thinking to himself. 

What would he even do without you? 

He remembered the night you told him your real name, and he froze up, unable to tell you his in return. He remembers your sobs at the rejection, you calling your whole relationship into question, the guilt he felt about that night. But you were patient, and you stayed with him because you knew he would honor the vow you had just made to him. 

Prosciutto turned and watched you dress as well, your back to him, unaware that his eyes were drinking you in, yet chocking slightly as he gazed on the cuts and scars dawning your back. Your stand was much more physical than his stand was, and there had been many a night where you would be the one sitting at the kitchen table being treated by him, only his code name pouring from your lips in gratitude. 

Life was so short for the two of you. He had made so many mistakes. With his parents. With old lovers. With you. With how careless he was being, the man feared life was bound to end soon for him, and he couldn’t leave this Earth without speaking the ultimate vow to you. Prosciutto stood still, in shock of the thought he was having. But he was ready. Chewing on his bottom lip, the mafioso rubbed out the cigarette and combed his fingers through his hair, unsure of how he should finally say it to you. Calmly, he walked up to you, staying close behind you with a nervous smile while you stood in front of the mirror getting ready. It was now or never. 

“What is it Prosciutto?” 

You turned around after noticing, and the man soon gently captured your attention of a loving kiss, leaving you humming in pleasure as your mouth met the sweet contact. You smiled at the end of that seemingly normal kiss, only to squeak a bit when your boyfriend’s arms embraced you in a tight hug. 

“Babe stop I still need to get ready…Prosciutto?” You muttered nervously, hearing his fast heartbeat. The blond looked down and took your hand in his, clenching it tightly. Leaning down to your ear, the loving, trusting mafioso whispered.

“...Andino.” 

Your eyes widened, your brain slowly processing what had just been said. For months you wished he’d just say that very thing to you, even after you admitted yours to him. You looked up to meet his gaze, both of you almost pushed to tears. You smiled softly, stroking his cheek. 

“Pleasure to meet you. I’ll miss Prosciutto.” 

“He didn’t go anywhere. I’ll always be with you, amore.” 

[duskowithapen]

Aurix Chapter Six

Of Success (And Losses)

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The silence in the arena was deafening.

Celeste walked over to her opponent with a confidence and ease she didn’t truly feel. The prickling feeling at the back of her neck reminded her that Riven was watching. As she came closer to Codatorta, bright red and deep green and blinding white hovered in the corner of her vision. The Rebels had shown up – they said that they wouldn’t get in trouble for skipping, but she hadn’t gotten her hopes up. She could hear Sirius, Loki and Sokka chanting her name, and a blush spread across her cheeks. They were a lot more than she was used to.

Professor Codatorta had seen them too. He glared in their direction and huffed as Sirius waved. “Seems we’ll be puttin’ on a show for the seniors,” he remarked quietly.

Her opponent smirked from Codatorta’s other side. It was his squad mate who had defeated her last week, and he was obviously expecting a similar result. “Wonderful. More people to watch me grind you into the dirt.”

“I want a nice, clean fight,” Professor Codatorta reminded him with a raised brow, before turning to look at her. “So don’t go knockin’ anyone’s head off today.”

They both nodded.

“Alright. Last fight of the session. Freshman Richard of Squad 1B against Freshman Apprentice Celeste. Fighters ready? Begin!”

At his shout, Celeste took a step back and fell into a defensive crouch, bokken at the ready. She locked eyes with her opponent…

Who was laughing at her.

“Let’s not finish this too quickly,” he chuckled, “We’ve got an audience after all!”

He held his bokken loosely in one hand before patting his side with the other. “Here, I’ll give you a free shot, baby. Maybe you can leave a mark.”

Celeste could practically sense Riven’s fury. She heard a yell and caught the flash of green as Zoro tried to stand, only to be held down by Allen. Good. She didn’t want to be distracted from this.

This being the most self-centred, egotistical, misogynistic bastard she’s had the displeasure of meeting. That firework coldness built up in her chest, but instead of going down through her arm, it travelled up her spine to sit behind her eyes. She smiled. Gave a mocking bow, as if to say thank you. And swung with all her strength at Richard’s unprotected side.

If he’s going to give me the opening, might as well use it.

At the last second, she withdrew a little. She didn’t want to seriously injure him, no matter how rude. There was still enough force to make an audible crunch when bokken and ribs collided.

Richard’s face went white. He took a slow, wheezing breath out. His free hand shook. He collapsed to his knees. There was a long silence before he breathed back in. The Rebels were cheering.

“Freshman, whadaya think you’re doin’?” Professor Codatorta had his arms crossed at the sidelines. Though his face was stern, the twitching of his moustache gave his mirth away. “You’re meant ta be puttin’ on a show!”

Richard scowled and struggled to his feet, one hand supporting his ribs. Celeste blinked innocently and held her bokken at the ready. That pressure still lingered behind her eyes. Liking that mark Richard? Despite the protection of the suit, she could tell by the way he held himself that she’d definitely bruised his ribs, if not cracked one. There was a tinge of sympathy for him in the back of her mind, a momentary shudder of ohgodsIhurthimIhurtsomeoneI’mgonnagetintroubleI’mgonnabesentawayIhurtsomeone but she brushed it aside. The time for that was later, after the fight, not now. Like Riven said – with copious amounts of support from the Rebels and surprisingly Helia – she only needs to worry about herself during the match. Everything else comes after.

