#: winter retrac ( she never forgets anything )

[infcinity]

was that [LUCY HALE]? oh no no, that was just [WINTER CELCHU], a [CANON CHARACTER] from [STAR WARS]. they are [TWENTY SIX] years old, use [SHE/HER], and [ARE] aware that they are not actually from washington dc. too bad they can’t stray from this city for long.

how long has your character been here

for a little over 3 years now.

what is your character’s job

she's the assistant to the president, her sister leia, sheev ew.

where has your character been pulled from in their fandom

after the twins were born.

has any magic affected your character

nope!

and any other information you might find useful for us and the other members to know!!

so this is winter! she's absolutely evolved into someone completely different than when i originally did her intro, soooooo - it was time for a redo!!

she's the biological daughter of sheltay retrac and an unknown father - both of whom died when winter was just a baby, her mother was the senatorial aid of bail organa during the clone wars.

she was taken in and adopted by bail and breha organa, making her leia's slightly older sister. it was often hard to tell both girls apart, the only difference being winter's almost white hair.

this worked to both of the girl's advantage as they would both often swap places with one another, leia running off to have a bit of freedom and winter taking leia's place in classes.

winter grew up in the palace in alderaan, getting the best education that her parents were ale to find - though it was hard at times when leia would get them both kicked out of any different schools that they went to because of mischief.

when she was sixteen, winter joined the rebellion - where her sister went towards the more diplomatic route, winter turned to espionage and intelligence gathering.

it helped that she remembers everything, with a photographic memory - it allowed her to gather information without actually having to take it.

she posed as a spy for many years, even after the war was over - she continued to be a spy.

she helped her sister with the new republic - not as much as her sister did, but she was still around, collecting information and making sure that there was nothing going wrong.

when her niece and nephews were born, she helped leia raise them, often taking time to watch them whenever leia was busy and she loves them all dearly.

HERE IN DC

winter has now been in the city for just a little over three years now.

she works in the white house as the assistant to the president but also does other things around the white house wherever she's needed.

winter has made a few bad decisions, one of them being sleeping with space satan when she was drunk and didn't know who he was - maig and kasey if you read this, don't bully me or i'll harvest ur bones :)))

she's also had a few run-ins with him after that, one where he choked her, one where he broke her leg and then the last where he killed her :)))

another bad decision was when she shot her dad during the valentines day chaos, oops, she high key kinda hates herself for that and had been avoiding him & hasn't told anyone else.

some stuff abt her & some headcanons!

winter is a very argumentative person - she will argue with anyone and everyone.

she carries her blaster with her everywhere.

she is p short, so she wears heels a lot, don't call her out on her height, she'll aim low.

she has a photographic memory and never forgets anything.

[archesa]

oc ask game time!! have 🎨✨⚡ for whoever you'd most like to answer for! :D @kerra-and-company

Thanks a lot for the ask (and sorry for taking so long to answer 😅 I kept getting caught in doing events or stuff on Æthnen and forgetting to take good screenshots to illustrate the answers 🤣)

🎨 Is your OC artistic? Can they draw or paint or do they prefer another medium? Are they a writer or musician or do they do something else? Give us a quick run down of what they can get creative with!

Anwen plays the harp quite well — she and her brother had a more extensive artistic education than would be deemed appropriate by the highest society, but both did thrive in the arts, Faren in theater, Anwen in music. It has never become anything more than a hobby, but in good company, on private occasions, you might hear Anwen humming and plucking a few strings from her harp at home, or a lyre on the field.

Her Weaver self even uses the Orchestral staff, a gift of her brother, to channel her powers and cast her spells.

And both share a certain liking for the sound of the flute.

✨ If your OC were a deity of some kind, what would they represent? What do they look like? How are they worshipped and what offerings would they expect? What are their places of worship like? Their followers? Their teachings?

Galaëd would be some summetset deity, associated with the setting of the sun and the dawning days of autumn. He'd be considered a trickster god — a playful, mostly harmless one — and celebrated in midsummer to early winter festivals, bright with colours, warm with shimmering lights, honouring the starlight and fireflies in his wake.

He'd most likely retake his mortal shape to participate in the celebration, or don that of a white stag to observe mortals from afar, leaving boons and blessings to those who amused or touched him.

He'd be worshiped by all sorts of tricksters – artists and children but also by warriors, who'd rely on his ruse to always keep their adversary on their toes.

⚡ What are your OC’s phobias? Is there any reasoning behind these? How do they calm themselves down after getting scared? What are they like when they’re afraid? Is there any chance of them overcoming their fears?

Anwen has a crippling fear of being resurrected and used to harm those she loves. This came from her first contact with Zaithan's magic — the Seraph lieutenant, Kellach, and his descent into madness as Zaithan's corruption devoured him — and from the dark fate of Apatia.

The journey through Maguuma, with the threat of being killed and used by Mordremoth was particularly straining but she held on and swallowed her fear — only addressing it with her brother — because the Pact needed a Commander and most importantly her friends needed saving.

But when they reached Elona, and both Balthazar and Joko seemed to make a personal stake of defeating and humiliating her, she asked Trahearne to find a way to prevent anyone could defile her corpse if she was struck down in battle. He designed the spell, and they found a tattoo artist in Amnoon who inked the assemble of protokrytian runes and ancient orrian protection sigils Trahearne had drawn on her ribcage, at the tip of her heart.

Her resurrection erased the tattoo. Her scars were core memories, images of herself she revisited in the Domain of the Lost, but the rune was one her soul needed to forget, lest not even Grenth would be allowed to bring her back.

Following the death of Joko, the absorption of his magic by Aurene, and her daughter's miraculous resurrection, she choses not to have the provisory design Trahearne retraced on her skin tattooed. If there's a single chance, as Aurene's Champion, that she be blessed with some of the Lich's power to cheat death, she will not let fear hinder her return. She has made a promise to Trahearne and she intends to fulfill it.

[theladyismyshepard]

Sacrifice with Myra please?

I’m terribly sorry if it seemed like I put you on the back burner, but I’m finally getting back into the flow of things after the slight disappointment of the redhead reveal from ign, and I’m happy to give you more Myra! I got a Cassandra coming next 👀

Poor, Sweet, Innocent Thing You

Warning: Heavy Angst

Leaves were budding along the tree branches as spring brought life back to the frigid earth that winter had stolen from. The temperature still dropped by nightfall, but the frost was on its way to melting in time for the wildlife to arise once more and roam the forest surrounding Castle Dimitrescu.

A rabbit poked its head out from a hole that was hidden away by a fine layer of snow. It was quickly twitching its nose in interest as it investigated the area. The atmosphere must have been safe enough because the rabbit was soon emerging.

Thwack!

An arrow embedded into the side of the animal the moment it was exposed, and luckily it was dead when you slowly took your time approaching it — You always hated having to put poor creatures out of their misery.

A wild giggle echoed throughout the trees that surrounded you, but you did not look up, you refused to acknowledge her. Instead, you dropped the bow and arrow in your hands to attend to the carcass laid out in front of you, your eyes trained and unswayed, but also unfocused as a memory glazed over them.

The wind was howling quite violently for a sunny day, and you couldn't help but to berate yourself for leaving your cloak behind. You were sure to grab your hunting gear in preparation, but with how swiftly you were scrambling around, it was well within your character to accidentally forget something along the way.

You had already trekked deep enough into the woods that it would be ridiculous to turn back, so you pressed on in search of your prey. It made you grimace when you thought of animals in such a way, but then again... with where you live, you've seen actual people turned into nothing more than prey. You forced yourself to dispel the thought, and instead chose to think about what (or who) had you out there.

Myra.

You blinked down at your handiwork, almost disappointed that you were already finished; You needed something to keep your hands busy so that maybe your mind wouldn't be working so hard. After releasing a sigh, you slung your bow and arrow over your shoulder, gathered up what parts you salvaged from the rabbit, and walked away aimlessly.

You didn't have a thought in mind, or a care to feel... your legs just carried you forward. You could see the castle looming on the horizon, the spires looking as though they protruded into the clouds above. Depending on who you asked, Castle Dimitrescu wasn't exactly an inviting place, but there once was a time when you had felt welcomed and giddy at the mere sight of it alone.

You couldn't help the bright smile that overtook your features by thinking of your girlfriend. You wanted to be quick with your hunt this time seeing as Myra was indulging you by experimenting with something new, and you didn't want to keep her waiting. You kept your footing light enough to barely leave prints of your own, but you also took wider steps to cover more ground.

For all of the Dimitrescu's flaws, you had to admire the amity between the family. They even shared the same meal time seeing as they preferred to feast together. It was when they had extended the same invitation to you that you felt your heart swell so big that it almost felt too confined in your chest...

But then it deflated so quick that it left you sick. Did... did they expect you to be dining on the same food as them? Surely they knew that despite your acceptance of their lifestyle, you couldn't actually partake in it yourself... A gentle hand touched your shoulder, tapping it to get your attention.

"I know what you're thinking, and you are just too cute, my love." said Myra, already giggling.

"Though it isn't completely off the table," drawled Cassandra, her smile wolfish.

"I would never ask you to eat what we eat.” Myra assured, sending her sister a glare. “I was thinking of the complete opposite in fact.”

The two simultaneous gags from her sisters had you furrowing your brow, not quite connecting the dots.

“Instead of eating from the livest- humans... I want you to feel comfortable when you’re with us, so I thought maybe... I could feed from... well... actual livestock.” explained Myra uncomfortably.

You were dumbstruck for a moment, blinking at her, and once senses returned to you, you could detect the hesitation that had Myra fidgeting in place. What was common for you had become foreign to her and her family, and it almost left you baffled that she sought out your approval. The sheepish grin lured you in and had you grabbing both sides of her face to pull her in for a kiss.

Your mouth was in a firm line as you brought yourself back to reality. There was no movement on the outside premises, but you knew better than some that looks can be deceiving. Especially with the blood that was dripping and forming a circle by your side.

You could hear someone calling out to you, and for a split second, you reflexively crane your neck to look around before you caught yourself. The familiar voice was yelling out your name, and you’ve heard it so many times and came running, but this time, you had to turn away.

Eventually her voice died off, giving up and letting you go. You find that you couldn’t really bring yourself to look at the castle anymore, but you were on a mission.

“You would do that for me?” you whispered against Myra’s lips, unwilling to pull away too far.

“I would do anything for you.” insisted Myra, her eyes earnest. “So, tell me, my love... what’s for dinner?”

And that was what had you flying out the door so fast you left your cloak behind. You had assured her that you would do something special in return — You would go out and hunt for her. It seemed like a good idea at the time, completely heroic if not totally romantic... but then you realized that you couldn’t exactly haul back large enough game to quench the thirst she had described to you once, not if you traveled too far out of the area.

Leaves and twigs crunched beneath swift feet, and it snapped your attention to the left. You blinked at the rabbit that was sitting on its back legs, sniffing at the air. After a brief argument with yourself, you decided that Myra could at least try rabbit and see what she thought.

And after another hour of digging deeper into the forest and another one of sitting and waiting, you decided to call it, and slink back with your tail between your legs and nothing more than a measly rabbit to offer. Obviously hunting was more of the Dimitrescu’s thing, and it felt embarrassing that you had to admit that to her... well, her sisters really.

But it was getting far too late, and you know how Myra didn’t particularly like you wandering outside the castle at night. As you began retracing your steps, you finally realized that you wandered far enough into the woods that you found yourself nearing the familiar tree line to the village.

Your breath got caught in your throat as you realized the implications of being seen lurking in the trees. As far as the villagers knew, you had been abducted by the infamous Dimitrescu family, and died off in the castle. It probably wouldn’t go over well to prove them wrong.

Just as you felt you were in the clear, you heard a gun cocking behind you, and it had you instantly frozen on the spot. You couldn’t even turn around to face the one pointing a weapon at you, even when a gruff voice demanded you to do so.

Something collided with the back of your head, hard. It left you stunned as you dropped to your knees, your equilibrium jarred, your skull throbbing, and your ears ringing.

“You not know how to listen?”

A rough hand grabbed you by the neck of your shirt, harshly pulling you back. Your eyes closed of their own accord, so you heard his gasp of surprise rather than watched his reaction.

“Hey, I know you!” the man exclaimed, and you couldn’t say the same about him. “You was that one who went missin’ awhile back!”

You had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. If you counted right, there were a lot of people who had gone missing from the village.

“We all thought you was dead! How did you escape after all this time?!”

Frustration left you with the inability to speak, not that you had a proper answer anyway. How could you possibly explain that you weren’t exactly held captive? You didn’t even want to think of his reaction if you were to tell him you had went and fallen in love with a Dimitrescu.

Just from the way the man was getting visibly irritated by your silence, you could tell he was middle aged. You wondered if he had lived in the village his whole life... You wondered if he had lost a daughter to your lover’s family.

“You not know how to speak either?” He spat sourly. “Jeez, what have they done to you?”

“Nothing!” you finally shouted, giving him a start. “They didn’t do a goddamn thing to me!”

“We best be getting you back to the village, I think you’ve got a couple screws loose.” He insisted while looking at you like you grew a second head.

“No!”

Your hand clenched into a fist at your side, the sack of rabbit meat and pelt in your hand long forgotten. You swallowed past the lump that formed in your throat, and forced yourself to step through the gate that enclosed the castle.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see red hair shining in the sunlight, but again, you refused to turn and look in her direction as you continued deeper onto the Dimitrescu property. You didn’t even need to pay attention to know where your feet were leading you, it was a reflex now.

It felt as though there were eyes upon you, but when you turned to inspect every window pane that your eyes could see, you couldn’t place a single shadow. You knew better than that though... They were always watching. They knew your routine by now. Instead of succumbing to the heat of the gazes, you marched along the pathway that your repeated footsteps were slowly forming, blood dripping and marking your trail at your side.

You couldn’t fight against the older man and his gun once you shouted your resistance. He had it cocked and pointed directly at your head the moment you started getting fussy. All you could do was raise your hands, hanging rabbit carcass and all, and comply when he beckoned you through the tree line and towards the outskirts of the village.

All the faces that used to be so familiar and friendly were nothing more than a cruel reminder that you weren’t home... The jaws that dropped, the eyes that widened, it all meant nothing to you, not when their concerns were unwarranted. Not when the villagers were keeping you from your girlfriend.

You glared at the older man who still had his gun pointed at you, even as a crowd swarmed around the two of you, questions flying at a hundred miles a minute. It left you lightheaded and overwhelmed as your irritation mounted, and it took everything you had to prevent yourself from covering your ears just to block out the noise.

“Thomas!” a woman exclaimed, tone already reprimanding. “Put that damned weapon away, you’re scaring the poor thing!”

The older man, Thomas, narrowed his eyes, his index finger never leaving the trigger.

“I don’t think somethin’s right with this one.” said Thomas slowly, eyeing you up and down. “Didn’t exactly act like you wanted to come home, did ya?”

“This isn’t my home.” You shot back defiantly, ignoring the several gasps that it prompted. “You put a gun to my head and dragged me here!”

“You should know better than anyone that some precautions come with the territory. Hell, if you were as cautious as I was, maybe ya wouldn’t’ve gotten yourself taken!” Thomas bit back.

If this man didn’t stop talking soon, you were afraid your eyeballs would permanently be stuck mid-eye roll. If this man didn’t stop talking soon, you were afraid that the uncertain mumbling surrounding you would grow into displeasure fast. Hell, the woman who scolded Thomas before had already given up.

“So what is it that you plan on doing exactly?” You drawled.

“That’s true, Thomas, what crime has been committed? It looks like you interrupted a mere hunt to me.” Another villager — the baker —spoke up, eyeing the rabbit in your hand.

“If they haven’t done a “goddamn thing” to you,” sneered Thomas, quoting you from before, and ignoring the baker altogether. “Then why haven’t ya returned? Where did you go?”

There was another wave of murmurs, and suddenly the group was growing in size, some were even armed.

“Where were all of you?” You countered almost desperately, attempting anything to get the sudden spotlight off of yourself. “Did any of you even try to look for me?”

The reactions were split. Some looked away in shame while others looked unimpressed, Thomas being the ringleader.

“Of course we did.” said Thomas smugly. “We did our job of lookin’, and you were too busy enjoyin’ yourself it seems.”

You closed your eyes, feeling defeated when you heard the group swaying in Thomas’ favor. You could hardly hate him for his argument, he was kinda right... You did find that you enjoyed yourself a little too much for a person in a house full of blood and death. It almost didn’t seem fair that you were loved so much... that you were the only one special enough to be chosen to live while others screamed and cried below you.

“How do you explain that?” taunted Thomas, arching an eyebrow, and the crowd was chiming in as well now.

“Easily,” supplied a smooth voice, cutting through the rambling and effectively shutting them up. “My pet is under a spell and under my control.”

Your eyes darted to Myra, wide and frantic. What was she doing here? She knew it was dangerous to approach the village before twilight and with so many armed and angry villagers in one spot no less! You couldn’t count the amount of flaming torches on one hand, and you knew these people weren’t above burning their problems alive (or dead?).

“No!” You insisted, trying to push forward to get to her, but multiple arms looped around you and pulled you tight. “Myra!”

“So you admit it!” shouted Thomas, an accusatory finger pointed directly at your girlfriend, though you could tell by the tremble that he wasn’t as confident talking big game to her as he was to you.

“I think I just did, yes,” said Myra slowly, like she were speaking with a child. “Now you would be doing yourselves a great favor in releasing my pet to me.”

Myra had her arm extended, and that’s when you noticed that she had brought along your cloak that you had left behind. You felt your eyes watering and you couldn’t describe what you were feeling, there was too much happening.

The arms encircling you pulled you back almost protectively now. Like they thought you were ill and needed comfort... the fools. The only sickness to befall you was lovesick, and you know you aren’t under any sort of influence. Yet, the villagers still put a boundary between you and Myra.

It couldn’t block your view of the acceptance evident in her eyes as hers met yours. There was love there, and you know what she’s doing for you. She was willing to fight until either she slaughtered the entire village, or was slaughtered herself. How could she possibly win when there were multiple guns trained on her? Her skills and her ability to transform would only get her so far without her family to support her.

“You’ve been a good pet... I would love rabbit tonight.”

Myra looked deep into your eyes even as the villagers began throwing insults and names at her. They softened and she gave you that smile that you loved waking up and falling asleep to.

Before her form dissolved into a swarm of insects that attacked the village. There were shouts and gasps that turned into screams as her insects dug into their flesh and attacking from the inside out. The arms let you go and you weren’t sure where to run to or what to do in general, so you ran to where she had appeared, grabbing your cloak in the process.

People were flailing about, some were swinging in a futile attempt at fighting back. One of the villagers saw an insect crawling on his arm and swatted at it, effectively crushing it. Your eyes widened, as did several of the other villagers.

“Kill them all!” announced Thomas, smacking the ones crawling on his body, underneath his clothes.

The crowd roared their approval and those holding torches swung them valiantly through the air, singing and catching the swarm ablaze before your very eyes.

“Myra!” You shrieked, heart shattering in your chest, leaving you unable to breathe past the shards.

The remaining insects bit into your own skin, and you couldn’t help but flinch back, but she was relentless, pushing you away and away and away.

