#you always know the best places to scritch and the best ways to brush out the excess fluff

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

thinking about whether or not FL sheds his fluff

imagine its summer and after a long day of dealing with whatever crap goes down in their workplace while having to deal with the ridiculously high temperatures, reader just wants to cuddle with their beastly lover (who just so happens to be covered in 90% metal and would definitely feel cool to the touch) but as soon as they step into their house, they realise something. There is purple fluff on almost every surface of the house and not a few seconds later did the culprit come sprinting towards the reader, bringing them into a hug, delighted to see them after a long day. Reader reaches to pet FL’s fluff only to watch it fall out with the single light touch. At first they immediately retract their hand afraid that FL has contracted some sort of illness that causes hair (fluff?) loss. FL looks at reader questioningly, wondering why they aren’t giving him his usual pets. Reader tells FL to put them down and as soon as their feet touch the ground, they are booking it out of the house and back into the city to look for Zhongli. After finding the man, they explain the situation and Zhongli laughs, telling them that FL is simply shedding his fur to cope with the hotter weather recently. With this the reader lets out as sigh of relief and heads back hime just to find FL pouting, thinking that reader had abandoned him. Reader then apologises to him and exxplains what happened and the situation is then cleared up.

(Imagine reader collecting the fur and using it for some art project)

-Sleepy anon

sleepy anon, i LOVE the way your mind works

Foul Legacy immediately starts purring and nudging himself against you, getting soft purple fuzz all over your clothes- can you scritch him, please? it's scratchy! he shakes his head slightly and even more tufts of it fall out and drift onto the floor, and you just let out a single long sigh, opening the closet to fetch your broom. the next one to two hours are spent gathering every single bit of fluff that you can find, sweeping it off the floor and tables and random corners of your house- how it got on top of the bookcase of all things, you'll never know- and finally sitting Legacy down and giving his fur and hair a thorough brushing for good measure, clouds of lilac fur clinging to the comb and a very happy purring Abyss creature tilting his head this way and that so you get all the right areas. it takes until nightfall, and you're exhausted afterwards, but finally your house is clean and Legacy has shed all that excess fur, the ruff around his shoulders looking smaller but more manageable and Legacy looking very comfy and pleased with himself

so now you're left with a large bag of shed Abyss monster fur- what do you do with it?

well, the obvious answer is to make it into yarn and knit. not that you really need anything knitted right now, given the temperature and all, but it'll be nice once winter comes around again. you have enough Foul Legacy fluff to knit a few scarves, so the first one you make goes to none other than Legacy himself, who quickly wraps it around his neck with a delighted trill, cooing at the familiar texture and scent. he insists that you make a matching one for yourself- that way everyone knows that you're his and he's yours! the last one goes to Zhongli, who smiles warmly as he picks it up and asks what the material is. without missing a beat you just point at Legacy's fur, and have to bite your tongue to keep from wheezing when Zhongli snorts a laugh into his teacup

[bellafragolina]

Strawberry🍓, my Love (platonic).

May I please request some Warden Ingo x Cat!Reader? (And by cat I mean, y’know, neko person) Either SFW or NSFW would do.

You were found injured and unconscious by Ingo, who brought you to safety.

He doesn’t know what the heck you are. A person? A Pokémon? Even you don’t know. (People like you don’t exist in the Pokémon world. One day you just blipped into existence I guess, no memories and all.)

No one except Ingo knows of your existence. It’d be dangerous for others to find out about you (HELLO KAMADO).

So you just chill at his hut, occasionally going out to explore and bring back food and gifts, as cats do. You have several feline behaviours, although most of the time you’re oblivious to them. Ingo finds it cute and Lady Sneasler enables you.

Ear scritches, belly rubs, etc. - you want them all.

🥺 cat spouse?? With ears and tails?? And purrs?? 🥺🥺🥺

🍓🍓🍓

Ingo is a cat person, everyone knows it. So you are a perfect companion to him. Of course, no one else knows you’re even a thing, but people can see Ingo’s lightened demeanor even without knowing he has a new housemate. Ingo rests easier with you in the house, snuggled up to him, gently purring as he strokes along your ears and back. He’s very grateful to your companionship in the lonely mountains.

Lady Sneasler adores you as well. She’s taken to raising you like one of her kits, complete with showing you how to hunt and giving you tongue baths when you get dirty. Ingo can only laugh at the strange ways your hair sticks up afterwards, as his does the same when Sneasler tries to bathe him. Ingo takes you to the hot springs afterwards, and coaxes you into the warm waters. He bathes you gentle touches, since you’re already not happy about being wet, trying his best to make it at least a little enjoyable. You return the favor beat you can, claws pleasant along Ingo’s scalp and scarred skin.

The gifts you bring back to Ingo are appreciated, even if the warden doesn’t like how long you’re gone. He gets nervous when you’re not around either with him or in the hut. He wants to protect you from the dangers of this world, but he forces himself not to cage you, and let you be free, since you can’t see anyone besides him. You always come back, though, with something for him in your hands. Sometimes it’s a pretty stone, or one shaped like something you think he’ll like. Other times it’s pretty leaves, flowers, plants you’ve gathered for him. Sometimes it’s dead Pokémon for him to eat, but you’ve stopped bringing those as often since he always forces you to bathe afterwards

You get endless affections from the man. You’re too cute to deny. Sad eyes and wanting purrs break Ingo down far too easily for a man that prides himself as a warden and battle expert. But he can’t help it when you look so cute and lonely. Your favorite place is in his lap or lying against him, his hands brushing through your fur. It’s how you fall asleep most nights, and Ingo finds peace in the soft expression you make while slumbering. He kisses your head, and slips happily into dreamland after you, nightmares diminished in the presence of his little guardian.

It’s grating on him, though. The way you easily handle Lady Sneasler’s kits, playing with him, taking care of them, soothing their tears and lulling them to sleep with soft purrs. All Ingo can see is you with kits of your own, ones he’s given you. He wants it sorely, and the want only grows as the days creep past. Ingo worships the ground you walk on, and begs, please, have kits with him. He wants a family, he wants normalcy with you. He wants the domesticity that children bring, and he will make sure neither you nor the kids ever want for anything. He swears it

So please?

🍓🍓🍓

A catty lover is a good choice for Ingo, Hisui’s resident cat dad. He’s gonna get so soft over you with the kits tho

Have a good day, lovely!

~Renee

[mtreebeardiles]

Stardew Effect, Ch. 13

Full chapter over on AO3!

He always felt disconnected in the dreams.

An observer only, viewing things difficult for his eyes to make sense of, and the words that were not his own tried to help. Fragments of conversations whispered like leaves rustling in the breeze and he felt compelled to follow. 

He knew some of these places, but the perspective was different. Too high or too low, too far or too close, disorienting at the best of times and he was certain his stomach would vehemently disagree if he were awake. Grasses grown long edging familiar paths and he'd be tugged to a single blade, then back out, up and up, spying the tall oak on the lake's edge. No rhyme or reason that he could discern, only feelings: worry and fear prominent amongst them, and under that something that felt almost…

Hopeful. 

"Do you know what happened here?"

He'd never tried to ask a question before, always the answerer and never the asker, and the world seemed to shiver around him at this unexpected change in roles. The dream tried to pull him, drag him back down to the safety of the ground, but he held firm.

Turned towards the Tower, a spiral of distressing gray against a rapidly darkening sky.

"Do you know --"

Sky heavy with clouds, the promise of a storm raising the hairs on his arms, and he was bracing, tensing, the sound --

--Everett sat up, gasping for air, sweat-soaked and shivering in the pre-dawn light. The last echoes of thunder were fading as his dream did, reality a set of four, familiar walls, curtains gently rippling in the early breeze. A low whine, a displacement of weight and his hand moved on instinct until it landed on Nutmeg's head, giving her ears a few good scritches. 

"Sorry, girl," he murmured, fingers of his free hand moving to brush back hair from his eyes. Heartrate starting to slow and he flopped back against his pillows, staring up at his ceiling as he waited for the shaking to subside. 

To think I loved storms, once. 

Still did, as distantly beautiful things, something to be appreciated where he couldn't really hear it. The before and the after, the build up and the break, but the storm itself was something he hadn't abided for a long time, now. 

He forced himself to sit back up, Nutmeg hopping off the bed to make room as he planted one foot after the other on the floor. No point in trying to go back to sleep now; by the time he managed it, his alarm would be going off. 

What he needed was a shower.

"C'mon, 'Meg," he said, pushing himself to his feet. He padded out into the hall towards the backdoor, letting Nutmeg out to do her business, and once she was happily eating her breakfast he slipped back into his room to peel off his pajamas and grab a towel. No stirring on the other side of the hallway, but that was hardly a shock. For all Leigh was as much of a morning person as Evvy himself was, he generally wasn't up this early.

It would've been nice to have someone to talk to, but Everett wasn't about to risk poking the world's grouchiest bear masquerading as his twin brother to try and wake Leigh up.

Towel around his waist and he made his way into the bathroom, starting the water and giving it a moment to adjust temperature. With the towel on the hook behind the door there was nothing between him and his reflection, nothing to distract the eye from the scars that ran along his right hip to cut a jagged path to his abdomen. He had others but this was the largest, tissue still thick after all these years. A bad memory embedded in his skin, calling forth visions of blood, of eyes the same shape and color of his own, of pressure and pain and Shawn's voice again and again don't leave me, don't leave me, don't you dare fucking leave me --

--Everett forced himself to take a breath, then another, slow, measured, counting his way through. 

Just nerves, he told himself. Just worries, catching on the embers of those he'd yet to properly lay to rest, echoes from some of the worst days of his life, and of course they'd come for him when he was weak, when he was already primed to be anxious. 

That's just how painful memories worked.

One foot in front of the other and he slipped under the shower's spray, letting his eyes flutter shut and doing his best to shift his focus to the feel of it on his skin. Water warm, even in summer, and he tilted his head back, let it soak into his hair and make its way in soothing rivulets down his body. Anchoring, grounding, mindfulness far easier when you were already somewhere you wanted to be.

Safe, in the Valley. Safe, with Shawn. 

Safe, with a new affection starting to blossom, and he and Kaidan would figure out what happened to Liara. 

At the very least, he thought, pouring a dollop of shampoo into his palm, we need to try.

[palaceofpassion]

Neo’s Arc 2

Part 2 to the Neo’s Arc Commission!

Jaune couldn’t believe it, he’d actually done it!  Had ACTUALLY made his way into Beacon, THE BEACON!  He wasn’t sure what God had blessed him with such luck, or what the headmaster had been thinking when he let him in.  Jaune himself, despite constant training with his sister, had felt rather inadequate compared to the other students.  But hey he was here, he wasn’t going to complain either.  Not when he had Neo by his side, and oh boy was he happy to have Neo by his side!  His sister, slash, lover had gotten to him… perhaps a little too quickly when they had landed, leading to the two of them becoming teammates.  And well, he couldn’t ask for a better team if he was being honest!  

“Good night everyone!”  He smiled brightly as his team, which consisted of his glorious splendid sister Neo, the lovely and kind Pyrrha Nikos, and the originally snooty but actually a very sweet girl Weiss Schnee!  He may have started on the wrong foot with the two of them, but after talking things through, a few troubles with the team next door, and well some arguments here and there.  They’d truly become a close team, and… and well it felt nice being near three GORGEOUS Women.  Even as loyal as he was to his sister… he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander sometimes, especially with how striking Pyrrha and Weiss were… especially with how often they liked to show those damned fine legs of theirs… sue him he was a leg man!

“Good Night Jaune.”

“Night Arc.”  

Shuffle~

Ah and here was the other thing, the reason he probably HAD not snapped with all the feminine wiles surrounding him.  It was because of his dear~  Lovely~  Precious~  Cock Hungry sister.  

Neo had been absolutely grateful that she’d ended up on the same team as her precious, hunky, loving brother.  She wouldn’t know what she would have done if he’d ended up on a team of all girls, especially if she wasn’t nearby to keep an eye on him.  Not that she didn’t like Weiss or Pyrrha… but she wasn’t blind.  She could see the way those harpies eyed him, like he was some kind of prize to be won, or prey to be snatched!  She would have NONE of that, he belonged to her and her alone.  

Well, even if they did like him, it wasn’t like they’d done anything to show it.  And if they weren’t going to make their move, then as far as she was concerned he was all hers, would forever be hers.  As quietly as a mouse, she swiftly snuck towards him, her clothes gently dripping to the floor below.  The cool night air doing nothing to abate the intense heat originating from her womb.  She’d grown so needy, so wanting of her brother’s hot throbbing cock.  Of being close to him, touching him, experiencing the warmth of her beloved.  She couldn’t imagine a world where that wasn’t a thing, where she couldn’t touch him like she wanted.  

No… she didn’t want to imagine a world where she was alone.  Putting those thoughts away for now, she gently slinked within his sheets, the shuffling of the bed quietly humming through the room as she pushed herself against her already buck naked brother.  “Hey~”  A little tingle ran down her neck as he gently whispered into her ears.  She LOVED how he’d expected her to show up, his fingers already dancing upon her posterior, clinging onto her and bringing their bodies closer together.  

The burning heat intensified within while his blazing hot dick slid between her thighs, sandwiching itself between the plump sticks of meat.  Her lips quivered against his, their tongues slipping beneath their hidden sheathes as they tangoed into one another.  This was why she LOVED being here, she needn’t hide from her siblings, from their mother.  They didn’t need to know about her twisted relationship with her brother, blood or not.  No… this worked out the best as far as she was concerned.  

She didn’t even care if her roommates knew.  She imagined they’d had an inkling, despite the steps she and Jaune had taken to be as secretive as they could.  But, even now she could imagine them, staring from their own beds.  Their bodies gently rising in a faux nocturnal state.  The exhibistionistic glee in her took over, the thought of being watched, of being seen as the tip of his burning hot cock pressed against her wanting entrance.  The thought that both girls, who eagerly yearned for her brother’s affection, could do nothing but spectate as she and he made passionate love.  It… well it did things to her. 

It did lovely things to her, especially when he slowly slid one of his fingers up her spine and gently against her neck.  Her hairs stood on end as he touched her softly, gently grasping the back of her head and tugging her forward, pressing them together for an even tighter hold.  Gods above she loved her brother, loved him more than perhaps her own life.  She wanted nothing more than to touch him, to feel him, her fingers grasping against his back, sliding between his strong shoulder muscles.  She wanted more, wanted to inhale his scent further, wanted to feel his warm touch against her body.

The more they were apart the more she ached, the closer they were, the more she wanted it.  She knew she was greedy, knew she was unreasonable but she couldn’t get enough of the way that he smelled, of the way that his lips tasted against hers.  She clung to him, like a newborn, wanting to never let him go.  Wanting to forever be loved and held by her dearest person.  

She felt a sense of joy knowing she no longer had to fear, fear that they may get caught by their family and torn apart.  She didn’t care about these other girls, only cared about Jaune.  If she could make sounds she would squee, would let out a yelp of pleasure as his tongue brushed against hers.  Their lips parting ways for just a moment as trails of spit dripped upon their shared pillow.  

She needed not say a word, only simply stare him in the eyes, her heart pounding thoroughly in her chest as he nodded.  She loved him so dearly, loved that he knew exactly what she wanted without her having to say a word.  She knew no one else would ever get her the way that he did and she never wanted anyone else to.  “Ah!”  She may not have been able to speak, but her lips could still part, a muffled sound nearly escaping as she felt his thing brush against her lips.  

The splintering hot sensation of the tip rustling against her quiverly sex was enough to nearly to send her into a tight orgasm.  But she needed him, needed for him to shove it deep inside of her.  She had an itch that only he could scratch, one that only he could fill and oh brothers did she want it badly.  

“Oh brothers.”  She tried to arch her back, tried to pull her head away from her brothers as his girthy cock slid inside of her, her lips parting to make way for the added space, but he kept her locked in place.  She loved the fullness she experienced whenever he pushed into her, whenever the two of them became one.  The rigid dick, veiny fat cock, scratched against her insides, rubbing into her ridges and sending pleasant scritching sensations through her.  She knew she wasn’t satisfied yet, that she needed and wanted more.  But this was a good start.  

Her nails began to sink into his flesh, their auras turned off, the intimacy of their bodies being directly connected being what she wanted.  Her toes began to clench as her muscles in her legs tightened.  Slowly he pushed against her, the swell in her belly growing larger and larger as he gently rubbed himself upwards.  She needed this, needed to be filled to the brim with him.  She wanted his seed inside of her womb so badly that she almost pushed herself down upon him.  Even if she couldn’t get pregnant right now, she’d taken the shot to keep her infertile till she was done with class, she wanted to at least feel like she could!  

Jaune couldn’t keep his hands off his sister's sinuous figure, his hands roamed, letting his animalistic lust take hold of him, his hunger burning as he frantically squeezed and groped at whatever he could.  Their bodies were already entering into carnal passion as their tongues wrestled with one another.  The sweet and sultry scent wafting off of her moistening form intoxicated him, the way she held onto him intoxicated him, her tightening cavern enticed him.  

He’d long gotten over any doubts about what he wanted from this twisted relationship of theirs.  No longer did he care that they were siblings, even if not by blood.  No longer did he stop himself when he desired her, he no longer bothered to hide his dark cravings and the lust he felt for her.  He simply took her, simply allowed himself to bask in her form.  The softness of her skin felt wonderful to his touch, her voluptuous form pressed against his chest was exquisite.  He could hardly get enough, he didn’t want to get enough.  He wanted more, he wanted to touch her whenever he could.  HIs fingers tightened around her bottom, grasping and squeezing around whatever he could get ahold of.

His powerful digits kneading into the soft doughy swells, he found himself letting loose.  Squeezing into her soft cavern he split the malleable hills apart, he could feel a gasp of air escape her lips as he pushed further inside of her while doing so.  Her every reaction, the way she let him know she loved what he was doing, always did it for him.  The stimulation from their simple touches, the way that she squirmed when he took command, he never knew he needed and now he could never live without.  

His hips rocked back and forth, her insides massaging his manhood, tasting the pleasures of the flesh as they pushed further into one another.  He knew he had to be quiet, lest their teammates wake up, but he found himself far too enthralled to care if they did.  In fact… perhaps the thrill of having one of his gorgeous teammates watch them, perhaps too stunned to do anything, was something he could really enjoy.  He whispered gently into her ear as he worshipped her small lithe form, “I love you~  You’re my goddess~  My beloved~  I want to breed you, I want you to bear my fruit so badly.”  

Her response was the same as usual, a little tingle encapsulated her womb as she bit down upon his lip, tasting his flesh as she attempted to endure his loving assault.  She was weak to his teasing, weak to the way he made her feel loved.  She could never get enough, never wanted to get enough.  His words danced within her head, powerful feelings surging from deep within her body.  Her core, trembling weakly as it was, began to give on her.  The feeling of completeness seeped from her very depths and while she tried to savor the soft touches.  She wanted more, wanted him to take her so very badly.  

She couldn’t speak, but she knew how to get him going, a simple peck to the lips as she grasped upon his shoulders.  Tugging against him she flipped their bodies, he was now above her, their blankets no longer covering their naked forms.  She found herself awestruck, like she always was, when the soft silvery moonlight fell upon his chiseled body.  She’d done so much to help him get to where he was, and she’d be damned if she didn’t appreciate the results.  Even now she couldn’t help but run her finger down his biceps, slowly tracing towards the abs.  A mighty thirst filled her, eyes falling back to him as she begged him.

“Fuck me, break me.”

She wanted him badly, wanted him to treat her like a toy, wanted him to let loose like he hadn’t been able to do till now.  She began to care not if her teammates knew, in fact they could know all they want, she wanted them to realize just how much he belonged to her.  

Jaune got the message loud and clear, any reservations he may have had about being quiet quickly went out the window as he shoved himself further against her.  Her tightness grasped upon him, his body moving as she wished him to ravishing her till she began to release him reaching for the sheets as her fingers sunk into the bedding.  

Creek Creek Creek

The bed began to move as his pace skyrocketed, his body penetrated her depths, no longer slowing down he began to ravage her insides.  The harder and faster he went the more she tightened around him, her bumpy ridges massaged against his cock, grinding against the fleshy stick as he immersed himself in the pleasure.  

Neo lavished the sensation, her insides tightening around him needing him inside of her more and more.  The tip of his cock grazed against her cervix every time he pushed into her, with every new lunge he got closer and closer to battering against her womb and she loved it.  She loved the way that he grasped her legs, and pulled them back over her head.  Loved the way her lower body no longer touched upon the bedding.  She loved how he began to fuck her, to ravage her, to rape her into the sheets.  Her body needed this, she LOVED him dearly, she loved how easily he could switch for her.  And she LOVED how he pushed her further down.  

Even as the first orgasm hit the two of them he refused to stop.  Even as her body quaked in overwhelming pleasure, and even as his jerked baby maker released its batter relentlessly into her oven.  He’d refused to back down.  Incited by perhaps the thought of being caught, he’d entered a frenzied fuck.  No longer where they having sex, she could tell this had become something else.

“Get pregnant, I want to get you pregnant, have my children, bear my babies.  I need you to have my kids, please get pregnant.”  His voice chanted loudly and clearly to her, his body now entering a rut.  He was no longer fucking her for pleasure, he was fucking her with the intent on spreading his seed far and wide.  Oh how she wished she could accept it now, but she knew that he knew they couldn’t.  Not just because of the shot, but because both of them had goals in mind.  While she wanted to protect him, she’d always dreamed of helping those that were lost just like her.  

So his words, they reached and touched her heart, but they both knew they couldn’t happen.  Still, her womb reacted accordingly.  As he plunged into her depths, her cervix opened hungrily, drinking his seed hoping that his constant thrustings didn’t spill the precious nectar.  

The stirred liquid sloshed within her body, succumbing to the pleasures of being filled, of having her womb poured directly into.  She couldn’t help but enjoy the wonderful feeling, and as for Jaune?  He’d lost it, no longer thinking with his upperhead, he buried himself, slammed himself, devoted himself to breeding her as best as he could.  The two, so caught up within their sinful desires, failed to notice though the jealous green and sky blue eyes watching them.

Neither of them noticed the way that their sheets shifted as their hands worked between their legs.  

Weiss… Weiss couldn’t believe what she’d seen, couldn’t even fathom that what was happening in front of her was actually happening… but there it was.  The brother and sister duo had always struck her as odd… and she kind of always knew something was going on.  But to actually see Jaune… that buffoon… that idiot… that… that specimen of a man!  Push his sister down, take command, and BREED her.  That hadn’t… that just… it was too much.  The thick smell wafted within their room, her mind falling into a deep haze.  She didn’t know how they’d planned to hide it, not with the thick scent of sex filling her lungs as easily as it was.  

She hadn’t meant to start, but her body desired touch, it craved satisfaction, so before she could consider stopping she’d already begun to reach between her legs.  Her fingers slaking across her soft core dipping into her tight virgin slit.  She began to want more than this, it wasn’t enough… and she… oh gods she needed it.

Pyrrha was very much the same, she thought seeing her crush crushing his sister would have been more upsetting than it was.  But instead she found herself directly pulled to it, she’d been unable to pull her gaze away from the very start succumbing to the desires of the flesh.  She wanted to be treated that way, wanted Jaune to plunge into her to take her virginity and taste her flesh.  She… she wanted to be bred like Neo was being… she needed to.  

Unlike Weiss, she had no reservations about sliding her fingers between her thighs, a pool of moisture forming and sliding down her leg and onto her sheets before she’d even started.  Her body stirred into action as she rubbed against her clit, her shudder and a sigh escaping her lips as she started to play with herself.  Her digits roaming freely within her.  She needed to do something, her fingers proving not enough to cleanse the burning fire boiling within her.  And… as she watched Jaune and Neo, she came to a conclusion.  It just so happened that Weiss came to the exact same agreement.  They wanted Jaune, and they would have him one way or another.

[barbarianprncess]

“Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.” and “Nobody’s seen you in days.” that would be inchresting 👀👀

for mari my beloved, 

(aka @chironshorseass ) 

as you know this sort of got away from me. one second i was writing a drabble of angst, the next I'm on the 16th page with no end in sight. so this maybe isn’t what you were expecting but have 5k of post-botl/pre-tlo pining idiot besties who are in love :). 

(also this hasn’t been beta’d and i'm welcome to volunteers i just finished and got so excited i had to post.)

(dear one anon who asked for 'forget it you're a fucking asshole' too, if you're reading this, don't worry yours is coming too i promise)

(final s/o to @posallys for letting me scream about them)

24 hours

read on ao3

enjoy <3

                                                      ...

Percy is fucking exhasted.

He was supposed to be back at camp four days ago. The deal was he’d spend weekdays at camp to plan and train and weekends at home to relax. But, he kept putting it off, opting to keep the weight on his chest that’d been pushing him down since last summer bearable, and not crushing the way it always was at camp. So, when he gets through the barrier, aside from nodding hello to Beckendorph and Silena, he makes a beeline to his cabin. He manages to keep his eyes down until he’s standing at his porch steps- and that when he sees her.

Annabeth is pacing on his balcony. She’s wearing jean shorts and her camp shirt, but instead of her typical ponytail her hair is in two intricate braids that reach her breastbone. She’s muttering to herself and wringing her hands together and for a moment Percy forgets. He forgets the past year and all the arguing and the bitterness and he sees Annabeth is worried about something and he reaches out as if to hold her. To wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything is going to be alright.  

But then he remembers.

He retracts his hands.

He clears his throat and Annabeth startles. Her grey eyes are as intense as ever and he can almost see her defences come up. He hates that it's because of him. Annabeth is the first to break the silence.

“Hey.” Her voice is small but clear. Not yet vulnerable, but gives Percy the sense that it could be soon.

“What’re you doing here?” He isn’t sure he said it out loud until she ducks her head and flushes.

“Nobody’s seen you in days.” It’s not the accusation he expects. It's also not an answer to his question. Just an observation.

“I’m here now.” He says it like it’s an invitation. He then becomes incredibly aware that he's still looking up at her from the bottom of the steps, so he grabs his duffel, bounds up the stairs, and opens his cabin door. He hesitates and meets her eye with another silent question. She answers by stepping inside.

He drops his bag by his bed and turns on the light. The air is charged with unasked questions and unfinished conversations. He can’t stand it. He’s about to attempt small talk when she says something that nearly knocks down where he stands.

“I miss you.” She’s wringing her hands again and she won’t look him in the eye, but takes his silence as confusion.

“That’s what I came here to say, that I miss you.”

Percy isn’t sure what to say. Percy isn’t sure this conversation is really happening, she’s broken so many of the fragile rules they’d been following all year. He’s 98% sure this is a really vivid daydream to cope with…. well everything.