A smile flickered across her face. Call me ‘baby’ like that again. I dare you.

She could see the moment Richard pushed aside the pain and decided to go on, trying to rush her with an overhead strike. Celeste angled her bokken into a guard that let the attack slide off to the side as she stepped in the opposite direction sticking out her foot to trip him as he overbalanced from the lack of resistance. He obviously wasn’t used to her more evasive fighting style – most men, no matter the skill level, tended to have the strength and body mass to take strikes, rather than avoid them.

To Richard’s credit, he recovered quickly and spun to strike at her off side. Celeste parried, ignoring the way the blow made her entire body shudder, and slid to the side again, this time flicking her bokken at the tip of his sword to send his next blow up and over her head harmlessly. Darting in, she tapped at the back of his knee. It buckled just enough for her to slide around his next desperate strike. She swung hard at his stomach, but he dropped his hit knee and swiped at her ankles. As Celeste fell backwards, she threw herself into a back handspring that made her mostly healed wound twinge. Scrambling backwards to get some distance, Celeste couldn’t help but smile. This is what she wanted. Not a victory handed to her – but a victory to fight for.

When Richard stepped forward to strike at her again, she spun to the side, twisting on her heel to build up her momentum and send his sword arm up with a two handed strike. Continuing her spin, standing in his space, Celeste struck back with her elbow – she smiled at his startled inhale. Richard kicked out, catching the back of Celeste’s knee and sending her down with a grunt, but she was quick to roll out of his range. As she got to her knees, one hand on her bokken, Richard swung down for a powerful overhead hit.

Celeste didn’t think – she reacted.

One hand held her sword by the hilt. The other, protected by her glove, held the sword at the tip. Richard’s blade hit the centre of hers with a clang. Her arms shook at the strain but held firm. There was a moment of stillness – Richard’s eyes were wide and his jaw dropped. Celeste sent him a wink (in the stands, Zoro closed his eyes and swore softly. Loki was rubbing off on her). With one twist, Celeste sent Richard’s blade sliding down toward the hilt of hers. With another, she trapped the blade between hilt and cross guard, flipping the bokken out of reach. Still holding her weapon by the tip, Celeste spun forward on her knees, twirling the bokken once to fix her grip, and slammed the hilt into Richard’s stomach.

The force of her hit made Richard fold down over the blade.

Somersaulting backwards out of the way and onto her feet, Celeste watched as he collapsed to his knees for the second time.

He coughed. “Yield. I yield.”

Professor Codatorta stepped forward with a clap. “Winner – Freshman Apprentice Celeste!”

“Whoooooooo!”

That was all the warning Celeste got before a red-haired bullet slammed into her. Arms wrapped around her waist. Suddenly, her feet weren’t touching the ground. She let out a shocked laugh as she was spun in a circle.

“You did it kid!” Loki squeezed her once more before Zoro plucked Celeste out of his arms.

“Let her breath pyro – she can’t exactly celebrate her win if you suffocate her!”

Allen caught her as she was tossed aside in favour of a brawl, stumbling from the sudden lack of support. “Well done Celeste!”

Her cheeks were hurting from how widely she was smiling. I won!

Two hands thumped against her back, and she looked up to see both Sirius and Sokka grinning down at her.

“Told ya you could do it!” Sirius said before groaning and rubbing the back of his head. “Good to know all those concussions I got were worth it!��

Sokka rolled his eyes. “Stop complaining. You could use a couple of good hits – might knock those brain cells down from wherever they’re hiding!”

Allen, ever the calm one, pulled Celeste towards the arena entrance. “Ignore them – they really are proud of you.” He gave her a quick hug before backing off. “I should get us all back to class before they really miss us, but we’ll talk to you more at lunch!” With a final wave, Allen jogged away.

A tap at her shoulder made her jump, and Celeste turned to see a smirking Riven.

“Look at what happens once you get out of your head,” he said with raised eyebrows. “Believe me now when I say that you’re not gonna be sent away?”

Celeste rolled her eyes even as she nodded. Yes, she believed him. He’d only said it every single time she hesitated during training over the last few days.

He cuffed her over the head before he began to lead her towards the dorms. “Don’t give me attitude. You were lucky that Richard has all the forward planning and grace of a rampaging bull, but don’t expect your next opponent to do the same. You’ve shocked them all now – they’ll be prepared. I’ve got to go to Codatorta to get your battle analysis, so I’ll meet you in the training room for the afternoon session. Until then, I believe you’ve got Politics homework.”

Riven, the cruel bastard, laughed even as Celeste scowled. Trying to memorise a hundred years’ worth of treaties was not what she wanted to do after a successful match.

“The sooner it’s done, the sooner you don’t have to deal with it.” After that helpful advice, Riven walked away to where she could see Professor Codatorta waiting. Huffing, Celeste headed towards the doors. At least she didn’t have to get started on her homework straight away. She could sit in the library for a little bit before picking up the books she needed.