You collapsed next to the little grave you had made for Myra in the back of Castle Dimitrescu, one of the many hideaways that you two shared together. There was a simple piece of wood that you had stuck into the ground after you had carved her name in the neatest handwriting you had ever possessed. You covered the piece of wood with the cloak she had brought all the way out to you. It was all snuggled in.

You placed the rabbit gently onto the ground before the marker, and stared out into nothing, your eyes blurring no matter how many times you blinked.

“I can’t stop hearing your voice.” You choked out. “I hear you calling all the time... When I turn, you’re never there.”

A tear fell. And then another. And soon they were pouring and you couldn’t stop them until you were full blown sobbing.

“I see you out the corner of my eye, but I’ve learned to stop looking.” You cried, curling into yourself.

Time wasn’t healing this wound, it was merely festering and getting infected as you left it untreated. You’re finding that it’s impossible to get over Myra, not that you were even trying to. Your eyes cut to the multiple discarded bags that you had brought to her grave.

She had told you she had wanted rabbit that night... you had to make sure you were prepared if she were ever to come back and stop taunting you from the trees.

[whatdyk]

Saviour (Pero Tovar x Fem!Reader) | Modern AU.

Part Two.

Warnings: Swearing, flash-backs.

Word-count: 1.9k

Chapter 2:

To your delight, the next week passes without fault. Though, it could be argued that your recent spell of good luck was a direct result of you not leaving your home.

At all.

For a week.

Since the incident, you had called your boss to inform her that you'd be working from home for a while, and thankfully, after explaining your circumstances, she couldn't have been more understanding. It wasn't that you were afraid of going back outside, it was just that you needed some time to regain your confidence. In the aftermath, you found that you'd had been sleeping poorly and were often forgetting to take care of yourself. However, as the days passed by, you could feel your old self begin to return.

Slowly, you resume your old routine of waking up early and getting in a good breakfast; taking pleasure in cooking once more. You also find that you can now relax enough to read and draw, and you soon realize that you're more than eager to get back outside and enjoy the changing seasons. To your relief, the city is on the precipice of Autumn and you're desperate to see the changing colours for yourself.

So here you are, standing in front of your apartment door, willing it to open. You may have only been away for a short period of time, but you find that you've actually missed the city. The cold weather, the sounds of traffic and your favorite cafe. However, as you ready yourself to leave, you hadn't expected this level of anxiety to come biting at your heels.

Taking a deep breath, your heart thumps against your chest and your knees feel weak as you step forward to unlock the door. Unlatching the chain and screwing your eyes shut, you twist the knob with an almost white-knuckle grip.

"Señorita?"

You jump back slightly as the first thing you're met with is big, brown eyes. So familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. The man that you have come to recognise is stood just a foot away from your door as it opens, his fist raised as if he was about to knock. As you look at him, your eyes must have been wide with shock as he begins to apologize. You watch on as his mouth opens and closes, but you struggle to take in any of the words as the room begins to spin around you.

All you can remember is that night. You can feel the phantom hands on your body, the cold against your skin as your clothes are torn from you-

"Are you alright?" He calls out to you again, "you look-"

You can't help it as a small whimper escapes your lips, tears beginning to line your eyes. Your grip loosens on your door and you take a step back, trying to shake your head of the haunting memories. What had you been thinking? You aren't ready for this.

"I'm- I'm sorry" you eventually rasp out, your throat suddenly dry, "I just, - I wasn't expecting anyone"

He remains quiet as he observes you, obviously unsure as to what to do in this situation. Though after a moment, you are able to look at him again despite the burning feeling of your embarrassment.

You clear your throat as you begin to speak, "Is there something I can help you with?" You ask hesitantly, unsure as to how you should continue. After a brief pause, he looks down towards his hands. You notice that he's holding a bag, and he's raising his arms to hold it out to you.

"I wanted to return this." He states rather plainly. It takes a few moments for you to recognise it, but he's holding out the bag that had been lost on the night of your attack. The black leather is sodden from spending a few nights in the rain and the handles have been snapped, but it's yours nonetheless.

"How did-" you begin, your mind lost in the memories, "where did you...find it?" you eventually question, taking the item from his hands.

As you reach out, you find that your fingers meet his; the feeling of his skin against yours bringing a warmth that causes your eyes to instantly snap up. For the first time, you can see his features in the broad light of day, no shadows or dim lighting disguising his face. He has dark, curled hair peeking around his ears and covering his forehead in organized chaos. In the light of your apartment, you can just about make out the fine grey hairs that are beginning to mix in with his chocolate-colored locks. Though, his eyes are exactly as you remember them, dark and deep; soulful as if they've seen far too much.

"I went back" he suddenly interrupts your musings, "I found it the night that it happened- I just, wanted to give you some time before I returned it." As he speaks to you, you notice that he isn't meeting your gaze and that his brows are furrowed in a deep frown.

"Thank you" You mumble as you place the bag down next to your feet, "For everything, you really didn't have to do this."

"It's the least I could do" He replies almost too quickly, "if there's anything else I can do, just-" His hands move to his back pocket, fishing around until he reveals a small white card, "call me"

You take the paper from his hands and turn it over, reading the name and number that has been printed accross it - Pero Tovar.

"Pero?" You question with a small smile ghosting your lips, "I can't believe I never asked for your name before now. Spanish, yes?"

At that, the frown set across his features softens slightly, "Sí" he hums back, "Although with what happened- I couldn't blame you for not asking." At the mention of it, you cant help it as your smile begins to fade. Though thankfully, Pero is quick to change the subject.

"However, I could not say a word to you since I still don't know your name?" He questions with a hint of apprehension, a slight blush beginning to caress his cheeks.

You smirk as you tell him and enjoy how he repeats it back to you. His soothing accent and deep tone causing the syllables to effortlessly roll of his tongue, seemingly experimenting with how your name feels coming from his mouth. Surely your own blush is rising as you listen in, feeling the heat meet the tip of your ears.

"So," he clears his throat, catching your gaze, "I should get-"

"Would you like to grab a coffee with me?" You interrupt before he can even finish his sentence.

As you look at him, your heart is now thumping against your chest for an entirely new reason. You weren't quite sure where the invitation came from, but all you do know is that you aren't ready to say goodbye to him again just yet. Though, as the seconds pass by and you watch him hesitate, you curse your impulsive nature.

"It's just that.." you start to ramble on, "I want to repay you- I know it's not much,"

"I can't" he eventually responds, "I have work, and-"

Shit.

"It's alright," You interrupt as he continues, "You don't need to explain yourself to me. Thank you for coming back and returning my bag though." You watch on as his gaze lowers to the ruined item at your feet, lines appearing at his brow as his frown returns. You shouldn't feel this disappointed that he turned you down, should you?

An awkward silence passes between the two of you before he finally speaks again, "Another time, perhaps?" He suggests almost hopefully.

You smile at that, but it doesnt quite reach your eyes. You offer a small nod as he begins to take a step back.

"Perhaps" You almost whisper back.

As the word leaves your mouth, you feel a sharp pang in your gut as he turns away once more, reminiscing about the first night that he had left you at your door. Taking a deep breath, you eventually close out the outside world and return to the comfort of your home. You were no longer in the mood to venture into the city.

--------

The night played out in front of you as all the others had done so already. You're in your baggiest top and cosiet socks by the time the sun begins to set, and you're sat by the open window of your living room. The flowers that sit in the vase here are almost dead now, but you can't bring yourself to throw them away just yet. They're a mixture of your favourites, including orange roses, white hydrangeas and eucalytpus populus. Their fading colours mirror that of the dying leaves outside, their smell reminiscent of the impending winter. You should have replaced them today. Yet, it seems as if your courage had left in the form of tall man, grumpy; with deep brown eyes.

Reluctantly, you had found that your mind had been with him since he left. Your memory seemingly retracing the finer details of face, ingraining them into your mind as if you would forget. You smile to yourself as you re-call the half-hearted scowl that so often graces his features. Though, if you continue on this way, you're almost certain that you'll even begin to dream about him. Unfortunately for you, it was a complete mystery as to why he was plaguing your mind so much. But after today, you doubted that you'd get the opportunity to find out.

After another long moment, you turn from your seated position and reach out for your phone. You hadn't recieved any emails or calls from work today, but you almost gasp out loud as you realise the time. You had been left to your thoughts for far too long, and if you wanted to try adventuring again tomorrow, you'd need some rest.

You found that your night-time routine never deviated too much. As you had been called so often in your life, you found that you were most certainly a creature of habit. It not that you don't like change, or are afraid of it, it's more so that you appreciate the simplicity behind order. An order that you had been previously denied. It's not a subject that you enjoy to dwell on, but thoughts of your past often bubble up during this time of the day. You do your best to push them back down again.

And so, you wash your face and clean your teeth, brushing through the length of your hair soon after. The plush softness of your bedsheet welcome you like an old friend at the end of the day, and you relax into them with a warm smile on your face. For some odd reason, you already know that you'll feel well rested tomorrow, with no need to worry about nightmares or haunting memories. For the first time in days, you're able to drift off into a peaceful sleep, because you already know who will be awaiting you when you get there.

Tag List: 

@computeringturtle @lackofhonor​ 

[houseki-no-suffering]

on ch 82 and what the hell is the deal with phos

super long wall of words ahead, you've been warned. also, im not qualified to discuss the emotional effects of trauma, so please correct me where im wrong and don’t hesitate to add on this post

contains an analysis of phos’ character arc, explanation on why and how they snapped and what might happen to our child next:

1. genki phos 2. post winter phos 3. laphos 4. on trauma 5. on snapping 6. speculations about the future

so, first things first, I could not help but notice the sheer number of parallels between this chapter and other significant points of the story. it seems to me that parallels are becoming more and more frequent as the moon arc goes on, and that’s not just because there are simply more chapters to draw parallels from as the story grows in size.

I believe that we’re at a turning point in the story, or even that the turning point has been reached, (aechmea telling barbata to fix phos for the umpteenth time is most likely going to give phos the last treasure, but ill get to it).

so, to try and understand what in the seven hells is going on with our baby at this point (the fandom collectively adopted phos since chapter 2, sign the papers if you haven’t already and donate to the fund to send phos to therapy) let’s retrace phos’ character journey.

1: genki phos

the phos who is too good for this world, too pure, the cinnamon roll who has no idea what the hell is gonna happen to them. oh joy.

hnk sets off as a coming of age story. phos is the youngest, they’re seemingly useless in a society that values usefulness above anything else so genki phos is initially driven by lack of purpose.

i’ve speculated already on the characteristics of the lustrous society, a society that emphasizes sameness over difference and that has no place for outcasts like phos and cinnabar. your value, in lustrous society, is dictated by how much and in which way you can contribute to the survival of the species, with elite fighters (the diamonds) being at the apex of the social pyramid and everyone else coming after.

additionally, while gems live in a highly interdependent and close-knitted society, such interdependence never takes into account emotions, loss, imagination, introspection and free-thinking. the society is extremely practical, apathetic, immobile, and everyone is expected to conform to that.

think about antarc: they’re the poster child of lustrous society: a 3 mohs hardness gem who managed to become an elite fighter out of sheer willpower, who’s blindly loyal to sensei, who sacrifices themselves for the greater good (the group’s interests > the individual’s interests), that does little if any introspection and that is happy about all of this and wants to leave it this way.  

phos isn’t like this at all.

since the very beginning of the series we learn that phos is an anomaly. and that’s okay, other gems have been anomalies, like padparadscha, cinnabar, even antarcticite, but while those gems found a way to tip toe to the margins of lustrous society to remain unobtrusive exceptions, or forge themselves into proper, useful members of the group, phos cannot do that. which is ironic, because we know that one of phos’ core characteristics is that they’re able to change and to bring about change in a world that is as immobile and still and stiff as… well.. rock.

like @ruddy-rutile​ pointed out in a past analysis, phos’ problem wasn’t so much that they didn’t fit in, but that they didn’t fit in the appropriate way: they’re emotional, they’re loud, they’re unreliable, they’re not apathetic. they’re kind. compassionate. imaginative. and imagination is something the other gems lack.

this fuels a deep sense of self-hatred that even at this early stages of the story is lying just beneath the surface and oozes out quite easily, like when phos wants to help ventricosus and mumbles that it’s no problem if they die in the attempt, they’re a good for nothing after all, what difference would it make if they dont come back. at least they were able to help someone, contrary to how they were unable to help cinnabar.

this is the leitmotif of the series: phos is a kind, selfless gem who cultivates a deep sense of self-hatred. the internalized pressure and need to feel useful turns into a necessity for change. they need to save cinnabar, they need to save ventricosus, they need to become a fighter, they need to help sensei.

contrary to most of the other gems, phos loves and loves openly and unconditionally, they’re self-less by nature and that selflessness is a barrier that hides the real reason theyre so ready to put their life on the line for other people: the fact that phos thinks that their own life isnt wort a scrap.

as someone who believes to be worthless, guided by shame and guilt just for being alive and fueled by a deep desire to feel loved and accepted (just like a child), phos is unable to cope with grief and emotion if not by guilt tripping themselves even further.

the fact that the amethysts were almost taken is their fault, the fact that cinnabar is suicidal is their fault, the fact that antarc was taken is their fault, same with ghost’s abduction. the only way phos knows to cope with this guilt is by doing what every other gem does: bury these feelings deep inside their head and throw themselves into work. be useful, like alexandrite, rutile or red beryl.

2. post winter phos

what was a story about purpose, about phos’ coming of age, reaches an end at this very point, with antarc’s death. phos has become stronger at this point of the story, they have agathe legs and gold arms and they have grief to cope with, trauma.

just like alex’s job is studying the enemy and red’s job is making clothes, phos’ job is the one they originally desired for themselves: to fight. because there is nothing as valued as a good fighter in gem society and probably young phos unconsciously hoped to overcome self-hatred by taking on the most useful job there is.

post winter antarc is a skilled soldier, so skilled that bort wants to pair up with them. phos has reached their old goal: through loss and maturity, now they have a place within their society, they’re accepted and appreciated, valued but not loved. because these gems are so, so bad at emotions.

and this is where ms ichikawa begins to fool us all. she had us think that this story would be simple, but now hnk starts its steep and unrelenting detour toward existentialism and phos begins their dance toward madness and bottomless grief.

post winter phos is a soldier, they can fight off lunarians, but theyre still blaming themselves for antarc’s death.

we already said that phos is a very emotional gem and they possess a fervid imagination (probably just like lapis). so what do they do? they start thinking. “maybe i can retrieve antarc if we collect enough pieces. if i can communicate with the lunarians. if i can understand why we’re fighting.”

thinking quickly turns into questioning: why are we fighting? why are we so weak? why am i different? what changed me? is it the new additions, is it just life experiences? can we change? how can we change? antarc told me i shouldnt shy away from life, so im gonna push myself further and further.

that’s when shiro’s arc happens and sensei seems to know something about it, something he won’t tell the gems. phos’ questions suddenly turn to him.

phos is pretty much paranoid at this point of the narrative: they have experienced loss for the first time. consumed by guilt and grief for antarc’s recent abduction (even if phos still doesnt know what death means, we’ll get to that in a while), phos cannot think straight. they can’t be questioning the one authority every gem recognizes, the person phos and everyone else wants to protect, their leader, father, teacher.

phos feels like scum just for even thinking about it, as loyal and young as they are. and yet once you start questioning one minuscule thing about the way you have always lived your life, more and more will follow. it’s a cascade effect and it becomes faster the higher the number of questions, until you’re left with nothing but doubts and you must take into your hands the responsibility to find out for yourself.

this is more or less what happens to phos. they feel awful for doubting sensei the first time, in chapter 27, so they spill their guts to cinnabar, confessing their sins. but what cinnabar says does anything but put phos at ease: of course phos is doubting sensei: he’s shady, everyone knows.

however, while cinnabar is a quiet outcast, extremely prudent (and cowardly if you want) in the way they decide to face life, phos is the total opposite. they just needed a little nudge, they were already on the edge of a cliff of doubts and existential fears. cinnabar’s words are the second, big step that sets phos off on their path to the moon.  

chapter 28 is when we see phos self-destructing because of this inner conflict for the first time, a pattern that will be repeated again and again the more phos loses sight of the truth, of a reliable something, a goal to cling onto and find direction.

it is ironic, because phos becomes a direction, a goal, the gems and the moon people’s hope (ch 59 and 72), but in doing so they have no hope left for themselves. let’s not forget that phos is very young by gems’ standards, not to mention in comparison to the moon people. how fair is to expect from a traumatized child to save the world and find answers to questions that run thousands of years deep and give phos nothing in return?

the pressure is enough to break phos and it does, quite literally, over and over and over again.

3. Laphos

lapis’ head comes at a time when phos was literally no longer able to manage this pressure.

it brings a waft of fresh air, it brings what emotional, kind phos needed to detach themselves from grief: coldness, rationality. and yet, it takes something away from phos as well: laphos is the phos that can no longer talk with cinnabar, the phos that brings cairn to reject the gems altogether and launch themselves into their kin’s killer’s arms. laphos is the gems and lunarians’ hope for a brief time, then it becomes the enemy.

i find it interesting how phos feels responsible for goshe and morga’s abduction too, even if phos was unconscious when it happened. phos has no clear boundaries between themselves and the rest of the world. they feel responsible for everything and guilty for everything. whatever they do will never be enough neither to make up for their past mistakes nor to find everyone a clear sense of purpose, safety, truth.

ichikawa plays with truth a lot. truth is that the lunarians are bad people and the gems must defend themselves, truth is that sensei is shady, truth is that the moon people are actually good, truth is that death is real, truth is that sensei is evil, truth is that cinnabar hates phos, truth is that the gems are evil, truth is that sensei is the only one that loves phos. who knows what the next truth will be, but can you call it truth, at this point?

if there is one point, i believe, that ichikawa is trying to make clear is that truth is subjective and that it changes, just like phos’ goal, the more knowledge you acquire and the more mistakes you make. truth is subjective but it must be sought after: you gotta keep fighting, you gotta move on even if you keep making mistakes, even if you cant undo your actions.

and another thing i think she’s trying to say is that you cannot make it alone. the moment phos tried to take it all on their shoulders, they moment they acquired lapis’ head, is the moment everything came crumbling down ten times faster than before.

and the most ironic part is that phos is still kind, even underneath that mantle of aloofness: they tried to do everything by themselves because they didn’t want to put anyone in danger, but in doing so they manipulated the gems just like aechmea. and aechmea knows and he’s been using phos for this.

4. Even more trauma

running after truth and after newer and more nuanced goals, phos has completely lost sight of themselves.

where do their alliances lie? what about their history? phos wakes up in ch 72 after the night raid and immediately breaks into pieces because they’re reminded of how cinnabar attacked them, the one gem they thought was their friend. one of the few truths phos had been clinging to.

phos wakes up after the night raid and asks the enemy “to the lunarians i look like a gem and to the gems i look like a lunarian. what am i?”

they break into pieces because they still believe they’re useless. they couldn't save cinnabar, they couldn't save antarc, they couldn't communicate with the earth gems, they couldn't even see adamant.

this is reminiscent of the very beginning of the manga: phos needs to feel useful, they need a goal, they need to be good at something. and just like they were ready to get lost at sea forever to help ventricosus they’re ready to die for someone else’s cause (not even phos’ own because they have no idea what to believe in at this point) just to be of use. after all, to phos, phos is nothing more than a scrap.

euc disagrees. ch 71 “we need you in our future” is a sentence that phos has probably ached to hear for centuries. “we need you. you are loved, you mean something, you are enough. you belong. we cannot build a future where you aren’t part of the equation. you matter”

and look at the way phos looks at euc. they can barely believe them and in fact they don’t. phos expresses some concern about dying (”after all, those less than 5 includes me”) but they still throw themselves into danger, they still take no care of themselves.