He decides that on the off chance this is real he should play it safe so, he states the obvious.

“I’m here. We’re here, together. We’re together and-” She cuts him off and begins to ramble.

“Strained and awkward and it's like there’s this chasm between us of all these things from last summer. From our kiss, to you dying, and then you not dying, and Rachel, and Luke, and Luke being Not-Luke, and it’s like we can’t have a conversation anymore and that sucks ‘cause..”

She pauses for the first time to look up at him and her eyes are shining.

“You’re kinda my best friend. And I miss you. Everything sucks and I'm tired of fighting. And I really miss you.”

Percy’s too shocked to say anything. It occurs to him that he should respond but he can’t find the words. All the unspoken rules they had in place and Annabeth had just steamrolled right through them. Percy realizes his mistake in staying silent as Annabeth flushes and turns to leave.

“Forget it, you’re a fucking asshole.” And oh no Annabeth had just swallowed her pride (which he knows better than anyone is no easy feat) to say everything he’d wanted to hear and he can’t let her walk away.

“I miss you too.” The words tumble out of him, clunky and a little awkward but earnest. Annabeth stops and faces him, eyes suspicious in the way that breaks his heart a little bit.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

Annabeth exhales and shoots him a tremulous smile he hasn’t seen in forever, and oh he’d forgotten what it did to his chest when she did. Before he does something stupid like tell her he thinks her smile is the best this he’s ever seen, he clears his throat.

“So…. this chasm you said, what do you propose we do about it?”

“24 hours. For 24 hours everything that I listed before is a non-issue. After that we can go back to…..whatever it is we’re doing now. One day, where we’re just two friends spending a day at camp together..”

“Best friends.” He corrects without thinking. She rolls her eyes, and he almost giggles because he’d missed her eyerolls too.

She holds out her hand to shake, all business-like and gods he missed her.

“Best friends. 24 hours.”

He takes her hand. Her shake is firm, her palms are warm, her eyes are bright, and she is beautiful.

“Where do we start?”

...

Apparently it starts with homework.

After he asked where they’d begin, Annabeth had flashed him a wicked grin, damn-near dragged him off the porch, and made a beeline to the Big House. Before last summer, Annabeth had been “tutoring” him. Once a week they’d head down to the Big House and spend hours combing through myths and legends, practicing Ancient Greek, and all things Demigod 101. It probably wasn’t ever that useful considering Percy barely remembered any of it, but Annabeth had always insisted. After last summer they’d non-verbally decided to take a break from it (eachother), and they’d never started back up.

Usually he’d halfheartedly complain that it was pointless and say some form of ‘I know enough to not die and that's good enough for me’ every five minutes, but today he nods dutifully along as Annabeth talks animatedly about Orpheus, and Theseus, and all the other -eus’s. He’ll ask a dumb question that they both know he knows the answer to, but she answers him anyway. He watches the wisps of hair that refused to be tied down, and counts the tiny sunspots across her nose and the way she wrinkles her eyebrow when she forgets a name.

It’s not terrible. It’s kinda the opposite. He’d forgotten that she made studying not terrible.

He’s so screwed.

...

The stables are almost empty when they get there.

After 2 hours of studying, (one hour of studying, one hour of laughing and talking and calling it studying) Annabeth declared it was his turn to pick the activity. Tired of sitting still Percy lands on tending to the pegasi. It was one of his favorite things about camp plus he got to teach Annabeth something for once. Annabeth was comfortable enough around them but she never spent anytime with them that she didn’t have to.

When they entered the barn, Blackjack gave him a look and he blushed remembering all the times he’d come to the stables with Beckendorph to vent about how much he missed Annabeth, (He didn’t even know horses could give looks but here we are) and silently told him it was a long story and to be cool. Annabeth had stopped next to one of the cleaning stations and was looking at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and they got to work. He showed her how to brush them and how to get tangles out of their manes, where to scritch them and where not to scratch them. He showed her how to check their feathers and make sure their wings were healthy and how to get them to be still enough to check.

Annabeth was excellent with them, gentle hands and kind eyes. Whenever she approached one she would look them in the eye and talk to them like the intelligent creatures they were. Each time she got started taking care of a new steed she’d gently reach for the muzzle and say in a soothing voice:

“Hi, my name is Annabeth and I'm going to groom you today. Don’t worry, I'm friends with Percy, and he taught me exactly how to take care of you. If I’m doing something wrong, let him know and he’ll tell me how to fix it. I promise I’ll do my best to make sure you feel like a brand new pegasus.”

Frankly, it was fucking adorable.

Pork-pie had taken a special liking to Annabeth, telepathically asking Percy if she could groom him more often. When he told this to Annabeth she’d beamed and enthusiastically agreed to come down whenever she could. Percy had off-handedly suggested that they take them out for a bit and Annabeth immediately started to release Pork-Pie from his stall.

They flew over camp for what could’ve been minutes or hours. He was lucky that Blackjack could fly himself because Percy couldn’t take his eyes off his flying partner. Her braids held firm, but a few rebellious curls were now whipping with the wind. The atmosphere combined with the speed they were flying, made her cheeks red and splotchy. Her smile is brighter than the sun, and eyes- gods her eyes were going to be the death of him. The sun and her mood (he had this theory that her eyes changed color based on her emotions) had made them almost blue, they are full of laughter, and Percy adores her. And when she directs her sunshine-smile at him, Percy can’t help but smile back.

(He doesn’t stop smiling until they land.)

...

As they're putting their pegusi back in their stalls, Blackjack decides to give him some advice.

“I know I don’t understand all of your fragile human emotions, but I know enough. There’s a lot of bad in this world of ours, and from what you’ve told me about this war business it's only gonna get worse. You gotta make the most of the good.”  He tilts his head over to Annabeth who is cooing at a preening Pork-Pie.

“You and ladyboss, you’re good together. And really nothing else matters.”

He doesn’t have time to even think about a response when Annabeth is walking over from Pork-Pie’s stall, and telling him it's time for a picnic.

...

(“What did Blackjack say to you? You looked kinda flustered when I got you.” Percy almost drops the plate he’s piling with food from the buffet. He’s gotten three pointedly confused looks at the sight of him and Annabeth together and not strangling each other and a thumbs-up from Grover. He and Annabeth are getting their food and then they’ll go sit by the beach.

“Oh,” He clears his throat and goes with the first thing he thinks of. “Blackjack calls you ladyboss.” Good that's good, not technically a lie either.

“Huh. Weird.” Annabeth, seemingly satisfied with this, returns her attention to the grapes she is adding to her plate.)

...

“Where do you go?” Annabeth asks. She’s sitting next to him in the sand brushing crumbs off her fingers. They had been eating and watching the ocean in comfortable silence and Percy furrows his eyebrows in confusion. “Lots of days when you’re at camp for lunch and sometimes dinner you just disappear for hours. And I know you aren’t going home because your stuff is still in your cabin. Where do you go?”

It’s not an accusation, just a question. Percy gets the feeling she doesn’t want to know so she can disturb, she just worries. Percy knows her. He knows she’s always planning for the worst and she needs to be able to get to him if there's an emergency.

(It strikes him that she notices when he disappears and he feels guilty but also just a little hopeful. Because she misses him as much as he misses her.)

He stacks their plates and rests them on the blanket they’d been sharing. Percy stands up and holds out his hand, gesturing for Annabeth to do the same.

“C’mon, I’ll show you.”

...

He tells her to close her eyes. She gives him a skeptical look but obliges and holds out her hands, a silent request for him to guide her. It’s almost easier to take her hands in his without those trademark eyes on him. But it’s not any less intense. As soon as their fingers interlock sparks of electricity lick up his arm. Now that her eyes are closed he can look at her face up close without fear. Her curls had gotten more unruly as the day went on, and the ringlets that framed her face blew lightly in the ocean breeze. He leads her slowly towards the ocean, using his powers to dry any spot she walks on. He sees her brows furrow when she notices how far they’ve walked towards the ocean without their feet getting wet, but she doesn’t say anything. He parts the water for her to walk through, and when the water rises above their heads, he forms an air bubble that moves with them, keeping them dry. When they get to a good spot, squeezes her hand signaling for her to stop with him, but tells her to keep her eyes closed. Then he closes his eyes with her and calls out to the ocean's creatures, making himself a beacon.

Here I am, he thinks. The son of Poseidon.

Come to me.

Minutes pass.

“You can open your eyes now.” He whispers.

She does, and lets out a soft gasp, “Oh, Percy.”

He smiles and looks out at the scene before them. He’d come down here after a particularly bad day and just wanted to sit in silence. It was an accident, calling the creatures to him. Subconsciously, he must have sent a message along that he was feeling alone. And all sorts of sea creatures - from greek monsters and to great white sharks to your average cod had flocked to him. And he didn’t feel so alone. So now, whenever he couldn’t take the human world, he’d come down here and talk to the fish.

This time he’d actually concentrated on getting a message out and they did not disappoint. He couldn’t count all the animals that had heeded his call but it was a sight to behold. He had willed some glowing coral from the deeper ocean to stay in that spot, which created a multicolored tint to everything around them.

Normally they come right up close to him, but this time they were hesitant. And as he listened to the creatures and heard more than a few whispers of Athena and stranger, he’s suddenly reminded that she’s the only person he’s ever done this with. It’s his favorite place, and she is the only other person ever to see it.

“It's okay guys, she’s a friend.” He reassures them. When he looked back at Annabeth, her mouth was still hung open and she was staring out at the scene in front of them in wonder. He smiles at her dazed silence and uses the hand he’s still holding to tug her up to the barrier of the bubble. The first creature willing to accept Annabeth is a baby spotted dolphin. He swims towards the clumsily with eager fins and pokes at the barrier with it’s snout. Annabeth's eyes widen in fear and look up at him and it takes a second to realize she isn’t afraid of the animal, but of their bubble popping.

“Don’t worry, the bubble won’t break unless I break it myself, and it’ll last however long I want it to.” He reassures her. He senses her hesitation so he guides her hand up to meet the snout of the baby dolphin who seems fascinated with Annabeth herself. He reaches his snout and head bumps directly into the spot on the bubble where her palm is placed.

Annabeth lets out a laugh, the kind of laugh that sort of bubbles out of you without warning and it’s the best thing Percy’s ever heard. He watches as the shock fades for her features and she pets the infant creature through the sheen of bubble keeping them dry. The animals begin to warm up to Annabeth as well, and as soon as they figure out she’s not some evil Athena agent sent to destroy the ocean, they join in on the fun. Hundreds of ocean creatures of all sizes begin doing tricks, nuzzling up to the flexible barrier, all vying for Annabeth’s attention. Annabeth herself is happy to oblige. Ever consistent, she introduces herself to each creature she meets. She smiles and laughs and reaches out to all the animals she can. Percy is happy simply to watch her and keep the bubble up but then she turns to him, eyebrow drawn together in concern, pointing to a particularly awnry seahorse, and asks what it's saying.

“He says his name is Frank and that he’s ‘too pregnant for this shit.’”

Annabeth stares blankly.

“His words not mine.” Percy offers hands up in surrender.

Then she snorts and then they’re laughing, they’re laughing harder than they have in years, and it's that kind of hysterical laugh where everything around them makes it more funny, and soon Percy’s clutching his stomach and Annabeth is beet red.  As soon as it subsides enough to get words out Annabeth is shaking his arm saying “Do that one! What's he saying? Oh my gods what even is that? Does that one like me? That ones majestic, what's his name? Oh Percy, look!! Look at that one!”

So he translates and they laugh and he teaches her different species and Annabeth nods along like it’s very important stuff. She pets the baby dolphin through the bubble and listens intently to all the animals telling her stories, even though she can’t understand a word until Percy tells her what they said. And when it’s time to go he sees the tears in her eyes and tells Percy to promise the baby that she’ll visit all the time, even though they both know she can’t.

(Apparently the baby dolphins name is Arnold, and according to his mother, he was so enthralled by Annabeth because when he first saw her he thought she was an angel.)

(Percy thinks he’s not too far off.)

...

(“That was incredible Percy. Thank you so much for sharing that with me.” They had been walking in silence as they made their way back to camp using the bubble, enjoying the afterglow of their adventure.

“Yeah, of course.” She smiles at him and looks ahead.

He’s not sure why he does it but without looking at her he reaches out and ever so carefully, and brushes her fingertips with his.

Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t say anything.

Then suddenly, miraculously, her hand tilts and their fingers are interlocked.

And there's no pretense of guiding her somewhere, they’re just….holding hands.

And it's perfect.)

...

Percy thinks if he’s not in love with her, he’s pretty damn close.

Because this feeling, the one he gets in his chest when he looks at her, is what love feels like.  

...

When they resurface, they’re met with twinkling lights and the last three stragglers singing softly at the campfire. It’s almost time for lights out.

Oh.

Oh no.

Annabeth seems to be coming to the same realization, as she clears her throat and lets go of his hand. He misses her fingers immediately.

“So, I guess we should start heading to bed.” She looks at him, hopeful but he’s stuck. Stuck in the feeling of dread at the idea of waking up tomorrow and not having his best friend. Suddenly the idea of leaving her side is so unbearable he can’t speak.

“Goodnight, Percy.” She’s turning around and backing away when the words lodged in his throat come unstuck.

“8 in the morning.” She turns giving him a ‘what are you on about’ look.

“That when you came and got me at 8 in the morning. We agreed on 24 hours. It's only been 12.”

She smiles slow and wide, “You know you're right, that math checks out.”

“We had very clear terms. We even shook on it.”

“Yes we did.”, she nods gravely. “It’s a binding agreement, we can’t just ignore it.”

“So what do we do?”

She flashes a wicked grin. “You aren’t the only one with a secret spot.”

...

Percy arrives in the Big House 20 minutes after curfew was called, exactly as Annabeth had instructed. He felt her presence before she re-materialized in front of him and in a low conspiratorial whisper tells him to follow her.

They sneak down to the basement and Percy is confused when she keeps walking towards the corner. She lifts up a floorboard and starts climbing down a ladder. She beckons him to join her and when he makes it down the ladder, he can’t help the smile that breaks out. It’s a sort of underground attic, complete with a worn dusty couch, blankets and an old TV.

“I found it my first year at camp by accident. I was down doing chores and one of the broom strings got caught under it. I didn’t have many friends except for….” She lets him fill in the blank rather than say the name out loud. “And when he wanted to be with kids his own age, I’d come here. There's only five movies down here and I memorized them.” She looks down at her shoes. “I know it’s not the sea floor but..”

“Are you kidding? It’s awesome. What are the movies?”

They dig around and end up finding two more that apparently seven-year-old Annabeth did not think worth the time. They watch Die Hard first, (“Oh my Gods I can't believe you haven’t watched Die Hard. This is a travesty. It’s a classic Annabeth.”) then Pulp Fiction, ("I can’t believe it, all the shit you gave me for not seeing Die Hard, and you haven’t Pulp Fiction?? You absolute heathen!") and Clueless. ("What? It has to be full of violence and toxic masculinity to be good? It’s a good movie Percy, shut-up.") Before he knows it, it’s 3:54 am shaking with hysterical silent laugher at Annabeth's impression of Dionysus.

“Oh my gods oh-OH! Do you know what we’ve got to do?”

“Uh-oh, what?”

She grins impishly and a little deliriously. “We’ve gotta go to our spot.”

“Ah, of course. Yes, our spot, totally.” He says in a voice he hopes is neutral, in an effort to gage if she’s serious.  

“Oh my gods.” She gasps, offended.

“What.”  

“I can’t believe this.”

“You can’t believe what?”

“You forgot our spot.”

“I’m sorry Annabeth, until four seconds ago I wasn’t aware we had a spot.”

“Oh my gods. I can not believe this-” He can tell she’s messing with him, and not actually mad.

“Annabeth, just tell me where it is.”

“I simply can not believe this, you absolute heathen-”

“Stop calling me a heathen, and tell me where it is.”

She smiles, “I can show you.”

...

“Oh, of course! This is our spot!”

Annabeth chuckles, “I told you.” They’re standing at the edge of the forest at the tallest of the rock clusters to the far left. It's the one they used to go to after their first quest, the place where Annabeth taught him the constellations. The place where he made his first real friend. Not people he hung out with to avoid getting picked on. Not a searcher who happened to like the demigod he found.  His first real best-friend.

They climbed up easily and lay down looking straight up at the sky. Annabeth points up at the floating memorials, and Percy dutifully recites the legends of how they earned their place in the sky. They're shoulder to shoulder and their fingers graze each other for longer than necessary. And slowly they lull into comfortable silence, arms overlapping, at some point Annabeth's head lands on his shoulder. Percy freezes for a while, staying absolutely still as if she’s a wild creature who could bolt at any moment. But then he relaxes, and she relaxes and he’s pretty sure she’s asleep until she takes in a shaky breath and whispers, “Hey, Percy?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna be okay right?” He can tell she's trying to mask the vulnerability in her voice. And he can’t see all of her face from the angle they’re laying, but her nose is on his collarbone, and her hair is tickling his chin.

He closes his eyes, and he thinks. He thinks about Luke and Rachel and how nothings been the same since Percy blew up that mountain.

He thinks about seeing her for the first time, grey eyes wide hair falling off her shoulders and how even after everything he just went through, he felt safe. He thinks about ‘you drool when you sleep’, and the way she looked at him when he was claimed- awestruck and pitiful at the same time. He thinks about rolled eyes, stamped feet, and frustration always just under the surface. He thinks about silent truces, and letting guards down, and shared oreos in the back of a mobile zoo. He thinks about sweaty palms gripping each other in the Underworld, and shaky hands giving him a good luck camp necklace. He thinks about camp fires, stupid jokes, learning about the stars, and how the just fit.

He thinks about postcards and iris-messages, and how she punched Matt Sloane square on the nose. He thinks about how despite the arguing and the confusion about Tyson, she was always there when she needed him. How she didn’t hesitate to sneak out of camp with one of the first species he ever learned to truly fear, because he asked her to. He thinks about her in a dress and how tongue-tied him in guinea pig form. He thinks about her broken sobs and how she clutched at him in their underwater bubble. He thinks about winning a chariot race, the softest of cheek kisses and how in this world of gods and monsters, she’s the only thing he was really sure about.

He thinks about how she was the first girl he ever danced with, and how light everything felt when she was around. He thinks about how it felt strangely familiar when she fell off that cliff, and how only days later realized that it was the same desperation he had when Hades took his mother. He thinks about how gutted it was when he found out she was thinking about joining the Hunters. He thinks about his visit from Aphrodite and how even though she changed form, her hair smelled like lemons the entire time. He thinks about when he saw her on that cliff it was like the sun came out. How he saw her face and it was smudged with dirt and cuts but she was alive and he could breathe again. He thinks about how his throat closed up when he thought Artemis was going to pick her for the Hunt. He remembers how when they danced on Olympus, for a song she was prettier than Aphrodite.

He thinks about planning a movie date, and how he discovered Annabeth doesn’t get any less pretty when she’s mad at him. How she sat right next to him at dinner and how when she fixed his armour, his neck burned wherever she touched him. He thinks about falling in a whole and holding her hand and how they’d done it before but it felt different that time. He thinks about ping pong table meetings and how he became aware of the fact that he’d follow her anywhere. He thinks about the determination in her when she faced the Sphinx, and how the same fire was in them right before she kissed him. He thinks about how she tasted like smoke and salt, and how for the 3.2 seconds that his lips were hers, the first thing he thought was ‘we fit like this too’. He thought he was going to die but it was okay. It was okay that he was going to die, because he had gotten to kiss her. He thinks about Calypso’s Island, and how he dreamt about her every night. How when he crashed his funeral, she held like she couldn’t bear to let go and how that was fine with him. He thinks about the blur that was the labyrinth, full of unshed tears, words that cut, and how despite all the scream fights and the terror, and the barely contained rage, none of it lessened the fierce protectiveness he feels for her. How despite it all, she's still the best thing that's ever fucking happened to him. He thinks about the last line of her prophecy, and how she thought it was about him.

He loves her.

He’s not sure if he’s in love with her because he’s 15 and he hasn’t exactly had time to date around but he knows that for a fact. Knowing Annabeth, loving Annabeth has made him who he is. She is burned into his DNA. Somehow the 12 year old with princess curls and eyes that cut, crawled under his skin. He knows he’s done the same to her, even though they’re both too stubborn to say it out loud. They could never really leave each other, even if they tried.

So Percy shifts so he can see her face in the pale moonlight, brushes a curl out of her face and says,

“Yeah. It’s us Annabeth. We’re gonna be alright.”

She smiles soft and real because she knows him, so she knows he means it. He’s not sure who reaches out this time, but they're holding hands and staring at the sky in a silence that speaks volumes.

They stay like that until it’s sunrise and they have to sneak into their respective cabins. Looking at stars, fighting sleep, and forgetting about the rest of the world.

______________

(They hold hands all the way back to her cabin.)

(He doesn’t stop smiling the whole way back to his own.)

______________

if your still here hi! thank you for reading. send in prompts from this list, or any sentence starter you want to read. ask box is open for those and if you just wanna say hi :)

[palbabor-writes]

Unknown.

Pairing: Shigaraki Tomura x puppy!girl OC

For: @kazooli​ 

Warnings: sex pollen, tw.dubcon, tw.unbalanced relationship, tw.blood/gore, unrequited feelings, puppy!reader, established OC, NSFW/18+only

Word Count: 3681

Notes: the is part of the Evil Exchange! i had a lot of fun with this concept & am so glad i got to take part! this fic does have an established OC & while she is not named, she does have physical descriptions that are not neutral.  

[ 2:15 am, Monday morning ]

He shouldn’t have taken you along. You don’t belong here. 

Your quirk isn’t equipped to deal with something like this [ or is it perfect? since all of your senses are acutely attuned to him, your lips open, tongue heavy between your teeth, drool pooling under your jaw and down your neck, your eyes gleaming with an unnatural sheen as you try to hump against his leg like a bitch in heat ] and you have little in the way of melee attacks, or a true defense. No, all you have is your pretty blonde hair, floppy ears that prick each time you hear him, and that incessantly wagging tail that sticks out from your pert little ass, like a goddamn antenna. You’re absolutely too pure for this, too fucking saccharine, and too damn nice to be here.

Fuck. This was a mistake.

[ 72 hours before the mission ]

“It’s in that old warehouse, the one by the docks.”

“Which one? The images that we have show multiple buildings.”

“The fuck do I know? You only wanted me to ask around about the place. If you wanted me to do the damn job for you, you should have said.”

Shigaraki narrows his eyes at Dabi’s hunched back, doing his best to remind himself that they’re already low on funds, on members, and they can’t afford to lose anything else. Not now, when they’re literally scraping along the bottom of the barrel, yanking out whatever dregs they can find and trying desperately to make them stick.

“Did they give you a time?”

“For the exchange? Yeah, said they’re gonna be down there around 1am.”

“And the date?”

“Date?” Dabi questions, whipping his dark head back to Shigaraki’s impassive face, arching one dark brow. 

“Yeah,” Shigaraki intones, a half concealed snarl lifting his cracked lips. “The date for when this is all going to take place. We can’t send someone down there every night, hoping it’s the correct time. They’ll be noticed.”

“Said they wanted it to be this Monday, something about shelf life. Apparently this shit is better when it’s fresh. Sells quicker, is more effective.”

“How much did they agree to hand over?”

“Fucking–look man, I didn’t grab a cup of coffee with them, or ask if they wanted to go get some lunch. I told them our terms, they agreed and gave me the location, ‘date’ and time. What did you want me to do? Paint their nails? Suck em’ off? If you’re wanting to get into the drug trade, maybe ask a few more questions yourself. Not leave them to middlemen. You act like you wanna be a leader, so fucking act like–”  

A quiet knocking breaks Dabi’s tirade and both men turn toward the closed door.

“What?” Shigaraki snaps, raising a hand to his neck, scritching his long nails against the scars that he finds. It’s a shitty habit, and he knows it gives his agitation away, but he doesn’t care. The sooner Dabi loses his temper and fucks back off to the streets, the better.

The door creaks open and your golden head pops around the corner, hair falling into the empty air as your dog like ears waggle, listening, testing the safety of the room. Your eyes shift from Dabi’s bristled form to Shigaraki and the moment they alight on his stony expression, you smile. 

“M-mister Tomura, um, the others… well, we were talking and heard Dabi shouting… uh, they… I mean… I was wondering if you’ve assigned anyone to the new mission? The one you mentioned the other day?” 

Dabi snorts and you toss his lanky frame a glare, ears flattening along the side of your head. “Yeah, I bet you wanna know who’s going with Mister Tomura. Got news for you girly, it’s prolly not gonna be you.”

Your quivering pink lips are about to form a retort when Shigaraki’s voice croaks out. “Enough. Tell the others we’ll discuss this later. Dabi, don’t you have some recruits that you’re supposed to show me?”

The flame user waves a lackadaisical hand and stands, inky head cocked toward your pouting face, letting his sharp gaze linger against your angry expression. “Soon boss. Told you already, quality takes time. Not that you know that, since all you seem to attract is freaks, like this one.”

[ 21 hours before the mission ] 

 “You’re really taking her?” Toga asks, twirling a small knife between her splayed fingers. “I mean, isn’t she kinda lacking in… experience?”

“She’s the only one who can smell out any fakes. I don’t trust these guys. They might try to offload a lower grade product to us.” Shigaraki explains, tucking the battered case of quirk destroying bullets back into his jacket pocket. In the last 24 hours things have gone from bad to worse, what with the news that Twice couldn’t replicate the serum, and the potential, permanent loss of Kurogiri. He’s not about to add double crossed by some two bit drug dealers to that list.

“You want me to give her some weapons? A knife or something? I’ve got plenty of extra. Can’t ever have too many and besides, I like her. And I know she’ll bring them back, safe and sound. She’s such an obedient girl.”

Obedient. 

That’s an apt word for you. Maybe it’s an after effect of your quirk, or the puppy-like way you act around him [ with that permanently blissed out smile and thumping tail of yours ] but your swift, unquestioning compliance always makes him think of an over eager pet. 

“She’s malleable, and that’s what I need on this mission.”

“Ah! You saying I wouldn’t be?”

“Tch. You wouldn’t even try.”

[ 7 hours before the mission ]

He’s taking you. 

It hadn’t been some kind of dream, he’d really shown up in your doorway, with his red eyes glowing in the low light, his sharp jaw tensed, and told you that you’d be accompanying him. Just you and him, together, alone, on a mission where he’d need to rely on you. Could trust you, would talk with you.  