Then she saw Squad 1B waiting in the courtyard just in front of the library entrance. Her opponent from last week, a rather tall boy called Celebrum, looked up and nudged the student closest to him. One by one they all met her eyes. They all had matching smiles. None of them looked friendly.

Celeste darted for the open space to her left, sprinting towards one of the outer courtyards. Behind her she could hear the first footsteps of pursuit. A light projectile flashed by her face. When it collided with a wall, it released a flash that left her blinking. Dark spots still obscured her vision as she sprinted through the trees as fast as she dared. If she could just get around the courtyard and under the cover of the outer corridor, she might be able to hide long enough to lose them… Her knee twinged from Richard’s hit earlier and she scowled.

“C’mon baby! We just wanna play a game!”

“We’ll be nice baby, we promise!”

Obviously, Richards’ squad mates had picked up on his nickname. As she spun around a tree, Celeste risked a glance back. Four students were chasing her – Celebrum with some kind of gun, a black-haired boy she vaguely remembered from Ventus with a large compound bow, and two other students she hadn’t really interacted with. One of them pulled out something that looked like a slingshot, about the length of his arm.

Celeste tripped over a root – the subsequent stumble was enough to send her into the path of another projectile. The light arrow slammed into her shoulder with enough force to bruise her under the uniform. She turned the force into a forward roll to keep the momentum, narrowly dodging another two shots. One of these hit the ground, sending up clods of dirt that stung her eyes.

Almost there!

The corridor she wanted was just ahead. Over the past weeks, Celeste had explored every inch of the campus. She knew that there was a small gap –not much bigger than her – where some of the wall panels in a corner hadn’t been secured properly. If she could disrupt their line of sight for just a moment…

She saw it. A squad of students – probably sophomores – was walking down the corridor. Celeste swung around the corner and straight into the middle of them. There were shouts. An elbow caught her in the head and for a moment she saw stars (not the good kind). Someone had very big feet, because her entire foot managed to get squashed beneath it. A cape whipped over her head. She body slammed someone else and almost fell over. Slipping around another student, she managed to slide into the gap.

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me… Celeste squeezed her eyes shut and focused. She didn’t know how this worked, only that it did. Something cold dripped over her head, sliding down her arms and chest, making her shiver. It reached her toes, and she had to resist the urge to move. It was like the opposite of that firework coldness – rather than being the firework before explosion, it was the sky afterwards, all afterimages and darkness. Opening her eyes and looking down, the shadows seemed deeper.

Celebrum ran straight past her. The bow-wielding student was fast on his heels. The other two students followed a moment later. All she could hear was the fading sound of footsteps and the disgruntled mumbling of the poor squad she’d run into. Relaxing her hold on that coldness and suddenly feeling warmer, Celeste stepped out of the gap. Now if I can just get on top of the corridor…

“Well, well, well. Baby’s good at hiding.”

Her stomach dropped to her ankles. The slingshot student was leaning against a pole. He smirked at her, weapon at the ready. “Now this is what I call target practise.”

He was too close for her to run around. He’d hit her in a moment. As the projectile left the cup, Celeste instinctively dropped and rolled, pressing her hands and shoulders into the ground before planting her feet in the other student’s stomach.

His face went white. His feet lifted off the ground. His slingshot clattered next to her face. Celeste was quick to swivel her legs to one side as he began to fold, dumping him onto the concrete before scrambling to her feet and running. Footsteps behind made her look back, and an arrow sliced her cheek. The shock made her tumble, and she was on the ground again.

Need to move need to move need to move need to move – Another arrow caught her cape. A second hit her in the forearm she raised to protect her head.

“Looks like we’ve caught us a baby!” Celebrum laughed with gun at the ready. “Or maybe it’s a bug, scramblin’ on the ground like that.” He shot her in the thigh at close range. The flash blinded her. Her stomach began to roll. Her leg cramped.

“Hmmm. Thought she’d be able to run faster than that.” The fourth student crouched beside her and began to poke. Something solid jabbed her in the ribs and thigh before Celeste had enough.

She rolled directly into his crouched legs, feeling him fall over her, and hit her cape clasp in the same movement. Grabbing the ends, Celeste quickly flung it over his head and pulled him in front of her like a shield, supressing a wince as an arrow hit him in the chest. Pushing him forward into Celebrum, who was still standing too close, Celeste scrambled to her feet.

Another arrow barely missed her foot and she was off, trying desperately not to limp. Now both of my legs are screwed. There was another door further down the corridor – it led towards the dining hall, but from there she could try and catch the elevator, or failing that, the stairs. Her hand just brushed the handle before a shot impacted with her spine, sending her to the ground with a strangled scream.

Her lungs wouldn’t expand. Celeste flopped a little on the ground before something else hit her in the side, shocking her chest into movement. Her head hurt even more. Something red was smeared across the concrete, and she gazed at it hazily. Red… red isn’t good…

“Little baby thought she was going to get away, huh?”

Gazing up, Celeste could see Celebrum with a sneer, something red running down his nose and over his lip. Behind him was the fourth student, holding her cape in a twist between both hands. The bow-student and sling-shot student were probably here too, Celeste thought sluggishly. Just wish my eyes would work properly so I could see…

“What should we do with the baby now?”