Phos’ self hatred and self-destructive tendencies run deeper than euc’s words could ever cut. those words meant well, but they were too little too late. phos thinks they don’t deserve this kind of hope, they  cannot understand it, cannot fathom a world in which they are true and so they will go on believing that they are alone and worthless. next time they go on earth, they’ll go alone and unharmed

it is ironic. they did so much, they went to the moon and back multiple times, put their life on the line multiple times, made more progress toward unveiling the truth about the lunarians and finding a way for them to be free of samsara than anyone else did in hundreds (presumably) of thousands of years. they did it by themselves. in barely three hundred years. that’s impressive. and yet it’s not enough for phos. in their mind, they just keep failing.

so what’s the big deal? they can sacrifice themselves, it’s the least they can do and no one will miss them after all. unfortunately, this is true, at least to some extent.

im appalled by how little even the moon gems care about phos. they’re so self-centered it’s almost funny.

even alex, who has gone through loss and grief if not as much at least in a way similar to phos cannot find enough compassion in themselves to be concerned about phos’ wellbeing after a few months on the moon.

ive heard people mention how this could be a result of the moon people injecting who knows what into the gems or manipulating them someway or another, but i believe that there was no need to. phos is an anomaly after all, their kindness is an anomaly. the lustrous are little more than self-centered children: they are able of little if no introspection and they cannot process complex emotions like grief if not by shutting off those emotions altogether.

the moon gems are still vaguely concerned about phos. in ch 76, when phos departs for earth for the last time, they do tell them to be careful and come back if things get bad, but they do little more than that. it’s little comfort and too little emotional closeness and by no means close to the huge amount of support and (emotional) assistance that phos needs at this point.

phos tries to make do with what they have: a will to end this war and the superficial words of what should be their family, but it’s not even remotely enough. and yet phos, just like any other lustrous, is very bad at introspection: they don’t notice or if they notice they repress it. what’s one more thing down the subconscious after all? it’s fine. phos can take it, until they can no more and they snap without having any idea that they will snap.

phos’ journey, which has made them increasingly more emotional, fragile and human (the last one quite literally) has also made phos even more alone than they were at the beginning of the story. more alone, with the same sense of worthlessness, the same urgency to be good for something or self-destroy, and so much more grief, trauma, guilt and repressed emotions.

5. snapping

“I mustn’t think of anything” phos reminds themselves in ch 76. because thinking never brought anything good and because euc would see right through it. 

once again, phos is repressing emotions. here they go, trying to be a cold blooded killer, ready to betray sensei again, the one person who has been good to them and that phos tried to hate with all their heart but just couldnt.

as ive written in a previous analysis, one of aechmea’s lowest blows was to tell the gems he was exploiting and manipulating to reach a salvation he doesnt deserve that if the gems want to acquire freedom they must do so by themselves. talk about coherence. 

but that isnt all, he sinks even lower than this: he makes phos and the others question sensei’s affection for them. he says that sensei’s love is fake, it’s synthetic, the gems should totally make him pray or destroy him, no remorse, no strings attached. it’s such a dirty move.

no wonder it confuses phos even more. phos believes it, or tries to, they say they want to break sensei into pieces, but after the night raid they realize that it cant be that simple. sensei never attacked them. he has always been good to phos. and phos feels even more worthless, more of a traitor for daring believe in love, in sensei’s affection, when here they are, on the lunarians’ side, ready to betray him again. 

how dare phos hope for anything? they dont deserve love, they dont deserve hope, they dont deserve happiness. they can try to give it to other people, they’ll kill themselves in order to do so, but they have no more hope and no love left for themselves, and they had so little to begin with.

as ive said, phos has little self-awareness and little introspection. i do believe that they had no idea they were going to snap until they did. even in ch 77, when sensei tells them he cannot pray, phos spends their last seconds of consciousness (before being attacked by all of the gems) to kindly ask him to pray. they dont care about themselves, but they dont reflect long enough to consider that reaching out to sensei like that could be interpreted as hostile by the paranoid earth gems. i think this is the first sign that phos is about to snap: they’re quite literally desperate.

tired beyond measure and forced to spend 220 more years in isolation, broken into pieces scattered all over the island, when phos comes to their senses again once kongo reassembles them they’re beyond despair. this war is taking the last toll on them and phos has no more energy to go on.

“please,” they say “pray. do it for no one else but me. grant me mercy,” from one bodhisattva to the other. they’re still somewhat normal, but when sensei fails to pray again phos can’t take it anymore. desperation and rage, fueled by hopelessness, worthlessness, grief and exhaustion make phos launch themselves against sensei, which, ironically, it’s exactly what the story needs.

apparently, phos is human enough to activate sensei but not human enough to make him pray. however, when the two of them join hands, sensei can actually pray. maybe it’s because both phos and sensei are intended to be bodhisattva? maybe because human voice commands are not as strong as contact? i have no idea.

phos has snapped by the way, and it’s weird how they go from “If only you weren’t here” to “sensei actually loves me” in a couple of chapters. in a certain way, we’re seeing phos going back to their roots: they love sensei and trust in sensei’s love, they’re once again openly emotional and impulsive, they’re once again ostracized by the gems (of course, much more violently this time).

i have written about how, after ‘fusing’ with sensei for a brief second, phos doesnt speak for the entirety of ch 81. they look and act like a literal monster, a scared animal, which is ironic since we know that they’re now human. i hypothesized that they might be reborn and that’s why they don’t speak, they’re a literal infant, but in light of ch 82, i think they’re simply hurt beyond measure. 

they reversed to their old emotional persona, vomiting out all the emotions and pain and rage and hate they repressed during these 300 years. and yet they still don’t hurt anyone, not as much and as deliberately as they could at least.

they’re conscious enough to recognize the notebook and be reminded of their lost friends, realize how little the earth gems care for phos and for what they’re doing. and, i believe, when phos is rescued and comes back to the moon, they are, for the first time in the whole manga, enraged by the earth gems’ stupidity and sheer ungratefulness.

phos has been fighting for the wellbeing of everyone for centuries, putting their life on the line, never asking for anything in return and always believing that they were doing the right thing. and yet it’s not enough.

aechmea is a clever politician, and like every good politician he’s good at picking up changes and turning them in his favor. 

he notices that there’s something wrong with phos and with the way they feel about the gems. maybe he doesnt yet realize that phos is angry at them for being ungrateful, but he senses something so he provokes phos: “you said to leave you on earth last time. did you change your mind?” that is “i’m not your enemy. see? im doing what you want me to do. not quite like those people down there on earth. oh, wait, were those your friends? aw, such a pity. to think they attacked you after everything you’ve done for them. but they’re your family, right? i’ll send you back to them if this is what you want. see? i’ll listen to your wishes. i am grateful.”

look how intently he looks at phos as phos incoherently and obsessively repeats the same thing over and over: “he would have prayed. he would have prayed for me. he loves me. he would have prayed.” if you want, this is also a syìubtle way for phos to apologize: they still feel responsible for their failure, but aechmea must understand: phos did everything they could, it would have worked, it was the gems’ fault.

adamant put phos back together, showing phos that he still cares. he is the only one that loves phos, while the gems (all gems, phos doesnt care much for differences at this point) keep hurting phos even if phos is only trying to help. so they must be killed. to hell with them all. and, notice, phos doesnt include themselves in the ‘gem’ category: they’re no longer a lustrous. they’re a monster, a liminal creature.

with nothing left to believe in if not sensei’s love and a promise to make him pray and then die in peace, phos wants to destroy the only thing that they believe stands between them and finally being useful, but also between them and freedom (freedom from suffering, from guilt, from existing, from their pain, from being): the gems.

this isn’t the first time that phos wants to kill something: in ch 68 they spoke about crushing sensei to pieces. it’s heartbreaking how phos went from “if only the moon people weren’t here” to “if only sensei weren’t here” to “if only the gems weren’t here.” will it turn into: “if only i weren’t here?” who are phos’ allies? who does phos feel kinship with? who is phos? they no longer know, and they’ve not known for a long time.

aechmea has noticed and he’s quick to turn the situation to his advantage. he shakes phos’ hand, he’ll grant them freedom just like phos will grant the lunarians’ freedom. he’ll forgive phos for failing, for their sins, for the bottomless despair and guilt that phos has been living with for centuries. salvation, hope, that is all phos needs.

as @rinboz pointed out, phos’ gold in ch 82 takes the shape of a lotus seed pod, a direct reference to when antarc was abducted and the gold had turned into a lotus flower. 

through pain, phos had blossomed into a new character that day, marking the beginning of their long journey toward truth and toward discovering that there is no truth. the day the story changed from a coming of age manga to something much, much more intricate.

phos’ pod is empty, they have nothing left to lose, it’s a dead flower. this is the end of the journey that started with antarc’s abduction. when phos wakes up again, it will probably be with new memories and a new addition to their body, possibly red diamond. 

phos’ self destruction has reached its apex because it finally became so intense to extend outwards, to other people that, in their immense grief, phos wants to bring down with them. this might be a minuscule form of progress: anger is better than repressing emotions at least, but phos’ problems are far from being solved.

6. on the future

what will be of phos then? it really depends.

the fact that they’re finally showing all that sufferance and those emotions they tried so hard to repress is good, but aechmea is still there to take advantage of it. 

phos will never be free as long as they dont associate themselves with someone that truly loves them and as long as they cant find someone that can help them deal with their emotions. aechmea is just using them and only ichikawa knows what he meant when he told barbata to be careful with those 200 years emotions.

theoretically, phos was unconscious during the timelapse, but if there are emotions to treat carefully maybe they weren’t? maybe the change we’ve seen in phos this chapter depends on what they had to endure during that time. or maybe aechmea simply wants to make sure that his pet is easy to use.

i do believe we’re close to the end. i dont know if it will be the end of the series or just the end of phos as we know them. i could hope for something good to finally happen to them and for them to heal, but it would take a therapist or someone that loves phos. 

maybe euclase could side up with sensei, they seemed the most concerned about phos’ status and the most prone to believe them. maybe goshe and cicada could do something again, maybe rutile will fix padpa once more and padpa will talk with the earth gems (not very likely, but im throwing theories left and right at this point), or maybe barbata will refuse to follow aechmea’s instructions, at least in part, and try to help phos.

as always, im afraid we’ll have to wait. in the meantime, please hug phos. if you read up to this point hug phos. hug them now and shower them with love, because no one else will

[lupinlongbottom]

Burning Bridges pt. 5

Neville Longbottom x Reader

Summary: Weddings are a beautiful thing, no? (Y/N) and Neville finally bring it upon themselves to make out up, trying their best to work with what they’ve got. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: bit of swearing

A/N: ooo fancy. squint and you can see plot, maybe? dunno.

Part 1 ... Part 2 ... Part 3 ... Part 4 ... Part 6 ... Part 7

___

The first thing Neville felt was the cold. The winter air nipped at his nose like an old friend, bitter and unrelenting. The cold contrasted the searing hot touch against his lips, suddenly and all at once. (Y/N) had pressed herself against Neville abruptly, effectively shutting him up.

“(Y/N),” He mumbled, pulling away reluctantly. “What’re you—”

(Y/N) pressed her lips to Neville’s again, a bit harder than before. Her hands connected around his neck, pulling him in deeper. Finally deciding the fight just wasn’t worth it, Neville gave in, snaking his hands around her waist, holding her close. The two swayed in silence, only breaking for a breath, going back deeper than they had left off. The tension that had been building like a taught rubber band for the last five years had finally snapped, blinding the two with a white hot light.

“Neville,” (Y/N) removed her lips from his, focusing on the flush of his face, noting the few freckles that had dotted the bridge of his nose. “I know this isn’t ideal—”

“—don’t care,” Neville mumbled, diving back in for another kiss, growing more daring by the whimper (Y/N) let out. The cold that had once bit at his nose was long forgotten. Neville grew more fearless in his motions, allowing his initial gentleness wash away, a low groan emitting softly from his throat.

“I never knew you were so daring, Longbottom,” (Y/N) pulled away, face thoroughly flushed. “Out in the open like this,” she glanced at the open courtyard, catching her breath. 

“Neither did I,” Neville smiled, resting his hands again at her waist, afraid to let her go. “But I need a push from time to time.”

“I’ll be here,” (Y/N) cupped his face, thumb resting above the scruff of his jawline. “I’m sorry if this fucks up our friendship—”

“—this,” Neville laughed, drawing circles in the sky with his nose. “Didn’t fuck up our friendship.”

“No?”

“No,” he smiled, pausing for a moment, thinking over his next words carefully. “Not talking to me for five years might’ve done that.”

(Y/N) slapped him playfully on the cheek, trying to pull an angry face. “Shut it,” a small giggle erupted from her lips. “Nev, can I be honest for a moment?”

“More honest than what we were just doing?”

She nodded. “Would it be completely insane of us to keep doing this?” Her eyes met Neville’s, looking for a wordless answer.

“I’m not following?” Neville replied, trying to see the suggestion in a different light.

“I want to snog you more,” (Y/N) admitted, not breaking eye contact. “I have a feeling you’d like to snog me more as well, but, someone may… catch us. Out here, I mean.”

“So you want to go snog in a broom closet like teenagers?” Neville laughed, pressing a kiss between her brows.

“Consider it making up for lost time,” she shrugged, grinning wildly.

“So you want to run and hide,” He started, watching (Y/N) nod. “Go snog in a dark room, hope that no one catches us,” Neville’s grin grew wider, smirking down at the woman before him. “At our friend’s wedding?”

“Bingo,” (Y/N) said, grabbing Neville by the hand and guiding him down the hall. Indeed they had passed a storage closet, thankfully unlocked. With one final double take of the hallway, the couple disappeared into the darkness.  

__

Sunlight filtered in through the darkness of the curtains hung carefully next to the bed. (Y/N) awoke with a beam of sun hitting her directly in the eye, blinding her momentarily. She felt warmer than usual, with a quick glance she realized that the blanket that had covered her legs was not her own. It was a deep green buffalo plaid print, terribly warm and inviting.

“What…” (Y/N) scanned around the bedroom. The layout was the same, bathroom to the right of the bed, dresser at the foot, doorway out to the living room adjacent to the dresser. Every corner of the room was decked out in greenery, from the various plants to the color of the sheets. “Oh…” she felt the bed shift next to her, begging her to look down.

It was Neville.

“Shit!” (Y/N) hissed, quickly glancing at what she was wearing. Realizing that she was still wearing the same dress she had worn the night before, (Y/N) let out a sigh.

Neville stirred in his sleep, groggily waking at the lack of warmth on his left side. At first, nothing was wrong, but the dream-like sight of (Y/N) practically threw him out of bed, toppling to the floor.

“Are you alright?” (Y/N) asked, quickly flying to the other side of the bed. 

Neville groaned in pain, having landed face first against the stone flooring. He mumbled a response against the marble.

“What?”

“Been…” Neville groaned, pushing himself off the ground, sitting next to the bed. He put his hands between his lap, stretching his back. “…better.”

“Don’t scare me like that!” (Y/N) said, flopping back onto the pillows.

“Scare you? Blimey, (Y/N) I would say that you’ve scared me a bit more just now,” he grinned, massaging his face, his eyes finding a large purple mark on his arm. “N-not that your face scares me! I just wasn’t expecting to see you.”

“Likewise,” (Y/N) admitted, running a hand through her hair, finally pushing it out of her face. A realization struck her. “We didn’t…?”

“Oh!” Neville shot up like a rocket, head practically touching the ceiling. “No! At least, I don’t think we did? I feel like I would’ve remembered? Right?”

“There’s no need to shout,” (Y/N) giggled, watching the tips of Neville’s ears grow redder by the second. “We’re still wearing our clothes from the wedding, so I don’t think so either. I don’t remember much from last night, which is odd considering I didn’t have anything to drink…”

“Neither did I…” Neville mumbled, flattening the white dress shirt from the night before, still buttoned mostly. “Come to think, I don’t remember coming back here?”

“We’re not forgetful people,” (Y/N) said, smiling. “Well, you’ve gotten better over the years.”

“Maybe someone used a memory charm on us,” He laughed, jokingly. “Let’s retrace our steps,” Neville said, sitting on the edge of the bed, facing away from her. “We were at the wedding, we went for that walk, we—”  

“—made out, yeah,” (Y/N) added. “I pulled you to that closet—”

“—where we only snogged,” Neville pointed, thankful his face was turned away from (Y/N). “After that…?”

(Y/N) shrugged. “I don’t have the faintest idea,” she focused her stare at the potted plant hanging in the corner of his room, leaves dangling almost to the floor. “I remember the snogging—Godric do I remember the snogging,” (Y/N) sang, swaying whimsically a bit to herself. “You’re quite the kisser, you know?”

“I-I didn’t,” Neville turned his head, cheeks redder than a radish. “Thank you…” he said, twiddling his thumbs.

“You’re welcome,” (Y/N) smiled sweetly. “Look, Nev, I think we need to talk… about last night,” she sighed, watching Neville turn his body towards her. “Well, about everything, really. Things got a bit explosive—”

“—it’s my fault,” Neville said, waving his arm. He crossed his legs, now sitting at the end of his bed near (Y/N)’s feet, deeply aware of her presence and how terribly close he was to touching her. “I-I shouldn’t have looked through your things.”

“You didn’t,” (Y/N) said, noting the Gryffindor’s stuttering. Had he been doing that recently? “Like you said, I had it laying out. Not exactly a secret I was trying to keep, I suppose,” she shrugged, fingers playing with the lace of her gown. “To be honest, I couldn’t begin to tell you why I kept that cardigan in the first place,” a chuckle.

“It’s a warm cardigan,” Neville shrugged. “You’ve always had a thing for warm jumpers.”

“This much is true,” (Y/N) nodded, glancing at her wrist. The pink ribbon was tied neatly around it. “You’ve always liked my ribbons,” she laughed, holding her hand up, allowing Neville to see. “I’m real sorry for how I snapped, it’s just seeing the ribbon, from that day… To think you found it, and then kept it for so long, I don’t know. Something inside of me just broke open.”

“Something bad?”

“If it was something bad, I reckon I would’ve knocked you to the ground instead of kissing you, no?” (Y/N) smirked.

“Fair point,” Neville nodded, albeit a bit fast. She always had high marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts, excelling at the knockback jinx, her signature move. “I’m sorry I didn’t make a better effort to find you—”

“—you did,” (Y/N) said, stopping Neville in his tracks. “You said so yourself, searched all around the wreckage for me after the fact. I was the coward hiding at the lake.”

“Your dad died, (Y/N), you had every reason to hide from other people…”

“My dad,” (Y/N) scoffed lightly, her fingers still dancing against the lace. “The dad that was in Azkaban my entire life? The man who decided that fighting for a pure-blooded society was more important than the blood of his own family? Deciding the fate of the daughter he knew for a few days, planning to marry her off to another pure-blooded bloke just to keep their family blood clean? Some dad.” 