As soon as he left, you’d flopped back against the ratty mattress that sat in the middle of your room, trembling fingers already shoving the elastic lining of your shorts down, letting you thumb a quick circle over your throbbing, distended clit. In seconds you’re leaking all over your hand, mind whirring, picturing how he’ll look as he walks beside you, listening for the bite of his voice, imagining him telling you what a good girl you are. He’ll be so pleased, so happy with you. Oh, the things he’ll say to you. 

Look at you, you did so well. 

Thank you. Thank you for coming on this with me. 

I can’t wait to take you [ bend you over and ] with me again. 

I can’t wait to [ fuck your little pussy until you’re screaming for me ] get you home safely.

You did such a good job.

I wouldn’t have [ until you’re cumming all over my cock ] been able to do it without you.

You’d make the perfect apprentice, you know?

You really [ such a greedy little bitch ] would.

You’re perfect [ look at how you’re taking me. i’m gonna fuck you stupid, you dirty slut ] and I’m happy that you’re here with me.

That I found you.

Your release builds swiftly. Making your feathery tail ripple over the tattered sheets and your ears tremble in the chilly air. You feel you’re catching alight. It’s too much, and you hate that you’re not taking your time, but you can’t hear his voice as well now. 

The memory of it is fading as Mister Tomura pads away from you, down the long hallway that leads to his room. 

You remind yourself to listen more, as your fingers pinch and twist at your shuddering clit, to memorize every detail of him. You want to see him every time you close your eyelids and be able to picture him again each morning. To wash yourself in that hazy vermillion of his eyes and the timbre of his voice. 

It’s too soon, but your toes are already curling, your back is arching, welcoming the rush of wetness that slips between your shaking thighs. You feel lightheaded, but your dulled senses does nothing to mask the giddiness that keeps bubbling its way out of your chest. 

Tomorrow. Mister Tomura is taking you with him tomorrow.

 [ Mission begins: 1 am, Monday morning ]

 “Um, Mister Tomura… do you want me to go in first? That way you can–”

“No, they know I’m coming.”

“Oooh! So there’s no need for surprise!”

“Correct.”

The dark buildings along the wharf are slowly peeking into view and Shigaraki peers over at your grinning face, his red eyes watchful under the dark hood of his jacket. You look happy, a little too happy. You’re the best choice for this mission, but he can’t shake that uneasy feeling that keeps nagging at the back of his mind. 

Eager is one thing, but you’re practically vibrating with excitement. That tail of yours won’t stop lashing back and forth and each time he sees your ears twitch and your head snap up to his, he’s reminded that you’ll need to be looked after on this. Unlike the others, you don’t have an affinity for combat or a quirk that gives you any kind of advantage in a fight. Nevertheless, you’re a member of the league and that connection affords you certain privileges. 

Unless he has no other option, he won’t abandon you.

As the two of you step toward the fifth warehouse, you lean closer to him, your shoulder brushing against his obsidian jacket, a quiet huff of air falling from your parted lips. “This is it,” you tell him, mismatched eyes blinking up at his impassive expression. 

When he says good, you almost snatch at his arm, and you try to hold back your panting breaths, to not let them slip out, but you know he can see, he can tell. He always can. You feel his sharp gaze passing over you, and sense his blistering annoyance when you subconsciously lean into him a little harder, rubbing your clothed shoulder against his.

“You ready Mister Tomura?” The question leaves you on a whisper and you bite your lower lip into your mouth, wanting him to say yes, wanting him to tell you what a good job you’ve done, finding the location like this. That he’s ready for anything as long as you’re by his side.

“Step back,” he murmurs, lifting three fingers to the door as he shoves it open, the metal wheels screeching into the static quiet of the night.

[ 1:45 am, Monday morning ]

“What’s wrong with her?” Shigaraki demands, releasing the throat of the leader of this de facto gang, sending him crashing across the grimy floor of the warehouse.

“I– koff, koff, I d-don’t… fucking know! She just… shit… sniffed the stuff and started shaking.”

“What’s in it? I’ll give you five seconds.” There’s no time for this and if you’re having some kind of reaction to the drugs, he’s honestly not sure what he’s going to do with you. A villain hospital is out of the question and sensei’s doctor can’t be located. Shit.

“It’s… it’s got some kinda quirk enhancing property… I don’t think that–”

“Five,” Shigaraki begins, stepping over the gristled remains of the others, his red shoes bright against the pools of darkening blood.

“What!? You can’t be serious! Look, man, I’m not the one who manufactured them! I–”

“Four.”

“Oh my God, oh m-my…. look, he said something about increasing the instincts. Making the user less–”

“Three.”

“Libido! It increases libido! I think… no! No! Please! Don’t you–Keep the fuck away from me, you freak! Don’t–I’m trying to tell you! Come on! Please! I don’t–”

Shigaraki lets the man struggle, watching his fruitless scramble across the floor; hands flapping against the gritty concrete with loud smacks, and feet slipping. He looks like a fish on a line. 

“None of those things let me know what’s in the drug,” he informs his prey, blood slicked shoes stepping down, trapping the man under his heel, halting his frantic motions.

“That’s not… not… Y-you said you’d give me until five?”

“Did I?” Shigaraki asks, a wide grin cracking over his face, one hand lowering, fingers splayed, reaching. “Looks like I lied.”

The man’s shrieks quickly turn into deep throated garbles as the decay of Shigaraki’s quirk races up his body, reducing him to a mass of shattered bones, hollowed teeth and gushing ichor. Pity, Shigaraki thinks, wiping his bloodied hand against his dark pants and twisting back to your trembling form. 

You’re whimpering, your voice catching as you try to gulp down a few breaths and your tail is flat, its usual golden hanging lusterless in the darkness. When he steps closer, your head lifts and he can see the hopeful prick of your floppy ears. Your cheeks and the line of your neck are flushed, creating a burst of dusty pink that blends perfectly with your flaxen hair. You look like a doll, tiny and shivering in the cold, your puppy-like features wilted under the weight of the drug that’s coursing through your bloodstream.

“M-Mister T-T-T-omura,” you whine, one hand lifting, straining for him. “I-I feel… I feel… hot. It… it’s too warm. I think I’m… I don’t know if… if I–”

“Can you walk?” He cuts right to the chase, not liking that shimmering line of desperation that’s laced within your words. You look like you’re about to fall to pieces, but he needs more information. He can’t help you, he reasons, pushing down that inner voice that’s screaming for him to step away from your curled body, if he doesn’t know what’s wrong. 

“D-dunno…” you stammer, licking your pastel tongue across your lips, making them slick, pouting them forward. “I don’t… I don’t feel so good.”

“I know,” he reminds you, kneeling in front of you, placing himself within your reach.

In hindsight, it was a stupid move. He knows better. It could have been avoided. He should have paid more attention, not underestimated your tenacity, your want.

Your fingers are under his shirt before he can blink, and before he can breathe, you’re coiling your way into his lap, forcing him to fall to the ground, pressing against him until he’s sure there’s nothing else of you he can hold. “M-Mister… please… p-please! Mister Tomura! Make it go away!”

He tries to shove you off, carefully lifting fingers away, pushing at you with eight digits, hoping you’ll stop squirming. But it doesn’t work and the wet lap of your tongue catches him utterly by surprise. He stiffens under you, his arms falling to his sides, neck rigid, vermillion eyes wide, but you don’t care. 

Mister Tomura smells so nice this close. 

It’s a musty scent, sticky and clammy, but oh, there’s something else under there. Something that makes you think of slickening skin, the rub of your fingers, and the tacky drip that sometimes falls from between your legs. It’s too much; it’s making you feel woozy and your hands shake as they reach for his face, but you want more. You need more.

“Is this ok? I-Is this alright Mister Tomura? Can I pet you? Please?”

There’s no reply. So you continue, lacing your hands into his pearlescent hair and lowering his lips to yours. He feels rough against your soft lips, so you dip your tongue out to loosen him up, poking until he gives you a halfhearted press, the hot exhale of his nose passing over your pink tinted cheek. “That’s right Mister,” you repeat, encouraging him to let you taste more, rutting your hips against the stiffened plane of his upper thigh. “Let me take care of you, Mister Tomura. Can I be your good girl? Hmm?”

When your fingers pad over his crotch, he groans and his back arches. You pull away, awed by his reaction, hoping he’ll be looking at you, imagining how pretty his eyes will look when they’re lit up with the want of you. But his head is turned and his jaw is set in a foreboding clench. “Mist–Mister Tomura?” you blurt out, hands grabbing at the sides of his face, forcing him back to you.

The dark look he fixes you with makes your heart pound and you can tell your tail is wagging furiously behind you. You like it when he looks at you like that. He likely thinks it’s cold, uncaring, but you know. You know the truth, that he wants you. 

Everything inside of you is clattering, rattling at you, screaming out that he wants this. 

“I see,” you begin, your hips picking up their pace, hoping he’ll let you slip your rapidly dampening pants off. “You want me too, right? You want me to help you with that.” Here you pause, lowering one hand to trace up the curve of his clothed cock, cupping at it until he’s gritting his teeth, showing you a bright line of white. “I can do that, Mister. I’ll do anything for you, anything. Just let me be your good girl, ‘kay?”

[ 2:24 am, Monday morning ]

He’s pushed you back, but not too far. Not far enough that your delicate toes can’t reach him. 

It hadn’t taken much to work his black jeans open, just a quick flick of your wrist and a sharp tug and then there he was, his tip red, beads of pre-cum frothing against his slit, weeping downward. Delicious, is all that you could think, and your lips were around him before he could stutter forward. He makes the cutest sounds when he’s shoving past the ring of your mouth, but it’s gotta hurt his hands when he’s clawing them along the ground like that. 

He should relax.

Once you’d worked him over, hungrily slathering over his dripping cock head, and greedily felt him pulse against the flat of your tongue, you’d shifted off of him. He gasped when you let go, and you thoroughly enjoyed the pop that all that wetness made in the still air. 

When you slid your pants over the curve of your hips he’d stood, but maybe this drug had given you some kinda super strength besides that fire that was thrumming in your veins, because after you’d trapped him between your spread knees, he hadn’t struggled since. 

Maybe he’ll like this? Or this?

It’s really just a guessing game now, and even though Mister Tomura isn’t the most enthusiastic player, he is a reactive one.

The mess of your saliva quickly lubricated the arch of your foot and his copious pre-cum and you run it up and down his straining length, pressing the other forward when you hear him grunting, his hips bucking upwards, helping you. 

“You like this Mister Tomura?”

You’re still waiting on your good girl and you hope you’ll do something that ekes it from his clamped lips. But you can wait, after all Mister Tomura likes when you work hard, when you do your best for him. 

He lets out a yelp when you speed up and you laugh, so happy that he’s happy.

[ 2:56 am, Monday morning ]

“Mister! Mister Tomura, please! It… ah… it hurts again. C-can you p-put it… mmm… in… inside me?”

It’s the third time you’ve asked him that question, but he’s not listening to you anymore. Instead, he’s shoving you down, lifting the round globes of your red smacked ass and tracing the heavy tip of his cock over your leaking slit. He presses forward and back, slicking himself with your milky release, tacking your arousal all over him. At some point, something broke within him and you’re still exalting in the heady feel of him over you. 

“M-Mister Tomu–”

“Shut up. If you call me that one more time, I’ll stop right now. Just leave you here, naked, all alone and unprotected,” Shigaraki threatens, reaching around for your swollen clit and giving it a sharp pinch. You quake under his hands and he watches as your puppy ears fall and your tail brushes against his sweat slicked chest. “Imagine what would happen if someone came along and saw you like this? Saw you panting and humping the floor. You look like a fucking dog. Like some loose bitch who can’t think of anything other than the feel of someone’s dick. You want this? Huh?”

He grabs at your golden hair and pulls you upwards, forcing your spine into a u shape, watching as your tongue flops out of your mouth, as your drool falls down your chest. The tiny buds of your breasts do little to catch the saliva, so most fall on your trembling hands and you let out a piteous whine, hoping he’ll show you some mercy. Hoping he’ll fuck you until you can’t think. 

“Answer me.” His voice is iron and you shudder, ass wiggling as you gasp out his name and a chorus of yeses. When his tip aligns with your entrance, it sends a jolt of electricity across your heated skin. 

“Want me to call you a good girl?” he asks, pushing until his bulbous head is just tucked inside that first ring of pink muscle, grunting as you try to take him deeper, your cunt ravenously clamping around him.

“Y-yes! C-C-Call m-me that! T-Tell meee!”

“Then promise me you’ll never touch me again. Promise me you’ll never come near me. Tell me I’ll never have to look at that simpering face of yours and I’ll tell you what you want to hear.”

“B-But Mister… I mean… but… T-Tomu-Tomura. I-I can’t do that. I l-love you!”

“That’s too bad,” Shigaraki hums, jerking his hips forward, feeding you another tantalizing inch of his cock, watching as your viscid arousal gushes outward, coating the flesh of your inner thighs and staining his curled thatch of pubic hair. 

“Because I don’t love you.”

[fallingstarnovel]

Chapter One

Evan Golightly didn't consider himself an unlucky kind of guy. It wasn't like he was wandering around winning the lottery, but he also wasn't getting hit by chunks of blue ice from the sky from a passing airplane.

This week was just like every other week he had experienced so far. As he walked to his lecture across the university campus, he saw the same people he usually did and went to the same places as always. He didn't step on any cracks in the pavement, and he didn't walk under any ladders. He didn't find any four leaf clovers either, and he didn't have a lucky rabbit's paw on his key chain. He had a coffee cup in his hand – medium sized, not big and not small. 

He was a little late, because he had stopped to pet a black cat that lay on the pavement in front of him, but that was okay. The lecturer was very forgiving, and most people were a few minutes late anyway due to a clash in timetabling. 

Evan couldn't remember if seeing a black cat was good luck or bad luck. As the kitty purred and rubbed itself up against his fingers, he couldn't help but smile and talk to it quietly.

"Oh, you like that? You like the scritches? You're so handsome, such a handsome boy..."

Someone behind him coughed disapprovingly. A little embarrassed at getting caught, Evan straightened up and kept walking, forgetting all about whether black cats were lucky or not. 

As he approached the building where his lecture was held, Evan started climbing the concrete steps up to the entrance.

If luck could be charted on a bell curve, with some people being extremely lucky, and some being extremely unlucky, then Evan considered himself to be slap bang in the middle. If he entered the lottery, he might win one of the smallest prizes, but not very often. If he got onto a crowded bus, there would be a seat available, but not a very good one. If he chose answers at random on a test, he would get a 50% grade at the end. 

There was a meow from down by his feet. The black cat was following him. It had big green eyes which were staring at him as it meowed again. 

"I'm sorry, I would love to play with you, but I'm late," Evan said. He knew the cat didn't understand, but he still felt like being polite. 

The cat meowed very loudly and then started walking in between Evan's feet as he climbed the stairs. He started to worry that he was going to trip, slowing down and trying to shoo it away with his foot. It meowed again, but ran away, standing at a distance and staring at him. 

Evan had always been weak for cute things. He bit his lip. "Ahh, I'm sorry! Wait until my lecture finishes, I'll come back and give you scritches then!" 

He was almost at the top of the stairs now. Evan turned away from the cat – only to see a small black shadow out the corner of his eye down by his sneakers. He felt something brush against his leg, and then he tripped over something, and before he knew what was happening, he was falling backwards down the stairs. 

Evan let out a sharp cry, his arms windmilling around him as he went into freefall. 

Not the stairs... not the stairs! This was why he hated stairs! He always knew they would kill him one day! 

Before he could fall any further and roll down the stairs and smash like a boiled egg, he felt someone grab his arm and hold him still. His bag hit the ground and his coffee cup went flying, bouncing down the steps and spilling coffee everywhere, but Evan...

Evan was being held up at the top of the stairs by a strong, sure grip. 

He looked around in surprise. Holding his arm was a smiling youth with curly blond hair, tumbling in cherubic whorls around his ears. The youth looked just as shocked, his eyes big and wide as he stared at Evan. As he stopped Evan from falling. 

There was a moment of silence. The youth pulled Evan forward onto the flat ground at the top of the steps, and let go. 

"You..." Evan said in a rush. "You saved me! Thank you so much, I thought I was a goner..." 

The youth hesitantly smiled back, his eyes flickering down the stairs. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just tripped on a–" Evan said, gesturing to the cat. 

The cat was no longer there. It had disappeared. 

"... Huh. Guess I tripped on nothing. Um, thanks. Oh, man, my coffee..."

The youth picked up Evan's bag and handed it over to him. His eyes were wide, like he was recovering from a sudden shock. "Sorry. I'll buy you a new one."

"Don't worry about it, it was my fault," Evan said with a laugh. "I owe you for saving me. I should buy you a coffee!" 

The youth looked at Evan. He couldn’t help but notice that his eyes were light grey, bright and cold, crinkling at the corners in a warm smile. "There's no need to thank me. You don't owe me a thing."

Evan had heard those two sentences before many times in his life. He had heard it from friends who had done him a favour, and from customer service workers who helped him get a discount for his broken laptop, and from the nice woman in the corner shop who sent his mom flowers when she heard his grandfather had died. 

They had always been said with varying levels of sincerity. A lot of people said "no need to thank me", but secretly wanted to be thanked very much. If you didn't thank them, they wouldn't help you in the future. People were weird like that. 

But when this guy said it, for some reason Evan understood that it was the absolute truth. Like it wouldn't matter if Evan thanked him or not – he would still help him. 

Feeling a little flustered, Evan scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I have a lecture now, so I better... uh, you're sure you don't want a coffee afterwards?"

The youth seemed to think about it for just a second too long, before shaking his head. His smile was apologetic. "It's fine. Enjoy your lecture." He started walking away. 

"Ah, uh, you too," Evan said in a panic, before quietly smacking his own face. He had no idea if the guy even had a lecture. Stupid, stupid, stupid... 

The youth came to a stop. He slowly turned around, an angelic, apologetic smile on his face. "Actually, I'm a little lost. Could you tell me where room M42 is?" 

"That's – that's where I'm going now! That's where my lecture is!" Evan gave him a wide grin. "Astro 228, right?"

The youth nodded. "Right."

"Just follow me, then. Huh... I didn't know we shared a class, sorry I didn't recognise you!"

"That's okay," the youth said quietly from behind him as they entered the lecture building together. "I tend to stay quiet." 

Watery winter sun did its best to shine through the floor length windows of the lecture building. It shone off the back of Evan’s pale neck, the black hair that fell in every direction. It reflected off the otherboy’s grey eyes, making them seem more luminous, more pallid, as they watched Evan with keen, unwavering interest.

Evan walked slightly ahead to lead the way. "Well, I definitely won't forget you now. You saved my life! What's your name?"

The youth was quiet. Evan waited for an answer for an uncomfortably long time, before wondering if he had spoken too quietly. He was about to repeat the question when a soft voice from behind him said "Ruth."

Ruth? Wasn't Ruth a girl's name? Was this guy actually a girl? "Oh, Ruth? Ahh, that's a cool name."

"You don't think it's weird? That a guy has a girl's name?"

Oh, thank god, he didn't have to try and subtly ask awkward questions about pronouns. Maybe the guy was used to this kind of thing and anticipated the awkwardness. "No, I don't think so. As long as you like it, then that's all that matters. I'm Evan by the way." 

The youth hummed. "I know." 

Now Evan felt guilty. He didn't even remember seeing this guy around, but he remembered Evan's name. Ah, this was too bad. He would definitely make an effort to remember him now. "Well, here it is. Just in time–"

"Actually, you go ahead," Ruth said suddenly. "I need to use the bathroom."

Evan turned around and blinked at him. "Oh. Sure. I'll see you in a bit, then."

The youth nodded. He hesitated, before speaking again.

“It was nice to talk to you.” 

He gave Evan one last beatific smile, before walking away and disappearing around the corner. Evan quietly let himself into the lecture and scurried to the back, mouthing "sorry" at the lecturer, who ignored him. 

He made sure to keep the seat next to him free for Ruth even as other students trickled in. 

The lecturer coughed several times to get the attention of the class. 

"So, last week I opened the lecture with the following quote: God does not play dice with the universe. This is oft quoted and attributed to Einstein himself in a letter to a friend criticizing what he saw as the unacceptable flaw in quantum mechanics, that is, the possibility of unpredictable random events on a molecular level. In many ways, he was right. We have been learning how to chart the movement of objects in a vacuum – predicting the orbits of distant planets and stars around the insatiable black holes that are, themselves, in a perpetual state of movement. I know that most of you have grasped the basics of this particular module very quickly. Predictability is a magnetic lure – one gets lulled into the false sense of security knowing that we can work out the trajectory of some far flung meteor to a high degree of accuracy. As if space can be imagined as some unfathomably large clock, each cog in place, every heavenly body caught in an eternal, rational, predictable waltz to the swing of a baton that, if only we have the numbers, might one day understand the rhythms of. If you turn your attention to the notes we made on how you can work out the speed of rotation of a planet..."

Evan tried very hard to concentrate and make notes. There was always a buffer at the start of the class where this particular lecturer went on a long tangent about random things he thought were interesting, and he usually zoned out through them, but once the actual maths was brought in, there was no possibility of daydreaming and letting it slip by. If you missed anything, you ended up being more confused down the line when the more complicated stuff got brought in. 

The poor girl next to him was doomed. She fell asleep almost immediately, and Evan lit a candle in his mind for her. RIP your grades, you snoozy bitch. At the same time, he was envious. Why couldn’t he take a nap instead of doing work?

He tried to concentrate, but all through the lecture, Evan couldn't help but keep looking at the doorway, wondering when Ruth was going to appear. How long did it take to use the bathroom? Did the poor guy have a stomach upset? 

By the time the lecture was over, Evan had accepted that Ruth wasn't going to appear. He lit a candle in his heart for the guy's bowel system. Clearly, he had been having some kind of toilet trouble and decided to skip the lecture. 

What a shame. He seemed so... interesting. 

After the lecture was over, Evan slowly clambered out of his seat. The lecturer had set a bunch of exercises to do at home, and the library was calling for a study session. Time to shuffle into Tesco to get a £3 meal deal and sit down for several hours to pound his brain into submission! 

"Hey, Evan," someone called out as they left the lecture. "Evan, wait up!" 

There was a girl chasing after Evan. She had warm brown skin and an infectious smile, her eyes sparkling with excitement. 

"Oh, sorry Aliya," he said, slowing down so she could catch up. "Did you enjoy the lecture?"

Aliya pouted. "No, are you insane? Enjoy it? Why did I do an astrophysics course again? There's so much maths. I genuinely think I would drop out if I didn't think my mum would kill me."

Evan nodded in agreement. "Sometimes I think about switching to an art degree instead. I won't do it. But I just think about it sometimes."

"Wait, wait, I wanted to ask you something," Aliya said, slapping his arm lightly. "House party. I've been invited, but I don't want to go alone. It's a bunch of people I don't know very well, and..."

Evan rolled his eyes. "If you don't know them, why are you going?"

"Because I don't know how to say no!" Aliya moaned. "It's a pretty casual thing, don't worry. You know I don't drink, so I'll probably be dipping early. Please? Please please please? Please just come for a little while, just to keep me company..."

Evan wasn't a prude. He liked a good party. The thing was that he liked a good party with people he knew. "And I don't know anyone there?"

"Probably not, they're all from netball club. But hey – you'll know me!" 

"I don't know you. Who are you. Why are you following me."

"Evaaaaan. Please! I'll do anything."

There was a long silence as they exited the lecture building together. Evan watched the students stream out of the building on their way to other classes, or the library, or their rooms to go back to sleep. 

He wasn't exactly great at making friends. Aliya was the only person on his course that he talked to regularly. It was why he was pretty excited to get to know Ruth, except he disappeared, so that was a bust. He tried a few clubs and societies, but none of them had really clicked so far. 

He hadn't been to a party in ages. He was wasting the best years of his youth in university, and he wasn't even going to parties. What was the point? He was living like a grandpa and he was only twenty one! 

He wasn't an old man yet! He didn't have a pension! He still liked electronic music!

Maybe this was the chance Evan needed to make new friends. How hard could it be? 

"Sure, why not." 

Aliya cheered. "Yay! Thank you, big guy. I owe you one. Oh, wow, watch your feet, it looks like someone spilled their coffee down the stairs... haha, poor them..."

Contents | Next Chapter

[rainpuddle13]

13. teasing each other good-naturedly Ross & Demelza

Thank you for the ask, @veryflowerobservation! 💗

He was startled awake by a nudge to his hand then a sharp pain, eyes jerking open to see a white and black cat sitting on the desk looking pleased with himself. Ross yawned mightily, not having realized how tired he actually was after burning the candle at both ends for the past few weeks. He was nearing the end of his book and he wanted to make the push through to get it done, but he must have dozed off. The clock on the mantle read half past two.

“What are you doing down here?” he asked the cow kitty, Feathers was Demelza’s cat from the moment they discovered each other in the barn loft. That was near on three years ago now and he’d turned into a very lazy house cat who loved a good patch of sun and had a fetish for green peas.

Feathers miaowed in answer, his purr box starting up to rough rumble when he settled the long, lanky cat in his lap, idly scritching his ears. Ross had long given up fighting against the invasion of animals in his house - it was a losing proposition and he wanted to live in a happy home. One dog of undetermined breed, three former barn cats, a very cute hamster who loved to entertain, and a ridiculously soft rabbit all now lived under his roof - none of which technically belonged to him - his father, his wife, and his baby girl were the cause of the madness. He’d recently overheard talk of an aquarium of some sort since Julia loved their trips to the National Marine Aquarium - she was keen on the octopus and sharks.

“What is your mama going to say if she catches you?” he murmured to the cat once he’d settled down and Ross could reach to wake the laptop again. He’d obviously nodded off longer than he’d thought. “Or are you just trying to find out how the story ends before anyone else?”

Feathers, for his part, seemed unperturbed with the notion of being caught cheating since his ears were being scratched. He sighed, stretched, and went completely limp in Ross’ lap, his purring causing his entire body to vibrate. Ross went back to attempting to close out the tragic story of Jeremy Poldark, only managing a few sentences before his eyes started to drift closed again.

The next time Ross awoke it was barely light in the room. The laptop had long gone dormant again and Feathers was still snoozing in his lap. There was a steaming cup of coffee sitting on the desk and his wife was sitting on the edge of the desk, looking highly amused. She was wearing his deep blue dotted dressing gown.

“G’morning, sleepyhead,” Demelza said, one bright auburn eyebrow arching up in question.

He just took in his wife, looking stunningly beautiful in the early morning light just beginning to stream through the tall library windows. How he ended up married to her was still a mystery, but he wasn’t going to pull too hard on that thread. “Morning, my love,” he answered. “Sorry, my love, I managed to do it again.”

“You did.”

“It’s just that I'm so close.”