“Maybe we’ll show her why babies aren’t allowed at Red Fountain!”

“Should we leave a piece for Richard?”

“Maybe,” snarled a voice from behind, “You should step away from Celeste while you still have legs to do it with.”

Celeste let herself slump against the ground. “Riven’s here…” she sighed. I’m okay now…

*************

Riven hadn’t felt such burning rage in months, if not years. He saw the blood under Celeste’s head, and he went cold. Head wounds were dangerous.

The four students stared at him with such terrified faces that if it were any other situation, he’d be amused. One of them – the student who’d beaten Celeste last week – swallowed. “P-p-professor Riven, sir,” He started, before his mouth just began opening and closing without a sound.

“What,” Riven hissed, “Do you think you are doing to my student?”

“I would like to know that as well,” came a smooth voice from behind. Professor Saladin stepped up beside him, hands clasped.

“We – we were playing a game,” Another student started. Riven glared. His name was Harrier, a promising student from Ventus. A compound bow hung loosely in his hand. “It – it just got out of hand a – a little. We didn’t mean –”

“I know exactly what you meant.” Riven took a step forward and something dark in his chest revelled in the way they all stumbled back. Until one of them stepped on Celeste’s arm. “Get away from her!”

Riven didn’t wait for them to move, instead bodily shoving past to kneel beside his student. She was pale and limp – when he touched her shoulder, she didn’t move. “Celeste?” His voice was quiet. After a single, heart stopping moment, the girl made some kind of noise. He didn’t hear it, but he felt the vibration where his thumb was touching her neck. She shifted a little, hand sliding up towards her head. Riven was quick to stop her.

“You’re bleeding. Just stay still.”

“Riven,” Saladin said over his shoulder, “Take your student to the infirmary. I shall have Codatorta deal with Squad 1B.”

“As long as I get to supervise their punishment.” One of the students squeaked. There was the sound of rapid footsteps moving away, but he ignored it. Celeste was priority at the moment.

Slowly, carefully, Riven slid a hand under Celeste’s shoulders. Her head hung limply as he lifted before it rolled back to lean against his shoulder. Hazy purple eyes opened. Her mouth moved – it looked kinda like his name – before she tried to get her feet under her.

“Stay still,” Riven said as he moved his other arm around her waist.

Of course, the contrary girl didn’t listen and still tried to support herself, one hand slapping lightly at his.

“If I let go, you’re going to fall over.” He was able to stand with her mostly supported. “Can you put your arms around my neck?”

Celeste looked up at him for a long second. Her eyes weren’t any clearer. She went to nod, before her eyes bulged and she leaned sideways. Vomit barely missed his shoes and splattered the dining hall door.

“Yeah, you have a concussion,” Riven remarked once Celeste was only dry heaving. “C’mon, around my neck.” It took a bit of manoeuvring, but he soon got her supported largely against his chest, making it easier for him to lean down and catch her legs in the crook of one arm. Ignoring the pool of blood and sick – Saladin would send someone to clean it soon – Riven headed straight to the infirmary.

On the way, he saw Helia. His normally mild-tempered team member looked almost murderous. “What happened.” It wasn’t a question but a demand.

“One of the Freshmen squads. Celeste beat one of their leader in the arena today, and they decided to get even.” Riven ground out, not stopping. “I’m pretty sure she’s got a concussion, and who knows what kinds of other injuries.”

A tanned brown hand rested on Celeste’s leg and Riven jolted. A moan left the girl, and he winced. Looking up, he met hazel green eyes he hadn’t noticed before.

Flora.

The kind girl looked close to tears. “Who would do this?” She ran a soothing hand along Celeste’s hair, glowing bright green with magic. The girl sunk deeper into his arms, a small smile coming to her face. Her limbs went completely limp in his grip and Riven held her tighter.

The brunette stepped away. “That’s all I can do for her here. She’ll sleep without pain for a few hours, and it will lessen the chances of her falling into a coma. Your nurses should have her fixed up by then.”

“Thank you,” Riven said with a nod. When he walked into the elevator, Flora and Helia followed.

In the infirmary, the two nurses on duty clucked over Celeste’s unconscious form, directing Riven to put her onto a bed before shooing him out. “We need to get the poor girl out of her uniform so we can inspect the damage, and that’s not going to happen with you two still in here!”

Flora rested a hand on Helia’s arm. “I’m going to stay and give them a hand – would you mind bringing me my sachel? It has some potions that I think would help.”

After giving his assent, and gaining permission from the nurses, Riven and Helia were firmly ejected from the room. Outside, Helia was looking less murderous and more sad. “Flora had a couple of free days,” he began, “And I thought that she and Celeste would get along really well. I didn’t expect them to meet like this…”

Riven grunted before turning around.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to find out what Codatorta has planned for those shits and then I’m going to come back and wait.” Riven stormed down the hall. How could I let this happen?!

He had felt something wrong when he’d left Celeste at the arena. Squad 1B had already left – hadn’t even waited for their injured teammate, which was unusual. But he’d just brushed it off as team antics and being disappointed in their leader for losing to a girl. Turns out it had been disappointment, but a dangerous, vengeful kind.

Codatorta had been joined by Saladin, and that had thrown any thoughts about upset students out of his head.