“You were mourning the man you wish he could’ve been, not the man he was, right?” Neville said, hesitantly placing a hand on (Y/N)’s ankle, trying to comfort her. (Y/N) nodded.

“Sometimes I have dreams, you know? About what my life would’ve looked like if he hadn’t chose the life he did. He would buy me sweets all the time, teach me how to ride a broom, spoil me rotten,” (Y/N) let out a choked laugh, but no tears came. “But… he didn’t. I know that and I’ve known that for years now. It’s still no excuse for the choices I made that day.”

“I don’t blame you, at all,” Neville admitted. “I-I mean, I did. Then, for a bit. Honestly thought you were a bit selfish, running off the way you did.”

“I run off a lot, don’t I?” (Y/N) chuckled. “Never really been one to share my feelings, hold them all in here,” she pointed to her chest, tapping it a few times. “I’ve been trying to get better about it, took my few years on my own to reflect on that.”

“A bit ironic,” Neville joined in on her laughter. “Reflecting on the fact that you run off a lot while you ran from everything, no?”

“Shove it,” (Y/N) said, kicking Neville’s hand off her ankle. He smiled. “I mean it though, I’m sorry about everything. I was selfish, wasn’t thinking straight. I should’ve given you a chance, considering I was the one who initiated the kiss… both times.”

“Interrupted me both times, too,” Neville hummed. “Another bad habit of yours.”

“I didn’t interrupt you the first time!” (Y/N) scoffed. “I was so relieved that you were alive!” she felt her face heat up again. “But the second time you had said that you… well…”

“Oh,” Neville remembered. “I guess I did say… that.”

“Do you mean it?”

“I think I did,” Neville nodded. “Well, I know I did five years ago. I loved you,” He  said, finally releasing the words the two of them had been avoiding. He let them hang in the air for just a moment. “I did, love you, I mean. For a while. Practically since third year, actually,” the words came sputtering out of Neville like a babbling brook, faster than he could formulate a thought. “You were my best friend. You cared about me, more than anyone else really did. I just assumed you’d never feel that way about me so I shoved it down, especially when you and Seamus started to have that little fling.” 

“I think,” (Y/N) took a second to collect her thoughts. “I’ve always cared for you, Neville. You said so yourself. I guess I never really knew how I felt until I saw you, after all the fighting, saw that you were still alive and breathing,” she shrugged again. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you that day, too.”

“Did you ever…?” Neville couldn’t bring himself to finish his question, the answer almost seemed plain as the day before them.

“I did,” (Y/N) nodded.

“Do you think we could get to that place?” Neville asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his words as fragile as glass. “To be able to love each other at the same time, I mean?” 

“I’m not sure,” (Y/N) admitted, looking Neville in the eye. He looked almost defeated, his face turning down to his hands. “But I think we owe it to ourselves to try,” she leaned forward, gently placing her hand atop of his, the pink ribbon on her wrist tickling his fingers. “Obviously we both had some unresolved tension, if last night was any indication of that.”

“I-I’m not usually that bold—”

“—I know.”

“But you’re right, if we take it slow, start fresh,” Neville nodded, still staring at their hands. “Nurture it properly—”

“Are you comparing the complexity of our relationship to gardening?” (Y/N) laughed, pulling her hand away. Neville shrugged. “Should we make sure it gets enough water, too?”

“I’m trying to be serious here,” Neville said, pointedly. “Don’t have to go and make a joke about it.”

“What’re you going to do?” (Y/N) teased. “Break up with me?” 

“You said so yourself,” Neville stood up, adjusting his shirt. “Can’t break up with someone you’re not dating.”

“Ouch,” (Y/N) pressed a hand to her chest, right above her heart. “That hit me hard, Longbottom. Just annihilated my heart, crushed it to a thousand pieces.”

“Right,” He laughed. “We’ll take it slow,” Neville said again, circling back to their original topic. “I think we can get back to a place of mutual trust and understanding.”

“I agree,” (Y/N) said, finally hopping off Neville’s bed, unaware of the amount of time that had passed. “What does that make of us now, then? Surely we’re not just friends anymore…?”

“No,” Neville mumbled. “I suppose not…”

“And if we’re not ‘dating’,” (Y/N) said, stepping closer to Neville. She flung a finger between the two of them, now standing only a foot away from one another, waving it lightly. “What are we calling this…?”

“That’s a great question,” Neville gulped, now fully aware of the space, or lack thereof, between him and (Y/N). “B-because I have no idea. For now, anyway. If we can make it work, I’d want to ask you proper, not just in the heat of the moment.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t worry about putting a label on it,” (Y/N) said, pressing her finger onto Neville’s chest. “For now.”

“R-right,” Neville nodded, glancing down at (Y/N). “For now.”

“What time is it, anyway?” (Y/N) asked, trying to draw herself away from the situation at hand, fearing she’d dive too far and drown.

“Almost noon,” Neville said, taking a look at his watch, still attached to his wrist. “It’s Sunday, we don’t have any classes.”

“Sunday,” (Y/N) repeated, wracking her brain. “I think I was supposed to do something today…?”

“Funny,” Neville said, standing up. “Me too…?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing,” (Y/N) said, picking up her shoes. “Well, I better go and clean myself up for lunch, one look at me and the students will think I’ve gone mad.”

“Agreed,” Neville nodded. “I’ll save you a spot at lunch?” A small smile danced across his lips.

“I’d like that,” (Y/N) smiled back, fighting back a bigger grin. She exited Neville’s chambers, moving quickly to her own before anyone could see her. Thankfully the hallway was empty, allowing her to enter the room next door with ease. After a quick change and a simple detangling spell on her unruly hair, (Y/N) was ready for lunch.

The Great Hall was nearly empty, as the end of the lunch period was almost over. Students had gone back to their studying or other activities. The faculty table hosted only a few of her peers, Hagrid booming from the end, sitting next to Neville.

“…was beautiful, the weddin’!” Hagrid said, nearly sobbing into his napkin. “Ginny an’ Harry looked so happy!”

“I know,” Neville said, patting the half-giant’s back. “They looked really happy together.”

“Oh! (Y/N),” Hagrid stopped, noticing the young witch arrive at the table, sitting down next to Neville. “Sorry ya ‘ad to see that,” he sniffled, putting the napkin back onto his lap. “But it’s nice to see the two of you awake!” he glanced between Neville and (Y/N)

“Awake?” (Y/N) laughed, taking a plate of mashed potatoes and a thick red sauce. “You saw us last night, Hagrid, we weren’t sleeping.”

“Ya don’t remember?” Hagrid asked.

“Actually,” Neville said, swallowing a bite of bread quickly. “We don’t exactly remember much from last night…” he turned to (Y/N), noticing her face grow pink. “…from a certain point, that is.”

“Do you know how we got home? Back to the castle?” (Y/N) asked, hoping Hagrid had the answer.

“Well, I carried ya o’ course!” he boomed, laughter echoing throughout the hall. A few remaining students stared idly, wondering what could’ve caused him to laugh so loud. “I was walkin’ outside, ya see. Heard a loud thump from the courtyard,” he took a bite from his apple, leaving only half left. “Found the two of yer sleepin’ in a closet! Must’ve been the punch, ‘ad a few glasses of it myself.”

“We were… sleeping?” 

“On the floor?”

Hagrid nodded. “Figured ya ‘ad too much fun, took it upon meself to bring ya home,” he scratched his neck. “Tried droppin’ Longbottom off first, but,” Hagrid pointed at (Y/N) with his fork. “Ya started wakin’ up. Insisted ya were goin’ to sleep right there.”

“…and you let me?” (Y/N) said, hardly shocked, but her face was telling another story.

“Looked peaceful enough,” Hagrid shrugged. “Sorry ‘bout that mark, Neville. Thestrals accidentally gave ya a good kick."

Neville looked down to the growing purpling mark on his arm, oddly shaped like a horse’s hoof now that he took a better look at it. “At least that makes sense…”

“What doesn’t make sense is why we were knocked out in the broom closet,” (Y/N) said, voice growing low. “We didn’t have any punch and now we can’t remember?”

“Speakin’ of,” Hagrid said, setting his goblet down. “How’d yer meetin’ with McGonagall go?”

“Meeting?” the two said in unison.

“Semester briefing of course!” Hagrid laughed. “Reckon she gave me a nasty look ‘bout those murtlaps escaping, but we ‘ad a good laugh.”

“I don’t remember having a meeting today?” (Y/N) said, setting her fork down. “Neville, do you?”

“No,” he shook his head. “Hagrid, do all faculty have this meeting today?”

“Yep,” Hagrid nodded. “Don’t tell me ya lot forgot?”

“Shit,” (Y/N) said, slamming her head onto the table, nearly missing her potatoes. “We’re dead,” she slammed her head again. “So dead.”

Neville reached over, stopping (Y/N) from slamming her head again. “We’re not dead,” he laughed, noticing the red mark now adorned to her forehead. “Royally screwed? Maybe.”

“Why in Merlin’s beard would we have forgotten? I never forget this kind of stuff! Hell, I can remember at least a hundred potions from the top of my head!” She stood up, readjusting her robes. “We have to go and talk to McGonagall.”

“We? But we just started eating…”

“We’ll eat something after we’ve kept our jobs,” (Y/N) said, pulling Neville up by the collar. “Unless you don’t want to keep working here?”

“Right,” Neville said, face determined. “You’re right.”

The two marched out of the dining hall, quickly working their way to the headmistress’ office, giving small greetings to passing students. (Y/N) cleared her throat, mumbling the password to enter the office. The stairs began to move upward, Neville and (Y/N) standing next to one another. “How mad do you think she is?”

“Hopefully not mad enough to sack us, I quite like this job.”

The office, still adorned with portraits of past headmasters lining the walls, was warm and inviting. The faint scent of vanilla wafted through the air, a cauldron burbling in the corner. 

“Professors,” Minerva said, glancing up from her paperwork. “Glad you finally decided to take a break in your busy schedule to show up.”

“Headmistress, we can explain—” 

McGonagall raised her hand, silencing (Y/N) effectively. “No need,” she stood up, walking down the few steps towards the two professors. “Forgetting our meeting isn’t like you, (L/N),” she turned to Neville. “I can’t say the same for you, Longbottom.”

“Normally I’d agree…” Neville sputtered, growing hot at the accusation. “But this wasn’t my doing this time, honest!”

“Minerva, we’re sorry we forgot about our meeting. At the Potter’s wedding last night, Neville and I—”

“—I don’t need the details of your night, Professor (L/N),” McGonagall raised her hand again. “I’m truly disappointed that the two forgot about the meetings. What sort of example are you setting for your students?” The two hung their head in shame. “Thankfully I really have no need to have the meeting with the two of you in the first place.”

“What?”

“(Y/N), your student’s marks are impeccably high, across the board. Even students who were struggling in Potions last year are succeeding in your class, even if it isn’t by a large percentage,” McGonagall turned to Neville. “Your classes, Longbottom, have only gotten the highest praises from students passing in the halls. The two of you should be proud.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” Neville said, bowing lightly.

“Thank you,” (Y/N) mirrored.

“Besides the praises,” McGonagall warned, her voice growing more stern. “I shouldn’t have to punish you like students to get the point across. But, for this instance, I feel it to be necessary.”

“Are you going to have us scrub cauldrons? (Y/N) already keeps them sparkling,” Neville asked, his voice growing lower as the Headmistress’s eyes fell upon him.

“Of course not,” McGonagall scoffed. “Cauldron cleaning is left for the Potions Master to dole out for detentions as she sees fit,” she nodded at (Y/N). “But, seeing as the two of you seem to have enough free time in your schedules, you can add Wednesday evenings to your patrol duties. Both of you.”

“Wednesdays were one of our only nights off, Minerva,” (Y/N) blurted, allowing McGonagall’s first name to slip.

“And now they’re not,” McGonagall hummed. “If I remember correctly, you said so yourself, (Y/N), you’ve always wanted to patrol the halls as a professor, any chance you got, no?”

“I—yes,” (Y/N) nodded, caught in her own words. “Of course.”

“Redeem yourselves and the patrols will return to four times a week. Now that the business is out of the way,” McGonagall cleared her throat.

“Longbottom, if I recall you have remedial Herbology with two Hufflepuff students this afternoon, do you not?”

Neville’s face dropped. “You’re right! I completely forgot!” He nearly sprang from his shoes, hoping back to the entrance of the office. “Thank you, Headmistress!” He shot (Y/N) a small smile. “See you tonight, Professor (L/N).”

“That man wouldn’t remember his head if it weren’t screwed onto his neck,” (Y/N) chuckled, heading towards the door.

“(Y/N),” McGonagall said, “I have a feeling there’s something else to discuss?”

“Professor,” (Y/N) said. “Headmistress, I mean. I know this isn’t work related, but I need the advice of another witch.”

“Yes?”

“Last night, at the wedding, Neville and I after a certain point can’t remember anything. We don’t recall getting home, or anything after that. We also couldn’t remember our meetings today…”

“Did you have any of that vile punch?” McGonagall asked, tipping her nose into the air. “Potter said that the Weasley twins had concocted it. Hagrid drank quite a bit of it,” she smiled. “Are you sure your memory loss isn’t from that?”

“That’s the thing,” (Y/N) muttered. “We didn’t have anything to drink, as far as I’m aware."

“And you’re saying that you and Mr. Longbottom can’t recall your memories after a certain point? None, whatsoever?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No. We woke up this morning with no recollection of anything after—”

“—after, what?” McGonagall asked, watching (Y/N) grow stiff. “After you and Mr. Longbottom had disappeared from the reception?” She smirked, readjusting her spectacles.

“Yes,” (Y/N) blurted, only slightly ashamed. “A bit after that…”

“Have you considered this to be the work of a memory charm?” McGonagall asked.

“That’s what Neville joked about this morning,” (Y/N) laughed. “N-not that we were together this morning,” she coughed. “I highly doubt that it could be a memory charm. Who would use a memory charm on us?”

“Normally memory charms are used to erase a specific memory,” McGonagall hummed. “But sometimes, when used improperly—or depending on the case—properly, the victim can forget more than the user bargained for.”

“I’m still not following…?”

“I would bet my last Galleon that someone used a memory charm on the two of you,” said McGonagall.

“Really? No joke?”

“No joke.”

“I know this may be a stupid question,” (Y/N) started, her eyes falling on the Pensieve. “But would it be possible—”

“No,” McGonagall said, cutting (Y/N) off. “The Pensieve doesn’t work like that. Once your memory is altered, you cannot call the memories to the Pensieve. Unless the witch or wizard who cast the charm on the two of you reverses it, I’m afraid there’s not much I can do.”

“Surely there must be a way to reverse the charm otherwise, right?” (Y/N) asked, voice dripping with hope. 

McGonagall shook her head. “Unless you’d like to undergo intense torture and suffering, I’m afraid not.”

“Thank you, Headmistress,” (Y/N) bowed. “This has been helpful.”

“I hope it has,” McGonagall nodded. “And, (Y/N), please bear in mind what I had said to you on the first night of school.”

(Y/N) recalled the conversation. “Oh, Neville and I…”

“You two look good together,” McGonagall smiled. “But, please keep it professional. Students, they love their gossip."

“Of course, Headmistress,” (Y/N) nodded, finally bursting through the door. “How embarrassing…” she mumbled, walking back to her chambers. 

__

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[tenshiscientia]

Surprise!!

"Come onnnnnnn, Vergiiiiiillllllll. I wanna go outside!" Mikazuki whined, poking his shoulder as he tried to read a book.

Vergil swatted her hand away with an annoyed grunt. This was the third time she had bothered him and though he had a fair amount of patience, what he had was beginning to wear thin.

"Mika, I am in the middle of research. I have no time to go frolicking around in the snow." he said through a sigh, trying to remain calm.

"But Vergiiiilllll." Mikazuki whined again, poking his cheek this time, "You can do research later. I just want to go outside for a little bit. Then you can go back to your research. Pleeeeeeease?"

Vergil jerked his head away from her poking finger and glared at her. No...oh no, she was using the puppy eyes of doom on him. Mikazuki made sure to add in a bit of a pouty lip as well. She knew that Vergil couldn't resist her when she did this, and when she saw the resigned look on his face, she knew she had him.

"Fine, I guess I can for a fe-"

"Thank you Vergil!" Mikazuki practically screamed as she almost tackled him off the chair he was sitting on.

Fortunately for the both of them, Vergil had better balance than that, and was able to keep them from falling.

"Get yourself dressed and meet me down here in fifteen minutes or I go back to my research." Vergil sighed, lifting Mikazuki off his lap and setting her on the ground.

"Yes sir!" and she was off light a bolt of lightning into her room.

Not even ten minutes later, Mikazuki was by the front door waiting for Vergil as he emerged from his room bundled up to go outside as well.

His eyes widened as he caught sight of her. He had been sure he would be out first. A small chuckle left his lips as he walked over to the door and opened it. Mikazuki rushed out and practically dove into the snow.

"Come on Vergil! Winter and snow are the best!" she yelled to him.

Vergil shook his head and made his way down the stairs and down to where Mikazuki was laying on the ground spread eagle.

"What are you doing?" he asked as he came to stand over her.

"I'm making a snow angel...see?" she said, hopping up and turning around to point down at the shape she had made in the snow.

"Why don't you make one too...to match mine Vergil?" she asked shyly.

Vergil merely stared down at the shape of the angel in the snow, then looked away after a second.

"Vergil, you're thinking again. Those thoughts I told you not to think. Do I have try and beat them out of your head again. I may be a human, but you know damn well I'll try and beat those bad memories out of your head. And those thoughts that you don't deserve to have what you do, that you don't deserve to enjoy anything nice.

I mean it, I'll try and beat them out of your head again. Now get down there and make a snow angel, mine's all lonely." Mikazuki smiled.

Vergil snapped his gaze over to her then a small smile slipped over his lips, more of a quirk to the corner of them, then he lowered himself to the ground next to Mikazuki's angel and made his own. Just as he stood up, a snowball smacked him square in the face. Vergil reached up and cleared the remaining snow off his face and found Mikazuki standing a little ways away with another snowball in hand.

"Snowball fight, Vergil?" she questioned innocently.

A dark smile over took Vergil's face.

"You must realize, you will lose." he replied.

Mikazuki laughed.

"Over Dante's dead body!" she replied, threw the snowball in her hand and took off.

Vergil up and went after her but he soon lost sight of her. He wasn't too worried, he couldn't sense any demons nearby, but he didn't want to cheat by using those same senses. He followed along looking down at the ground, realizing she had forgotten about her trail of footprints in the snow. They would lead right to her. Vergil shook his head, she would need more training to outsmart him.

Then he realized that some of her footsteps had been retraced. Some of them led off in different directions then just stopped abruptly like she had just disappeared into thin air. Others circled around and around on themselves in never ending circles. He finally found himself under a tree, where her tracks went in ten different directions. He looked in every direction trying to figure out where she went.

This was getting beyond frustrating. Dante had obviously been teaching her things without telling him. He was tempted to start using his more demonic related abilities. Then suddenly...

"SURPRISE MUTHAFUKA!"

Mikazuki dropped out of the tree above Vergil and down on top of him with a huge snowball in her hands, which she promptly proceeded to smash on his head.

"Haha! I got you!" Mikazuki crowed loudly as she sat on Vergil's back.

Vergil...was not pleased.