“I know you are which is why I don’t mind your late nights.”

“You’re a good wife,” he said, reaching to place a hand on her bare knee. Feathers made a little disparaging noise at the loss of Ross’ warm hand on his back.

She leaned down to buss his cheek with a tender kiss before sweetly stating, “But I didn’t expect to catch you cheating on me.”

“W-what?” Ross spluttered, jolting straight up, causing the cat in his lap to suddenly go from sleeping to fleeing the scene of the crime like he’d been shot out of a cannon. “I wasn’t cheating!”

“So you say,” she groused, leaning back so the dressing gown parted to expose a creamy expanse of thigh to his greedy eyes, “but it’s your loss.”

“But...but…”

“Feathers.”

“The cat?” he asked somewhat confuzzled.

“You claim you don’t like him,” she hrumphed, “and yet I find him down here with you, in your lap. Was it all night?”

“I don’t know,” he answered hastily, not sure if she was toying with him or if she was actually miffed. It was early and he hadn’t had a cup of coffee yet. “He woke me around two. He bit my hand to wake me up and insisted on getting my lap… I don’t like that flea bag all that much. I mean I do like Feathers, but not on me or around me…”

Demelza’s stern demeanor dissolved into mirth, her whole body shaking with her laughter. “Oh, Ross,” she said with absolute glee, bending down once more to kiss him silly, “you’re so adorable when you think you’re in trouble!”

He eyed her with narrowed eyes, his mouth set in a firm frown. “I don’t think I like you anymore.”

“Is that so?” Demelza inquired, sliding off of the desk to put some distance between them. He could see she was having trouble reining in her smirk. She had the upper-hand in their marriage. They both knew it. He was just thankful she didn’t take advantage of it more.

“Yes.”

“Well, that’s too bad,” she said with a sigh. “I was going to tell you to go catch a couple hours of sleep while I get ready for the day then make eggy bread for breakfast.”

That got Ross’ attention. His wife made the best eggy bread he’s ever eaten in his life and it was one of his absolutely favorite things in the world. It was terrible for you the way Demelza made it - fried in butter and bacon grease - but by God it tasted of Heaven itself. It was also an extremely rare treat. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

She scoffed. “You just said you didn’t like me any more.”

“I lied,” he blurted out quickly. “Will there be blackberry compote too?”

“I’d thought about it.”

“Please.”

“What’s in for me?”

He was up and across the room in an instant, gathering her in his arms before capturing her mouth in a thorough kiss that left her nearly breathless when he finally relented. “I’ll make it up to you.”

Demelza giggled as she shifted a bit to put a bit more space between them, her growing baby bump was getting more noticeable these days. “Maybe some other time, my darling.”

“Oh.” He was more than disappointed, not used to being turned down.

“No worries,” she reached up to brush an errant curl from his forehead, “there is someone waiting for you in our bed for her second sleep.”

“Julia,” he said, melting instantly at the thought of his baby girl. They often had a lazy nap together, just father and daughter, before the day started in earnest if they were up very early for whatever reason. It was a ritual that had started out of necessity -- he’d see to the baby while Demelza got her day going. Ross was now mourning the quickly approaching time that Julia outgrew the need for morning lie-ins with Poppy.

“Yes, Julia.”

He pressed a quick kiss to his wife’s cheek and let her go. “I shouldn’t keep her waiting then.”

“I’d be jealous if I didn’t know you better,” Demelza smiled and put a loving hand on her bump.

It was his turn to laugh. “You know I will always love you the most.”

“Yes,” she sighed, “but I think this will be the last baby we have and no more pets. I don’t need any competition.”

[regrettablewritings]

DJ X READER HEADCANON you pick 😉😉

I blink at the request that stares back at me from my inbox, brow furrowing with every flutter of my lashes. "Sis . . ." I murmur, "you good?" As though my ass had not also been search for content relating to this forgotten POS just the other day. But if you insist . . .

4. What they do on date night:

To be brutally honest, DJ will look you dead in the eye and tell you that going for a night out on the town pick-pocketing is a date. Or, at least, he will try to. It's surprisingly hard to maintain eye contact with someone whose glare could probably cut beskar.

In his defense (if he even deserves any), DJ does try to make it a little more fun than he already finds it -- granted, it's done in a very DJ way. You get your little evening promenade through the streets, he tricks you to a quick bite to eat, you hold hands and run through the lantern-speckled streets before turning down a narrow alleyway that's just perfect for sharing an intense liplock . . .

Of course, this all translates into your evening together including: Walking through a marketplace, your asshole boyfriend slipping peoples' credits out of their pockets and purses under the guise of bumping into them; him using those sticky fingers of his to nick some street food off of a cart before its proprietor called the authorities on his theft; said sticky fingers lacing with yours as he guides you down the crowded streets (grinning like the little shit he was for enjoying the chase); all before making a sudden jerk down an alleyway.

You're breathless, irritated, and . . . maybe -- only just maybe -- a little excited by the thrill of it all. But you can't let him know that, otherwise, he'd never let you live it down and he'd be the cock of the goddamn walk for who knows how long. Worse: He'd consider this a win for his insistence that this sort of thing counted as a date! And there was no way in hell you were about to let that happen!

You only got as far as opening your mouth to hiss own some choice words at him when you instead got cut off by your thieving significant other pressing you against the grubby alley wall. Even if you hadn't been distracted by the action to remember to cuss him out, the words were instantly killed. They were inhaled by his own lips, his kiss encompassing your words, your thoughts, your . . . everything. They were speared by his tongue, as though it were his weapon against the beast that brewed within you.

And they were quelled by the feel of his callused fingers brushing against your cheeks before moving onward to the beck of your head, pressing you only further into his hold. DJ's fingers were deft, but that didn't necessarily mean that their carefulness was always directed at you. It's . . . something to savor . . .

Of course, it was meant to fool the chumps following the both of you but you don't mind. Not in that moment anyway. When you get back to wherever you're staying for the night, it's another story, but one DJ is more than happy to bring to a happy ending.

It's a bit nicer when he gets his hands one someone's credits, though: It means he can take you out to an actual establishment. However, be warned: It's only a bit nicer because you also need to be on the lookout for the authorities (or the poor bastard you stole from), or be prepared to make a run for it.

11. What their first impression was of each other:

Dirty. Old. Bastard. A dirty old bastard. And to your credit, you weren't wrong, but of course, the first impression is always the shallowest. And considering the shithead had just tried to put the moves on you when you were already having a rough day . . . Yeah, he honestly deserved presumptions with the depth of one's own navel -- an outie, preferably.

He stood out against the Canto Bight elite with his grubbiness, looking like a leathery garbage pouch at best and like a guy who'd try to sell you a faulty droid at moderate. A dirty, bastardly part of you couldn't help but muse that perhaps the worst he could do was be a nasty lay -- and not nasty in the way one might want, either.

Granted, it wasn't hard to imagine that: The fact he was hitting on you while you were trying your best to just survive your shift at the casino that evening did little to convince you he was any good.

And as for DJ, it was a one-two-punch type of introduction. Literally: First he eyed you, then he got a little too suggestive, and then you punched him. What a sleazeball, right? It was his own damn fault for assuming the least of you, though. You were cute like all the other servers, no doubt, with that shy smile of yours that made it abundantly clear to him that this sort of place wasn't your scene if you didn't have to work there. Unlike the other servers, however, he was feeling pretty brazen about you.

DJ has no interest in the concept of “fate” or “destined meetings”, but even months out from that point he wouldn’t be able to place precisely what compelled him to break his usual protocol of being discreet. Nor why he was so insistent. All he knows was that he called you over to him and, rather than requesting a drink, he “chatted you up”. And might’ve suggested that you two blow off this place and maybe “blow off somewhere else”.

He also knows that the moment you struck his cheek, cheeks burning and eyes widened with the realization of what you’d done, he was wrong and right about you.

You were frankly lucky he turned out to be a blight on the Canto Bight scene, otherwise your boss would’ve fired you the moment he had learned of what you had done. What you were unlucky for, however, was that from then on, the thief started showing up more often. Not enough to get caught (at least, not for long), but enough for him to determine that maybe the both of you really should blow this joint -- in the nonsexual way.

And in the end, you became unlucky once more: For someone so grubby and bastardly, he was also quite the charmer. Y’know, once you’ve smacked him around a bit.

14. What nicknames they call each other:

You honestly struggle to nickname DJ, predominately because, well, DJ is already a nickname. You think. After all, you sincerely doubt anyone would actually name their kid Don’t Join even as a political statement. Really, the fact you don’t know his actual name sort of calls for consideration of how healthy your obviously unhealthy relationship is. But any pleas to learn this asshole’s real name just winds up being like having a namana cream pie shoved in your face, because DJ just turns it all into a joke.

There have been many occasions where DJ would tell you different names he would swear were his own -- often times in the same week! Other times, his claim would be that he’s told you it while you were asleep, or that he once told you but you got conked on the head and forgot it.

Interestingly enough, it’s through these juvenile exploits that he’s earned a bit of a nickname from you: “Bastard”. Just rolls off the tongue, don’t it? To be fair, though, you’re with him for a reason: Even if he may not seem like it, he does have a soft sport for you. Even if it comes out about as smoothly as his features.

In a way, he reminds you of a mutt. A stray mutt. Especially when he shoves his head into your lap after a long day of fucking about and being a menace to whatever society you two decided to hop a ship to.

“You’re like a puppy sometimes, you know that?” you murmur. You scritch into his mess of hair, earning a low growl of contentment from your datemate. He never had to admit it out loud, but your touch clearly did wonders to him. This was evidence by how his already large body began to further sprawl along the couch the ship he’d stolen came with. Yup; just like a puppy. A big, raggedy puppy. Who needs a trip to the refresher as soon as this scritching session was over.

For DJ, on the other hand, nicknames come easily. Honestly, it’s mainly due to how he barely takes anyone or anything seriously: When you don’t concern yourself with all the muddled nonsense of society or wide circles of people, it becomes a whole lot easier to see everyone’s buttons. And considering he was a master slicer, button-pressing was definitely his thing.

Despite the fact that you were a one-in-a-million instance of being someone whom the thief actually trusted and treated with even a modicum of respect, even you weren’t immune to his acts of mockery.

“Mornin’, P-p-pipsqueak,” he’d smirk over a cup of caff, knowing damn well that his advantage of height bothered you sometimes.

“Ea-asy there, k-kitten,” he’d purr whenever your frustration would come boiling to the brim. Things like that.

“Lookie here, dollface,” when he wants to butter you up without losing his stance.

But that doesn’t mean he’s unable to be more affectionate. It’s in there, it’s just . . . in there. The best examples, however, tend to be when the both of you are having downtime and are actually safe somewhere. Or whatever safe could mean when you’re with DJ.

Generally, a jail cell wouldn’t be considered safe. Maybe not unsafe if the only occupants were your boyfriend of ill repute and yourself, but it certainly wasn’t enjoyable. And yet, the way DJ just seemed to laze about in them made you feel unnaturally calm. Well, calmer. It would’ve been nicer if your more-than-capable boyfriend would put those slicing skills of his to use and just busted the both of you out of there, but to DJ, a night in the clink meant at least a few hours of shut eye on a bed.

“B-bes-s-sides: We can alw-w-ways just grab on-e of those f-f-f-floating citadels they g-g-g-got docked out there,” he would reason, making himself comfy on the thin mattress. He had a point, you supposed. And it wasn’t as though you hadn’t been expecting this as a part of your life once you got together with him. Still, you weren’t entirely comfortable joining him on said mattress . . . Maker knows when it had last been washed!

You would be far from the first to consider DJ to be the most observant person, dating or not, but your concern must’ve been rich enough for him to practically sense it: Without hesitating, he sat up just enough to offer you his hand.

“C-come on,” he said. “I need to c-c-c-catch some shut e-e-eye, and it ain’t hap-p-p-penin’ if you’re standing d-d-down there the entire t-time.”

A feeling of mild dread seeped into you, followed by a wet blanket of acceptance. You were going to just spend an hour in the refresher of whatever ship you swept off with. Sighing, you accepted the hand, only for the hold to pull you up not onto the mattress, but directly on top of him!

There was plenty to react to -- the sudden movement, the feeling of being on top of DJ -- but the man himself didn’t seem at all fazed. Instead, he focused primarily on tucking in whatever lagging limbs you had and making sure he was cozy enough to continue serving as your mattress for however many hours he needed to recuperate. Which he apparently was: Not once did he protest to your weight pressing down on him, nor did he grunt with displeasure whenever you turned the direction of your head against his chest.

At the most, he only ever offered your back a brief circle of rubbing with his free hand, the other serving as his pillow, before uttering a drowsy, “You good there, kid?”

And, to your surprise . . . yeah. In spite of everything, yeah, you were pretty good . . .

And yet, interestingly enough, no matter what he calls you, none of that ever measures up to when he calls you by your name. Not pipsqueak, not kitten, not dollface or kid or whatever, but your actual name. Because DJ hardly ever refers to anyone by their actual title, let alone cares to remember it. By not only remembering it, but applying it, it shows you that he does care. It’s deep down -- like, real in there -- but it’s there. And you’re the only non-slicing being in the entire galaxy to have ever cracked that sort of safe.

Wear that badge with pride, Hotshot.

Thanks for your patience on this one! Clearly I had a lot of fun writing it! 💖 💖 . . . May gotta actually start writing for DJ. Maybe.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Okay so im not sure if yk helluva bods but basically a couple in it (fizz and Asmodeus) always rub their faces with one another to show affection because fizz’s body is all robotic aside from his face(from an explosion) and i got a moth idea from this

now because FL is a war transformation, one that’s sole purpose is to fight; his body is covered all in armor. but not exactly “covered”, more like made of armor

but there is one place that isnt just pure armor, and that he can actually feel;

his face area. his hair, the fluff around his neck, and the mask. the mask is like practically connected to his face but he can feel the sides, and he can indirectly feel the mask

imagine reader learning he cant really feel rest of his body (he can feel touch n stuff but not actual warmth so its not like skin to skin contact) and then constantly holding his face, rubbing it, and kissing it after finding it out.

ooh i've heard of that show (it is a show right) but haven't seen it- this sounds absolutely ADORABLE THOUGH

i imagine that before Foul Legacy met you, he didn't even know that he could feel sensations in his face- he thought it'd be as disconnected as the rest of his armored body was. it wasn't until you gave him his first kiss that he found out, your lips leaving a small spot of warmth on his forehead and prompting him to nudge his head against your hands, almost crying from the sensation of your soft skin. Legacy absolutely melts whenever you cup his cheeks, his crystalline eye slipping shut as he purrs- it's a surefire way to help him calm down and spend the next few hours snuggling with his face nestled in the crook of your neck

he'll also do his best to reciprocate the affection, delicately brushing your cheeks with his claws and pressing his forehead against yours, always using utmost care. you're fragile, after all- or at least, more fragile than he is! he's made to maim and kill, yet all he desires is to hold you close, cradling you in his arms. luckily you adore showering him with attention, constantly peppering kisses on his face and massaging his plated cheeks with your thumbs, watching his glittering wings flutter happily. he makes his fur extra fluffy just for you!! since you always take the time to brush out any tangles and give him good scritches, he might as well enjoy it <33

[beelsnack]

The Obey Me! Boys and How They Cuddle

Because this quarantine got me touch-starved.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Slight NSFW warning for Asmo.

Lucifer: He could feel his heartbeat in his forehead as he reclined (not slouched, he would never slouch) against the back of his chair. He had at least three different reports to write for Diavolo, the ever-growing stack of bills addressed to Mammon was beginning to lean alarmingly to the left, and he had just received word that one of his brothers had broken a stained-glass window at RAD. Again.

The sound of his door creaking open startled him out of his brooding. He whipped around with a scowl already set in place, but his expression soften when he registered the human standing there. They were carrying a tray in their hands, which were wrapped carefully in the sleeves of their shirt to stave off the chill of the Devildom evenings.

“You missed dinner,” they set the tray down on the edge of his desk, away from all of the important documents. “I was worried the others were going to start a riot.” 

“I wouldn’t put it past them.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. On top of the pounding in his head, he was beginning to feel the muscle in his neck tensing from being bent over writing for the majority of the day. Great, now his responsibilities were becoming a literal pain in the neck instead of just a figurative one.

“Lucifer?” concern laced through their voice as they spoke. “Are you okay?”

Their hands were still planted on the desk where they had set the tray down, eyes trained on him like they were worried he would explode. This left them wide open, and Lucifer was nothing if not opportunistic.

“Come here.”

The human yelped as he gripped them around the waist and easily hoisted them into his lap. Their legs dangled uselessly over one arm of the chair and Lucifer had pressed their torso against his own. He kept them close, encasing them in his arms as he rested his cheek on top of their head.

“Lucifer!” they attempted to wiggle out of his grasp, but both of them knew it would do nothing. “I’m not a teddy bear!”

“Oh? But the job suits you perfectly.”

They huffed petulantly, but instead of pouting, they wrapped their arms around his neck and accepted their fate. “Just ask next time, okay?”

Mammon: “...stupid lil’...why do they hafta...treat their older brother with at least a lil’ respect!”

The door to the living room burst open, causing the human sitting on the couch to jump and quickly whip their headphones out. Mammon definitely didn’t get a little mushy when he noticed their expression go from on guard to exasperatedly fond.

“What happened now?”

The Avatar of Greed flopped unceremoniously onto the couch next to them and sighed dramatically. “Why do they always gotta gang up on me?!”

“Because it’s funny to watch you explode?”

“Not helping, human.”

They started to laugh, but when they saw Mammon slouch down a little further, they cut themselves off. “Does it really get to you that much?”

“Sometimes,” Mammon scratched at his neck. “Even when I’m trying to help, they start taking jabs at me for no reason.”

The human was silent for a moment before they shoved the worksheet they had been scribbling away at into their textbook and closed it. “That’s not right.”

“You’re damn right it ain’t! I’m a good big brother, and every time I -” a light tug on his hair cut him off mid-rant. The human had scooted down to the end of the couch and was looking at him expectantly. When had they grabbed a hold of his hair?

His human was nothing if not persistent, and who was he to deny them? He followed their tugs down to rest his head in their lap, stretching out his long legs. Their gentle fingers kept weaving and scritching in his hair, and his eyes slipped closed like a content kitten.

“You know the best ways to shut me up.”

“Mmhmm.”

Levi: When he had told them what time the stream was going to start, they had grinned and said staying up that late wasn’t going to be a problem. They had high-fived and the human had skipped off to do whatever it was normies did during the day. When 10 o’clock rolled around, they showed up to his room practically buzzing with excitement. It had been forever since they had gotten to watch a live stream with someone!

They had been so jazzed. So why in the three Realms were they asleep?!

And more importantly, why were they asleep on his shoulder?!?!

Levi could feel himself start to hyperventilate. He barely let his brothers touch him, forget about the human! The streamer had said something that was making the chat go a mile a minute, but Levi couldn’t bring himself to concentrate on anything but the weight on his shoulder.

Swallowing heavily, he managed to gather up enough courage to actually look at the human.They were small and fragile looking when they were awake and yelling at everyone, but when they were asleep, they might as well be a figurine. Their face was relaxed, so different from the victorious grin they wore when they thrashed Mammon in a game, or the determined frown they wore when Devildom culture shock smacked them in the face and they were trying to deal with it.

The soft blue light from Henry 2.0′s aquarium rippled across their face, and Levi could feel their slow, even breaths against his collarbone. His face felt like it was on fire, and he was just about to start flailing when they made a soft noise in their sleep and snuggled in a bit closer. They were shivering.

He had watched enough romcom anime to know the proper course of action, but that didn’t cool his blush any. Sighing in defeat, he managed to sneak his arm up from where it had been resting against his side and - slowly, hesitantly, holy shit what was he doing this was a bad idea what the fu - wrapped it around their shoulders and pulled them in.

Thankfully, they stayed asleep. Slowly but surely, Levi’s heart rate slowed back down to normal as he felt them stop shaking. Maybe this wasn’t so bad?

Satan: It wasn’t often that the human lost their cool. They were probably one of the most put-together beings who ever existed. But, as Satan knew all too well, one could only take so much bullshit before they exploded.

“That sorry, sniveling, micro-dicked little cockroach!”

Satan would have praised them on that insult if he didn’t think it would piss them off more. “Who has a micro dick?”

“That guy I got paired with to do the Potions project!” they had begun pacing around the library. Satan had been in enough arguments to know where this was going, so he shut his book, crossed his legs and waited. The human didn’t disappoint.

“We agreed to meet up at the cafe to work on the project after class, since the assignment is due tomorrow and we needed to get everything put together. Not only does this bastard not show up, he has the balls to text me and ‘apologize’ for not having any of his share of the work done! So now I have to do by tomorrow!” frustrated tears gathered in the corners of their eyes, and Satan had to smother the flames of his own anger. How dare this scum make his human cry?

“Kitten,” he said, hoping the familiar pet name would soothe instead of scorn. “You’re going to wear a path in the carpet if you keep pacing like that.”

They turned to glare at him, but their fire had run out of kindling. They sighed heavily, shoulders slouching as though their anger had physically drained them. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to...I stormed in here and interrupted you, didn’t I? I wan’t thinking, sorry, I’ll just...”

Before they could finish their retreat, Satan was in front of them, hands on their shoulders.

“Hey now, it’s alright.” he reached up and brushed their tears away with the backs of his knuckles. “I of all people know how it is when you’re angry, I understand.”

They sniffled pathetically. “Sorry...”

Smiling gently, Satan guided them to the couch and let them slump against him. They were settled between his legs with their head pillowed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat as they calmed down. Satan’s long fingers played with their hair, twirling a strand around his finger.

“Now then, I’m going to need a name, address and photo id of this formerly-alive gentleman.”

Asmo: There was nothing quite like those few moments after a couple rounds of mind-blowing sex that had followed a carefully-crafted seduction. Asmodeus sighed in satisfaction as he relaxed against the soft pillows.

“Mm...” the human stirred beside him, and Asmo turned his head to admire his handiwork. Their hair was slick with sweat, curling along their forehead and jaw like ivy climbing up the side of a house. They were soft, pliant, practically melting into the sheets, and they had the most deliciously fucked-out expression on their face.

“Hello there, darling.” he said softly, reaching up to brush their hair out of their eyes. “How are you doing?”

Confusion flashed across their face and Asmo decided to answer their question before they asked it. “Aftercare is very important, my dear. Tell me what you need.”

Unbelievably, the human flushed and buried their head in the pillow. “...dles...”

“What was that, sweetheart?”

The human resurfaced, but couldn’t quite look him in the eye. “...Cuddles.”

Asmo scoffed affectionately. “Are you telling me that, after spending the night committing all kinds of salacious acts with me, you’re having trouble asking me for post-sex cuddles?”

Before the human could proceed with the inevitable flailing, Asmo tucked them against his chest, one leg thrown over both of theirs and a delicately manicured finger tracing over his pact mark on their hip. He felt them sigh contentedly as they settled down, and he couldn’t resist laughing as he kissed their forehead.

“I’ll have you know, post-sex cuddling is the best kind of cuddling.”

Beelzebub: It was a rare occasion that only one brother was camped out in the human’s room. Usually there were at least two monopolizing their bed. But, Mammon had a modeling gig, Levi had a raid going on, Satan had just bought a new book and couldn’t be torn away from it, Asmo had a date, and Belphie was....probably asleep somewhere that wasn’t their room. Which left them and Beel.

“What are we going to watch tonight?” Beel asked, making himself comfortable on their bed. He had brought a bowl of popcorn the size of their head, and before they even picked a movie the bowl was 3/4 of the way empty.

“Come on, Beel, I didn’t even get any!” they pouted, but there was an amused gleam in their eye. “And, to answer your question, I was thinking horror, since Mammon isn’t here to scream through it.”

By the time they finished their sentence, the popcorn had been vacuumed into Beel’s mouth. The human looked at Beel with a raised eyebrow.

“...”

“...”

“...We’re out of popcorn.”

They snorted, snatching the bowl from Beel’s hands. “I’ll go make more, you pick a movie.”

When they returned, Beel was leaning against their headboard with the movie paused on the title screen. It was some Devildom flick that the human had never heard of, but they trusted Beel.

Well, with the movie, anyway.

When he made grabby hands for the popcorn, the human turned to shield it with their body. “I don’t think so! I actually want some this time, Beelzebub. I’m holding it.”

The Avatar of Gluttony looked like they had just told him Santa wasn’t real, but the human stood firm.

“I’ll share, but I’m not letting you inhale the whole bowl.” they stuck their tongue out and plopped themselves on their bed. “Let’s start this thing.”

The movie started with a demon getting disemboweled, so they knew it was going to be good. The human was situation with the bowl rested in between their folded legs, and Beel would reach over and grab a fistful of popcorn every few seconds. But, in order to do that, he would have to rock himself forward, and as a result, spilled a fair amount of popcorn on the bed.

“This isn’t working.” Beel muttered about 20 minutes in.

“What isn’t?” they didn’t even turn away from the screen. It was just getting good!

“I keep spilling the popcorn.”

“Hm?” the human briefly glanced down to realize that they were sitting among the remains of many, many pieces of popcorn. “Oh. So you do. Sorry, Beel, I’ll move.”

The human had meant to scoot just a little closer so Beel wouldn’t have to reach so far, but apparently he had other ideas.

They squeaked a little when they went from leaning against the cool wall to something warm.

“Beel!” they exclaimed, suddenly finding themself situated snugly in Beel’s lap. “What the actual fuck?”

“This is easier.” To demonstrate, he reached into the bowl that was still cushioned in their lap, plucked out a fistful of popcorn, and took a bite. “See? No spilling. And you’re still holding the bowl.”

They felt like their face was going to explode from the force of their blush.

“Is this okay?” Beel asked, apparently belatedly realizing what he had just done might be considered inappropriate.

“...Yeah, it’s okay. You have a comfy lap.”

Beel smiled. “Good. I like having you close like this.”

“Shut up, I’m watching the movie.”

Belphegor: It was hard to keep your circadian rhythm going when there was no sun. This was the third night in a row that the human found themselves unable to sleep, and they were getting sick of sitting in their room playing on their D.D.D. So, even though they knew Lucifer would use their skin to decorate his office if he found them, they tip-toed out of their room and began wandering the halls in search for...something.

Eventually, they found themselves in the planetarium. Honestly, they didn’t know what they would do up there, but it beat sitting around in the darkness waiting for their body to shut down from sheer exhaustion.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?”

They nearly jumped out of their skin. “Belphie!”

Belphegor was draped languidly over one of the couches, cow-print pillow hugged to his chest as he blinked sleepily at them. “What are you doing up?”

They shrugged. “Trouble sleeping.”