“Celeste made an admirable showing Riven. You should be proud.”

Riven had crossed his arms with a huff. “She’s a decent fighter, when she gets out of her head.”

At the two professors questioning looks, he had explained, “Celeste worries about hurting her opponent, which was part of the reason she lost last time. Helia and the Rebels helped me knock some sense into her.” It had involved demonstrations of the suits defensive abilities with Sirius offering himself up as a practise dummy and Zoro being all too pleased to have an excuse to hit his most chaotic squad mate. Helia had been better at calming the girl down after she knocked Sirius’ breath out of him, much to Riven’s chagrin.  

“Looks like you’ve been doin’ somethin’ right.” Codatorta had remarked. “She’s quick on ‘er feet.”

“Timmy’s new toy can be very useful.”  

Codatorta had chuckled. “I can imagine. Now, Celeste did very well, considerin’ what happened last week. You might wanna see about trainin’ ‘er with a staff occasionally, but also try ta train that last little trick she used out of ‘er. If that happens in a proper fight with a real weapon, she’ll cut up her hands. You’ve got ‘er focusing on divertin’ strikes, which is good, but see if ya can’t beef her up a lil’. She gave Richard a decent hit on that first strike, but if she had a bit more strength behind it, he wouldn’t be gettin’ up.”

Riven had sighed deeply. “I’m pretty sure she pulled that blow a little.”

“Which I take it you’re workin’ on. Another thing to try is seein’ about a more flexible fightin’ style. That handspring move was good, but she needs to work on her landin’s. Look inta capoeira. It’s a dancy kinda hand-ta-hand fightin’ style, but I’m sure you and the girl can develop it inta something she can use with a weapon. An’ I was serious about that staff. I’ll have a trainin’ naginata sent up from the guard’s trainin’ room and see what she thinks o’ that.”

Riven had thought it over, even as he walked with Saladin towards the dining hall for an early shot at lunch. He had considered training Celeste in two handed weapons before, but more in the sense of dual swords or daggers. A naginata might traditionally have the one blade on a pole of similar length, but a dual naginata that could separate might work even better…

He had been discussing the logistics of training Celeste in specialised weaponry with Saladin when he saw it. Or, more correctly, heard it.

“… bunch of freshmen, running around like they own the place…”

“Yeah, but did you see that short one? With the black hair? I swear I wasn’t that small when I started.”

“Pretty sure that was the girl – y’know, Professor Riven’s apprentice?”

“Poor girl… no wonder she was running like he was chasing her…”

The sophomores had frozen when they saw him. Saladin chuckled.

“Professor Riven! Headmaster Saladin, sir, we – we didn’t mean anything by it sir – sirs. Just that – you can be very terrifying sir, if I can say so – in the most respectful way – you’re a terror in the classroom – I mean on the battlefield –”

Riven had just waved them off and kept going. Maybe he should have asked more questions, maybe he would have found them faster. Instead, he was met with the sight of his student, bleeding on the ground as four other students stood over her.

The things they were saying… even thinking about it made his blood boil.

Saladin had taken the squad to Codatorta’s office just off the arena, and he could hear the older man yelling as he approached.

“… what kinda lily-livered, dark-dimension dwellin’ slime go attackin’ a fellow student fer beatin’ their leader in a practise match!? Yer all Red Fountain students – which means unity, an’ teamwork, an’ not shootin’ someone when their back is turned! Ya gave the kid a concussion! Head wounds are dangerous! If she don’t wake up, you won’t be wakin’ up tomorrow! The only thing more hated than witches ‘round ‘ere are traitors, an’ that’s what you lot are at the moment – the wors’ kind a traitors. Traitors to ya school, to ya team, to ya fellow students.”

Codatorta paused for a breath when he saw Riven.

“Ah, Professor Riven. Saladin tol’ me that you wanted ta supervise their detentions.”

The four students had been pale faced and numb before he walked in, but now they looked like they were going to faint.

“I do. After all,” and here he gave them the thinnest, most terrifying smile he could, “They harmed my apprentice. If we were going by the old laws, it would be my right to give them identical wounds as recompense for their actions against my student, and thus against me.”

“Good thin’ we don’t follow those laws anymore, ey slime?” This prompted a round of nods that made them look like bobble heads. Riven supressed the urge to bat on of them and see if they’d keep bouncing.

“Well, Squad 1B – minus yer leader, depending on what he says to me later – will be reportin’ to the dragon stables for dung duty two hours before curfew fer the next month. Don’ be late, otherwise I’ll add another week onta yer punishment.”

Another round of nods.

“Now git!”

The students ran out of the room with impressive speed. In the corner of his eye, Riven could see a student he recognised as one of the more skilled sophomore students walking oh-so-casually away from the office – he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole school knew about the cowardly attack on one of their own before the afternoon session. And god help the freshmen when the Rebels caught up to them. They had practically adopted the girl as an honorary member of their squad and weren’t going to react well when they found out about the attack.  

Codatorta must have had the same idea because he gave Riven a grin that unpleasantly reminded him of his first year and that one – and only – attempt to bully another student. He quickly learned what kind of bad idea that was.