Mikazuki heard a low growl reverberate below her, before she was thrown off Vergil's back, then pinned below him. A hand around  her throat. A gasp left her lips as she hit the ground along with a small cry due to her head hitting the ground, then she was looking up into glowing ice blue eyes. Tears welled up in hers as the pain fully registered from her head hitting the ground.

"V-vergil..." she whimpered.

Vergil's eyes widened as he realized what he was doing and yanked his hand away from Mikazuki's throat as if he had been burned, then threw himself back off her just as fast. The world around him disappeared as he withdrew into a world of self-loathing realizing he had hurt Mikazuki. Mikazuki sat up and coughed a couple times then rubbed at the back of her head s little. It stung a bit but she had had worse. Right now she was more worried about Vergil.

She crawled over to him and put her hand on his shoulder and called his name.

"Mikazuki, please don't...just please...go back to Devil May Cry. Leave me alone. I don't deserve to have you by my side. With all the horrible things I've done. I've hurt you now as we-"

*SMACK*

Vergil fell silent as he felt the stinging sensation on the side of his face.

"Damn it! One more time, one more fucking time Vergil! And I swear to the Goddess above you will see just what an angry human is truly capable of when she loves someone. You need to forget that shit in the past. You've been forgiven from what I understand.

And if not, the people that haven't forgiven you...I'll...I'll kick their fucking asses. Damn it, Vergil I'm tired of you doing this. So fight or flight kicked in, it's natural for you after all the years that you had to rely on it. And don't you give me that shit of, 'well I should be able to control it around those that I love and trust.'

That's bullshit. You can never control that instinct," by now Mikazuki was sitting on Vergil's lap, knees on either side of his hips, cradling his face in her hands, "That instinct is with you all your life, hardwired especially if you have to use it every day of your life for so long. I don't blame you for doing that. I should have remembered. Baby, I'm sorry. I should be asking forgiveness not you."

Mikazuki leaned forward to nuzzle her nose against Vergil's.

"We all do stupid shit, love. You gotta realize that." she whispered, then leaned the rest of the way in to kiss him.

Vergil's didn't reciprocate at first, but Mikazuki pressed on knowing that he would. He just needed to be coaxed back into knowing he was okay. And just like a dam breaking, the Vergil she knew came back in full force. The passionate man beneath the layer of ice that no one but her ever got to see. His arms came up around her back and pulled her chest flush against his. 

One arm slowly sliding up to slip a hand around the back of her neck to hold her to him so he could return the kiss she had started. Drawing back for a breath, Mikazuki was pleased with what she saw, Vergil's eyes were still glowing, but for an entirely different reason, his cheeks lightly flushed from embarrassment, and a slight tremble to his parted lips as he breathed. Mikazuki smiled and leaned down and pressed herself close to Vergil, her lips right next to his ear.

"Vergil...watashi no Akuma, watashi wa anata o aishiteimasu..." she whispered to him gently.

Vergil stiffened under her, hearing the words and realizing what they meant. My devil, I love you. He was hers, she loved him. He trembled in her arms, bowing his head and resting it on her shoulder. Shuddering breaths entered and left his body.

Stealing himself he looked up into her eyes, the pale lavender glinting gently in the light around them. Vergil opened his mouth to return the words. Words he had wanted to say to her for so long. She was his angel. His light, his moon and stars.

But his voice was nowhere to be found.  He snapped his mouth shut and looked down, ashamed of himself, being unable to say three simple words. A soft laugh filled the air, and a gentle hand lifted his chin so Vergil was looking at Mikazuki again.

"I understand, Vergil. Not yet. You can't say it yet but I understand. I'll wait until you can. But you know how I feel.

And you know that I won't leave you. Okay?" she smiled.

Vergil nodded and buried his face in her chest, seeking the comfort he always found there.

"Hey Vergil? Let's go inside for some hot chocolate. We can do this inside, but I'm getting cold, and you can't be warm sitting there like that. Sound good?" Mikazuki nudged his shoulder.

Vergil gave a small chuckle and managed to stand without even moving Mikazuki. She merely yelped and wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck as he started to walk back to Devil May Cry.

"Are you sure you want your brother to see this if he's there?" Mikazuki questioned as they reached the steps.

"You'll give him what for if he says anything right?" he replied.

"Fair enough."

Once inside, they stripped all snow gear off and Mikazuki made for the chair Vergil had been sitting in while he made off to the kitchen for hot chocolate. When Vergil came back, Mikazuki stood and allowed him his chair back and took her hot chocolate while giving Vergil his research book back. However, he placed it on the ground in favor of pulling Mikazuki onto his lap and wrapping his arms around her. They ended up spending the rest of the evening watching the snow fall through the nearby window.

_____________________

So Hopefully google translator isn’t shit and got the Japanese translation of that correct. If not, well....fuck...

[talpup]

Light In the Darkness:67

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

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

Chapter 67

"Leona! Hold up."  Jax exited Headquarters and jogged after the Crimson Lions Captain.  It was still dark out.  The Captains meeting having been called well before sunrise.

"What is it Jax?"  Mereoleona asked, barely slowing her pace.  She gave Nozel a nod as he passed with Pyter, the two on their way back to the Silver Eagles base.  No doubt they were as eager as she was to get to work now that the mission orders they had received last night had been fully fleshed out and gone over.

"I have a favor of sorts to ask."  Jax said.

Mereoleona spun around, Jax nearly bumping into her.  "Spit it out."

"Yami."

"What about him?"  Mereoleona question, impatiently.

"Take him."

"You want to give me one of your strongest fighters?"  Mereoleona asked, dubiously.

"I'm leading one of the teams tasked with trying to make it to the capital."  Jax said.

"And so is Nozel, with Teris."  Mereoleona said, understanding.

"Given the interest those two garner and the mess of dangers that come along with it.  I think it best we don’t take both of them so close to the Spade Kingdoms border.  Or into the heart of the Diamond Kingdom. Don't you?"

Mereoleona crossed her arms.  "Why not ask Julius?"

"Julius has enough on his plate."  Jax said.

"And I don't?"  She questioned.

"I'm sorry.  Did Greywright give up his command of southeast team to you and I not know it?"  Jax shot back, tersely.

"Fine. I’ll take him."  Mereoleona gritted.

"Don't act as if this is a difficulty.  You just admitted he’s one of my best fighters."

"He’s also one of your more unruly ones.  Never mind the other troubles you already alluded to that also come with him.”  Mereoleona shook her head and sighed.  “Just… send him over as soon as you can."

"I'll send him and Bronn straight away."  Jax said, trying to sneak that bit through.

"Now wait just a--"

"As you said, Yami can be a bit unruly."  Jax cut in.

"So you're giving me someone even worse at obeying orders to keep him in line!  How does that work?  I thought they hated each other."

"They don't hate each other.”  Jax minimized.

"No." Mereoleona shook her head.  "I’ll take Yami.  But I can't handle Bronn."

"You think too little of yourself, Leona."

"He's a course, foul mouthed, nasty piece of work that does nothing but suit himself."  Mereoleona said.

"Who you once liked and wanted for yourself."  Jax reminded.

"Careful Jax.  I've killed people for less."  Mereoleona warned, eyes igniting.

"His a spatial mage."

"Of that I'm aware.  And?"  Mereoleona’s lip twitched understanding dawning.  "You want Bronn with Yami in case one of those other groups do end up showing up.  It won’t matter if Yami complies with the order to fall back and get out.  Bronn can simply send him away to safety."

"It's our belief that the Agents of Chaos have something similar to the Summer Solstice planned for the Winter Solstice for them."  Jax confessed.

"It's early September.  With the mission you and the other teams have, do you really think the war will go on that long?"

"I hope not.  But even if it doesn't.  Who knows what other groups want to get their hands on them.  I'd feel better having Bronn there to get Yami far way should anyone make an attempt to take him.  You’ve never had a spatial mage on your squad.  They're rather handy to have."

"If that spatial mage isn't Bronn Rendel." Mereoleona huffed.

Jax gave her a pleading look.

"Fine." She growled.  "But you should take Quince."

"What! Why!  What do I want your Vice Captain for?”

"Cause you're giving me two for your best fighters.  One of which happens to be your Vice Captain.  You’re leading a team north and you were instructed not to use your magic unless absolutely necessary.  Quince is highly capable in the field.  With or without magic, I know he’ll be of use to you.”

"Alright then.  I'll send Bronn and Yami over as soon as I get back." Jax agreed, holding out his hand.

Mereoleona slapped his hand away.  "And I'll apologize to Quince before sending him over."

67.2

Nozel walked through the east wing to the study he had claimed as his office.  Sitting behind the desk he unrolled the map of the Diamond Kingdom.  It wasn’t very detailed and obviously bore inaccuracies as lines and townships had been crossed off and remarked.  He sighed shaking his head.  Was this the best Magic Investigations could offer them?

Hearing footsteps he looked up, blinking in surprise when he saw Teris pass in the hall.  Rising from his seat, he went to the door.

“What are you doing up so early?”  Nozel called after her.

Teris spun around with a startled gasp.

Nozel smirked at her surprise.

“I thought I was the only one up.”  She whispered.

“There was an early Captains meeting.”  Nozel explained, still not use to including himself when speaking about the Magic Knights Captains. “Couldn’t sleep?”  He asked.

“Took me a while.”  Teris admitted, retracing her steps back down the hall towards him.  “But I got there eventually and slept just fine.”

“Then what are you doing up?  Sunrise isn’t for another hour.”

“It’s my week to make breakfast.”  Teris said, as if he should have known.

Nozel’s eyebrows furrowed at that.  “No.”

“What do you mean?  No.”

“You’re not making breakfast.”  Nozel told.  He turned and stepped back into his office.

Teris followed but halted just outside the door.  “What do you mean? It’s my turn.”

“You’ll have chance enough to cook when we’re out in the field.  For now, forget about those needless chores you’re forced to do over there. We have staff for that.  They’ll be offended if you step into their space.”

“I guess I’ll go back to my room then.”  Teris muttered, not sure why she was annoyed.

“To sleep?”  Nozel asked, feeling an embarrassed heat tint his cheeks at the mildly improper question.  Even as her Captain it was no business of his what she would be doing in her private chambers.

“Unlikely.” Teris huffed.

“Come in then.”  Nozel beckoned.

Teris looked back down the hall before tentatively entering the office. She had been alone with Captain Jax and other male superiors before. She had even worked alone in the dead of night with Nozel, in her night clothes and robe no less.  But that was before he had kissed her.  Before he had made his feelings for her so clear that she could no longer fool herself.

Teris left the door wide open behind her.  Nozel was her Captain in this scenario.  He wouldn’t dare do anything improper.

Nozel watched her enter.  He fought the instinct to pull a chair out for her.  They were Magic Knights in this instance not royals of the kingdom.  More over, he was her Captain.  He doubted any Captain would do such a thing for one of their Knights.  Difficult as it was, he had to behave as her Captain.  Not as her Intended.

“What is it Captain?”  Teris asked, the reminder of his position sounding far less subtle than she had planned.

Nozel’s eyes tightened.  Did she really think she had to remind him of their situation and current status?

“Sit down.”  He snapped, bristling at himself for sounding as upset as he felt.

Teris did as he commanded and silently waited.  This was his office.  Nozel had called her in here as her Captain.  In this moment, she was content forget their friendship and play her part as simply one of his Knights.

Sensing her close up, Nozel sighed.  Why did it always have to be like this between them?  Why, after all they had been through.  After years of turbulent friendship and training together.  After Teris had finally accepted him and, for a time, had acted as his proper Intended, were they back to this?  Because you kissed her when father was sick, he thought.  Because, despite her being meant for you, she chooses to be with Yami.  His hand clenched.

Teris began tapping her first two fingers on her thumb as if impatiently counting the seconds that passed.

Nozel’s eyes narrowed.  Did she plan on always being so difficult?  He hoped not.  For both their sake's  He wouldn’t stand for it.  If she continued this way after they were wed he would be forced to become harsh with her.  Even if it upset or scared her.  He refused to allow his wife, no matter how beloved, to treat him in such a manner.

He found himself thinking petty thoughts such as not telling her what their orders were and simply commanding her to follow and obey when and where required.  Nozel pressed his teeth together.  You need to be better than this, he told himself.  Acting or not, you’re a Magic Knights Captain.  You’re her Captain.  Either order her to be nicer or get over it.  Sure, he thought.  Order her to be nicer. What kind of Captain, let alone man, would do such a thing?

“Our orders were fully detailed out this morning.”  He told, sitting behind the desk.

Teris perked at that.  “That’s what the meeting was about?”

“Mostly.”

“Can you tell me what we’ll be doing?”  She asked, unsure how this new dynamic between them worked.  Having been under Jax for so long and knowing him as nothing more than her Captain, she would have asked him outright and let Jax tell her if he could answer or not.  But she wasn’t sure what kind of Captain Nozel was.  He probably didn’t even know himself yet.

Nozel sat forward.  “We’ll be following along the Diamond and Spade Kingdoms border deep into the Diamond Kingdoms territory.”

Teris’ eyes widened at that.  “How many?”

“Including us, two other teams of about the same size, if not smaller.”  Nozel said, not telling her that her Captain was heading one of the teams. “While were doing that, there will be two main groups entering the Diamond Kingdom from the southeast and southwest.  One lead by Commander Greywright, the other Julius.  Their goal is to engage the Magic Warriors, distracting them from our presence and agenda.”

“What is our agenda?”  Teris questioned.

“To reach the Diamond Kingdoms capital and threaten King Morris’ seat of power.”

“He’ll likely be out fighting and overseeing his Warriors.”  Teris said, not understanding.

“I didn’t say to threaten Morris himself.”

“And what does a Warrior King care about a place?”  Teris asked, thinking that even if they got to the capital they wouldn’t be able to take and hold it with a single team of Magic Knights.

Nozel patiently explained, having had the same thoughts when told, though he had never spoken up and voiced them.  “Sir Jorah believes all we need to do to satisfy King Agustus is get some sort of apology for the Battle at the Border and sufficiently embarrass Morris, without overly doing so to the point that Morris himself will seek revenge.  The Wizard King thinks that the reason Morris has behaved the way he has is because he wants a fight.  That Morris likes to do this sort of thing every now and again.  That he feels it tests his Magic Warriors and keeps them sharp.  The Wizard King believes that if our forces to the south can give him and his Magic Warriors a good fight, and we can make it to the capital, we’ll have proven ourselves a foe on the same level as him and it’ll be enough for Morris to agree to peace and give some sort of apology to His Majesty.”

“So all we have to do is make it to the capital while the rest give a good fight and try to stay alive?  It sounds like some sort of horrible Squad Challenge.”  Teris commented with distaste.

Thinking the same, Nozel said.  “If that’s all it takes to end this and return to peace then I’ll happily play and win this challenge.”

“That’s why you agreed to take Zara.”  Teris said, realizing.

“What’s that?”  Nozel asked, feeling caught and guilty when he had no reason to be.

“You said the details were decided this morning.  But you already knew we would be headed north into the Diamond Kingdom last night.  Didn’t you?  That’s why you took Zara when you so graciously asked for my input yesterday.”

“Sarcasm doesn’t suit you.”  Nozel remarked, dryly.  “And yes.  I did know we were headed into the Diamond Kingdom and decided to take Zara for the sole purpose of his knowledge.  That’s what Captain's do. Take people based on their knowledge, strength, experience, and capabilities.  I’m not going to apologize for doing what’s best for my team.”

Teris couldn’t argue with him there.  If she hadn’t known of Zara’s background, she probably wouldn’t have put him forward as an option.

“If you’re done trying to find ways to be cross with me, can we continue with a civilized discussion about how we might best go about our mission?”  Nozel questioned.

Teris glared.

Nozel stared back, waiting.

She suppose she deserved that.  It’s wasn’t as if Nozel had asked for any of this.  If fact before she had learned he had chosen her for his squad, she had been sympathetic and worried about him.

“Sorry.” Teris apologized.  “I don’t mean to make things more difficult than they already are.”

“Don’t worry about it.”  Nozel forgave all too easily, unable to stay mad at her.  “Just...  Work with me, okay.  We make a great team.  Have done so many times in the past.  We can conquer anything so long as we work together.”

“That’s a pep talk you should save for everyone.”  Teris said, trying not the think that he had been referring to just the two of them.

Nozel gave a small sigh.  Of course she wasn’t ready to accept that they alone could be a force greater than her and Yami.  She was still in denial about their inevitable future together.  He smiled sadly, thinking how much more difficult Teris was making it for herself by going down this stubborn line.  “You’re right.  The others should be made aware of my faith in them.”

67.3

“You realize I don’t care one lick about that She Lion that way anymore, right?”  Bronn said.

Jax eyed his Vice Captain wryly.  “I would hope not.  What with you set to marry Gilly and all.”

“Then why send me to the Lioness?  Why can’t I go north and serve you?” Bronn demanded.

“You will be severing me.  You’ll just be following her orders while you do so.”  Jax said.

Bronn made a face.  “I don’t like it, Captain.”

“I didn’t ask if you liked it.  I just need you to do it.”  Jax said.

“Why?” Bronn questioned, again.

Jax sighed, becoming annoyed.  “I already told you.  I need you to watch after Yami in case Nathyn Silva sends another gang of hired assassins after him.  Or worse, those lunatic zealots make a move.”

Bronn crossed his arms stubbornly and shrugged.  “I don’t see how any of that is more dangerous than the battles he’ll be fighting against the Magic Warriors.”

“I didn’t say it would be more dangerous.”  Jax gritted.  “But it’s one thing to fight a single enemy while in their territory. And a completely different thing to be faced with more than one group of adversaries that want at you.  I think even you would want someone you trusted watching your back.”

The Vice Captain scratched the back of his head and squinted.  “Yeah. But the thing is, Captain.  The little shit doesn’t trust me.  And I don’t trust him much either.”

“Quit being difficult!”  Jax snapped.  “You’re going.  And don’t go taking your anger out on him or Leona.  You hear me!”

Bronn scowled thinking Mereoleona would kill him if he tried.  “No promises there, Captain.”

“Get out.”  Jax ordered.  “I told her I’d send you and Yami over first thing.”

Bronn got to his feet and made for the door.  “If this is your way of making my leaving for retirement easier, it’s working!”  He slammed door behind him.

Bronn muttered to himself as he stormed down the hall.  He realized Yami was still upstairs asleep.  And a wicked grin crept onto his lips.

It was one of the first pranks he had ever done and it worked so well he had become famous for it during his younger days.  That was until some idiot had woken and sat up at the wrong moment and the speeding bucket broke over their head knocking them out, leaving them severely concussed.  The Captain of the Black Bulls back then had put an end to the prank wars after that.  The then Vice Captain doing something worse to Bronn than beating him to a pulp.  Bronn’s hands had been raw and sore for an entire week after the discipline, making it nearly impossible to use them, for magic or anything else.

In the kitchens he filled a bucket with water then sent it through portal after portal high enough in the sky to become a slurry of ice. Making his way upstairs, he opened up a portal just on the other side of Yami’s bedroom door, barely large enough for his head to fit through.  The damn Lord of Destruction had a way of sensing him that left him gripping air instead of neck, or swiping nothing instead of smacking Yami’s head.  He wasn’t taking any chances this time.

Opening a portal above the center of Yami’s bed, he saw the bucket fall. If broke open with a crack upon impact.  Bronn winced knowing that it had to have hurt.