“Is that right?” Belphie hummed, sitting up. “You’re lucky you found me, then.”

“Why is that?” the human asked, tilting their head. Belphegor chuckled softly.

“I’m the Avatar of Sloth. If anyone can cure insomnia, it’s me.” he leaned back against the arm of the couch and opened his arms. “Come on, I won’t hurt you.”

He kept his voice nonchalant, but they felt him push his sincerity through their bond. He was still so cautious around them. Probably always would be.

Taking a deep breath, the human stepped forward into Belphie’s waiting arms. Honestly, the demon was a little shocked that the human had accepted. A slap to the face would have been his first reaction if the tables were turned.

He curled his arms around their shoulders and cupped the back of their head, gently guiding them to the crook of his neck. They squirmed, trying to get comfortable.

“Hush,” Belphie muttered, voice low and soothing. “I’m going to use magic, okay?”

He felt them nod, already drifting a little bit. Belphie took a deep breath, threading his fingers through their hair. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve their trust and affection. But he was going to take it anyway.

The magic laced itself through his voice as he sang. It was an old lullaby that Lucifer used to sing to him and Beel when they were fussy children, but the human didn’t need to know that. Almost immediately, they stopped wiggling and settled heavily against him. By the time the lullaby was finished, they were asleep, breath fanning deep and even across his collarbone.

Belphegor leaned down and nuzzled into their hair. “Goodnight. Sweet dreams.”

[chatonne-rousse]

Zibeline

Happy birthday, @tsuki-chibi​!  This one’s for you.  😘

A Christmas gift exchange story with unintended (though not unwelcome) consequences. 

Read it on Ao3.

This is not the first time it’s happened. It is, in fact, not even the fourth or fifth. It’s like he has a sixth sense or the fine-tuned hearing of a fellow feline, that leads him straight to them.

Often, it’s just one cat, skin and bones and scrounging in an alley for restaurant scraps. Sometimes it’s an entire litter, abandoned and alone, mewing frantically in search of a savior. Once in a while, he finds their mom there, too, ragged and worn and tired from life on the streets.

It always ends the same way.

Chat Noir knows the location of every animal refuge in Paris, their hours, and the names of each employee and volunteer he’s met so far. Several have even set up crates in a secure area for the cats he brings after closing. It’s amazing that it hasn’t made the news in all these years, but somehow, Paris’s own black cat has humbly and quietly saved the lives of dozens of the city's neediest felines.

Tonight, Ladybug accompanies Chat Noir to the SPA to drop off a one-eyed senior tomcat they came across on patrol. His solitary eye is cloudy with age, one ear torn from a long-ago fight, but he purrs contentedly in Chat’s arms, his demeanor as gentle as the hands that hold him close.

Once the cat who’d been affectionately dubbed Pirate upon his discovery is safe and secure in the little pen, Chat sends the rescue a quick email from his communicator to let them know about who they’ll find the next morning. Baton returned to his back, he crouches down for one more scritch behind the old grey tabby’s ears.

Ladybug is used to this, well aware after several years of partnership that her own kitty’s heart is a fathomless well of kindness, but it never stops warming her heart to see it. Without thinking, her movement mirrors his, reaching out to scratch behind his leather ears, her gloved fingers tousling his hair. His faux cat ears twitch, and he glances up at her, grin radiant even in the dim light of the refuge foyer.

“Okay, cat whisperer, let’s go. It’s almost midnight.”

He nods, still grinning, and turns back to tell his new friend goodbye.

“They’ll take good care of you here, Meow-seur Pirate, I purr-omise. Cat’s honor.”

Pirate meows his appreciation as Ladybug fondly rolls her eyes.

One hand kiss, one ‘sweet dreams, Buginette,’ and one chilly swing across rooftops in the crisp December air, and Marinette can finally crawl into the warmth of her bed and curl up against her cat pillow to go to sleep. The feline theme suddenly seems so prevalent in her life that she can’t help the snort of laughter she muffles behind its ears.

Tikki zips over to hover in the air above the bed. “What is it, Marinette?”

“Cats, Tikki. Everywhere. Cats.”

They share a giggle as the kwami settles down on the pillow to rest.

“You like cats, don’t you?” she asks. “I’ve seen a cat in some of your family portrait sketches.”

Marinette can feel her face heat up. “Tikki!” she admonishes, before trailing off into laughter again. “I love all animals! Well, almost all of them. But no one loves cats like Chat Noir.” She sighs in mock exasperation. “Give a guy fake ears and a tail and suddenly he’s a magnet for strays.”

Silence falls in the darkness of the loft, sleepy and comfortable, before it’s broken by Tikki’s tiny voice.

“You know, I think it has less to do with his miraculous and more to do with his heart.”

Marinette smiles against the pillow. “I think you might be right, Tik.”

********

Even if Père Noël no longer visits, Christmas is still exciting when you’re a teenager. If nothing else, there’s a two-week break from school to look forward to, and Marinette is counting down the days until she can shelve at least one of her many commitments, albeit temporarily. Alya, on the other hand, is living for the class gift exchange.

“I hope I get Nino this year,” she whispers excitedly, dumping her bookbag on the table and sliding into the seat beside her best friend.

Marinette’s brows furrow in confusion. “Why?”

“So I can give him something awesome and win Christmas, obviously.”

“But...if you give him a gift in class, what will you have for him on the actual holiday?”

Alya wiggles her eyebrows suggestively and gives her a sly smile.

Marinette laughs and elbows her, ears burning, just as the boys walk into the room. Nino gives a quick wave and Adrien settles into his seat with a soft smile toward the girls behind them.

“Damn, Sunshine. I hope you spend the holiday break sleeping. You look like you need it.”

Adrien leans back toward Alya, blond hair brushing Marinette’s desk. (This does not go unnoticed.)

“I think we all know that’s not going to happen,” he replies with a wry smile.

Alya pats his shoulder consolingly. “Truth.”

********

The morning slides by, and Ms. Bustier ends the lecture early before they break for lunch. She leans against her desk, holding a bowl in her hand and shaking it gently. It takes a long moment and a deliberate clearing of her throat for the students to focus on her instead of packing up their bags. She smiles kindly at them once she has their attention again.

“I’d have done this at the end of the day, but not every student will be with us in class then, so we’ll choose our gift exchange recipients now.” Adrien ducks his head. He hates when people make concessions for him, but at least Ms. Bustier is thoughtful enough not to draw further attention.

She starts up the stairs, shaking the bowl again, beginning in the back row this year. “You decided by class consensus earlier this week that your gifts would be €20 or less and no bigger than a shoebox.” Nathaniel takes a slip first, his face unreadable as he folds the paper again and lays one hand atop it. Shake, shake. “We’ll have the exchange on December 21st, during our holiday party in the afternoon. You may bring your gift in the morning and I’ll keep them all in a safe place until it’s time for the exchange.” Rose chooses, followed by Juleka. Both seem pleased.

As more and more students choose a slip from the bowl, the room buzzes louder with whispers and murmuring among friends.

Ms. Bustier’s voice cuts through the chatter again. “This is a secret gift exchange, so remember, do not share your recipient’s name. No trading. We’re all friends here.” If she glances quickly at the back of Chloé’s head as she says this, no one says a word.

Marinette waits her turn quietly. In three class gift exchanges, she has never pulled Adrien’s name, nor has he chosen hers. So much for ladybug luck. All she really hopes for at this point is to not choose Lila. She doesn’t want to break Ms. Bustier’s rules, but if that happens, she’s totally trading with Alya.

The bowl shakes near her ear, and she reaches up to blindly choose a slip. Slowly, carefully, she opens the folded paper, and suddenly all she can hear is her pulse roaring in her ears. Because there, in Adrien’s familiar script, is the name she’d given up hoping to receive.

She looks up just in time to see Adrien’s ears pinken and his shoulders scrunch as he hastily refolds his own paper slip. Marinette wonders for just a moment who he’d chosen before her brain kicks into holiday overthinking mode.

She’d rethought many of the gifts for his next several dozen birthdays, repurposed them for other friends or dismantled them to their raw materials and created something new. But a portion of the chest in her room still holds gifts meant just for him. She could choose one of those, or she could make something new. She could create a gift or purchase an item somewhere. Perhaps she could knit a hat or gloves to match his birthday scarf. Oh, the possibilities are endless!

A nudge in her side shakes her from her swirling thoughts and returns her to the din of the steadily-emptying classroom.

“Ready for lunch, Mari?” Alya asks. Nino and Adrien are looking at her expectantly, too.

“Oh. Sure! Yes! Ready for anything. Soup?”

A beat of silence.

“You heard the girl!” Nino says, slapping one hand on the table and standing up. “Let’s go get some soup.”

Alya just pats her on the back and shakes her head as they pack up their bags.

********

Soup actually turns out to be a good idea today, even if Marinette has no idea why she said that. The four friends huddle around a table in the warmth of a nearby cafe, full and relaxed and reluctant to return to afternoon classes. Adrien startles suddenly when a calico cat jumps into his lap and meows loudly, demanding pets.

Nino backs away a bit, but Adrien simply melts.

“Hello there, pretty girl!” he coos. “Do you want scritches? I can do that.” The cat twists her head, showing him exactly where she wants to be scratched, and he happily complies. Marinette can hear the cat’s contented purr from across the table. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Yes, you do.”

Alya has her phone out and recording, but Adrien doesn’t even notice. This is the first time they’ve seen this cat at this particular restaurant, but she's definitely not the first resident feline to find them while they ate. Or shopped. Or hung out at the park. Adrien attracts cats like Chat Noir, and loves every moment of it.

“And here we see the Cat Whisperer in his natural habitat, among his harem,” Alya narrates the video as though it’s a nature documentary, and Adrien snorts with laughter before looking up, a sheepish half-smile lighting up his face.

“I just really like cats,” he says, and looks back down at the kitty. She abruptly headbutts his chin, making his teeth knock together with an audible clack. He stares at her for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing, rich and joyful, but loud enough to scare the cat from his lap. She trots over to the counter and stops to groom herself.

Adrien, still chuckling, brushes fur from his pants and shakes his head in fond amusement. “Cats.”

The proverbial lightbulb flashes on above Marinette’s head, the stirrings of an idea so crazy it just might work.

She has an executive assistant to email.

********

It’s shockingly easy to get permission for something so important.

“Do you think Nathalie even asked Mr. Agreste?” Marinette wonders aloud to Tikki above the whir of the sewing machine. “I can’t imagine she didn’t, but…” she trails off, shaking her head. Adrien’s household is a web of very strange relationships she has never quite understood.

Tikki hums and shrugs a tiny shoulder. “If Nathalie said yes, I guess the answer is yes.” She flies from her perch on Marinette’s shoulder to sit on top of the sewing machine; Marinette promptly releases the pedal and meets her kwami’s gaze.

“I’m glad she did, but the longer I think about it, the more I wonder if this is a terrible idea.”

“You still have a few days to decide,” Tikki reminds her.

Marinette nods before she catches a glimpse of the clock on her computer and jumps up in alarm.

“Gah! I’m late for patrol! Again!”

********

Chat Noir is waiting quietly at their appointed meeting spot, knees pulled up to his chest and tail dangling down the opposite side of the pitched roof. He unfurls like a night-blooming flower when he hears her land nearby, legs flopping to the roof, arm raised to wave at his partner, tail animated and alert. His bright smile makes Ladybug smile in return as she plops down next to him.

“Sorry I’m late, kitty. I lost track of time.”

“It’s okay, Bugaboo.” He bumps her shoulder with his own. “I knew you didn’t forget me.”

“As if I could!” she laughs, bumping him back.

He’s still smiling, but silence descends over the pair after a moment.

“You okay, Chaton?”

“Yeah, just thinking. Our class is doing a gift exchange for Christmas and I’m having trouble deciding what to get for my...my person.” He glances at his partner, but she only nods in response. “I got one of my friends this year. Not that they’re not all my friends, but...she’s special.”

“Special, huh?” Ladybug asks, a teasing lilt coloring her voice.

“It’s not like that,” Chat rebuts. He breathes a laugh, but his smile turns impossibly soft as he looks out over the lights of the city. “We’re friends, but she’s...I don’t know. There’s no one like her. She deserves a gift as beautiful as she is.”

Ladybug blinks once, twice, caught off guard by the tenderness in his voice. If she didn’t know any better, she might think the feeling in her chest was jealousy, but that can’t possibly be right.

His words catch up to him when he looks back at her again and frantically waves his hands between the two of them. “Oh! Not like that!” he repeats. “I mean, like, beautiful on the inside. Her heart.” He holds a clawed hand to his chest, and Ladybug quirks an eyebrow.

“Okay, she’s beautiful on the outside, too. But it’s...really, it’s not like that. She doesn’t like me that way, and I…” he trails off. “You know.”

Ladybug takes pity on him and tucks her hand in the crook of his elbow, patting his forearm indulgently as the inexplicable knot in her chest loosens a little. “Yeah, kitty. I know. Maybe I can help. What does she like?”

Patrol is forgotten for the evening as two superheroes take the time to simply be two friends chatting about Christmas above the city they protect.

Some of his ideas need to be reined in.

(“It’s just a skein of wool!” he gripes.

“One of the most expensive in the world, Chat! Don’t you have a spending limit?!”)

Others are nixed immediately.

(“You are not buying her an embroidery machine!”)

Finally, he decides on a pool of several items that might work - he's leaning toward tickets to a fashion show, and Ladybug is only a little bit envious of Chat's 'very special classmate' - and settles back on his hands, relieved.

“What about you, Bug? Your class does this every year, too, right?”

She nods in assent. “Yep. But I already know what I’m getting him.”

Maybe he hears it in her voice, or maybe he’s just returning her earlier tease in kind. “Ooooh, him? Did you draw Mr. Mystery Crush’s name this year?”

Ladybug doesn’t answer, but her blushing cheeks do.

“Well.” Chat clears his throat and starts over. “Well, what is this lucky guy getting for Christmas from Paris’s favorite bug?”

She turns to him with a grin. “A cat.”

It’s his turn to be left speechless with his own twinge of jealousy.

“Before you ask, I already got permission from his family. Sort of. Well, I...the bottom line is that I got permission. I’m going tomorrow to the SPA to choose one for him. I’ve already called and made sure that I can bring it back without a problem if he doesn’t like it, but I can’t imagine that happening. Chaton, I’ve never met anyone else whose love of cats rivals yours. It’ll be perfect.”

After a long moment of silence, Chat seems to come to a decision before he stands and bows gallantly to his partner. “It would be my honor to accompany you to the shelter tomorrow to choose a feline fur-ever friend for your friend. I am the chief cat-bassador of Paris, after all.”

Ladybug looks up at him and thinks of how he cradled Pirate in his arms the other night on the way to the refuge, the calm, gentle way he whispers to tired mother cats, his delight in being approached by the everyday cats of Paris out for their evening strolls before returning home for the night. It has less to do with his miraculous and more to do with his heart, she hears Tikki whisper from the back of her mind.

She takes his hand and lets him pull her up before wrapping her partner in a hug.

“It would be my honor, kitty.”

********

And that’s how Marinette finds herself at the SPA just before closing on a Saturday afternoon, suited up as Ladybug and accompanied by Chat Noir, to adopt a cat for her friend Adrien, who happens to be a teen supermodel.

She thinks distantly of how she once said she was an ordinary girl with an ordinary life and wonders what in the world she was thinking.

The staff at the shelter are friendly and positively bubbling over with excitement to have Ladybug and Chat Noir in the facility to adopt a cat instead of simply dropping off rescues. Chat is eating it up, and Ladybug can’t help but smile with pride. He’s ridiculous, but in a dozen lifetimes, she could never find a better partner.

They make their way to the cat room amidst the distant sound of barking dogs from the other side of the shelter. She knew to expect it, but the look of absolute delight that crosses Chat Noir's face as he walks in the room is like the first rays of sun after a week of rain - brilliant, bright, and beautiful.

A cacophony of cat vocalization fills the room as they walk the rows of cage enclosures, from tiny mews to hearty meows. Little paws extend through the bars when they approach, and Chat tickles their toe beans or brushes their soft fur with his own clawed fingers. It's all a bit of sensory and emotional overload, so Ladybug purposefully brings her mind back to the task at hand, turning toward a shelter employee.

"I'm thinking of a relatively young cat, but not a kitten. Calm and friendly."

The employee nods. "We have a few that I think would be perfect for you." She smiles warmly toward Chat Noir, who is currently holding a giant ginger tabby who'd been roaming free in the room. "He's rescued several of the cats housed in this room right now. We're so grateful for him." She leads Ladybug to a bank of cages to the left, swinging open the door of an enclosure at eye level. "I've been calling this fellow Sable, but your partner was a bit more creative with naming when he brought him to us."

The label on the cage reads: My name is Zibeline. I'm super happy to be here instead of on the street! I was brought to the SPA on 14 December. I am about 8 months old, fixed and up to date on my shots. I'm a little shy, but I love treats and cuddling and I'm good with kids. I get along well with other cats after proper introduction. Are you ready to take me to my forever home?

Ladybug's heart twists. She can't choose the very first cat she sees, can she?

"Oh, you found my Zibby Bear! Hi, buddy!"

Chat Noir resituates the ginger tabby cozied up in his arms and reaches out a hand over Ladybug's shoulder to scratch Zibeline under the chin. The cat extends his neck and purrs happily.

He turns to the staff member. "He looks amazing. I knew there was a gorgeous coat under all that matted fur."

"It's true. He's like a brand-new cat."

A few moments later, Ladybug finds herself sitting cross-legged on the floor, dangling a little mouse with a bell in it over the head of a deep brown Burmese mix, falling more and more in love every time the cat turns his big yellow eyes toward her. He's active and alert but still mellow and sweet. As soon as she tucks the little toy behind her back, he climbs into the space between her crossed legs and settles his front paws on her knee. She looks up at Chat Noir helplessly, and he and the employee both laugh.

"Well, that was easy," he says. "Is The Zibster the one?"

She nods, running her gloved fingers gently through the cat's thick sable fur. She can't wait to pet him with her bare hands when they get home.

The staff member leads them to the front desk while another volunteer prepares the impending adoptee for his freedom ride. As they walk, Ladybug notices a large posterboard full of photos on the wall just outside the cat room door. "Thank You, Chat Noir!" is spelled out in die-cut letters across the top. Some photos are of cats looking out from their enclosures, some include Chat Noir himself holding either cat or crate. She does a quick count by fives and is astonished at the number she comes up with.

"Chaton, you've rescued 32 cats?"

His cheeks heat up, but his smile is soft. "At this shelter, yes."

Ladybug swallows quickly around the lump in her throat, changing tack to cover her sudden surge of emotion. "And do you give all of them ridiculous names?"

"Hey, I'm an excellent cat namer, thank you very much."

"What does Zibe-whatever even mean?"

He laughs. "It means sable - it's a little animal like a mink. My mother had a long sable coat that I remember her wearing to big, fancy events when I was little. Zibby's fur reminded me of that when I found him. Er, well...I thought it would once he was cleaned up."

"Why not name him Sable?"

Chat spreads his hands out in a grand gesture. "Well, I'm a learned gentlecat who speaks four languages, Buginette. Also, I already named one Sable last year."

Ladybug just shakes her head and laughs. This dork is truly one of the best people she's ever known. Perhaps she's luckier than she thought.

********

Monday morning dawns bright and lovely, a cold, crisp Winter Solstice to mark their last day of school before the long holiday. Marinette wakes to a shaft of sunlight across her bed from the skylight above, illuminating the deep chestnut fur of her temporary companion purring against her side. She can't resist reaching down to pet him, rousing him from sleep. He lifts his head with a questioning "mrrr?" before he closes his eyes again.

"Do we have to give him to Adrien, Marinette? I want to keep him." Tikki looks up at her with huge blue eyes, and she almost, almost decides to just give Adrien the forest green beanie she knitted for his 28th birthday. But she doesn't have time for a pet, her parents are busy with the bakery, and, well...this is already Adrien's cat, even if he doesn't know it yet, and she can't take that away from him.

"Sorry, Tik," she says with a yawn, sitting up and scooping the cat into her arms to help him down the ladder to her room. "We'll just have to swing over and visit him at Adrien's sometime." Her cheeks flush at the thought.

She preps a small gift bag with the supplies she purchased with her €20 - a little bag of catnip-infused toys, a shaker container of treats, and a bell collar embroidered with brightly-colored fish. Adrien doesn't need to know that the shelter waived the usual €150 adoption fee, nor that the neon green litter pan and carrier were thrown in for free as well. She has a feeling those were a donation by a certain masked black cat, but no one mentioned it outright and she didn't ask.

She kisses the little cat on the nose with a reminder that she'll be back for him later, opens her purse for Tikki, and sets off for school.

********

The class is abuzz with excitement. They've slogged through a morning of last-minute assignments and a pop quiz that brought groans from the students until the teacher said they could use their notes. Lunch was spent trying to get each other to give up the secret of who their giftee was, but none of them would budge. Marinette had made a quick trip across the street to "pick up something she forgot" just before the lunch break ended.

Finally, finally, it's time to return to homeroom for their Christmas party. Nino's phone plays a curated playlist of holiday music that provides a cheery background the students' chatter. Ms. Bustier's desk and a little table set up next to it are filled with snacks and treats. Red and green macarons decorate a silver tray, and a bowl filled with berry punch sits next to it, little splashes marring the smooth surface of several adjacent cookies. Marinette snags those for her own plate and slides the tray a few inches away before going back to her seat.

When everyone's plates are left with only crumbs, the teacher finally gets their attention. Nino turns the music down but not off, and everyone scrambles to get their gifts for the exchange.

Marinette sends a quick text to her mom before setting her phone on the desk beside the little gift bag. Adrien, she notices, holds a simple envelope in his hand, tapping it nervously against the desk.

Gifts are given to squeals of delight, oohs and aahs and one "whoa, rad!" from Alix.

When Sabine Cheng peeks in just as Nino is digging into his gift bag, Marinette excuses herself for a moment before returning with a carefully-ventilated shoebox. Okay, it held a pair of her father's giant shoes, but Marinette still followed the gift-giving guidelines. Sort of. She settles back in her seat, the contents of the box making a loud scrabbling sound, followed by a plaintive meow.

Every eye in the classroom is suddenly on the second row.

"Why don't you give your gift next, Marinette?" Mrs. Bustier says, eyes focused on the now-wriggling box.

Marinette slides the box forward on the desk toward Adrien, who is already turned in his seat, eyes wide. His gaze flickers to hers, to the meowing box, and back to her.

"Joyeux Noël, Adrien."

Chloé huffs at the look of wonder on his face as he brings the box into his lap, but no one else makes a sound.

Slowly, reverently, he begins to lift the lid. After just a few centimeters, a tiny black nose nudges into the open space, followed by one little paw covered in deep brown fur, then a second, before the cat pushes the lid up and off and climbs Adrien's t-shirt like a tree. His hands wrap gently around the cat's body and hold him close to his shoulder. Oblivious to the class going crazy, Alya filming the moment in shocked glee, and Ms. Bustier remarking to no one in particular that she thought they'd been told not to give living creatures as gifts, Adrien simply buries his face in the cat's fur.

"I thought you'd like, crochet a blanket or something, Mari," comes from somewhere behind her. Across the aisle, she hears, "Or bring a cake or madeleines or, I don't know, not a cat!" And, predictably, "Giving a cat as a gift is utterly ridiculous." But none of that matters. The world narrows to Adrien's shaking shoulders and the beautiful chestnut cat sniffing at the hair above his ears, making no move to wriggle free of the hands that hold him firmly but gently in place. For several frantic moments, Marinette is gripped with the fear that she has made a horrible mistake here.

When he finally raises his head, Nino surreptitiously passes him a tissue and pats him on the back while he reluctantly hands the cat to a squealing Rose, the first of many in a long line of cuddles in the cat's immediate future.

Marinette couldn't have said whether she was breathing or not before Adrien's eyes meet hers, but she's distinctly aware of the moment her breath catches. Where she thought she'd see the same joy he'd displayed during his many feline encounters over the course of their friendship, she finds something different. Gratitude mixes with a tinge of sadness, but behind it is something profound that makes her feel exposed and comforted all at once.

He blinks, his brow furrows, and the moment is gone.

"Marinette, I...well, my father..."

"Oh!" she exclaims. "I got permission. I can show you Nathalie's email if you'd like." She reaches for her phone, but Adrien stops her with a hand over hers.

"You're amazing, Marinette," he says, voice painted with the same wonder that shines in his eyes.

Alya is making a sound like a whistling tea kettle behind her still-recording phone. It takes Nino asking, “So, mec, what are you going to name your new little dude?" to truly bring them all back to the moment. The three sets of eyes in Nino's immediate vicinity snap to him, but the rest of the class looks to Adrien for his answer.

He rubs his neck and glances at the floor before answering. "His name is, um...Zibeline."

"Ziba-what now?" Kim asks, and half the class laughs.

"It means sable," he says quietly. "His fur reminds me of a coat my mom had that she'd wear to fancy events when I was little."

Max pipes up, “Adrien is correct. The sable is a type of marten found in the forests of Central Asia." He looks down at his phone for more info. "In fact, its scientific name is Martes zibellina. Zibeline is a little-known term in both French and English used to describe the sable or an item with sable-like qualities."

"Well, it's a very fitting name, Adrien. I do hope you enjoy your new pet." Ms. Bustier gives Mylène a pointed look, gesturing toward Adrien with her head, and the cat is reluctantly returned to his new owner. "Next year, please, no live animals in the gift exchange."

Alya nudges a malfunctioning Marinette, who nods absently. "Got it, Miss," Alya answers for her.

Marinette hears none of this. Her heart pounds in her ears, drowning out the class, their teacher, Alya. She stares, transfixed, at Adrien's bare hands holding Zibeline, trying and failing to reconcile that those same hands, previously gloved in black, had scratched the cat's chin two days before at the shelter. It can't be true that the same doofus who makes incessant cat puns and throws himself toward danger with a smile, who finds and saves the most vulnerable cats and kittens in Paris and has loved her for literal years is sitting in front of her now, cradling the cat they adopted together and looking back at her with those big green eyes she's seen in her dreams since she was thirteen. Right? Right?

Except...he can. He is. She sees it with perfect clarity as soon as she allows herself to truly believe it.

Less about his miraculous and more about his heart, indeed.

She's brought back to the moment when a crisp white envelope slides across her desk.

"For you, Marinette."

(Oh, even his voice is the same. How did she never realize?)

Inside are two tickets to a fall preview fashion show in early January, just as she knew there would be, just as she and her partner had discussed at their chilly rooftop meeting point on Friday night.