“There’s always one student – or one squad – that like ta push things every year.” Codatorta said as he leaned back in his chair. “Unfortunate that it was yer student who felt the brunt of it.”

“Yeah.”

When Riven didn’t say anything more, Codatorta looked at him with concern. “How is she laddie?”

“Not sure. Came here as soon as I dropped her off at the infirmary. Flora’s with her,” he added as an afterthought, “She did some magic so that Celeste wouldn’t wake up or be in pain.

“Tha’s good. She’s a fighter, Riven. She’ll bounce back from this.”

“She shouldn’t have to.” His hands clenched. His knuckled turned white from the force.

“No, she shouldn’t. But she did. An’ yer gonna have to be there for ‘er while she recovers. So whataya still doin’ here?”

Riven was out of the room before he realised he was moving.

**********

There was something draped over the pyre. The circle was complete, and her voice (but not her voice) was chanting something in a language she didn’t recognise. The pyre flared up without any kind of assistance. Black smoke drifted into the sky, a shade of dusty black against the abyss of space. The thing – all long tail and thin spines and compact body – fell into the centre of the pyre even as fire as white as the moon hid it from sight.

Her fingers (skinny – not hers not hers) stroked a page that crumbled and cracked even under the light touch.

“It’s opening

[kunstpause-archive]

5 Questions for Writers

I got tagged by @elveny and looking at this I don’t even know where to start ? Let’s see if we can make a coherent post out of this

Tagging @curiousthimble, @midnightprelude, @captainderyn, @cornfedcryptid,  @elfyourmother​, @defira85, @edencalder @anchanted-one @tishinada @illegiblewords and anyone else who wants to do it - I’d love to see people’s answers but no pressure to anyone.

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

1. Do you have a favorite character to write? Who and why?

Of the ones I've written more for probably Aren Surana. I love all my characters to pieces and I always enjoy writing for Cassia or Amara - but Aren is closest to my heart and the things I want to express through writing her are some of the most important to me. Aren is autistic and shares pretty much all of those traits with me and it is very important to me to share her story and her perspective on things with others - and hopefully make the one or other person understand some things in the process.

That said Cassia is probably a close second place - writing her struggle with depression and working through it with familial support was something quite liberating. 

And lately there is Althea, my FFXIV OC which I have not yet published anything about but I’ve been writing a few bits and pieces for her and she is rapidly growing into a character I really enjoy writing.

The rest got longish, so under the cut it goes.

2. Do you have a favorite trope to write? Or one you want to write?

I love lighthearted miscommunication and I absolutely love writing more humerous things. My DA2 coffee shop AU was just pure fun to write. 

I also really enjoy a lot of the classic tropes from “there is only one bed!” to “we need to make out to hide from the bad guys”.

Also I found out through my fictober project with @elveny that I am enjoying the occasional writing of horror-themed things. (Those are all intentionally bad endings, so skip this if that is something that’s not good for you please.)

I wrote a so far unpublished “magic made them do it” story for DA2 which was also quite fun and I am currently in the middle of an enemies-to-lovers-to-weird-allies thing for Althea.

3. Share your favorite description you’ve written?

from my so far not published enemies-to-lovers thing for FFXIV:

He was the living embodiment of all that she hated about herself. The cold distance, the numbness, the utter boredom at the mundane, the miserable existence without a challenge… but something more dangerous somehow. 

A mirror of her undesirable traits would have been something she could have ignored but at the same time he managed to be almost everything she so desperately yearned to be. Unbound by the expectations of those around him, the freedom and single mindedness to follow his heart’s desire and the wild abandon with which he carried himself… He was everything she loathed and all that she wanted for herself at the same time. 

And he had the audacity to laugh at her.

This bit from a Divinity Original Sin 2 ficlet Fractured:

Amadia was there through it all, holding and soothing. Speaking soft words of consolation and compassion. Her old heart slightly breaking as she did all she could to help him hold on. On nights like these she looked at him with heavy thoughts. He had lost so much, endured so much. And yet she thanked all the powers still around her that at least for the moment he was still unaware of just how much. His beautiful, fractured mind saving him, holding back the greatest pain, the sharpest memories. She had done her best to shield him from his own past. Every time she could feel him push at his memories, trying to regain the last puzzle pieces she had woven images around them, pulling them just out of reach. Even with all the strength he had gained, all the power he had learned to master so far, Amadia was determined. Determined to keep him whole and away from the what would surely tear him apart if she didn’t intervene. She needed him whole after all. At least for a little while longer. And so she kept holding him, comforting him the only way she could.

“Rest now, my child. Lay down your burden and let me keep watch over you, my dear, dear child." She could feel his mind relax and starting to drift. Away from the memories, the past, the truth. Lulled by her warmth and her words. One more night where he would be unaware, that those words had once been his own.

And I am very partial to this nsfw bit - Bull trying to distract Amara from the murder happening in Halamshiral

Cold stone against her skin as she was roughly turned around and pressed against it. More clothes carelessly pushed aside. A bruising grip on her hip pushing her into place. When the first sharp sting of pain on her thighs went through her she let out a relieved sob, pushing back against his hands, her whole body pleading for him to continue. This was what she had wanted. Needed. And he gave it to her. Again and again until she could think of nothing else but his hands on her flesh and his voice in her ear.