A sound between a cry and roar echoed throughout the house.  Yami lept out of bed barely feeling the pain in the rush of adrenaline. Grabbing the hilt of his katana that hung from the one of the headboards post, he cloaked it in darkness and spun, prepared to take out his attacker.

Yami and Bronn’s eyes met.  Bronn quickly pulled his head back and closed the portal.

“I wouldn’t.”  Bronn said, sensing Yami tense to strike despite having seen who it was.  He waited, ready to transport the slash of darkness somewhere else if Yami didn’t listen.  “I see you’re already packed to head out tomorrow.  You and I are leaving the base today.  Get dress and meet me downstairs.  We’re not coming back till this mess is put to rest.”

67.4

Quince exited the Crimson Lions base to find Bronn and Yami climbing the stairs to its entrance.

“You.” Quince pointed at the other Vice Captain.

Yami angled his steps to the side, distancing himself from Bronn, as he continued to climb.

Sighing under his breath, Bronn came to a halt.  “Here we go.”

Quince grabbed Bronn by the shirt collar.  “If anything happens to Captain Mereoleona while you’re under her command, you better die or kill yourself.  I guarantee you, it’ll be less painful than what’ll be waiting for you if you return.”

Bronn gave the man a knowing grin.  “Secretly love the Lioness, huh, Quince?”

Not the type of man to strike out with a fist, Quince gave Bronn a shake.

Bronn tisked, as if disappointed.  “You can’t even hit me.  How then are you suppose to make me sorry?  Hmm?”

“Quince!” Mereoleona hollered from the door.  “Do I have to beat that order into you?”

“No, Sir!”  Quince answered, smartly.

“Then let the idiot go and get to the Black Bulls base.”  Mereoleona commanded.

Quince released Bronn with a shove.  Bronn smirked, standing still as the Crimson Lions Vice Captain made his way around him and down the stairs.

Climbing the remaining stairs two at a time, Bronn tilted his head back to Quince and told Mereoleona.  “He should thank you for saving his too pretty face.”

“Inside.” Mereoleona commanded Yami.  She hopped down to the next landing, meeting and pointing at Bronn.  “You.  You cause any trouble.  Act too much like yourself.  Dare to even think about disobeying me.  And I’ll do the enemy a favor and kill you myself.”

Bronn smirked, playfully.  “Now how am I suppose to be anyone but myself, Captain?  Don’t think I could if I tried.”

“You better figure out a way quick.”  Mereoleona said.

“Come now, Leona.  You’re making me feel unwanted.”  Bronn said, naturally falling into his old style of flirting with her.  He didn’t mean anything by it.  He just didn’t know how to speak to her any other way.

“You are unwanted.”  Mereoleona told.  “I understood Jax’s reasons for asking me to take Yami and agreed.  But you...  I never and still don’t want you.  You’re here to look after Yami and make sure no one gets to him.  That’s all.”

“But I could be useful in so many other ways.”  Bronn grinned.

Yami stopped just before the front door.  “If that’s why he’s here you can send him back.  I don’t need Bronn or anyone else looking after me.”

Bronn’s eyes flicked to Yami.  “Shut it, brat.  The adults are talking.”

Yami stepped down from the top landing and told Mereoleona.  “He’s more likely to help anyone wanting to kill me than have my back.”

“I’ll kill right now if you don’t quit squawking and get inside that house.”  Bronn growled.

“See what I mean.”  Yami told Mereoleona.

“I’m inclined to agree with Bronn on this one.”  Mereoleona pointed passed Yami to the front doors.  “A woman doesn’t repeat herself.”

Yami scowled at the both of them before turning away and heading inside.

“He’s a difficult little shit.”  Bronn said of Yami.

“And I’m stuck with what may as well be his older brother.” Mereoleona grumbled.

“What! We’re nothing!  And I mean nothing a like!  I can barely even stand the sight of little twit.  Would’ve killed him long ago if it wasn’t for Jax.  Squeezed the little Lord of Destruction’s neck so hard his head popped clean off.  Oh, the ways I’ve dreamt of killing that brat.”  Bronn sighed, thinking over them fondly.

Mereoleona couldn’t help but smirk.  “Given it a lot of thought have you?”

“Almost as much as I think about sex.”  Bronn admitted.  “You know they’re both forms of release, different as they might be. Violence and sex.  It’s why you’re always so angry and violent. Not enough sex to balance it out.”

Mereoleona hit him with a fiery fist.  Bronn fell back on his ass.  He shook sense back into his head and blinked away the pain.

Turning away, Mereoleona ordered.  “Pull yourself together and follow me to the training yard.  I have to know what all these new people under me are capable of.”

Bronn looked up at her.  “All these new people?  Isn’t it just me and the Lord of Destruction?”

Mereoleona huffed.  “If only.  With the way things are happening.  I doubt there’s a single squad that isn’t loosing half it’s members to someone else.”

67.5

Ellara stormed the halls of Magic Investigations in a fury.  Curse King Kira Clover and his weak, wounded pride.  If she could have gotten to him she would have made the fools brain explode.  To hell with her cover and the certain death that would’ve quickly befallen her.  Yami and Teris were being sent off to war.  All her and the Agents of Chaos’ hopes for a new, better existence were going to war and there wasn’t a thing she could do to stop it.

Worse yet, Yami and Teris were being separated.  The wars announcement and Jorah’s allowance of their separation coming too quickly for her to effect the Wizard King to her will.  Yami and Teris would soon be leaving for the Diamond Kingdom.  And the Magic Warriors of that land would meet them in battle and threaten their lives far sooner than her letter would arrive informing her husband and Master of this misfortune.

She wondered what Alowishus would do.  What he could do?  In the letter she had put down who Yami and Teris had been assigned to.  The general area Yami would be stationed in.  And likely path Teris would be taking to the capital.  She wondered if Alowishus would simply send Agents to follow and watch over them, assuring Yami and Teris’ safety.  Or if he would order Yami and Teris be taken into a form of protective custody until the war was over.

In any case, it was out of her hands.  She had done all she could.  It was up to Alowishus and the Agents of Chaos to do the rest.  To see that their hope and dreams for the future didn’t end in some needless war, on some unknown battlefield.

Thank you to those who have left hearts.  And a special THANK YOU to those who have recently left comments or re-blogged. They really mean a lot.

Next chapter snippet:

Nozel looked over the top map and across the camp at Teris.  He found Teris looking at him and almost looked back down, but forced himself to hold her gaze.  Teris’ shoulders tightened.  But she gave in and lowered her eyes.  Jax was right.  If she didn’t get a handle on this it was goes to spell trouble and possibly cost one or more of them their lives.  She ground the heel of her boot into the earth more angry at herself than anyone else.

[hollenka99]

Okay, here it is. I started writing this on the 1st or 2nd but a bunch of stuff happened that delayed me finishing. Basically, I saw all the #2019 kingdom stuff on @beerecordings‘ blog and it sounded like people had fun that night. I was unfortunately unable to really join in because it was after 11pm for me when it got going. However, I did send a picture of my cockapoo Honey as a sort of ‘peace offering from the future’. And when I woke the next morning to discover the Queen was dead and Tardus was about to vanish, So I realised I had to race to pick her up before I lost her for the rest of 2020. And then this fic somehow came out of that. Look, idk, don’t ask me. All I know is that writing in my dog’s POV is so funny to do and maybe I should write more stuff from odd Points of View this year.

Anyway, here’s Honey doing her own thing while visiting royalty.

Honey hated this. This was far too much. The threatening noise, the bursts of colour she could sense in the sky, just everything about tonight. Holly talking nonsense at her wasn't really helping the situation either, if she was going to be honest. She would admit she had been warned but now was not the time to debate whether she should have listened. "Are you going to behave yourself? You're going to Tardus for uh, diplomatic reasons." Another intrusive noise boomed. She gristles in retaliation. The movement of Holly's hand on her back increases. "Shh, shh. It's okay, baby. Just some fireworks. There shouldn't be any of them in Tardus." "Is she ready to go?" An unfamiliar human asks upon appearing in her peripheral. "Just a second. Honey. Hey, look at me for a minute." The clicking of a tongue captures her attention. "Hi. Listen, you need to be on your best behaviour. You'll be a guest there, after all. I'm guessing there's gonna be a bunch of people walking around the castle so don't get underneath anyone's feet. And no jumping on beds, sofas or whatever. You can get away with it here because we give you permission. But, over there, you won't have explicit permission. So don't go jumping onto anything you're not supposed to. Comprende?" Another explosion. Strokes are accompanied by a sigh. "I'm sure you'll be fine. I'll come for you when it's morning there, okay?" She doesn't recognise the smell of the person who takes her from Holly. Nor are the scents in Tardus particularly familiar once they arrive. The journey across the world had been stressful. Like pretty much everything in the past several hours. The eyes of a human dressed in extravagant regalia light up at the sight of her. This must be Bee, the queen Holly had spoken of. "A gift from Holly of Medwich, ma'am. To help with the celebrations." "Oh, hello there." Hands interrupt Honey's inspection. Okay, she enjoyed strokes and scratches as much as the next dog but there was a process to this. Oh wait, no, this human has got their hands underneath her ears, making them flop slightly from the motion of scratching the back of her head. Honey takes this opportunity gets a good whiff. Alright, this Bee smelled trustworthy. She leans in when a hand cups her face. Now for the true test of faith. She is in the perfect position to flop. "Oh! Careful there. What would Holly think if you hit your head on the floor?" The queen giggles. Probably roll her eyes then give her a cuddle, Honey thinks. Her belly is seconds away from being rubbed when a servant has the audacity to interrupt. "Your majesty, there are urgent matters that require your attention concerning tonight." "Well, you heard him. I'll be back later, okay? This is a big place so if you wander off, it would be easy to get lost. Be careful. I know Holly wouldn't want you get hurt or go missing. Actually, can we get someone to keep an eye on her while I'm gone?" "Of course, ma'am." The messenger nods and departs. Unsupervised, Honey immediately sets off to explore the various surrounding halls. She enters a chamber. There, situated on a table, partially hanging off the edge, were papers. She pays them no notice as her tail absentmindedly thumps against the wood. It is only as the paper falls that she becomes attentive to them. They suffer the fate of being ripped without a moment's hesitation. Shreds of varying sizes are the end result. Bee's ever trustworthy advisor discovered the scene. "What did you do?! Those were my-" The person scrabbles at the pieces of parchment. "Wait, these were the... important notes I thought I hid before heading out." Their body jerks, slightly and silently, in a way she thinks is related to happiness in humans. Yes, that beahviour was a good one. She had done something positive. Fingers find themselves gently pressing behind her ear. Yeah, keep doing that but maybe go up just a fraction. "I suppose I should thank you. Won't tell if you don't." A wink is directed at her. Despite apparently doing something right by shredding paper, Honey is ushered away from the area. Oh well, there was always something else to check out, something to sniff or somewhere to laze about. And just her luck that her senses detected a hub of activity and delicious scents. A kitchen? Brilliant! A young cook spots her. "I heard about you. You're our little guest, aren't you? I don't blame you for coming straight to this part of the palace." He gives a smile reminiscent of when Holly stole one of her balls before hurling it across the living room. "You like chicken?" She knows how this goes. She is usually made to sit before being granted food. "Aren't you polite. Here you go." Something else emitted an amazing scent. So sweet. Undoubtedly tasty. If only she could have a bite. Honey follows the food all the way back to the throne room. Ah, she understands. Well, Bee was nice to her before so surely she wouldn't be heartless enough to ignore her sad eyes tactic. She lays her head on the queen's lap. Bee laughs, obscuring her face. Their eyes meet a moment later. There is a great deal of hesitation. Oh, forget her. Mummy was usually the only one who shared her dinner and sandwiches anyway. But she'll tell Holly about this injustice, don't think she won't. Wait, never mind. Tardus' sovereign is kind enough bestow her a morsel. Sugar! She is sure she's had something like this before. Sweet bun, was that what humans called it? She is given a few more pieces before the bun is gone. It doesn't matter. Honey had a new focus now. A servant arrives with chocolate pancakes. She administered her persuasive ways again but it proves unsuccessful this time. Bee uses the old excuse of 'chocolate is poisonous to dogs'. Please, at least think of something more creative. She's sick of that poison line. 'Dangerous' was another one of the same vein. Besides, that excuse was probably human propaganda so they could hoard all the chocolate for themselves. Honestly, she's been eating chocolate as a treat for years and has experienced no health problems as a result. So there. Stop lying about chocolate because it's not nice. Also please let her have some of those pancakes. There is speak of a pond creature who is leaving soon. The queen orders more chocolate pancakes to be delivered to the creature's aquatic dwelling. A pond sounded great. The beaches back home sucked during winter, always forbidding dogs like her to have fun and splash around. Maybe she could earn permission to swim for a while. Once more, Honey leaves Bee to her royal duties. The sky is dark now, an expanse of stars blanketing it. The night causes her further problems with navigating a landscape which was already unfamiliar. She swears she returns to a path she was travelling minutes earlier. No matter how long she searches for this elusive pond, her efforts bear no fruit. She should probably return inside. The explosions she thought she'd be escaping by coming here are sounding again. Yeah, she definitely needs to find someone. She'd prefer Mummy or Holly but they're far away. Okay. Perhaps if she retraced her steps... There is chaos as she nears her destination. It is too much noise and panicked hurry for her. She thinks she hears several shrieks regarding Bee's demise. Dodging people's feet is tricky with their volume in consideration. They weren't paying attention to her. Something big had obviously gone down. She lets the crowds lead her to the square where they seemed to be gathering. "Anyone wanting to leave Tardus for Medwich, over here!" Medwich? And what she swears sounds like Holly's voice? Yes! She wants to leave Tardus for Medwich! Please. The second Holly spots her, she flings herself off the back of the beast on which she had been perched. "Honey! Oh my god. It's okay. Hey, it's going to be alright. I'm here. I'm here." Holly comforts with both her words and actions. "What happened?" "The Queen's been assassinated." Someone answers. Holly goes quiet for a second. "I'd heard rumours but I was hoping they weren't true. Is it really true this place will return to the earth when the last timezone reaches their midnight?" There is a murmur of general agreement. A second person speaks. "There's about an hour or two left before Tardus falls for another year." "So come to Medwich. It was early morning when I left so it will probably be about 11 by the time we return." Her owner pats the cherry coloured dragon. "This guy's pretty fast." A third voice. "There's no point. We'll all be home before this kingdom is truly lost." "Are you sure?" Again, a consensus of assurance. "Well, in that case... Come on, Honey, let's go home." Holly rambles as they mount the dragon. "What do you think of my ride? I know what you're thinking. 'What are you doing with something that can fly when you hate heights?' But don't you think a dragon's a cooler mode of transport than a unicorn or lion? Plus, the Welsh have the best method of mythical transportation so why wouldn't I call in a favour to pick you up in style? Although, I had hoped it would be in a few hours. Sorry, I had no idea this place was a limited time deal. Whatever. Mum probably needs my help with today's belated Christmas dinner. I'll give you an extra pig in blanket as compensation. How's that sound?" "Make it two." "Yeah, I missed you too." Her owner tightens her hold as the dragon is signalled to depart. With a cry of "Happy New Year!" during launch, Tardus gradually fades into the horizon, leaving it doomed to be crumbling by the time they set foot in Medwich.

[yongboxer]

Key Limes | Zhong Chenle

⤑ genre: fluff ; bakery au

⤑ pairing: Chenle x Reader

⤑ summary: It’s the night before Chenle’s birthday, and after the bakery closes, the both of you indulge in the eatery that reminds you of the boy who radiates an odd sense of key limes.

⤑ contains: mild language, cheesy fluff that’s borderline disgusTANG

⤑ word count: 1.8k

-

It didn’t take much at all to convince your grandmother to let you stay after hours to make a dessert for Chenle at the bakery shop she’s owned since 1963. That being said, it took absolutely no convincing to ask the boy to stay after, it being the night before his birthday and he’d be having the day off tomorrow. The both of you would spend after school making wages, and you already had an idea of what to make him rather than a typical birthday cake (though there isn’t anything wrong with that. Cake’s phenomenal in itself).

“And you’re absolutely positive ten o’clock isn’t too late to go home?”

“I told you already that she’s waiting till Friday for the birthday meal,” he chuckles, hefting an enormous, ivory tub over to the back counter where you stand by a mixer, swirling the contents of a pie crust inside it before it nearly slams on the counter. “Here.”

You tap the spatula in your hand on the side of the bowl after scraping it down to look at the tub in puzzlement. “What’s that?”

“Sugar,” he says back before hopping up to sit on the ledge of the wide island behind you. His hands ruffle his curls that used to remind you of key lime pie before he returned it back to shade that resembled more of brown sugar. Chenle still wears the red apron caked with flour and dried egg whites, just in case you need a hand in what you’re concocting.

You slow down the speed of the mixer, your forehead crinkling at his reply while eyeing another ivory tub that’s to the left of you as opposed to the one he brought on the right. “But I measured that out a long time—“

The sentence comes to a sudden halt, mainly because you’re retracing your steps on what you’ve done so far to make the graham cracker crust. But judging from the long, painfully slow inhale coming from Chenle behind you, a sudden moment of oh shit came to your mind.

“Y/N, you didn’t.”

You turn around with a frantic heart to see the boy cupping his hands over his mouth and nose, shoulders racking in obvious attempt to hide the obnoxious guffaws that’d be irrupting out of him like a flock of seagulls. It’s mainly from not only feeling sorry for your effort, but also ‘cause there’s a high chance his amusement will piss you off. At least that’s his mindset.

“Dammit,” you hiss, turning the mixer off and digging a spoon into the crust batter. The utensil is then stuck in your mouth and your mouth waters with the urge to gag.

Yep. Salt.

“Dammit!” You yell out again, the spoon clattering to the floor when you nearly throw it across the kitchen. “That’s it. When are we gonna label these blessed things.” You’re not too far into making the beloved key lime pie, but it’s enough to make you frustrated that the crust is now irreversibly salty as hell.

“No, don’t get upset!” Chenle hollers out, a small snort following his protest. From behind, he grabs your upper arms and sits his chin to cradle in the dip of your neck, the breath from his giggles making you tense and the scent of floral honey making heat rise to all high points of your face.

“All of us here’s gotta do it at least twice,” he continues. “I made a whole batch of cinnamon buns like that last week, icing and everything. Served them without even tasting.”

Chenle releases his grasp after you sigh and detach the bowl from the mixer. “Still, that’s pushing us to 10:30.”

“So?” He goes back to his rightful place on the counter, kicking his sick feet back and forth, the bottoms more than likely filthy from the crumbs and grime that needed to be swept after a day of baking goods. “It’s my. . .well, almost my birthday, and I don’t care.”

You snort, dumping the graham mixture pitifully into the large trash can in the corner of the kitchen. “Wasted just like that. I swear.” Utter disappointment, that’s all you feel. The lumps of terracotta plop into the garbage, and from behind you, the sound of clattering and the rolling pin thumping against the counter has you casting a glance over your shoulder.

Chenle’s sleeves are pushed up as his eyebrows form a straight line, beating the graham crackers into nothing but crumbs to dump into a new bowl as opposed to the one you hold in your hands. He makes sure to taste the sugar by dipping a spoon in it, clicking his brows up at you while you’re tempted to flip him the bird.