"Thank you," she whispers, finally meeting his eyes and finding a guarded hope that makes her heart ache.

Well, that won't do, she thinks.

Ms. Bustier wraps up the gift exchange, thanking the students for their participation and wishing them a very happy holiday. The class moves around them, students getting more snacks and punch, Christmas music turned up again to party volume for the last few minutes of the day. Alya and Nino get up together to refill their drinks, leaving their two seatmates and one cat.

There's a beat of silence between them.

"Beautiful on the inside, huh?"

Adrien's eyes widen in relief and he hides a laugh in Zibeline's fur. "I'm pretty sure I said inside and out."

Marinette giggles helplessly as a giddy glee spreads through her. "You did. And then you picked out your own Christmas gift." She reaches out to pet the cat but Adrien goes one step further and presses Zibeline into her arms. The cat settles happily, propping his paws on her forearm before laying his head on top of them.

"I love him, Marinette. Thank you."

Her breath catches in her throat again. Ostensibly, he’s talking about the cat, but his eyes speak something slightly different, with a weight that compels her to respond in kind.

“You’re welcome. I...I love him, too.”

His answering smile is pure, radiant joy. It makes her heart beat a little out of rhythm, and she clutches Zibeline just a bit closer, grounding herself in the feel of his thick fur. For a moment, Marinette is stunned by the wave of emotion that rises in her chest, a sudden vision of limitless possibility that makes her feel as powerful and determined as she does wearing her spots.

As he slides from his seat to refill his plate with likely-forbidden snacks, Adrien gives her a cheeky wink and leans in close enough that she can smell his familiar cologne. “That embroidery machine is still on the table, by the way. Seems like a super gift for a girlfriend who’s beautiful inside and out, doesn’t it?”

Marinette sputters as he saunters away, her ears and cheeks burning.

“Well, well, well,” Alya drawls as she sets down her drink. “Three years and two dozen failed schemes, and it turned out all it took to make something happen between you two was a cat.” She pops an entire macaron in her mouth and chews thoughtfully. "You won Christmas, by the way."

"I thought the competition was between you and Nino?"

Alya shrugs and points at Zibeline. "No one can beat that." After a long swig of punch, she reaches over to scratch the cat behind the ears. “Girl, I hope you like cats, because in a few years, this one’s going to be yours, too.”

Marinette looks down at the cat in her arms, then back at her best friend, and all she can do is laugh.

“Don’t worry, Alya. I love them. I always have.”

[touchmycoat]

Pan Guan, Ch. 51 excerpts

During that time, Wen Shi was actually quite clingy.

Only he would never say it, nor would he pester Chen Budao with his requests. He didn’t need to be hugged and he didn’t need to be held; the way he clung was simply following Chen Budao everywhere.

As if only being where Chen Budao was could give him peace of mind.

Though Chen Budao had been the one to give him the name Wen Shi, Chen Budao would never properly call him that. He was always coming up with nicknames for Wen Shi.

If Wen Shi was sullen and unhappy and silent, Chen Budao called him “Mute Kiddo.” If Wen Shi followed only half a step behind him from place to place like a snowy little bundle of sticky rice, Chen Budao called him his “Little Tail.”

(**T/N: translation missing a cute little pun here. “Mute kiddo” is 小啞巴 xiao ya ba and “Little Tail” is 小尾巴 xiao wei ba; there’s both structural similarity and rhyme.)

Children forgot easily. Unhappy things, as long as they went unmentioned, were quickly tossed to the back of the head. Early on, Wen Shi was also like this—

Chen Budao gave him medicine to soak in for a few days, and the black mist around his hands went away, so he could sleep peacefully until morning again. Because of this, he thought that it wasn’t such a big deal anymore.

Truthfully, that was because the chill he’d gotten had gotten better, and his spirit had steadied. But he didn’t know this—he thought that his physicality had changed, and the things hidden in his body had lessened in quantity.

That year probably saw Wen Shi with the least burdens. He even brought his Golden Dapeng down the mountain the play.

Though he was quite restrained in his play as well. And quiet.

People off the mountain still called him a demon. Young ones either threw rocks at him from afar or turned tail and ran, as if, were they to stay for just a little longer, he’d start peeling their skin and eating their flesh.

That was why Wen Shi never headed for crowded places, picking specifically empty areas to hole up. Mountain cols, forests, mountain streams. This would later become his natural instinct.

Maybe it was because he wasn’t very animated himself, but he liked those lively and active things, and the peak of Songyun Mountain was too cold for living things to survive for long. At the base of the mountain, he could find a warren of rabbits, a few turtles, even just two fish, and he could watch them for a very long time.

[…]

Wen Shi fought those things in his dreams for a very long time.

When he finally opened his eyes, he found that he was no longer on his bed, but rather standing in front of Chen Budao’s bedroom door. Torrents of black mist covered his hands like knives, and he was just about to worm inside the room.

He stood there frozen in panic for a long while before flinching, turning, and running away. He didn’t dare close his eyes after that.

The Golden Dapeng was not scared of the black mist, this Wen Shi knew. He didn’t return to his room, instead sat with his legs folded on the stone cliff where they trained. He scritched at the Golden Dapeng’s fuzzy head and saw that even wrapped in the black mist the bird was still full of life. Only then did he feel a little bit better.

He didn’t know how long he sat there for before he heard rustling behind him. It was the sound of robes brushing gently over powdery white snow.

He knew that Chen Budao had come. But he kept himself closed off and didn’t turn around.

Because the moment he thought of how he’d stood in front of Chen Budao’s door like some kind of ghoul last night, he felt indescribably bad. Back then, he couldn’t understand why he felt bad. It was only a long time later that he figured out it was a type of fear.

Fear that one day, he would lose control of himself and hurt the person he least wanted to hurt. Even though he knew that with the tiniest bit of precaution, Chen Budao could make himself impossible for Wen Shi to injure.

“How come my tail’s fallen here?” Chen Budao bent over behind him and, with a palm under his chin, lifted his head.

Maybe it was because his eyes were too red, but Chen Budao startled before wiping away the tears hanging at his chin and turning him around.

Wen Shi held out a single hand and said, “those things came out again.”

Chen Budao nodded. “I see them.”

Wen Shi thought he would ask “what happened.” Instead, he heard him say, “does it hurt?”

Actually, it hurt. It really, really hurt. It was the type of hurt that bore into the head, the heart, the body, that stuck to the soul and couldn’t be shaken.

But perhaps he’d been awake for a while. At Chen Budao’s question, Wen Shi felt that it was alright. So he shook his head and mumbled, “no.”

Chen Budao bent at the waist, staring at the top of Wen Shi’s head. After a moment, he said, “you’re still so young, and you’ve already learned to lie.”

Wen Shi wrinkled his brow and looked up, asking, “how do you know I’m lying?”

Chen Budao, “because I’m your teacher.”

He sat down on the stone steps. Wen Shi took a look at the black mist all over his own body and quietly scooted himself a little bit away. He thought that he was careful and wouldn’t be noticed, but most likely, Chen Budao saw everything.

The other was silent for a while, before saying, “I’m going to show you something.”

Wen Shi kept his distance but stared at him in wide-eyed curiosity.

Chen Budao held a palm out at him. The hand was clean, and it was warm. It was better looking than any hand Wen Shi had ever seen. He stared at it for a while, and couldn’t help but put his own black hands behind his back.

But the moment they were hidden, he saw that dustless, unsullied hand of Chen Budao’s begin to emanate the same black mist as his did, ceaseless and in waves…

Wen Shi was so shocked he forgot to talk.

Chen Budao explained that that year, war and famine had been endless. He’d walked many places, and nearly all of them were cages made of countless people all gathered together.

All that resentment was almost impossible to dissolve away. It could only be repressed and treated slowly.

Chen Budao closed his fingers and that black mist obediently disappeared, with no sign of rearing up by tooth and nail. He said, “so you see, I’m the same as you.”

Only on that day did Wen Shi find out that he wasn’t the only person like this in the entire world. There was also Chen Budao.

What was first malignant in the heart had suddenly become a secret connection. Besides the two of them, nobody else knew.

“Then how come yours doesn’t run wild?” Wen Shi asked.

“Because I’m calm,” Chen Budao said.

[…]

That was the first time Wen Shi had been brought inside a cage—the herb-picking grandmother’s.

At the time he’d only learned the basics; he didn’t know how to use puppets, or talismans, or arrays. There wasn’t anything he could do inside the cage besides follow Chen Budao.

But a regular person’s unfinished business wasn’t bound to be anything earth-shattering. That cage was really small, and was no trouble to undo. Chen Budao only brought him along to see that grandmother one more time.

The Wen Shi back then thought that it seemed like Chen Budao could see through all of his thoughts. He didn’t even say anything, but Chen Budao knew everything anyways.

After they came out of the cage, Chen Budao led him back to the mountaintop and guided a wisp of worldly ties out by his fingers. He said, “that grandmother left you a little something. What would you like, a rabbit? A fish? A bird?”

Wen Shi asked him, “what can live forever?”

Chen Budao said, “every living thing has an end.”

Wen Shi held out the bird in his arms. “But you said the Golden Dapeng can.”

Chen Budao, lifting a brow, “you’re pretty smart.”

Of course he didn’t make what an old woman left behind into a puppet to be controlled. Nor did he point to the Golden Dapeng and say, like before, that the birdie was back from the dead.

After all, the little disciple was a bit bigger now, and was harder to lie to.

He guided the herb-picking grandmother’s leftover sentiments into the mountaintop spring. There it became a golden red koi fish.

That was the first time Wen Shi truly understood the purpose of the panguan’s existence—to send away those who had to leave, and then leave something for them on this red-dusted earth.

Wen Shi crouched by the spring and asked, “how long do fish live?”

Chen Budao said, “depends on how you take care of it. If you take good care, this fish can live for seventy, eighty years—enough for a regular person’s life time. If you don’t take good care it can also be belly-up tomorrow, so you best be careful.”

Wen Shi glared at him, not understanding why he had to make things so dangerous.

Next to the spring was a white plum tree. The flowers were in bloom, and the entire tree was white as snow. Wen Shi pointed at the tree and asked, “how old is that?”

Chen Budao gave it some thought and said, “about the same as me? Pretty old.”

To Wen Shi back then, Chen Budao was an immortal who neither grew old nor died. So as he crouched by the spring and watched the fish, he mumbled quietly that after he could solve cages too, he would turn all those worldly ties into trees.

Chen Budao teased him, “all those trees, where are you going to plant them? And trees can’t open their mouths and talk to you.”

Wen Shi, “can a fish?”

Leaning against a tree and watching him, Chen Budao laughed lowly and said, “don’t be tricked by all the silence, he’s really something when he’s mean.”

Wen Shi kept his head down and ignored Chen Budao, stacking mountain pebbles in the spring. After stacking for a while he felt that this spring was much too empty, and the one little fish was too lonely.

“You don’t say a single word for most of the day but now you’re scared the fish will die from having no one to talk to?” Chen Budao lifted a brow; this felt a bit novel. Moments later he nodded, straightened, and left.

Not long after he returned with something in hand. He bent over and placed it into the spring, saying, “found something to keep it company in your place.”

Wen Shi looked, and saw a little turtle.

He looked up and kept Chen Budao’s gaze for a long while before he too turned and left. A bit later, he brought back another turtle and tossed it into the spring.

Chen Budao’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s this taking the place of?”

Wen Shi didn’t even look up. “You.”

Chen Budao laughed once, and scolded, “insubordinate.”

Thinking back now, Wen Shi discovered that though he talked his fair share as a kid, he still left Bu Ning and them with an impression of aloofness. That might be because everything he had to say, he said to Chen Budao.

(god i love this novel so much)

[ofieugogyshz]

Fic;; Memories: Riolu IV

Word Count: 8900 officially over 9000 now

Summary: Sarah accepts Cynthia’s invitation to visit her in Celestic Town. On her second day there, she finds herself visiting Cynthia in her grandmother’s home, and, once again, facing an internal struggle that her Riolu, Lance, and Cynthia, were set on helping her with.

Warnings: Lots of bad mental health, self-depreciation spirals, abusive thoughts to self. Also some awkwardness. (But it gets better!)

Notes: This is the thing that’s just been. taunting and harassing me for weeks, and i am so done with it. i am so sorry that it’s like, 2x as long as the others. I really hope it’s worth it to you guys, because I am just so done with it. Edit: Fixed up some spots, and re-pasting it added paragraph indents, so ????

(Series Masterpost)

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

After helping me with my Riolu, Cynthia invited me to visit her in Celestic Town.

“I'll be there for a while, researching more myths.”

I told her yes, but when she offered to take me with her, I declined. I said that I wanted to walk the rest of the route to fulfill my Pokedex.

“Oh, you're working on a Pokedex? That sure takes me back...” She had a wistful look on her face. “I went on a big adventure with a Pokedex when I was younger.” I told her to share with me some of those stories when I met up with her in Celestic Town. She gave me her number, and we parted ways for the time being.

I spent the rest of that day and the next playing with my Riolu named Lance to make up for the issues we had ran into. Totally not connected to the Lance of fame. Yep. Definitely not. But it wasn't like I had that much of a choice. My friend, his father's trainer, had named him that for me as a cute little joke. I suppose I could have picked a name and told my friend to name it that. But I wanted to know what a Pokemon was like before I named it; and without the Pokemon in front of me, it was so hard to find an appropriate name. But watching Riolu-- little Lance fight our way up Route 210, I couldn't help but think that maybe my friend Blaze had the right idea in naming him after him. He was definitely strong and determined like his namesake, and showed plenty of care towards other Pokemon.

<<Can we call my namesake today? I wanna tell him how strong I got!!>>

I laughed. Now that I had accepted it, it was cute whenever he asked to talk to Lance. Lance—the human-- thankfully couldn't understand what the little Riolu was saying, but watching him entertain the notion was cute. Endearing. Enjoyable.

I looked at the time. Lance might be available now...? I had tried calling him earlier, but it went straight to voicemail. Probably working, I thought to myself.

“Let's try again after we get to the Pokemon Center in Celestic, so you guys can see each other with the videophones.”

And so we went through the rest of the route. It was a rather annoying route; there were many obstacles in our way, not including the fog that limited visibility. It took a few days to traverse the rest of the route by foot. I was able to train up my Pokemon a lot more than I expected. But even with the great training it provided, I was so relieved when I finally saw the rustic buildings nestled away in the mountain range. Even if it hadn't been Celestic, I would have been grateful just to stay a few nights away from the mess that was the foggy mountainside.

It was daytime when we arrived. I immediately looked for the Pokemon Center and checked in. When my Pokemon were returned, I let Lance out of his Pokeball.

“You know what, I think I'mma call you 'Little Lance', if that's alright with you? It's a little confusing talking to my friends about the both of you...” That was only partially a lie. I thought it might help distinguish them, yes, but I also still felt a little embarrassed calling him by that name... I was hoping a working towards a middle-ground might help.

Lance considered it for a moment, then shook his head.

<<Nope.>>

“Aw, but c'mon! It's super cute, calling you 'Little Lance'. Ooh! I could even call you 'Lil Lance'”

But he wouldn't budge.

“Ugh, fine then.”

<<Can we try calling Lance now?>> he asked, pointing to the videophones. I thought about it for a moment.

“I suppose so... It's almost time for our weekly call anyways.”

<<Yes!>> Lance curled up his fist and pulled it back in excitement. It was so cute to see him emulating a human gesture; he must've picked that up from me in the last week.

I picked up one of the receivers and dialed Lance's number. My heart was pounding, as it always did whenever I called him. Often I worried that I was being a bother. Things like, “Maybe I should call back later,” would plague my mind. But for some reason, I felt less nervous about it now. Maybe because Lance the Riolu was there, just as happy as I was to talk to him, that it made me feel less scared.

No answer still.

“Hmm... Weird.” The landline recording asked if I wanted to leave a message; I hung up. It wasn't that important to me to miss once. I had to let it not be important.

<<What's wrong?>>

“He isn't answering. Hope everything's alright. He's probably busy with other stuff right now.” I wonder if they officially made him Champion yet, or if they're still filling out the paperwork on that, I thought. He had mentioned that a few weeks ago; though that had little to do with him not answering. My thoughts were wandering far away on the topic, musing on what that conversation would be like when he told me that it was officialized. Lance tugged at my pants.

<<Can we visit Miss Cynthia then?>>

“Yeah, let me just see if she's available.” I pulled out the number she gave me, slowly typing it in. It rang once before being answered. There was no visual, so I found myself staring at a screen that just said “No Visual”, accompanied by the image of a Chatot.

“Hang—Hang on a moment.” Cynthia's voice sounded far away and strained, like she was just out of reach of her phone. The distant sound made me curious on how she had answered it, but I didn't have time to think about that, because she suddenly came in much louder and clearer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Cynthia? It's Sarah.”

“It is! I'm glad to hear from you! Are you nearby? I can go out and meet you if you want.” She sounded eager, excited. Had she been looking forward to this? I didn't think so. I was just a trainer she had met twice; and younger than her, I would later discover. Maybe the sound of her happy voice was because she just had a breakthrough with her research, and she couldn't wait to tell someone. I highly doubted she was excited to hear from me, after all. Not after the impression I gave last time.

Lance looked at me, his ears drooping a little as he examined me. Ah. Right. I shouldn't be thinking a thought like that. I guess that was something both Lances wanted me to work on.

“I'm already at the Pokemon center,” I told her. I scritched behind Lance's ears, making him feel better. It helped me, too. “I just got in.”

“Oh! That's perfect! I'll come get you.”

We hung up. She arrived in about fifteen minutes, brushing dust and dirt off of her coat as she arrived. Based on what I had seen of her in pictures and in person, I never would have imagined that she could look so disheveled.

“Where were you?” I asked. Lance and Pika both ran over to greet her.

“Oh, excavation. Have you learned about the Celestic Ruins yet? It's why I love coming back here so much! I can show you later, if you'd like.”

“N-no, that's fine for right now...”

We hadn't made any plans for the visit, so Cynthia gave me a short tour of the small town. In its center was a crater, and in the center of that crater was a small shrine. She told me that it dates back to ancient times; many of the town's residents still prayed to the deities and Pokemon they believed were tied to it. Behind the shrine was a cave; on each side of the cave's entrance were two large drawings, of what I presumed were ancient or mythological Pokemon. Beyond that, there was little of interest to passing trainers. The town was so small that it lacked a proper Pokemart. Instead, an old couple sold things from their home for any passing trainers that needed to restock between Mt. Coronet and their next destination. I wasn't sure if it was surprising or just interesting that the Champion considered this town her favorite.

For lunch, she took me to one of the few places to eat in the small town. While there wasn't much to catch Cynthia up on, I found myself excitedly telling her how Lance and I got along better since we last saw each other. She listened intently, speaking thoughtfully and giving me advice. I found myself asking her for a casual battle-- not one with her title on the line, but as between new friends.

“Very well then,” she said. “I should let you know-- I plan on going all out!”

“Couldn't ask for a better match myself!”

I sent out a Luxio and a Roselia, both Pokemon that I had caught here in Sinnoh. They were doing great at Gym Battles, and I figured the experience with a Champion might help them grow even stronger. Cynthia quirked an eyebrow, interested in the unspoken challenge of a doubles battle. She sent out a Garchomp and a Gastrodon. The double Earthquake duo had a huge advantage over Luxio; Roselia could handle Gastrodon, but that still left her Garchomp. As we battled, I did my best to keep my two Pokemon from fainting, but there was only so much they could do at their current strength. We both called back our Pokemon when the battle was over.

“That was a great match! The confidence in which you issued your commands allowed your Pokemon to trust you, and they responded well! I can't wait to have another battle with you when they've gotten stronger.”

“Tch...” Though she gave me high praise, the defeat still stung. “We should have another match with my aces.”

“Hmm. Perhaps another day... Don't forget that the key to growing as a trainer is to challenge yourself! Playing it safe is going to deprive yourself of new possibilities.”

She was right on both counts. One battle was enough for now. I had gotten a glimpse of what waited for me when I would challenge the Sinnoh Elite Four and its Champion, and I felt myself eager to train with my Pokemon for when that day would come. Beside me, Lance had looked on in awe, little tail wagging during the battle.

<<I want to battle too!>> he said to me. I knelt down to pat his head.

<<Maybe next time.>>

The next day, I headed over to where Cynthia was staying. We realized that we had a shared interest in mythology, so she invited me over to look at some of the texts that her and her grandmother kept. Pika followed behind me with Lance. I could hear the both of them talking happily amongst themselves, and I smiled. It was nice to hear him feeling like a member of the team again.

When I got to the address Cynthia gave me, an older woman answered the door. She adjusted her glasses, looking me up and down.

“Um, hi. I'm here because Cynthia invited me. This... is the right address, yes?” I looked at the address she had hastily scrawled down for me, and showed it to the woman. She didn't bother looking at it.

“That's correct. My granddaughter told me that she would be having a friend come over. Didn't think it'd be someone so young.” I winced. She motioned for me to come in, closing the door behind her. I took a look around. Stacks and stacks of paper were all over the living room, or what I thought was supposed to be one. Cynthia's grandmother followed my line of sight and sighed. “Pardon the mess. When we both really get into our research, it shows.”

“Ahaha, it's okay. Kind of reminds me of my room,” I said without thinking. Woops. Probably shouldn't've mentioned that. That wasn't a good impression, but hopefully it wouldn't mean something bad to them, if it came back up.

“In here.” Cynthia's grandmother had led me down the hall and stopped in front of one of the doors. “Cynthia's already in the library. She said she wanted to pull out some texts for you to read before you got here. Knowing her, she's probably already got a huge stack prepared for you. I'll be going out for a walk, so if you need anything, let Cynthia know.”

I was alone in the hall with my Pokemon. Lance and Pika stood on either side of me, looking up at me. I was a little nervous, and her grandmother's comment on my age left me feeling a little unsettled. Was she expecting someone older? How much older? I just realized that I don't even know how old Cynthia is! Is it really okay to call ourselves friends if she's much older than me? But I found the nerves paling in comparison to my excitement. I was excited to have someone else to call a friend; excited that the local Champion had called me a friend to her grandmother. But more importantly, I was excited to see the library that she had. All the books, all the texts, the myths and years of research that people had put into studying these things-- even if I was only interested in reading only the myths, being surrounded by so many books would be so exciting! Old books had that especially exciting aesthetic appeal to them, just thinking about it...

<<Are you okay?>> asked Lance. He tugged at my clothes, pulling me out of my reverie.

“Ah, yes. Thank you. Sorry, I got a little excited...”

<<You must really like books.>>

The comment made me smile. I took a deep breath and knocked loudly on the door.

“Come in!” I could hear Cynthia's faint response through the door. I turned the doorknob and pushed.

The sight of so many books greeted me. They were on the walls, stacked against shelving on the walls. Some stacks were so high that some of the desks and chairs were buried and hidden from view. Everywhere I turned was littered with books, folders, and handwritten notes.

“Sarah! I'm so glad to see you!” I could see Cynthia in the center of the room, holding a cup of tea. I could barely make out the sight of some fancy-looking seats centered around a coffee table in the middle of the room. I smiled, and closed the door behind me.

“Thanks for inviting me!” I said. I started walking towards her, my Pokemon carefully hopping from low bookstack to bookstack like the floor was lava. I began to talk excitedly, sentences running into each other as I couldn't wait to share what I had to say. “I'm so glad you asked me to come over, this is so amazing, and---L-Lance!!! W-w-what're y-you doing h-here?”

I stopped dead in my tracks, face flushing, unaware that there was going to be company. Much less company that I liked.

<<I'm sorry, was I not supposed to jump on the books?>> asked my Riolu. The sudden change in my reaction, the strange query mentioning his name, had left him confused. It took him a moment to realize what was going on with me. He looked to where I was stuck staring, as though I were stricken with a Glare attack and could not look away. I heard a happy yip from him, and he ran towards the red-headed trainer that was seated on the couch.

<<It's him!!! It's him!! My namesake!! We get to meet my namesake!!!>

“You must be the little Riolu that I've been talking to over the phone!” I heard Lance say. He caught the little Riolu, ruffling the top of his head. My Riolu looked up at him, starry-eyed, before turning back to me. I was still stricken to the spot. Cynthia came over to me, gently pushing me behind the back to lead me to a chair that was seated on the side, between both of theirs.

“Come on in! Don't be afraid to sit down with us!”

“I-I'm not!” I said quickly, the words out of my mouth before I realized what they were. I shut my mouth right then, glancing at Lance, before looking back at Cynthia. She gave no indication that this was intentional, but I had the underlying sense that it was... I was suddenly hyperaware of how I presented myself. I quickly placed my hands in my lap. I kept my legs together, though one foot would begin bouncing in place before I knew it.

Pika had heard the excited commotion and came over to me, peeking her head over a pile of books to look. When she saw who it was, she ran over and happily nuzzled Lance on the cheek.

I felt simultaneous embarrassment and envy of her at that moment. I could have cried. I wanted to cry.

Sensing the conflicting emotions, Lance-- the Riolu-- came over to me and climbed into my lap. He was emanating so much happiness from meeting Lance –the human-- that it started to put me at ease. I wrapped my arms around my Riolu, gently resting my chin on his head, wishing I could have fiddled with something instead.

I watched as Lance picked up my Pikachu and set her down on the couch, gently scritching her under the chin.

“And hello to you too, Pika! It's been awhile since we've seen each other, hasn't it friend?”

“Chu! Pika pikachu!!”

<<My namesake! My namesake!!!>>

This was going to give me a headache, if I didn't die from embarrassment first. I tried to suppress a groan, and looked to Cynthia once more, trying to get help from her. Any kind of help. But her attention was already towards Lance, ignoring my distress.

“I'm glad to see that you're such good friends with Sarah's Pokemon already.”

“I've met her Pikachu several times, both in and out of battle. The Riolu is new.” He turned towards me. “I hope he hasn't been giving you too much trouble?”

I sat up straight when he addressed me. “Hm?! Oh! Um, n-no, not recently,” I said, lying a little. But I could feel Riolu become a little angry with me for the lie. He didn't like me being dishonest, it seemed. “A-actually, Cynthia helped us with a, uh, misunderstanding about a week ago, so things are actually better than before!” I gave him a nervous smile.

“I see.”

“It was moving to see. Sarah really is passionate about her Pokemon.”

“Y-yeah, I am.” I turned towards Lance, asking him the same question that I asked earlier when I came in.

“W-what are you doing here, Lance? I thought you were busy, with, um. League stuff?”

“Cynthia invited me to come out. She said that she's found an ancient connection between Sinnoh and Johto, and asked if I was interested.”

“But aren't you supposed to be at the league right now?”