She had lost all sense of time when he turned her around again, lifting her up enough to enter her in one swift and fluid motion. No matter the amount of pain, she was dripping wet for him, her body reacting instinctively to his touch, rough and forceful as it was. His pace was ruthless. Unforgiving he pushed her into the wall again and again. She felt the pleasure building up, growing with every sharp thrust until it was almost bursting when her heart dropped. 

The music.

It had stopped.

For a second her eyes went searching in the direction of the lights. Head turning. Were those screams she heard or was it imagination?

Bull’s hands closed around her, covering her ears almost entirely as he turned her head back, forcing her to look at him instead. “Don’t listen!” His words were a low grumble but somehow sounded like both, an order and a plea at the same time. He pushed into her faster, his iron grip around her not letting her move even the smallest bit as he pushed her over the edge and she came with a soundless cry on her lips.

Amara’s eyes had fallen shut, the only sound she could hear being the noise of her own blood rushing through her ears. Again she lost track of time, feeling almost like she was floating in his arms. When she finally opened her eyes again Bull was looking at her with so much love and determination on his face she felt something warm in her chest. It was small. Just a spark. But something she was almost desperate to hold on to. She could also see the worry written all over his face and she sighed deeply, before kissing him softly. “Let’s get out of here. Leave for Skyhold right away,” she mumbled against his lips. She closed her eyes again, her forehead against his as she felt the relief running through both of them when he agreed without second thought.

4. Share your favorite dialogue you’ve written?

this bit from a Hands of Fate related one shot about DAI times:

“I can’t believe Varric wrote a book about me,” Cassia muttered under her breath. “I don’t even know if I should be flattered or extremely embarrassed.”

“I would go with flattered and avoid ever reading it,” Dorian suggested with a wink. 

“Oh definitely!” Josephine agreed. “Don’t read it.”

“Ever.” Cassandra’s dry voice added shortly. Bull still didn’t say anything but he was visibly amused by everything that happened.

“So you’ve all read it then?” Dread was on Cassia’s face. “How bad is it?” She eyed the book as if it was a particularly nasty dish she had to eat.

“Not that bad!” Josephine was quick to say. “Really, come to think of it, it is barely worth mentioning.” Cassandra and Dorian nodded eagerly. 

“Well, in my defence I actually haven’t read it, I just skipped through the highlights where Josephine had folded the pages.” Dorian was grinning madly at Josephine’s embarrassed squeak. “I must say Ambassador, I am impressed! I did not expect this from you.” 

Cassandra tried to save the situation with a last desperate attempt. “There seems to be a lot of... artistic freedom in the book,” she tried to assure Cassia. “Things so obviously outlandish that no one will ever think those actually happened.”

Somehow this had the opposite of a calming effect on Cassia. With a very sceptical look she stared the Seeker down. “Really? Like what?”

For the next few seconds Cassia got to experience something that most people believed was absolutely impossible and could never occur. But at a loss for words Cassandra seemed to actually squirm in her seat. “Like, uhm… like…” 

“Like the scene in the chantry!” Josephine helped her out and Cassandra nodded thankfully. 

“Yes, like that one! Something so ridiculous… No one in their right mind would actually believe that actually happened,” she explained eagerly, obviously hoping to put Cassia’s worries to rest.

“Chantry?” was all Cassia got out, feeling her throat closing up. 

“Page 225 onward,” Dorian supplied helpfully and quickly moved aside, barely escaping another kick from Cassandra.

Almost mechanical Cassia turned the book to the page he mentioned and glossed over it. The little voice that had told her ‘the scene in the chantry’ could mean all sorts of things died a tragically painful death as soon as she had started to read. She felt her cheeks flaming up. “Crap!” she whispered. “He is going to kill me.”

5. Scene you haven’t written, but want to?

The last scene of my enemies to lovers thingy - it’s what started the whole idea and I have it in my head but I am not going to write it until I wrote the bits before.

Also I have so many headcanons about Ascians I need to write some scenes at some point. Just to get it out there.

Certain scenes from the sequel to Hands of Fate are also high on my list of things I look forward to write. But I am forcing myself to write things chronologically bc otherwise I will never get done with the re-edits.

And there is a Heavensward friends-with-benefits ot3 scene I have had in mind for a while. Some day. 

[s-k-y-w-a-l-k-e-r]

50 questions you’ve never been asked

thanks to @ilygwilym for tagging me!

what is the colour of your hairbrush? Black!

name a food you never eat? broccoli

are you typically too warm or too cold? more likely to be cold

what were you doing 45 minutes ago? drafting social media posts for the boss

what is your favourite candy bar? Reese’s peanut butter cups (same, @ilygwilym!)

have you ever been to a professional sports event? yes! a lot. I saw Michael Jordan play with the Bulls in 1994, and since then have been to a handful of baseball games (Astros... breaking my heart, don’t @ me), basketball (various teams), women’s soccer (tickets are cheap and we should do everything we can to prove to U.S. Soccer they deserve more money), and of course, football games because I’m a huge Seattle Seahawks fan.

what is the last thing you said out loud? “no, I don’t have time to play,” to my husband, who is on his daily video chat with his coworkers who play games every lunch time. I am working on this survey in between things for work.