But dammit, it’s the embodiment of a freakin’ key lime that keeps you from doing it. Just slap out adorable, and though his locks were dyed back to brunet, he still reminded you of the tiny fruit. Sure, it’s odd, but so is Chenle.

This leads the both of you to finish up the key lime pie. In total, it takes about an hour and half, making the two of you run down to the corner store and pick up two bottles of milk and a cream soda that he’s craving. So, with elbows on the table and two forks digging into the glass pie dish, you relish the time spent together alone with Chenle, him telling you stories of past birthdays he’s had and about friends that used to go to his old school. Before the two of you dig into the dessert, you placed a single candle that with teamwork you were able to find in the utensil drawer of the bakery’s kitchen.

“You make me forget I even miss them sometimes, Y/N,” he admits with a mouthful of pie. He swallows before shaking his hand in a waving fashion while back and then backtracking immediately. “Wait wait wait wait, that sounded butthole-ish.”

He doesn’t have to go on in order for you to get his point, but you lick at a dollop or whip cream that’s on your fork so he can continue for his sake. Still, you have to bite back a smile.

“What I meant was that when I do miss them, you at least don’t make me feel lonely like I used to,” Chenle shrugs. “. . .yeah, like that.” He tips back the cream soda bottle hugged in his hand and muffles a belch in the sleeve of his jacket from when you two made the venture outside. The pie’s about three-quarters of the way gone, and you tear off some tinfoil to cover over the top of it so he can take it home.

Yes, you should be grossed out, but the light flush in his cheeks and how he tugs on his beige beret you just find everything so. . .

Cute. Just cute, and it’s unnerving as ever.

You and Chenle had already cleaned up the mess the both of you made before sharing the pie, and the boy had pestered you to let him walk to you home, despite your neighborhoods being on opposite ends of the street.

“Listen, I’m sure you’re fully capable of being the badass I know you are, but let me be a gentlemen, just once?” His voice raises at the end of the sentence. You turn on your heel after making sure the door is locked to the bakery to see him holding his beloved key lime pie leftovers and rocking back and forth on his feet.

Of course you don’t mind him taking the bus and walking down the sidewalks to follow you home, but you can’t let your collected façade down. It’s what leads you to give into his begging (if you can even call it that).

After all, Chenle didn’t feel the same way as you.

Your fingers toy with your keys, keeping your hands busy when the two of you step off the bus and under the stray street lights that led the path into your housing development, your home just near the entrance until you’re just outside the front door. It’s typical November atmosphere, a chill in the air but comfortable enough to walk at an easy pace before you turn to tell Chenle a final happy birthday (considering you’re not sure whether you’d see him the next day. Depends on what his family planned). Just planning ahead, you never know.

“Not gonna lie, a birthday pie and some quiet time was pretty nice,” it’s visible that he’s swinging his hands back and forth in the from pockets of his jacket just at his tummy. “Didn’t think you cared about me enough to do something like that to celebrate.”

“That’s sour,” you pout, amused when Chenle’s little smile falters until you bring a grin of your own to your face. “You’ve thought about that before?”

“I mean,” he stammers, pausing from any verbal diarrhea and tilting his chin down with a huff of a giggle. “Just—Thanks, I guess. Sorry.”

You just give a small nod, Chenle’s delightful quirky vibes lighting a spark that it you only feel when he’s doing his. . . Chenle thing.

But your admiration is short lived when you feel the pie dish squish between the two of you, the boy in front of you’s hand diving to catch the tip of your chin in the grip of his fingertips and pulling you forward to interlock your lips so swift you feel the need to step back and make sure it’s actually happening.

You don’t, instead your eyelids fall shut while your hands find their way to tenderly rest on where his collarbone is hidden behind his coat and taking in the same aroma of buttercups and honey wafting from his clothes and skin. His lips are dry from the incoming winter weather, but still delicate like fragile sugar paper that’s used on various cakes in the shop.

This kiss holds out for several seconds, Chenle carefully tilting your chin up so your head dips back and he can take in the moment as much as possible before he has pull away and face whatever your reaction could be.

And honestly? The poor boy expects the worst.

He suddenly releases your embrace, eyes half-lidded and scanning over your countenanced before stuttering out a quiet, “S-shit.”

Chenle stumbles back, mouth now pried open while your jerk a hand up to your lips and ghost over them with the finger tips of your three fingers. Your tongue peaks out for a moment to bring back the taste of his cream soda and a smile is spilling out from them fact that it wasn’t you to initiate the urgent kiss, but Chenle.

“Good night—“

“Hey!” You grab ahold of his sleeve and even Chenle is shocked he’s still holding the leftover key lime pie.

Both of your arms are linked and stretched out awkwardly before you drop his wrist, letting out a shaky giggle that has Chenle softening at both the sight and sound, your reaction bringing a sense of comfort to his onset of panic.

“This,” you finally manage to get a steady word out. “. . . Is this something you’ve thought about before?”

Chenle looks down at the dessert, his grip crinkling the tinfoil that cuts sharply through the chill air. A precious half-smile grows to his cheeks that remind you of ivory mochi, telling himself to grow a pair and look you in the eye before answering.

“You have no idea.”

[ellanainthetardis]

The temperature increases today! Let me know your thoughts!

[ff] or [ao3]

Chapter 5 : Escapism

Two weeks later Haymitch had proved his point that a circus ran far more easily when there was a foreman and a crew to handle the manual labor, but it still hadn’t been enough to win the troupe to his side. The show was slowly getting better but the others were changing things at a snail pace. The only one truly willing was Trinket – in the spirit of encouraging the others to do the same, he figured – but aside for insisting she used a safety net until Chaff had had an opportunity to replace the busted ropes, there wasn’t a lot he could say about her and Finnick’s act. It was good, it didn’t need changing.

He was starting to settle in though and the others were starting to include him, which was good.

Now if only the weather would cooperate… It wasn’t that fun living on the road when winter was this harsh.

The knocking on his door distracted him from those considerations and he stopped glaring at the portable heater in the corner of the trailer to call out for his visitor to come in.

Trinket stepped inside with obvious relief, shivering despite the fur coat that she shed almost as soon as she had closed the door behind her. She was wearing a blue dress that day with a matching scarf holding her puffy curls away from her face. She always looked classy even when it wasn’t show time, no matter that the rest of them preferred to run around in comfortable clothes.

“Rue said you needed me?” she asked.

Her eyes roamed around by reflex even though she had been in his trailer once or twice by that point so she knew what she would find: a mess that had her wrinkling her nose in distaste. Clothes were tossed around, the props that hadn’t been crammed in one of the storage trucks were stuck in a pile and the bed was unmade. Her gaze lingered on the couple of liquor bottles but she didn’t comment. It was for the best because… He had been trying to ease off the stuff a little and he was grumpy about it.

“Yeah.” he confirmed, glad that the kid was fast at running errands. He was still contemplating the assortment of chains and handcuffs spread on the bed. “I need you to tie me up.”

He couldn’t keep on pulling rabbits out of his hat. He needed to go back to daring acts or he would get bored before long and being bored meant more drinking. He had always been good at escapology and had the vague idea of making a whole spectacular act out of it. Assuming he could convince Trinket to spare the money for a human sized fish tank and that she would be willing to trap him into one…

“Do I get to gag you too?” she joked, getting to work without protest.

He was so shocked by that comment that he barely realized she had put the handcuffs on before his arms were secured at the small of his back.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected the flirting. Flirting was all they were doing when they weren’t fighting – and sometimes even the arguments themselves felt like an odd sort of seduction act. But that was taking it a little further than simply commenting on the shape of each other’s body or hinting at stuff… This was… Really not what he had thought she would say.

A girl like her… A girl who came from where he suspected she came from – money, privilege – you didn’t expect that girl to know about that kind of things. You barely expected her to know about sex at all because it wasn’t proper and shit. Sex, to people from her background, was still something linked with marriage and…

Maybe she hadn’t said it like that. Maybe it was his mind, a little too feverish when she was concerned, that was taking leaps. Still…

He let out a low whistle. “And there I thought you were a proper lady…”

He was careful to sound teasing, a little vague just in case she really didn’t know what she was implying. She still might have taken it as an insult but she laughed it off instead.

“Your mistake, then.” she hummed, wrapping the chain around him without much efficiency. She secured the padlock and considered her work with amusement. “I find tied up men are much more likely to comply with my demands.”

He turned around to face her with lifted eyebrows. “Don’t need to tie me up, sweetheart… I’d be more than happy to let you play around…”

Her lips twitched. Her blue eyes were sparkling with amusement but watching him carefully, considering maybe.

“Somehow, I have the feeling you are more fond of giving orders rather than taking them.” she replied.

He took a few steps toward her, backing her against the wall of the trailer. She went willingly enough though. She was still looking amused when he pinned her between him and the hard surface.

“Is that a bad thing?” he challenged.

“Not necessarily.” she replied in the same tone. “Although you are the one currently tied up so…”

“Am I?” he smirked.

Did she see it coming? A flick of his elbow was all it took for the chains to fall. He didn’t give her time to react. He had the handcuffs around her wrists in a flash and her arms stretched over her head in shorter time than that. She gasped in surprise but not in fear and he leaned a little closer, his smirk deepening when he felt her heart racing up against his chest. He placed his free hand on her waist, running his thumb up and down the thick fabric of her dress… Could she feel it? He wasn’t sure.

“You play with fire, you’re gonna get burned, Princess.” he said.  

“Is that so?” she hummed, arching her back a little, pushing her breasts toward him. His fingers were clenching around the chain holding her wrists together.

“Don’t be reckless…” he warned because somehow… It wasn’t how he had expected this to happen. He wanted it. There was no doubt. And she wanted it too, that too he knew for certain. There were signs and the tension between them for the last two weeks had been thick enough to slice with a knife. But she was…

Classy.

And her propositioning him in his trailer wasn’t how he had seen that going. He had thought she would make him work for it, make him chase her a little longer before surrendering… He hadn’t thought she was the kind of girl who gave in that easily. Not that he wasn’t happy for it or that he judged her but… He hadn’t expected that.

She kept on surprising him, that girl.

“I dance on a tightrope for a living.” she reminded him. “Don’t you think I am a little reckless?”

“Point taken.” he snorted, letting his hand wander up her waist to her breast, hesitantly stroking the swell of it over her dress. Her breath caught and she licked her lips. He pressed his hips hard against hers, leaving no room for doubt as to what he wanted. She pressed back.

He almost fell into her.

He brushed his mouth against hers, grasping her breast a little more firmly… It was on the small side but it fitted so well in his palm… She gasped again and he smirked because he could tell she would be vocal and… That turned him on.

“Guess we need to get it out of our system anyway, yeah?” he mumbled distractedly, searching her mouth.

She drew back a little. “Out of our system?”

“Once should do the trick…” he shrugged, dropping a kiss on her jaw. “Then maybe we’re gonna be able to talk without jumping at each other’s throat…”

“Once?” she repeated and her tone was icy enough that he frowned and stopped retracing the line of her jaw with his lips to look at her. She was frowning and that wasn’t good. “You do not want this… You do not want me…”

“Sweetheart, I very much want you…” he scoffed, jutting his hips forward to prove his point.

She didn’t gasp or press back this time though and he took his hand off her breast to place it back on her waist, not really enjoying how unresponsive she had become.

“But only once.” she huffed.

“Ah.” He winced, finally getting what the problem was. He stepped back, giving her back her space. “I ain’t interested in a relationship. Sex is… Sex is alright but…”

“Of course, sex is alright.” she deadpanned with enough sarcasm to chill the whole room, letting her bound hands fall in front of her. “My apologies, I clearly misread the situation and you clearly mistook me for what I am not.”

“Hey, you’re the one who waltzed in all knowledgeable about gagging and shit…” he retorted and then winced again. “Look, I’m sorry… For what it’s worth, I never thought you were…”

“A slut?” she finished when he let his sentence trail off. “No, you simply thought I was the kind of woman who slept around for fun apparently. And why? Because I am an unmarried woman running a circus by myself? I thought you were different.” She pursed her lips. “I think it is far better for the good of the troupe if we forget this even happened. Let’s remain friends.”

Haymitch had a bad taste in his mouth. He felt guilty and for no good reason of his own. He hadn’t promised her anything. He hadn’t courted her or some shit… He hadn’t even really initiated this. She…

“Let me get those off you…” he awkwardly mumbled, nodding to the handcuffs still encircling her wrists.

“No need.” she snapped and, in clicking sounds that seemed almost deafening, the handcuffs slipped off her wrists and onto the floor. He must have gaped a little because when he looked back up at her, she looked both smug and irritated all at once. “You are not the only one who is gifted at escaping, Haymitch.” The fact that she could have gotten out of the shackles at any moment somehow made him feel even worse. “I trust you not to blab about this around the others.”

“Course not.” he scowled. “Ain’t that kind of asshole…”

She snatched her coat and slipped it on with jerky angry moves. He watched her toss her hair over the collar with an impatient flick of her arm. He tried to catch her eyes but she wouldn’t look at him. He thought they were shiny and, more than anything, that made him want to reach out, to salvage this.

He didn’t dare try to touch her again.

“Effie…” he whispered and she froze for a second. It was the first time he had used her name, he realized.

“Let’s stay friends.” she insisted. And then she was gone.

The door swung shut quietly behind her and he would have preferred for her to have slammed it.

[sophcaro]

Destiny | WMatsui - Chapter 35

Three months later.

Rena followed attentively the weather forecast on the television while she finished packing, unsettled when the TV presenter reaffirmed the possibility of snow in Tokyo. Even though the probability remained low, Rena certainly didn’t want to give it any chance. Taking out a wool sweater from the drawer, she placed it into her suitcase, then lowered her gaze to the pair of Nike sneakers she had originally planned to wear for her weekend.

As the recent weather, snow warning replayed in her head, her better judgement ended up winning the upper hand. Kneeling down in front of the cupboard, she grabbed the pair of sneakers and put it back on the shoe rack quite reluctantly, opting instead for a pair of long, black winter boots. Once her decision was made, she straightened up and took one last glance at her opened suitcase, mentally making sure she hadn’t forgotten anything, then went over the content of her backpack.

When she discovered two important items missing, she blemished.

Wait, where are the tickets?

Rena looked around the bedroom in alert, searching the shelves for any sign of the missing tickets, before walking towards her desk and frenetically going through the pile of papers laying there, while retracing in her head the last time she had seen the tickets. When her fingers finally encountered the precious sesame trickily hidden between two magazines, relief brought a smile to her lips.

Jump Festa, 18-19 December 2020.

2 entries.

Admonishing herself for having misplaced the tickets in the first place, Rena didn’t waste any more time to retrace her steps back to her backpack and carefully secured the pair of entry tickets in the front pocket, along with her Shinkansen train ticket for Tokyo and hotel reservation for two nights. Once Rena was reassured she was fully prepared, she took a brief peek at her watch in curiosity, taking in that it was past 3 p.m. Airi should be arriving at any minute now.

As Rena closed her suitcase and reflected upon the upcoming, anticipated annual manga and anime exposition, she already found herself pretty impatient to be attending it, even more with her dear best friend. Lately, they had been both so occupied with work and life circumstances, they unfortunately hadn’t been able to meet as often as she would have wished. That’s why, when Airi had called one evening and proposed to go to the event, Rena had been more than pleased to accept, grateful that her own, busy schedule enabled her to free herself for the weekend.

When Rena heard the doorbell ringing, she snapped out of her thoughts and raised her gaze, her feet leading her outside the bedroom as she moved towards the front door. As she opened and saw her best friend standing on the other side with her suitcase, Rena’s face spread into a smile of pleasure.

“Hi Airin,” Rena said, opening the door wider and stepping aside to let her in. “You’re right on time.”

“Hi,” Airi returned the greeting and followed her inside, until unease crossed her features. “Reassure me, you have the entry tickets, right? On the way here, I realized I didn’t have them with me, and I got worried I had left them at home.”

“I do, they are in my backpack. And I have our hotel reservation too.”

“Oh good,” Airi exhaled a long sigh of relief. “For a minute, I was truly afraid I had forgotten them at home.”

“I’m the one who bought them, remember?” Rena replied, frowning in perplexity at her friend’s strange edginess. “What’s happening? You seem disturbed.”

“It’s the weather,” Airi winced in displeasure. “When they announced a few days ago that it might snow at the end of the week, I was afraid our train would get cancelled.”

“It certainly doesn’t look like it will snow today,” Rena said doubtfully, entering the bedroom and pulling her small, red suitcase towards the entrance. “And frankly, I’m not even sure it will snow at all. Let’s not forget we haven’t seen snow in Tokyo in years.”

“Yes, you’re right,” Airi agreed willingly, before arching an eyebrow when she discovered the pair of black winter boots standing by the bedroom door. “And that’s why you’re taking a pair of boots?”

“Well, you know me. I like to be prepared just in case.” They smiled at each other knowingly.  “Anyway, let me just fetch my backpack, and we can leave.”

“Sure,” Airi bit her lip to stifle a grin and watched as the other girl disappeared in the bedroom, checking her phone distractedly while waiting for Rena’s return. As she was about to put her phone away in her backpack, her whole body tensed as she rummaged through it and realized her phone charger was nowhere to be found. “Rena, do you still have the charger from your previous Apple? I think I forgot mine at home.”

“I see you were indeed not yourself today,” Rena, passing her head through the bedroom door, chuckled slightly. “Check the cupboard in the living room. Second drawer. It should be there with my older phone. Remind me, why don’t you have the newest Samsung? I believe I already praised its merits more than once.”

“Thanks,” Airi ignored her friend’s teasing tone and span on her heels, moving towards the living room. When she pulled the indicated drawer and stumbled upon the familiar charger, her face relaxed into a smile, until she paused when she felt the glass of a picture frame underneath her fingertips. After retrieving the charger, curiosity got the best of her and she took it out, recognition passing over her face when she saw the four girls sitting at a restaurant and smiling at the camera.

It might have already been five years since this moment was immortalized, Airi would never forget Rena’s 24th birthday.

A wave of nostalgia swept through her as she studied the picture and observed everyone’s happy faces. From Akane carelessly laying her head upon her shoulder with a silly, goofy expression, to Jurina’s large, bright smile while discreetly holding Rena’s hand underneath the table. Not only they had spent such a wonderful evening, it reminded her of the good old days when they were all comfortable around each other and would frequently hang out and spend time together the four of them.

After so many years, it could seem that those good times were long gone and only a distant memory. Yet, as Airi reflected upon what had sadly drawn the group of friends apart, she somehow refused to believe that this picture represented their last moment of happiness. Maybe it was her never-ending optimist side speaking and she was being too naïve. Nevertheless, Airi found herself hoping life would one day give them a second chance to be reunited once again.

When Airi felt a new presence behind her, she glanced over her shoulder, feeling a prickle of apprehension when she saw Rena’s eyes glued on the picture frame. “I was looking for the charger when I found this,” Airi said, handling the picture to Rena when she extended her hand. “I didn’t remember that you had this picture framed, but I understand why you did,” Airi’s last words died away when she distinguished a tinge of melancholy in her friend’s expression. “It was such a great moment. It really was.”