“Since we're still in the process of obtaining a new Elite Four member to replace me, the League's been closed. I normally have time off from the Pokemon G-Men when the League is open, so I haven't had as much to do for the time being.” He looked at me, a curious expression on his face. “Why, did you want me to be there?”

“W-what?! Uh, no, I guess? I think?” I didn't know if that was the right answer or not. This was making me so nervous, so on edge. I didn't know which way I should play into this. “I just thought that you wouldn't be able to come this far north, is all.” I looked away, cheeks flushing a little. “You never mentioned it in any of our e-mails or calls.”

“It was last minute,” Cynthia interrupted. I looked over at her; she had been watching the conversation. Her legs were crossed, one elbow propped up on a knee as she rested her chin on the back of her hand. She had an inscrutable smile on her face, but the body language told me all I needed to know. She definitely planned this. I felt my face grow hotter as I realized it, and all the implications that could mean. Riolu squeaked as my arms tightened around him.

Cynthia continued. “I had the breakthrough a few days ago, and I thought he'd be interested. I found some text that suggests that Sinnohans may have moved over to Johto, but the connecting thread mentions a cave that no one's been able to find in Johto. Not yet, anyways.”

“She thought that I might like to try and find it.”

“Ah.... I see...”

“Oh! Before I forget, these are some of the books I wanted to show you, Sarah.” Cynthia got up to grab a small handful of books. She placed a few of them on the table in front of me; I was so apprehensive of the situation now that I couldn't even glance at their titles. My Riolu looked at the books curiously. “You might enjoy familiarizing yourself with Sinnoh's myths and traditions. It's a region that's full of beauty and history!”

She handed Lance the other books she held. I watched as she spoke so passionately to him about the ruins that she had found mentioned in her texts. I found myself a little jealous. Cynthia was a beautiful, confident, and an amazing trainer. She had no problems talking to Lance and keeping him invested in a conversation. And I could barely talk to him without becoming extremely flustered, stuttering and stumbling over my words, uncertain of which ones to say at all. I wanted to say all of them, in all the ways and combinations, until I could find the best ones to say to him. But with that desire to talk to him came the same conflict of being noticed, of being watched, of being paid attention to. As much as I wanted it, I didn't want it; because if he saw me, then he was watching me. And if he was watching me, then that meant that I could be judged one way or the other over something I did. Something I said. The way I looked, the look I gave off. I didn't want him to think less of me because of that. Cynthia, on the other hand, didn't seem to care about the mess that her library was in. She knew who she was and confident that it was more than enough to be liked, to be respected. I yearned to have that kind of confidence, that fearlessness. But I had to be liked. I had to be well-liked. I couldn't stand letting someone think worse of me for an accident or lack of attention or knowledge.

So I sat there, quietly watching the two of them as they became more invested in their conversation, until I thought myself forgotten about. The things they spoke about were beyond my current knowledge, and I, for once, could not interrupt. The two of them got up to look at something else in the library, ancient maps I think. I sunk into my seat, letting out a long sigh. Riolu looked up at me from where he sat in my lap, confused and concerned.

<<What are you feeling right now? I know the confusion.>>

Jealousy, I thought back. I was jealous of her. Not to a bitter extent, but... She probably could have-- I couldn't finish the thought, the mere idea of it making me hurt. I wanted to cry. Riolu turned around to press his forehead against mine.

<<I don't understand your feelings, but I do know that you're in pain right now. I hope you can feel better.>>

“Thanks.”

I watched as Cynthia helped Lance find reference materials for the Sinjoh ruins that she talked about. He hadn't heard of it before, and Cynthia speculated it was somewhere far north of his hometown. Lance placed a hand on his chin as he thought, looking carefully at the maps she had on the wall and the documents she showed him. It looked natural, seeing them together. Perhaps if I was in a better place emotionally, I could have enjoyed watching him in a different element.

The two of them seemed to flow well together, I found myself thinking as I observed them. I didn't want to, but it came unbidden. They looked good together. People probably think... nicer things about the two of them together than if it were me with him. I was not pretty. Today, I didn't feel smart enough to even join in their conversation, though I obviously could have picked up the information. I couldn't deny that, and so, the argument inside my head began.

My thoughts struggled between telling me I was worthless as a trainer and proving all of it wrong. I was good at Pokemon battles, and I had defeated the Champions from Kanto and Hoenn, but I didn't choose to take that role of responsibility that came with being Champion. It wasn't something I could do. It required a lot of work, and I wouldn't have been free to continue on my own journey. On the other hand, it wasn't impressive to not take up the position. That was the only thing I was confident about. All those achievements didn't mean that I'd be interesting to someone. Someone that I struggled to initiate a conversation with, and sometimes procrastinated replying to text or email messages to, and thought for hours on a reply, just because I didn't want to worry about him thinking awful of me. But...

My eyes roved over to where the two of them talked. I felt something awful in the pit of my stomach. A pang of jealously.

I wish I could be like her.

Anyone but myself.

Ugh. I hated these thoughts. But once they started, they wouldn't stop coming.

If he got with me, it would be such a joke. The media would have a field day. And why would he even get with me? Because I have a one-sided crush? That's bullshit. Plus, she can talk to him about things, and hold a conversation, and, damn, even get him to travel to another region for just a myth that she thought he might be interested in? I can't even do that. I mean, I never asked him, but why would I? I know he won't show, even if he didn't have all those responsibilities. And I'm strong as a trainer, but I'm not as experienced as her. I can't even accept that my own selfish feelings might be hurting my Pokemon. I thought I knew a lot, but it's just as much hot air as Eusine. And then there's just... UGH. Expecting someone to get with me, looking like this? A Milktank, no a Snorlax-- wait what was that cat they have here? Purugly. I'm so ugly, so awful--

<<Sarah?>>

It was a sound like a cold drop of water. The burning, burdening chaotic swirl of thoughts stopped, for just a moment. Riolu's thought was like a cool, soothing balm. I opened my eyes. I hadn't even realized that I had them shut, tears welling up in the corner. He touched his forehead to mine. After a few moments, I felt a calming wave of energy sweep through my body, relaxing all the muscles that had tensed.

<<Better?>> he asked, thoughts full of concern.

Yeah, I thought back. I hugged him tight, closing my eyes again. That helped a bit. Thanks.

<<Good. Because you got Miss Cynthia's attention.>>

That made me jump. I opened my eyes again to see her standing nearby, a gentle smile on her face.

"Are you doing okay, Sarah?" she asked me quietly.

"Uhm.. Mm… y-yeah. I-I'm okay now."

"That's good. I'd hate for you to feel awful while we're all here." She gently ran her hand along the back of my head, and rested it on my shoulder. "Please, have some tea. Or, if you'd like, there are more beverages in the kitchen. I could get you something to drink.”

I looked at her, then looked over to where Lance was, still invested in the scrolls.

"Uh, um. No, I'm okay. I have water in my bag. Thank you."

It was strange. She had such a caring aura about her that I wanted to break down and cry to her. To let her know about everything that was upsetting me, including how I was both jealous of her, and that I admired her. That I hated my conflicting feelings. That I lacked the courage I would otherwise have, when it came to Lance. I wanted to ask her for advice, but I hated the idea of needing to seek it. Knowing that she showed so much care to me, a trainer she had only met a few times, was enough to make me want to break down.

But my Riolu, Lance, continued to emanate calm energy, keeping me from reacting in a way that I would have hated. He didn't understand it, but he understood enough to know that keeping me calm was what I needed most at the moment. Crying was one of the last things that I had wanted to do.

<<Thank you, Lance.>> I thought to my Riolu. I'd have to remember to give him a good treat later on.

"Do you want to step outside for a bit?" Cynthia asked me suddenly.

I blinked. I looked up at her, confused. Was she… Trying to get me to leave the room? But… did that maybe mean….

As though reading my thoughts, she quickly added, "I could give you a tour of the house. Though, I suppose we should avoid my room, it is a bit messy from all the paperwork…."

"I, uh…"

"Great!” She turned her head, calling out over her should, “Lance, we'll be back in a bit. If you're interested, there's some books I found on the Johto region, pre-dating the Tin and Brass Towers in that corner over there."

She got me to take off my bag and come with her. Riolu followed, though he didn't have much choice as my emotional support Pokemon at the moment. Pika stayed behind; she was enjoying the small snacks that Cynthia had left out. I couldn't help but roll my eyes at her.

Cynthia gently guided me towards the back of the house. And by gently, I meant that she gently pushed me towards the back, ignoring all confused protests with cheerful replies. She led me outside, to where there was a wide, empty dirt yard. She let out her Lucario, much to the joy of my own Riolu, who now squirmed in my arms so he could say hello to his newfound hero.

"Gahhh… I'm sorry about all this. I should have thought more carefully about it or let you know that he was coming over."

"Wait, so it was planned?" I said, turning around on her. I didn't know if I should have been more angry or shocked that she knew all along about my feelings towards that Lance, and still let this happened. “Or at least the him coming over part…?"

Cynthia leaned against the banister of the porch. She didn't say anything for a moment, as though she was trying to carefully word her thoughts. I waited, trying not to be angry, trying not to be embarrassed.

"I thought it might help," she finally said.

My emotions decided: I was angry, mad at her, though I couldn't put into words why. But…. I believed her. She really was trying to help me. I could feel it. And as I stared angrily at her, I felt my conviction weaken. Her Lucario stood nearby, palms out; he was using his aura powers to connect our spirits so we could better understand one another.

"...You're really scared about this," she said with a mixture of pity and understanding. “And you're right to feel angry; I should have asked or talked to you about this beforehand.” She slapped her forehead, muttering a simple idiot to herself.

"Y-yeah. Yeah, I really am. Both angry and scared. Because I already did this once, like an idiot, and erroneously assumed that that's what you do to like people. That you just... Decide to. And then you tell them that you want to date them and then you become boyfriend and girlfriend or whatever and it all goes uphill from there. But it didn't. And I'm lucky at all that he still let me get to know him after that. But I guess not enough, if I didn't know that he was coming here..."

Cynthia paused, giving a thoughtful hum. Then, she said in a hopeful tone, "Well, what if he wanted to surprise you? When was the last time you guys got to see each other in person?"

Her questions gave me pause to think. I never considered that, but I also didn't think I was important enough for something like that. Like he'd come all the way out here just to surprise me, when my Pokemon journey meant that I could be anywhere between a city and a route, even stuck somewhere. Sure, I normally tell him where I was heading or planning to go; but there wasn't a guarantee that I would have been here. Or anywhere. Planning a visit was one thing, but a surprise one....?

"C-c'mon now…" I looked away from her, eyes searching ground for things to say. Burnt orange dirt greeted me as an answer. A single rock, a couple of weeds, more dirt. Nothing useful that could be said. “There's no way that he'd... wanna... I mean, I'm not someone important. I'm just a stupid, annoying teen, annoying some guy that I kn--” I stopped, horrified. “Oh Arceus, I should be leaving him alone, shouldn't I?! I bet I seem like some crazy stalker fangirl and-- ugh. Damnit, Sarah, how could you be so stupid!? You're bugging him so much--"

I was cut off as an unlikely hand-chop came down on my head, causing me more surprise than pain. Doink.

"Owwwowowowowow." I clutched at my head, tears curling up in the corners of my eyes from the pain. I looked up at Cynthia, whose hand was still vertical and poised to chop me on the head again. “What'd'you do that for!?”

“What about all those calls?” Her voice was stern.

"Courtesy. He's just doing them out of courtesy, or to be nice, or because I seem crazy enough that if he doesn't he's worried I might--"

Doink.

Another hand-chop to the head.

I rubbed the top of my head, tears welling up in frustration now.

“You need to stop the negative thinking! He wouldn't take the time out of his busy schedule to do all that just because you annoyed him, Sarah. Trust me; I've had my fair share of crazy fans, and I wouldn't let any of them near me like I've let you. I'm not saying this to get your hopes up, but it's clear that he think you're someone worth keeping near. For people like us, where we're constantly being hounded by media and trainers looking for personal gain and not much else, that's a lot. We have our own lives; but it's hard to let people in them. And with the frequency of those calls that you guys have--”

“E-EH?! W-w-wait, y-you know... a-ab-about.... th-those!?” The way she had so casually said it this time had caught me off guard. I don't know why I hadn't froze up at the first mention of the calls mere minute ago.

“Lance told me.” At the sudden deep blush that set across my face, she clarified. “Your Riolu, I mean. ...I see now why the name might have been difficult for you.”

“Oh.” I still felt alarmed, but I relaxed a little. That meant he wasn't sharing stuff like that with other people. Not that I wanted him to. I didn't want to think about what it meant if he was sharing that to someone else, especially not with Cynthia.

“I apologize, for not telling you that he was coming over. You were so afraid and scared to say Lance's name,” she said, nodding towards my Riolu, “that I thought having you come over while he was here might have helped. I didn't let you know because I thought that you might run away... And I thought that you might appreciate the surprise of getting to see him again, in person.”

“I--” I stopped to think about it. She was right; I would have thought about running away. But I realized that, despite all the fluster and frustration and everything else that just happened, it was nice to see him again, in person. I hadn't gotten to see him in person very often the last few years; part of that happily avoiding the awkwardness awarded to me by my thirteen-year-old self, while also us having our own, vastly different paths in life at the time. But, even with the information that Cynthia had now shared with me, I thought that maybe I should keep my distance from him. To leave him alone, and not bug him like I usually did. To not repeat the mistakes of the past. To make sure that I didn't do that.

I really wished I could have been better about that.

“You do like getting to see him again, right?” Cynthia asked me, noticing that my thoughts had started to spiral again. I felt myself flush right up, stammering out a reply.

"I-I… I'mma… Y-you're n-n-not… wr-wrong about… about that…." I crossed my arms, looking away for a moment so I wouldn't have to face the consequences of admitting it.

Cynthia laughed. "Who knows. Maybe this might help you get closer to him, so you're not always stuttering!"

"I'M NOT STUTTERING!!!" I shouted at her, face red. “I just…. Fumble… and stumble… over my, uh, words………."

"Can you even refer to him by name?" she asked, sounding concerned for a moment.

"Err, um… that is to say…. Uh…." I hung my head. "N-no… n-not r-really."

"Why do you think that is?"

"Um…." I paused to think. Why do I have trouble using his name? ...ah. That's why. I looked down, and I picked at the sleeve of my shirt. I didn't want to say the words.

"Because I don't think I'm worthy of saying it."

There was a solemn moment between the two of us. Putting it into words made it feel so surreal. It made no sense to think that way, or feel that way. After all, I was a human. I was a damn Champion; I've beaten his ass at Pokemon battles more times than it was worth, when I was much younger. So then, why did that not mean something? Why was I venerating a name that anyone could have? Even my own Pokemon had suffered because of those feelings.

Then, as I was contemplating the absurdity of it, Cynthia started laughing, wiping tears from her eyes as she approached me.

"Wh-WHAT?!" I shouted, embarrassed and confused. "I REALLY DO THINK- er, feel… That way… I guess."

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for laughing. But just… The way you said it--"

"Ugh! Why did I even come out here with you?! I should have just gone off and trained!" I turned away, crossing my arms angrily. She came up and gave me a consoling hug.

"You really shouldn't feel that way about yourself," she said quietly. "Regardless of whether or not you're in love. It's not good to hate yourself like that. You are worth so much, and I see so much potential in you, both as a trainer and as a person. Don't give up on your dreams, because someone told you to feel this way once."

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to will myself not to cry.

“W-what if...” It was a struggle to get the words out. “Wh-what.. i-if.... it w-was... m-m-more... se...several... people?”

“Not even then. Their lies are not what's true about you.”

Her words and compassion had finally gotten me to cry. Feelings that I kept pushed down inside myself burst forth. I turned around and pressed my face against her, trying to hide it, but so painfully aware in some part of my brain that it would result in some snot on her coat. It was embarrassing. But she didn't show anything other than kindness as I broke down. She soothed me with comforting words and hushes, gently rubbing my back. When I had finally stopped, spent of the emotions that I had kept bottled up, she recalled her Lucario and guided me back inside. We stopped in the kitchen for a moment; Cynthia suggested that I get something to drink before returning to the library.

Riolu had followed behind us, watching everything with quiet awe. I could feel that he had a query for me, but he couldn't quite formulate it clearly. And even if he had, I wasn't sure that I could answer him.

“Lance,” Cynthia called out sweetly to my Riolu. “Do you understand what just happened here?”

He shook his head, mouth slightly open.

“Ri.”

“Sometimes, when things hurt for us, we try to hide it. But if we keep doing that, then it gets to be too much to hold back. Sometimes you have to let yourself cry. Or scream. Or whatever it is that your emotions are making you feel. Sarah seems to be especially fond of holding them back. I can't say she's particularly good at hiding them, though.”

“Thanks, Cynthia,” I said wryly, face heating up as I took another drink. It was embarrassing having her explain things to my Pokemon, because it also felt like she was trying to wink-wink-nudge-nudge me about how to solve my own emotional issues. I should have been more than capable of doing that myself, without the explanation from someone else. She continued.

“So if you feel like she's ever in need of letting out her feelings, you might need to pull her aside and get her to open up to you. It might not be as easy as it was today. Sometimes, in order to protect herself from her feelings, she might fight you on it. But you'll have to be patient and wait her out, letting her know that you're there for her.”

“Ri...”

Riolu jumped up to hug me, startling me for a moment.

<<I promise to help take care of you!>> His feeling was sincere. The energy behind it, the strength of his feelings, almost made me cry again. I shook my head, trying to focus elsewhere.

When I calmed down, we walked back to the room. I was staring at the door again, mentally preparing myself once more to enter. The calm that I had gained was slowly giving way once more to nervousness. I found myself worrying that it would show all over my face that I had an emotional meltdown. (Cynthia told me it didn't look like I had been crying, but I wasn't convinced.) I took a few deep breaths, trying to calm down while it felt like every fiber of my being was racing. My skin felt like ants were crawling all over it. I rubbed one of my arms and took a final deep breath.

Cynthia smiled at me.

“You ready?”

“Y-yeah. I'll be fine.” I picked up my Riolu, hugging him tightly. “I've got this Lance with me to help keep me calm.”

“Ri!” His tail wagged.

“We're back!” Cynthia called out when we entered. I could see Lance's tuft of red hair over by the table that we had been seated at earlier.

“Welcome back!” he replied. We walked over to him, and I could see Pika curled up beside his lap, taking a nap. I instantly felt envious of her. To just so casually....! Lance noticed that I was looking at her, and gave a small laugh.

“I came over to read some of the books, when I noticed that Pika had been left behind. I thought it was odd, but she didn't seem to be bothered by being separated from you. In fact, she curled right up next to me and fell asleep.”

I blushed. My Riolu looked up at me.

<<She felt confident that I could help,>> he said. <<I'm not sure why that is. Miss Cynthia was the one to help you the most! I think she just wanted to eat the cookies without sharing...>>

I frowned when he told me that. I put him down and picked up Pika, sitting down on the couch as I did so. I held her up, away from me, waiting for her to wake up.

Pika gave a sleepy little yawn. She squeaked when she saw me staring at her with an unamused expression. She squirmed, giggling as she tried to get out of my grip. I let go of her with a short sigh, and she fell into my lap. With a carefree attitude, she climbed back up the couch to sit on my shoulder, nuzzling me. She was definitely trying to be trouble.

“Honestly...”

“Is everything okay? It's not often that I don't see her without you.”

I jumped up for a second, forgetting that he was there. I tensed up, and feigned ignorance. “Hm? Oh, uh, Riolu said that she wanted to eat all the cookies and not share.” I gave him a nervous smile. “Some days, y'know?” I had no idea what I was trying to get at, honestly. But I hoped it was enough of an answer to avoid any future questions.

Now that I was no longer giving my Pokemon a condescending stare, knowing what her real motive was, I realized that I had sat next to him. On the same couch. I felt my face heat up and I slowly started to scoot away. Ah, but that's too obvious. Ah, quick! I patted the space next to me, motioning for Riolu to come sit there. He tilted his head at me, but obliged, climbing onto the couch. I scooted over more so he could sit between us; Lance raised an eyebrow at me.

“Ah, I forgot to mention it earlier, but Riolu's really excited to meet you!” I gave him a nervous laugh, and fumbled around for a further explanation. “Though I guess that much was obvious earlier... Ahaha... I thought, um. Well, uh... I don't really know how else to explain it, so just! Accept that he wanted to sit next to you!!”

Smooth.

As if picking up on the cue, Riolu turned towards Lance and wagged his tail. It wasn't disingenuous, as he really was excited to meet his namesake.

<<Hi, I'm Lance! I was named after you!!>> He stood up on the couch and held out his paw to Lance.

Panic coursed through me. My face instantly turned red and I grabbed Riolu. I pulled him away, hand over his mouth while trying to resist the urge to grumble something into his ear.

“What... did he say?” Lance sounded concerned, but I could hear muffled laughter from Cynthia, seated across from us. I had forgotten about her, but now wasn't the time to deal with her.

“O-Oh! Uhhh...ummm... y-y'know... how some.. Pokemon, just... say.... silly....things? To, um, their heroes?” I winced, feeling like the lie wasn't much better. My Pokemon wasn't satisfied with it either, and frowned. I could feel the dissatisfaction, right there, in my arms.

“I can't say that I know... Seeing as I haven't had any Pokemon talk to me in the same way that Riolu seems to with you.”

“Oh!” I let him go, and Riolu crossed his arms, pouting. “That's, um...” That's great! I wanted to say, but I knew that it was a very enviable thing to be able to understand Pokemon clearly. In specific words.

“That's, err, too bad, I think?” I relaxed, relieved that my Riolu hadn't somehow instantly been able to connect to and bond with Lance like he had with me. “I mean, it sucks, when they um, just have a lot of cool things they want to say to you! He thinks you're really cool!”

“And what else does Riolu think,” Cynthia said from the sidelines. I gave her a sharp look, and she stifled her laughter.

“Okay, I don't know what Cynthia thinks is so funny, but he really does look up to you!” I said, finally giving a genuine statement. “He's wanted to meet you for awhile now. And, it's, uh, it is nice to see you outside the league, for once. And not because of work!” I added, remembering that one time I had run into him. He was on a mission with the Pokemon G-Men, and somehow the events of that created this... issue. “I was just, um, surprised earlier to see you anywhere but Kanto or Johto, really. So I'm sorry if it seemed like I was being rude.”

Lance seemed to be confused by what I was saying, and I rolled my eyes and shook my head, frustrated at myself.

“Nevermind. Sorry if that didn't make any sense.”

He gave me a strange look, perhaps because my own words were strange enough without all the context on my end.

“I accept your apology, though I'm not really sure what it's for.”

“Um, 'cuz I thought maybe it seemed like I didn't want you here?”

“It didn't seem that way to me.”

I paused, trying not to overthink on what he just said. “I—oh, um. Good.” I nodded, trying to sound certain of myself.

An awkward silence followed, but it was shortly interrupted by Cynthia.

“Sarah,” she turned to me. “Where is your next badge located?”

Bless her for changing the subject to something less nerve-wracking. Riolu perked up at the mention of the Gym Challenge, and uncrossed his arms. I looked up at nothing in particular, trying to recall where I was told to go next. It was on the west side of Sinnoh, somewhere closer to Twinleaf Town than this side of Mt. Coronet.

“Umm... I think the city's called Canalave?”

“Then you should definitely make sure to train up your Riolu!” Cynthia looked excited, eyes brimming with energy and the teasing forgotten. “The Gym Leader is Byron; he's a steel-type user. Would you like to stay for awhile and train with me?”

I blinked. The offer was extremely honoring, and I couldn't figure out a reason to say no. “Sure, I'd love to! Thank you very much Cynthia.” I looked down towards the little Pokemon beside me. My Riolu jumped up, looking starry-eyed at Cynthia, tail wagging excitedly. “I'm sure Riolu would love it too, if he got to train with your Lucario!”

“Of course. I'd be more than happy for them to train together!”

“Would it be okay if I joined the two of you for your training?” Lance asked suddenly.

I felt myself freeze. I was not expecting that. I looked at him, scrutinizing him. Was there a joke in this? A prank? I was suddenly suspicious, wondering if somehow he and Cynthia were in on something. But if they were planning something like this all along, I couldn't tell; not from him. I quickly looked towards Cynthia, who clasped her hands together, smiling.

“That would be great! Incidentally, how long are you planning to stay in Sinnoh?”

“I've got a few days before I need to head to Blackthorn City.”

“Excellent! Then it's settled. We'll all train together!”

So maybe it wasn't planned. That didn't stop Cynthia from flashing me a devious smile right after. I couldn't help but feel apprehensive that she had something else up her long, black sleeves.

“That reminds me!” She pulled out a poster from under one of the books, and showed it to us. It had a drawing of a starry night sky, with what looked like shooting stars falling across it. Under that was the shrine, and the area around it was decorated.

“We're having a festival in a few days. Because we're away from any of the larger cities, the night sky is really clear. It makes it easy for us to see a meteor shower that happens once a year. It's one of the few things that draws visitors to Celestic Town, giving them revenue. The both of you should go! I'll be busy helping the town run it, so I won't be able to show you guys around, but I think you'll have plenty of fun exploring it without me!”

I felt my insides go hollow, instantly recognizing what Cynthia was doing. She was setting up an opportunity... for... a... I couldn't finish the thought, too frazzled to think it. I could only hope that, between the blanched feeling I was having and the inevitable blush that was to follow, my complexion looked relatively normal. Because I wanted to scream. And run away. And never come back.

Cynthia just gave me that, sweet, innocent, inscrutable smile, now decipherable, as a little nudge forward. She knew exactly what she was doing, and I hated that I wanted to thank her for it, too.

[darkhymns-fic]

“Welcome back.”

With Lloyd, Colette had never felt more at home.

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel, Zelos Wilder, Phaidra Brunel Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Colloyd Week, Day 7: Free day! And yep, this is a day early because quote day fic isn’t finished just yet. But this is also about a quote so it fits the theme still?

--

Colette had always been searching for a place to belong to.

When she first met Lloyd, it had been by chance. She didn’t meet him on his first day of school, when he had already been fifteen minutes late, earning a frown from the new professor but forgiven when he explained how far he traveled just to get here. It had not even been on one of the few trips that Lloyd had gone along with Dirk to Iselia, the dwarf picking up supplies to fill up their food pantries, and any extra seeds and tools for the vegetable garden he was just starting. On the former, she had been away at the Church for her routine lessons, and on the latter, she was always at home, the language of the angels swimming in her head as she devoutly read the scriptures from heavy tomes.

When she was already receiving her lessons as the Chosen, they only told her about her fate once she turned six – all with fanciful words of how she would take her place in heaven with the goddess and rest peacefully. But even back then, she understood the meaning of it.