what is your favourite ice cream? cookie dough!

what was the last thing you had to drink? currently drinking coffee!

do you like your wallet? yes, because it’s part of my phone case and only holds three cards and Is super slim. i’d recommend it for everyone. mine has fish on it! and sometimes people ask if it’s because I like to fish or something. no. the answer is that I am a pisces.

what was the last thing you ate? salsa verde doritos because obviously i was making healthy choices last night

did you buy any new clothes last weekend? haha no, though I casually looked for sweatpants online

the last sporting event you watched? an Olympic qualifying match for the U.S. Women’s National Team. I saw Pinoe and Morgan and Krieger and all of them, it was AWESOME

what is your favourite flavour of popcorn? butter, I guess. I don’t really enjoy it because it really only takes one bite for me to get a kernel stuck in my teeth and I can’t stand the feeling

who is the last person you sent a text message to? my director at work. she is wonderful and I am not just saying that

ever go camping? definitely!

do you take vitamins? I have them...

do you go to church every sunday? nope, I slid into atheism 15 years ago but still go to church when I visit home because my mom plays the piano for the tiny church I grew up in and I like to sing

do you have a tan? not really. when i’ve had a healthy amount of sun, I get fairly distinct blonde streaks. I only get tan if I sunburn first, which obviously isn’t ideal

do you prefer Chinese food or pizza? P I Z Z A

do you drink your soda with a straw? no mas

what colour socks do you usually wear? I don’t wear a lot of socks in this climate, but my running socks are all gray + blue/purple/pink

do you ever drive above the speed limit? of course

what terrifies you? screwing up so badly that my boss gets politifact-ed (which happened once when we were talking about inequities on Latina Equal Pay Day and I have not recoverd from)

look to your left, what do you see? Airpods

what chore do you hate? cleaning the litter box/taking the trash out (we are equidistant between our complex’s two dumpsters, which is like a 10 minute walk)

what do you think of when you hear an australian accent? hmm. my first major exposure was Steve Irwin... so...? 

what’s your favourite soda? diet coke, i’m just basiiiiic

do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive-thru? when we’re not social distancing, I always go in. As someone who used to work at a drive-thru at an ice cream shop and at starbucks, I learned to love the pace of the people who walk up. way less likely to be a dick about being in a rush.

who’s the last person you talked to? the hubs

favourite cut of beef? I honestly don’t remember. Probably a new york strip. I eat beef on really rare occasions, and that’s usually in barbecue/brisket form because Texas

last song you listened to? I can’t believe I haven’t listened to music yet today! which means it was the Star Trek: The Next Generation theme song because that’s what I watched last night before bed

last book you read? hmm.. in full? probably A Song of Ice and Fire: A Dance With Dragons

favourite day of the week? Saturday, duh

can you say the alphabet backwards? tebahpla eht (sure, if I think about it)

how do you like you coffee? black

favourite pair of shoes? I don’t really love any of my shoes right now. but my greatest attachment is to my hiking boots.

the time you normally go to bed? midnight, on average

the time you normally get up? normally, it’s 7am but now that i’m working form home, 8:30am

what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? sunsets, I’m from New Mexico, after all!

how many blankets on your bed? a duvet and a sheet. don’t need much in houston usually

describe your kitchen plates. this has been a journey for us, but we have practically-indestructible Corelle plates with turquoise, teal, and blue dots and trim around the outside edge

do you have a favourite alcoholic beverage? red, red wiiiiiiiine

do you play cards? yes! the hubs is an obsessive game player. we do a lot of Hearts, Idiot, and Cribbage. I’m best at Cribbage.

what colour is your car? Dark gray

can you change a tire? the one time I was faced with the possibility, some stranger walked up and changed it for us on the side of a small town road in Idaho. also, when I had a crush on a boy in high school, he was obsessed with his jeep and I stopped by his house and he (i’m sure as a joke) asked me to bring over a new tire for him and it was huge and embarrassing

your favourite province? British Columbia!!!!!!!!!!!!11111 but I would probably also like Alberta too, I just haven’t been. wait, are we talking Canada? Australia? Somewhere else? If I had to pick a state, I’d go with New Mexico.

favourite job you’ve ever had? this one. I take photos and write social media posts and make graphics, and I basically made the job myself by showing my boss what I was good at. she was open to it. as a result, I have met famous politicians and been in military helicopters (and even communicated with Chris Evans’ A Starting Point production team). it’s an incredible opportunity.

how did you get your biggest scar? literally all of my scars have something to do with my cat. the biggest one is when I brought her home from college. she saw my dog—a dog she knew!!—as I was carrying her in from the car in my hands, and crawled up my face onto my head, catching my eyelid in her back claw. I had to have ten stitches put in the night before we left for disneyland!! thankfully it sort of blends in with the other natural eyelid creases I already had.

what did you do today that made someone else happy? aw probably not much, yet. it’s early still. but I did make a cute graphic for a Tiger King tweetstorm a bunch of legislators are going to take part in and my director really liked it (we probably won’t take part in the tweetstorm but I drafted just in case)

tagging @aoskirk @thehound @lukeslywalkers @alcors-floating-hat