So one day, with that knowledge deeply part of her, Colette had to leave her room, her house, and the books far away, so that she could breathe. She left in the middle of the day, thinking only to go as she snuck through the front gate to the forests surrounding Iselia, all before they would implement guards to prevent such a thing from happening again. She walked and walked, until the brush at her feet grew darker and the trees closed in, until the light dirt pathway slowly started to vanish.

She walked until she couldn’t anymore, the sun all but blocked out from the thick boughs overhead. There was no more path to lead her anywhere, the entire floor overtaken by snaking roots and shrubbery. The air felt cold around her. The shadows stretched wide, making the woods feel like early evening when it was still in the middle of the afternoon.

Or had she really lost track of time?

She stumbled over a stump – or it could have simply been a pebble, or only air. But she fell onto her knees, her hands clutching the grass between her fingers, thinking over and over the words that the priest had left her. And her grandmother, trying to soften the blow, with peaceful hands that stroked through her hair, but not denying the truth of what it all meant.

“Chosen, you will be like a friend to the world. And once you grow older, you will have to leave, but that is what happens to all of us,” Phaidra had tried to soothe, an old scripture book still laid at her knee along with Colette’s head. “It will just be a little sooner than most…”

She felt a hand take her own – but it wasn’t familiar, and it fit inside her own like a puzzle piece.

Colette blinked. She saw that she was on her feet again, grass stains on her bare knees, and on the sleeves of her dress. And right in front of her was a boy, his hair sticking up in wild ways, his eyes blinking along with her own. In a red shirt and suspenders that held up dark shorts, she wondered if this was someone from school that she couldn’t seem to recognize yet.

“Hey! Where were you going? It’s dangerous down this way!” The boy’s palm was just against her own, a little damp, scuffed with dirt. She realized why that was so.

“Oh! But my hands are dirty…” she could only trail out, still feeling a bit light-headed. Hadn’t she left her grandmother in the kitchen, and then had gone out the back door? What would she think…?

The boy tilted his head, the motion of it catching her attention. It reminded her of the neighborhood dog that she always wanted to pet whenever she saw it. “Are you okay? You were walking by yourself and being really quiet…”

She saw in his other hand that he held what looked like a long stick. The end of it was freshly snapped, like a jagged point of a knife. He tapped it against the ground, keeping in an even tempo.

“Ah? Where… am I?” Colette arced her head to look around her, but the trees looked unfamiliar, and she could hear the rapid flow of a river nearby. But this wasn’t anything like the small glades that were in Iselia. “Who are you?”

Another blink, and there was something about his eyes. Full and matching the shade of the tree bark, yet catching the light of the sunshine. They were in a sunny place now, the previous shadows from her wandering gone.

“You should tell people your name first before asking theirs, you know!” The boy huffed, but then looked embarrassed right away. “I mean…I guess I did just come up to you. I’m Lloyd! I live here. Well, near here. Not this place though. There’s a lot of mean wolves around.”

And still, Lloyd hadn’t let go of her hand. He was gently leading her away from the darker part of the forests, back out into the light with the pathway, with the flowers that lined parts of a nearby field, white petals drifting in the breeze. And on that same pathway, she saw what looked to be the largest dog in the world.

Colette had almost forgotten to say anything, still dazzled by sights out from the shadows, by the dog that looked so fluffy to the touch, wondering what it would be like to dig her hands through the fur – and by the boy next to her, his eyes still catching that light.

“I’m…Colette. I’m the…” She paused, and suddenly the title that she had always known felt deeply heavy in her chest. She couldn’t finish.

“The…girl that got lost?” Lloyd finished for her, grinning wide then. “You’re silly! I was playing with Noishe when I saw you. You shouldn’t wander off! Or, that’s what my dad says.”

The dog named Noishe padded up to her, ears drooped low, sniffing at her curiously. She reached out to pet it, and the warmth she felt from scratching the dog’s head was the same as Lloyd’s hand in hers.

“I was lost,” she admitted, but the smile touched her lips easily, feeling refreshed. “But then you found me.”

And since then, it was hard for Colette to forget the shape of his grin, the touch of red on his cheeks. From playing? From the sun shining down on them both? Or because their hands stayed together? She remembered how much she didn’t want to grow up then, even more than before.

“Well, it’s good I found you,” Lloyd admitted. He was leading her and Noishe up a hill, past the rushing river, and soon she could see the shape of something in the distance. A house? Right in the middle of the woods, almost as if out of a fairytale…. “But I don’t know how to get you back home…”

Colette looked at the house as they moved closer; the weather vane in the shape of a rooster on top of its roof, the wooden shed to the right, the multitudes of potted plants that lay near the front door. She pointed at it suddenly. “There,” she said with full conviction. “I live there.”

“Huh?” Lloyd blinked, back to her then back to the house that looked so far off from everything she had known. “You do?”

“Well…today I live there. Maybe not tomorrow.” Colette scuffed her shoes against the dirt, excitement running through her chest, like the rush she had felt when she ran through the woods with complete abandon. But different this time, because she knew where to go. “Is that okay?”

Maybe another boy would have found her strange, or weird to suggest such a thing. But Lloyd only laughed, and excitedly pulled her along the makeshift bridge across the river.

No one had ever accepted her so easily.

“Sure it is!” Lloyd said, his happiness beaming out from the eyes that she couldn’t look away from. “So… welcome back, Colette!”

--

In the Church, the priests taught her the language of the Angels; an ancient script that only those of the cloth and the Chosen they watched over would be able to decipher. They taught her to memorize the landmarks of the journey that she would travel to, the names of ancient heroes that conversed with goddesses and how she would one day be as close to such figures when the time came. They taught her to watch and listen from a distance.

But Lloyd taught her to use her hands.

When Lloyd had first come to Iselia, she’d see the way his fingers would tap on the desk, (and ever since they first met, he’d always choose the desk closest to her – as long as he wasn’t late) starting off light, then faster, louder until the Professor would shush him across the room. But his hands wouldn’t stop moving then. Instead, they’d take something else, like the pencil he’d been chewing on, or the small little carving knife he always liked to carry around. Sometimes he’d draw lines on the paper, or carve them onto the wood.

And no matter what, he’d always show her what he made.

“That’s dad,” he’d point out to her, tracing the jagged edges of a beard, sprouting so wildly from a circle that was his father’s face. “You remember him, right? He’s really big!” And of course she did, recalling the adult with thick arms and a heavy beard, the way his laughter boomed inside the home when he first met her then. He hadn’t minded that she wanted their home for her own, at least for that one day.

Then Lloyd would draw a shape that she was familiar with, a furry creature standing on four legs, standing a head above the sketchy scribble that was Lloyd’s father. Scritch scritch came the sounds of Lloyd’s pencil on paper, his tongue just sneaking past his lips in concentration.

“I can’t draw at all,” she said, fingers curling around her dress, all as she kept scooting closer to Lloyd to see his work better.

“Huh? How come?” He sounded so curious. And though she still only knew Lloyd for a little bit, she didn’t think he was teasing her about it.

“Ah, it’s not really something meant for me?” It was the best way she could explain it. Why would a Chosen need to learn to draw?

“But you want to, right?”

“Well…”

Lloyd’s hands, even back then, had dwarfed her own. She felt the calluses against his palm as held her wrists gently, the lightness of his fingers as they seemed to dance over her knuckles, adjusting the shape of her hand. The pencil he gave her slipped easily into her grip.

“Just copy mine here. Try drawing Noishe!” He grinned at her, all teeth and stretching his cheeks that she thought she could see dimples. It made her stare, fascinated, and how this was something no one had told her about at all.

With his hands guiding her, she learned to draw for the very first time. It wasn’t anything particularly amazing, and her own doggy was lop-sided, complete with uneven ears and an oversized tongue. She had tried to capture the likeness of Noishe on that first day she had seen him standing beside Lloyd, on how the light made the green of his fur that much brighter, like the fields that surrounded Iselia.

Yet even as she saw the stark difference between her and Lloyd’s, his voice thrummed next to her in pride. “See? You can draw just fine!”

“Lloyd! Are you bothering people now?”

Raine’s voice was sudden, and with that, Lloyd had to let her go. The warmth of his hands left, even though she could remember the shape of it.

But still he smiled at her, inclining his head just a bit until so that only Colette could see. Only for her.

When she would go back home, she would try to practice drawing too, all within the margins of her own scripture books; little butterflies and happy dogs, and the wide-eyed smile of someone that filled her head during the day.

Her heart felt so, so full.

--

It was only natural for people to leave their home, to leave their friends behind.

Colette was just doing it sooner than most.

Outside, as the floorboards of the balcony creaked underneath them both, she went over the lie in her head, turning it over like a fine piece of jewelry. In the dark, she could hide away any small tells, any moments that Lloyd would catch her in.

She had to try not to laugh, because how easy it was to just let it free, a small giggle filled with every worry and fear in its waves.

“You know, this will be the first time we ever go somewhere that’s not just in Iselia.” Lloyd leaned back against the railing, his smile lighting something within her that it was almost too painful. But she took it as something good, something she would remember once she was on the last leg of her journey and… “We’ll get to see the whole world together!”

A world where she could be so easily lost, maybe forgotten. But she should want that for him, at least. “That’s what you always wanted to do, isn’t it?” she asked him, remembering the little dreams he’d tell her she’d ride on Noishe, his hand over her own to keep her steady, fingers entwining through green fur. “I think in a regenerated world, you can finally do that even more.”

The moonlight caught his eyes, and already she wanted to go and embrace him. But wouldn't she just trip right into the wood, with his hands reaching to keep her balanced? “Yeah. Maybe after the world’s regenerated, we can go on another trip together too. How about it?” He said it so casually, as if such dreams were not nearly as impossible as touching the stars in the sky. “But maybe once you become an angel, we can go back home for a little while. Is that okay?”

It was childish for her to wish for anything different.

In her heart, she brought with her the scent of oak as she left with Raine and Kratos in the early morning, the remembered texture of finely polished wood when she had leaned on the railing with Lloyd, looking up at the stars. And she kept the shape of his smile, lit up by the moon, tracing it over and over in her head.

Even if she had to lose a friend, she could keep parts of it, couldn’t she? These small memories that kept her mind afloat as she walked further away from home.

And when Lloyd lived in the new world, maybe, if he wanted to, he could do the same for her.

If he wanted to.

--

For a while, after Remiel called her forth and she felt her heart shatter in her chest, Colette had been adrift.

She knew of death, but she didn’t know how it would be for her. Would it be like the shutting of a door, cutting off light for her and leaving her in the dark? Or would it be like going to sleep, stuck in dreamlessness, never on the verge of waking up again?

Instead it was like she was floating out to sea, half-blind, with no compass to point out her way, and no sail to take her home. And through it all, she was left with the imprints of memories she had trouble placing.

She remembered the shape of the temple she would pray at, the scent of the tea her grandmother would make for her, the sad smile her father would sometimes have… and Lloyd, his hand in her own.

The longer she was away, the more she was beginning to forget.

Colette drifted as voices danced around her, half-remembering who they were, until she would forget again. Sometimes, she would still feel a hand inside her own, yet find nothing there.

And other times, she would see shadows out in the distance. The faces of friends she knew, and friends she didn’t yet. It was strange to see the new among the familiar, but in all of that, she could still see Lloyd, a passing ship that she tried to call out to. But, he couldn’t hear.

Or did he not want to hear her?

In all her drifting, she felt alone. And the fear that came when Remiel took away the last remaining thread of her humanity was her only companion.

There’s nowhere for you to go.

Colette tried to grip back the hand she could still feel. But it wasn’t real. It couldn’t have been. Even if she sometimes saw his face.

Lloyd will grow up. He will go away, the fear inside her said, continued to say. And you want to keep him locked in place?

When Sheena had spoken to him back in Sylvarant, he had smiled and laughed. She saw that now, in passing, like quick flashes of light. When a man with brilliant red hair had half-embraced Lloyd, he had grumbled but didn’t push him away. When a girl with eyes so familiar spoke, Lloyd would always turn to her.

She didn’t want him to keep from meeting these new people, new friends.

But then, what of her home?

Nowhere to go.

For a time, she stayed out in that nameless ocean, drifting and drifting, slowly losing her way. It was hard to look out for any familiar light through the darkness, easier to try and sleep. Still, she thought she felt that hand, the same hand that had brought her up to his house with no hesitation. But isn’t he gone? the fear in her kept asking. Why would he stay behind for you?

It was difficult to not be selfish.

“So that I could have a home to go back to.”

In that ocean of darkness and fading memories, she felt the hand there, remembered how it held the broken pieces of something precious. She would have accepted it as it was, kept it locked within her grip that she wouldn’t even give way to the angels. And once, when light flooded her senses, when she felt such a force try to take away a precious gift, she was able to keep that promise to herself.

Faces that she knew and didn’t know, all of it so much that she couldn’t even stay standing. But there was solid ground, and there was a hand to bring her back to her feet.

“Colette!” Lloyd called out, bringing her near, almost embracing her if it weren’t for the remnants of dirt on his jacket (and she could strangely recall a rigorous climb up a cliffside..) “You remember me?”

“Lloyd! Of course I do.” She felt the weight of the necklace on her, keeping her rooted, no longer adrift. “I think with this… I was able to find you.”

His smile always left her warm, left her nerves singing. “Heh, welcome back then. We missed you.”

Only did she realize just then – could a home be more than a place, but a person that lights your way?

--

There were little figurines on the stand, half of them already covered in snow.

“Are you looking for a souvenir?” spoke the salesman of the cart, decked in multiple layers, his mittened hands grasping one of the small things that had nearly drowned within the white. The finer details of its ears pressed flat against its head, the snout that made up its front, along with the embedded gems that served for its eyes �� it all reminded her of something so familiar. She felt bad just getting one, and clumsily handed the gald to the salesman, carrying both charms in her shaking hands.

Was it because she was afraid? Or just so cold? The chill spread across her now unmarked skin, made her bones feel stiff, made her lungs ache from the sting of the cold air. Was she still afraid it would all go?

“They bring you luck,” the salesman had told her just before she left, his smile hidden away in the caverns of his scarf. “And we could all use a little luck nowadays.”

She wondered if she would have such luck now. She couldn’t stop shivering as she went to Zelos, asking a dear favor of him as she gave him the snow bunny to bring to Altessa. “Maybe he’d like it?” she asked of the other Chosen, wondering if he thought she sounded so childish just then. “It could go with his home, or maybe he could give it to Tabatha once she’s…”

Zelos patted her shoulder, and something in his motion felt more freeing. Maybe even relieving. “Anything for you, angel. Don’t mind doing a little delivery if it means I get to leave this place.”

“Ah, you don’t like the cold?” she asked him. But, no, she could see the smile on his face too, hear the little snicker that left his throat. “Or is it something else?”

“Don’t worry about it… but thanks for asking.” Zelos placed the bunny in his pocket, more carefully than any other gift he had ever received from a lady. “But you still got that other one, right?” He nodded to the snow bunny still clutched in her hands. “Make sure to give that guy a good home, too.”

Home has always meant something else to her, and maybe Zelos saw that too. With a wink, he left with the others on the Rheairds, and soon found herself rushing back to the inn, the cold biting her cheeks.

“Welcome back, Colette,” Lloyd had said to her, his gift hanging from her neck with a comforting weight. But in words, she heard something else too when he said that…

Or was that just wishful thinking?

Colette was all shivers as she rushed towards the inn, boots sinking into the snow, soaking them through. One charm flew across the ocean in the dark to reach a kind but grumpy dwarf, reminding her of Dirk in small ways, if not all. 

The other stayed clutched in her hands, small enough to hide away from sight. It was nothing more than a toy, a childish thing, yet it felt as nice to her as the necklace she wore. 

"Lloyd," she called out once she'd had the courage to knock on his door, to see him silhouetted against the windowpane and the snow flurries just outside. The room was doing all it could to stay warm with the heater in the corner, but she didn't mind the chill. It kept her awake as she kept asking. "Do you wanna go for a walk?"

She hated her own doubts, how much she worried for Lloyd to choose something else. But his smile to her gave her the answer, even before he spoke.

Home was warm with him.

--

“Welcome back, Colette.”

“Thanks.”

“Hmm? What’s wrong?”

“Ah well, I really like it when you say ‘welcome back.’

“Uh? Why?”

“Do you remember when you said it to me when I returned to my normal self?”

“You mean the time at Fooji Mountains.”

“Yeah. I was so happy. When you tell me, ‘welcome back,’ I really start to feel like I’m really back.”

“I see. I’ll say it at any time and as many times as you like!”

--

Colette was running late.

She had spent so long in Iselia throughout the evening. The temple where she had once endured hours of lessons and ritual was now a refuge for the orphans of fallen cities such as Palmacosta and Luin. The teachings of Martel couldn’t leave her, even after everything. She couldn’t help the prayers that fell naturally from her lips, or the soft remembrances of helping others. Many priests still made their pilgrimages, though it was now that they would stop at Iselia, to follow the once-Chosen in her charity.

But she hadn’t meant to stay so long…

In her haste, she had decided to use her wings, though only doing so once she was far enough away from the village. Easier to get past the trees and the steep cliffsides, the winding of the river that would make her circle around if she were on foot. But she could still follow it, knowing where it would eventually lead to.

She heard Noishe barking up ahead. “Ah, Noishe!” she called out, pink fluttering behind her, trailing stars as she saw the shape of the dog running across the grass – and the shape of a home she had long grown to know.

At the door, silhouetted by the firelight inside, was Lloyd. He waved both arms to her, his jacket unbuttoned and hanging loosely from his shoulders. “Colette! Welcome back!”

She hadn’t really meant to fly that much faster – already she was going at a fast pace as it was. But the sight of him made her want to fall that much quicker to the earth. Already Lloyd was there to catch her, his arms moving around to clasp her tight, feet stumbling to keep them upright.

“S-Sorry..” Colette apologized, winking in both amusement and shame. “Guess I must have tripped.”

“In the air?” Lloyd laughed, his voice traveling through her in a steady rhythm as they stayed close, one that she was beginning to know by heart. “But I can tell it was a good day for you.”

A nod, hands pressed lightly to his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. “It really was. But, I’m glad to be home again.” She stayed there, in his hold, with the crackling of the fire in the forge nearby, hearing the footpads of Noishe as he walked around outside, happy enough to sleep knowing that everyone was back home. They were only staying here for a few weeks while Dirk was away, and then they would need to go back on their journey, but…

“What is it, Colette?” he asked, his voice soothing, his words sincere. He hadn’t let up his grip.

“Do you think you could…say it again?” She could fall asleep in his arms if she let herself, and there were times that she did, never having felt safer than she did right now. “I just like hearing it.”

She felt his hand – the hand that had once pulled her out of the dark – lift her chin to kiss her. It was just one of many that he gave to her, but it left her in a sea of sweetness all the same.

“Hey, Colette,” Lloyd whispered against her hair, then kissing her forehead lightly. Even within this home, and the cold wind at her back from the still-open door, she felt his warmth over everything else. The necklace around her neck and pressing against skin, the figurine she could feel at his chest, still tucked close. All these things that made her feel like she belonged. 

“Welcome back.”

[buckyskorpion]

“take a seat, we’re gonna be here a while” with bucky barnes? please and thanks! i love your writing btw xoxo

i know this was sent ages ago but i needed to get mi creative juices flowing so im filling this prompt now! thank you for sending this and thank u so much for enjoying my work!!

~~~~~~~~~

Bucky appears in the doorway look grumpy, lumpy, and thoroughly confused. He stuffs his hands in his oversized hoodie and glares at you from the shadows, frown deepening as you catch his eye and grin. 

“Good morning,” you sing-song. The stormcloud in the doorway grumbles like thunder. 

“It’s two-thirty,” he says, and you just shrug. 

Natasha whacks you on the side of the head which hurts like a bitch (not that you’d tell her) and says, “Stop moving.”

“What are you doing?” Bucky asks, sounding wary. He shuffles further into the room with a deeply suspicious squint, trying to see what Natasha is doing on your head. You sit cross-legged at her feet while she works - she’s already sectioned your hair so you’re sure you look a treat with the deformed buns littered over your head. Now she’s got the clippers and is carefully shaving the hair at the nape of your neck, moving up in careful strokes. 

“Shaving my head,” you tell Bucky, gesturing to your hair wildly which earns you another slap from Nat. “Duh.” 

“Why?” Bucky asks slowly, like you’re dumb, and maybe you are but honestly you’re just so bored. Quarantine sucks, your hair sucks, you’re sick of it getting in your face and in your mouth and being a general pain in your ass. Training is a nightmare with long hair, Steve always sits on it somehow during movie night, and Sam won’t stop bitching about it clogging the drain in the gym showers. This is what’s best for everyone. 

“My hair, my choice,” you say, and Nat hums in agreement. “I wanna see what my skull looks like. Don’t you ever wonder that? What if I’ve had a weird shaped head this whole time and never knew.”

“You do have a weird shaped head,” Bucky says, “Don’t need to shave it to figure that out.”

“Rude,” you huff. Under you breath, like an actual child, you mutter, “Your mum’s got a weird shaped head.”

“My mum’s dead,” Bucky says, deadpan. Nat snorts and you grab a chunk of your hair to throw at Bucky, but it just falls uselessly at his feet. 

A few beats of silence pass, save for the low buzz of Nat’s clippers. It feels really nice, like every stroke is ten pounds off your shoulders (or scalp, you suppose) and you can’t wait for Nat to be done. She moves onto the next section, kneeling in a ring of your hair on the ground, while Bucky just stands in front of you shuffling from foot to foot like an idiot.

“Take a seat,” you say, gesturing to the floor space in front of you. “We’re gonna be here a while.”

Bucky hesitates for a second. You can hear his metal hand whirring in the pocket of his hoodie like he’s wringing his hands together, but eventually he folds himself down to sit cross-legged in front of you. You smile at him, and he smiles back but it morphs into more of a laugh. His face scrunches up all cute as he looks at you and you can’t help but poke your tongue out at him. 

“You look funny,” he says, gesturing to the weird buns Nat’s put your hair in to hold it out of her way. 

“That’s rich,” you say, gesturing to his face. He rolls his eyes but he’s still smiling, so you know he’s not really offended. But you’re looking at him now and he does look funny - dark circles under his eyes, red rimmed like he’s been crying or up all night or maybe both. He must’ve been wandering around the compound at two in the morning for a reason, and unless it was to shave his head as well, it probably wasn’t a good one. 

He seems happy enough now, sitting on your bedroom floor with you and Nat and the soft hum of the clippers. She’s done one side of your head now, and it feels weird to not have the familiar curtain of hair tucked behind your ear. You reach up to move it only to find nothing there, your fingers brushing against fresh, cropped stubble instead. It feels so different - soft but rough at the same time, scratchy under your fingertips but so good on your scalp. You feel your eyes grow wide as you run your fingers over your new hair again, ignoring Nat’s annoyed huff at your movements. 

“You like it?” Bucky asks, smiling at you stupid. A rush of giddy excitement shoots through your chest, spurring you to reach out and grab Bucky’s arm without thinking. 

“Feel it,” you say, tugging his arm until his hand leaves his pocket. He looks wildly uncomfortable for a moment before he relents, letting you manoeuvre his flesh hand onto the side of your head. 

“Do you want me to cut you?” Nat asks, but she doesn’t sound pissed. In fact, she sounds amused, and that’s never a good sign for you. But you can’t really focus on that when Bucky is now entranced with the feeling of your buzzed head under his fingertips. 

He stares wide-eyed as he rubs the side of your head, and you let your eyes flutter closed at the feeling. It’s nice, alright? Bucky’s touch tingles all over your scalp and down your spine, little lightning bolts to follow his moody thunder from before. All trace of his bad mood is gone as he scratches at your buzz, now, making you shiver. 

That seems to be the final straw for Natasha, who finishes off the last chunk and clicks the clippers off. The silence startles Bucky and he lets his hand drop, looking up almost guiltily at Nat as she says, “I’m done, I’m going to bed. Have fun, idiots.”

“Thanks Tash,” you say, but you don’t even look at her as she leaves the room. You’re too busy looking at Bucky. 

“How’s it look?” you ask, all quiet in your now silent bedroom. Bucky snaps his gaze back from the empty space Nat once took up to you, eyes widening as he takes in the full picture of your middle-of-the-night-breakdown decision. 

He swallows, but his voice still sounds hoarse when he says, “Um, good. Looks neat.”

“Neat, huh?” you say, and run your hand over your head. That’s different, for sure. Gone is the length and weight around your shoulders, and when you shake your head like a wet dog you’ve never felt so unencumbered. Bucky laughs at your antics and you grin back, almost breathless, so enamoured with the cool waft of the aircon on your nearly exposed scalp and the absolute lack of anything to get in your way. You say, “Yeah, pretty fucking neat.”

“I liked your long hair,” Bucky says, and you almost frown until he adds, “But I like this, too. Maybe more. It feels nice.”

“Like a tennis ball,” you say, nodding solemnly. 

“You’re so fucking stupid,” Bucky says with an eyeroll, but you just grin. You rise onto your knees, crawling into Bucky’s lap before he can say anything and rubbing your head in his face like a deranged cat. He squawks and tries to lean away from you without also toppling over onto his back, and you just laugh. He grips your waist to stabilise you both and you settle a bit, letting your legs loop around his hips and your hands to rest on his shoulders.

“You think it feels nice,” you say, teasing lightly. Bucky makes to shove you off but you clench your thighs and hold on tight, all two-hundred pounds of Bucky no match for your stubborn idiot-streak. “You like it.”

“Said that, didn’t I? Turn your ears on,” Bucky says, but he’s blushing so you know you’ve won. 

“You like me,” you say, and you grin, because you finally push Bucky over the line you always love to toe. Teasing Bucky is a sport and you’re the Olympic champion, the Usain Bolt - you win every time. Bucky growls and snaps a hand up to grip the back of your skull. You’re delighted to find his giant hand spans the entirety of the back of your scalp as he holds you in place. He scritches into the short hairs and you’re even more delighted at the feeling that zings down your spine to your cunt almost instantaneously. 

“And you like that,” Bucky grins, all sharp teeth and dark eyes because he’s a devil and teasing you just so happens to be his Olympic gold as well. You make a sound almost like a groan, kind of like a purr, and nudge your head back into his hand some more so he keeps touching you like that. 

“Don’t like you, though,” you say, breathless now so it doesn’t quite have the same impact. Bucky rocks you backwards, lying you flat so he can crawl on top of you despite the absolute carnage of your old hair littering the carpet and now, probably, all of your clothes. Good thing you won’t be needing those much longer.

“We’ll see about that,” Bucky says, and see about that you most definitely do.