“I didn’t remember putting it here. Actually, it’s Jurina who insisted on having it framed,” Rena explained, much to Airi’s surprise. “For some reason, when she saw the picture the waiter had taken of the four of us at the restaurant, she loved it instantly and wouldn’t relent until I had it framed. You know Jurina: once she has set her mind on something, it’s hard to disagree with her.”

At those last words, an unexpected fond smile touched Rena’s mouth and Airi, sensing her friend’s mood improving, decided to push her luck a little, asking a question burning her lips. “Have you… gotten any news from Jurina recently?”

“No, I haven’t. And maybe I never will again.”

Airi wasn’t fooled by Rena’s deceptively composed features, hearing distinctly the pessimism and great insecurity in her friend’s voice. “Jurina was playing in a drama, wasn’t she? You know better than I do how little free time you have once you start such an important shooting, with the long work hours and all the promotion. Even more when you have the leading role. I’m sure she’ll recontact you once it’s over.”

Airi gave Rena’s shoulder a comforting light squeeze before stepping back and progressively retreating towards her backpack. While she placed the charger inside, she stole a few preoccupied glances in her friend’s direction now and then, observing the way Rena seemed lost in her own little world, unable to drag her eyes away from the picture.

After a while, Airi broke the silence. “I’m ready to go when you are.”

At last, Rena lifted her gaze. “Go ahead, I’ll be right here.”

Airi did as instructed and approached the hallway, hearing behind her the sound of footsteps moving on the floor as Rena engulfed herself in the bedroom, returning the next moment with her own backpack. As Airi waited next to the front door while Rena put her coat and boots on, she swept around the familiar apartment one last time, caught off guard yet pleasantly surprised when she noticed the picture of Rena’s 24th birthday now standing on a shelf near the living room’s television.

  “You know, you didn’t have to come with me,” Akane addressed hesitantly Jurina as they both stepped off the Shinkansen and began walking down the train platform, following the flow of passengers slowly moving towards the exit.

“Eh? What are you talking about?” Jurina glanced back at her at once, taken aback, until noticing her friend’s worry. “Okay, I might not be an otaku as you are, but I do enjoy watching animes and reading mangas from time to time. I meant it when I said I wanted to spend the weekend with you. I really did. Besides, I needed a breather.”

“And you believe a 2-day anime convention will be relaxing?” Akane’s brow furrowed in scepticism.

“Alright. Maybe not,” Jurina conceded in mild amusement. “But it doesn’t matter. These last three months, I have barely been able to talk to you or even socialise with anyone at all. I needed this,” she stated with assurance, before abruptly stopping on the train platform and shooting the other girl an apprehensive look. “Wait. You don’t mind me accompanying you, do you?”

“Of course not!” Akane retraced her steps back to her and caught Jurina’s hand, encircling her fingers with her own. “I’m also very happy to finally be able to spend time with you. I missed you too,” she gently added, glad when she saw a smile of happiness instantly falling upon Jurina’s lips. “I just wanted to warn you once again that this weekend was probably going to be the opposite of soothing and restful.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Jurina affirmed with an air of confidence, not letting go of Akane’s fingers while she tugged at her hand and resumed her walk. “Besides, if it’s truly as tiring as you’re implying, then I’ll have all the following week to recover. Sorry Churi, but I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

Akane hid a smile when she felt an unexpected, quick kiss on her cheek, easing up a little at her friend’s reassuring words. To be honest, after witnessing Jurina’s drawn features the previous evening, she feared this weekend in Tokyo would be far too exhausting for her, especially after barely finishing a strenuous, 3-month shooting. However, Jurina’s current energy, cheerfulness and enthusiasm told her that a good night sleep had already done wonders on her.

  “We’ve arrived,” Jurina said when she stepped out of the elevator with Akane at the second floor and spotted the number 22 after a short walk, pausing her blue suitcase in front of the hotel door. “It’s our room.”

Just as Jurina was about to slid the keycard inside the lock, she vaguely registered in the background the sound of the second elevator opening but didn’t pay real attention to it, until she distinguished two, distinctive feminine voices chatting together and approaching. Jurina’s hand paused in mid-air as she couldn’t help thinking that they sounded oddly familiar, meeting Akane’s small, confused expression when she turned around towards the direction of the elevators.

When Jurina saw and recognized the two girls arriving at the end of the corridor, especially the beautiful long, brown-haired girl pulling a red suitcase, her heart leaped into her chest. “R-Rena?”

The conversation abruptly ceased as the 29-year-old girl immediately averted her gaze from her travelling companion, her eyes widening when she discovered the two girls standing in the corridor. “Jurina…?” Rena’s breath caught in her throat, briefly acknowledging Akane’s presence by Jurina’s side, until locking eyes with the younger girl in incredulity. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jurina stammered, her eyes darting back and forth between Rena and a positively shocked Airi standing by her side. “I’m going to the Jump Festa with Churi,” she continued, giving Akane a quick side look, and finding her friend equally speechless by this completely unforeseen meeting. “It’s this weekend at Makuhari Messe.”

“Wait. You are? We are going too…” Rena exchanged a baffled look with Airi, before returning her attention to the younger girl in confusion. “I didn’t know you were now interested in those kinds of conventions.”

“It’s not… It’s not really the case,” Jurina admitted a little embarrassedly. “A few days ago, I finished a long shooting in Tokyo. When Churi mentioned this event she wanted to go, I figured it would be a nice change of scenery and offered to come with her.”

Rena was too surprised to do more than nod.

When a deep, prolonged silence enveloped the four girls, up to the point of becoming a little too uncomfortable for Akane’s liking, she chose to intervene. “Why don’t we get inside?” she suggested, looking back at Jurina expectantly. “It was a long travel and you still haven’t fully recuperated; I’m sure you must be feeling tired.”

“Oh, s-sure…” Jurina quickly tore her eyes away from Rena and tried her best to recollect herself.

As she vainly tried to steady the pounding of the pulse beneath her ribs, Jurina realized that the task proved more difficult than anticipated when her impossibly shaking hand couldn’t manage to slid the key card properly. Mentally cursing her omnipotence, and as she was about make a second attempt, her fingers paused at the last moment and she couldn’t help but swing around, observing the two other girls who were about to enter their room just a few doors away.

“It was really nice seeing you again,” Jurina addressed the other pair, her gaze lingering on the older Matsui when their eyes met. “I hope you’ll both have a nice weekend.”

“Thank you...” Rena replied and Jurina saw something flickering back in Rena’s small, brown eyes, an indescribable affection that sent a tremor through her. “I also hope you’ll both enjoy yourselves.”

“Why don’t we have dinner together tonight?” At once, three pairs of eyes stared back in surprise at Airi who had stayed quiet until now and suddenly spoken up. “If you’re not feeling too tired Jurina, of course.”

“A-Airin…” Rena cleared her throat nervously. “We shouldn’t impose ourselves. Maybe they already had other plans for the evening.”

“No, we didn’t,” Jurina blurted out before stopping short, realizing the words that had accidentally come out of her mouth. “I mean,” she dropped her eyes before Rena’s startled expression, tilting her head towards Akane. “We could have dinner the four of us, right?” she added almost awkwardly, searching for her friend’s approval. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“I don’t think…” Akane blinked in astonished silence, noticing Jurina’s strange, hopeful look directed at her. “If it’s fine with you then why not,” she gave a forced smile and a tense nod of consent.

“What about 7 p.m.?” Airi chimed in, before adding. “We can meet in front of the hotel then decide where to go?”

Jurina nodded in agreement to Airi’s offer and slowly returned her gaze to Rena. As her eyes clung to hers, analysing Rena’s reaction and the small, shy smile the older girl was sending her, Jurina tried to make sense of the strange excitement now filling her whole being.  

  “Did you know they would be here?”

Akane, who was placing her suitcase next to the twin bed close to the window, turned around in surprise at Jurina’s question. “I knew Airi was planning on going to this convention with Rena,” she confessed a little embarrassedly, before continuing. “But it’s a big event: I didn’t believe we would cross path, even less be staying at the same hotel.”

Akane grew concerned as she saw her young friend averting her gaze, more than obviously and legitimately destabilized by this unforeseen situation. “We don’t have to go to the restaurant with them if it makes you uncomfortable,” she added carefully, slowly taking a seat by Jurina’s side. “I can tell Airi that we are both feeling very tired and don’t feel like going out. Just say the word.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I want to go?” Jurina looked up, puzzled, shaking her head negatively. “I’m not uncomfortable. It just completely caught me off guard. I didn’t expect to see them here. To see…” she paused uncertainly, before letting out. “To see her.”

Akane let out a thoughtful sigh, somehow still profoundly convinced that this dinner was a terrible idea and nothing good could come out of it. It had taken so much time for Jurina to get over her painful heartbreak with Rena. So many months to heal and accept that the girl she loved so deeply would never be by her side anymore. Already, she found herself quite reluctant when Jurina had suggested to invite Rena to her graduation concert, fearing it would only serve to bring back bad memories.

If truth be told, Jurina’s meeting with Rena hadn’t had the negative consequences she dreaded as the concert had gone smoothly without any major incident to be deplored, yet Akane could never have foreseen the shocking discovery Jurina had made a few days following her graduation. One evening had been enough to turn Jurina’s world upside down and realize that everything she had believed during three years only turned out to be a lie.

“Are you sure it doesn’t bother you?” Akane couldn’t help but voice once again her deep concern and to a certain extent, her discomfort and reluctance to this completely unplanned dinner. “You really don’t have to force yourself if you don’t feel like it.”

“I’m not. I promise.”

Akane was unsettled by Jurina’s quick reply, yet she could tell by the determination flashing in her eyes that she truly meant every word. Nevermind how much she strongly believed Jurina was making a tremendous mistake and would regret it later, she chose not to insist and to respect her decision. Nevertheless, she wanted to offer a friend a way out, just in case something went wrong.

“If you ever change your mind or you don’t feel at ease at any moment during the dinner,” Akane said, regarding her seriously. “Don’t hesitate to tell me and we’ll leave.”

  “You shouldn’t have done that.”

Airi, who was casually playing a game on her phone, raised her gaze at Rena’s disapproving tone. “Done what?”

“Inviting them for dinner!”

Airi, putting her phone away, let out a small despondent sigh when she noted her best friend’s exasperation. Somehow, she figured this conversation would be coming at one point or another during the evening. An hour ago, when they had entered their hotel room, Rena had been abnormally quiet, not saying a single word about their unexpected meeting with Jurina and Akane or their upcoming dinner together. As they had now been waiting a couple of minutes in front of the hotel for the other pair to arrive, it appeared her best friend was finally letting out what was on her mind.

“Don’t tell me you’re not happy to see Jurina again,” Airi retorted, shaking her head in disbelief. “I won’t believe you.”

“Of course, I’m happy to see her,” Rena’s voice dropped almost to a whisper, her expression softening. “But it’s not only about me. Jurina came to Tokyo to clear her head and spend a nice weekend in Akane’s company. I don’t want to embarrass her with my presence, and that’s exactly what’s going to happen if we pursue with this silly dinner idea.”

Airi’s eyes widened, not believing what she was hearing. “Embarrass her? What are you talking about? When I suggested the idea, Jurina was the first to agree.”

“Because you forced her hand! She was too nice and polite to refuse!”

For a long moment, Airi stared at her friend in incomprehension, trying to understand what on earth could be going on Rena’s mind for her to be so far from the truth. She couldn’t seriously have misinterpreted Jurina’s swift approval as a simple act of kindness. Surely, Rena couldn’t be that blind. Or could she? That’s when it hit her and Rena’s small desperate look made complete sense. “I know you want to avoid hurting Jurina again. But I think it’s time you finally tell her the truth about how you feel.”

“What are you sa-”

“I noticed the way Jurina was looking at you earlier on,” Airi quickly continued when Rena tried to interrupt her. “I won’t pretend that I know what’s going on inside her head, because I obviously don’t. But you would have to be incredibly blind to not see what’s happening in front of your nose, and that she still has affection for you. That’s why I believe she deserves to learn the truth from you. She deserves to know that your heart never belonged to another all this time.”

They fell into silence and Airi watched her friend in expectation, almost seeing the gears turning within Rena’s head as her mouth opened a couple of times as if she wanted to speak, yet the words seemingly refused to come out. As the minutes went by, and Airi ended up believing her best friend would not speak up on the subject, a fragile whisper escaped Rena’s lips. “What makes you think she wants me back in her life? I’m not even sure I deserve her forgiveness after the terrible suffering I caused her.”

Airi’s heart ached under her breast, wishing she would one day stopped hearing such despair and hopelessness in Rena’s voice when it came to her past relationship with Jurina and what she had lost three years ago. Without thinking twice, she reached out and clutched at Rena’s hand, only to find it painfully shaking. “You need to forgive yourself and give yourself a chance to be happy again.”

Rena gave her a watery smile. “You always see the good in everyone, don’t you?”

“You think?” Airi smiled, thinking about it. When she briefly looked backwards over her shoulder and noticed the other pair of friends approaching their direction, she gave Rena’s fingers one last light, comforting squeeze. “I mostly believe everyone deserves a second chance.”

  Rena was more than grateful for her long, black coat, woolly scarf and matching red gloves when the unpleasant cold of winter hit her pale skin, confirming she had indeed made the right decision by bringing warmer clothes for her weekend getaway. These last few days, the temperature had considerably dropped - easily approaching the 3°C at the end of day - but somehow the sensation of cold had never been so vibrant since her arrival in Tokyo.

Observing the blue sky turning slightly white above her head, Rena took her phone out to check the weather. At 7:15 p.m., the meteorology now announced for the evening a temperature varying between 0°C and -2°C in Tokyo. For now, the sky showed no immediate sign of snow. However, Rena realized this morning prediction had never been so close to becoming true.

Replacing her Smartphone in the pocket of her coat, Rena’s attention fell on the two girls chatting and walking in front of her, letting out of a small, thoughtful sigh when she remembered Airi’s clever, sneaky manoeuvre. As soon as Akane and Jurina had appeared and joined them in front of the hotel, her best friend hadn’t waited to carry out whatever action plan she visibly had in mind, taking Akane apart and engaging a conversation with her as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Oh yes, Rena had clearly witnessed Akane’s worried and troubled look directed at Jurina, one that spoke louder than words and told her that Akane definitely didn’t feel comfortable at the idea of leaving Jurina behind with her. Nevertheless, Airi’s unbelievable tenacity - one that Rena had admittedly not witnessed in years - managed to have the final say, as Akane ended up agreeing and following the other girl without a protest.

Rena gave another discreet sidelong glance to the 23-year-old girl quietly walking by her side, wondering why Jurina’s simple presence always managed to make her heart beat so rapidly. Three years had already passed, yet she had to concede that Airi was entirely right: no one else but Jurina would ever be able to provoke this warm, fuzzy feeling inside her. As Rena watched her expression closely, she got reminded that Jurina had never been good at concealing her emotions: her shyness and nervousness was anything but palpable.

Despite Rena’s previous conversation with Airi and her friend’s reassuring words - and to a certain extent, her own selfish desire to seize this unique opportunity – she feared this dinner to be a bad idea. In fact, just before leaving the hotel together, Rena had carefully tested the waters and offered the other pair a chance to go their separate ways, noticing that Akane was clearly feeling ill-at-ease in her presence.

Why wouldn’t we want to have dinner with you two?

To her utter surprise, Jurina had once more repeated that she saw no issue in having dinner together, leaving Rena a little speechless and with no other choice but to give in. Albeit the fact she found herself slightly taken aback by Jurina’s renewed approval, she was forced to recognize that Airi was apparently right and Jurina hadn’t accepted out of politeness after all, but genuinely wanted to spend the evening in their company.

Much as Rena wanted to stay realistic and she refused to see this dinner as anything more than a social gathering between friends, she couldn’t ignore either her conflicted thoughts and feelings. Entertaining any illusions or raising false expectations was evidently out of the question, yet she found herself unable to quiet the happiness that sparkled inside her at the mere idea of being reunited with the girl she had never ceased to love.

[lxveille]

trust fall

hoshi x reader

word count: ~ 2600 paranormal disaster/societal collapse!AU (???) a/n: somewhere in listening to “bring it” and my winter playlist and thinking about all those soulmate AUs where names are so important, this premise occurred to me and I decided to try to actually write it despite having drafts for, like, four other stories in the works atm. not 100% sure what to call this AU but things are Not Good™ and, uh, tldr?:

You put yourself in Hoshi’s hands.

You dig your fingers harder against your palms inside your pockets and wriggle your toes in your boots. Both are small attempts to keep your appendages from going numb in the cold. Snowflakes dot your hair and keep you from lifting your head even though you really ought to be on the lookout. Supposedly it was safer out here than in the cabin Hoshi had disappeared into some time ago. Which was enough information to know that you probably weren’t anywhere you should even think of closing your eyes for a second. But the wind and snow sting too much for you to look anywhere but at your own shoes.

In this too-quiet moment, with your mind struggling to think of anything but how goddamn cold you are, you find yourself trying to retrace your steps. How did you get here? The simple answer was just Hoshi. The better one requires too many steps back for you to get through as a strong gust makes you shiver in place and hunch your shoulders further in some effort to maintain body heat.

How long had you known him? Time was difficult to keep track of now. How long ago had it been that you’d snuck onto a cargo train in a foolish, last-ditch attempt to get away from a burning city? Because while Hoshi hadn’t been the one to find you hiding between two crates of artillery, he had been the one to get you out of a situation where you would still almost certainly be out of your depth. Exactly what he’d given up of his own to save you remains mostly unknown to you.

There’s a puff of condensation in the air from his breath before you hear or see him. Then his voice comes, airy and just a little judgemental, saying “You’ll die of exposure before anything else gets to you, you know?”

You look up to him, eyes squinting from the strain. “You told me to wait here.”

“Yeah, to wait here, not to go and try to get frostbite.” Hoshi reaches back and pulls the hood of your coat up over your head. You hate it. This coat already smells like some death you hadn’t witnessed, and it engulfs you whenever the hood is up. You reach your hands up to undo exactly what he’s just done. Before you can, he gives a firm tug on the front of the hood to keep you from putting it down. “Come on, Daydream. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

He stills calls you that. It’s solely because ‘daydream‘ had been the word printed in bold, capitalized letters on the slouchy cotton shirt you’d been wearing the day you met. You’d never picked an alias after the tenth plague struck, so he took one look over you and decided the word on your clothes would work. It didn’t matter that the shirt had long been torn and tossed as soon as the opportunity to throw on something else had come along.   

Hoshi has never asked you for your real name himself. You’ve returned the courtesy thus far. But there’s a curiosity in you that has grown over the weeks spent by his side. Curious for what sort of name would suit him, curious to know if he ever imagined possible names for you the same way you did him.

That’s exactly what you’re doing as you trudge after him through the snow. Listing off names inside your head and mulling over whether each one would somehow make sense on an ID card of his. Not that anyone carried forms of identification anymore. Nearly everyone had burned them all as soon as they realized what weight names carry now.

It still felt like something out of some strange, fantastical book to you. Truly, you hadn’t fully believed it until a friend of yours had looked you straight in the eyes, called you by name, and ordered you to slap your own face. You have yet to forget the odd and panic-inducing feeling of your muscles moving faster than you could process, your body compelled to obey before your mind could even finish having the thought I’d never do something like that. Your friend apologized after and had put her own cool fingers to your reddened cheek as she murmured how this wasn’t the kind of thing anyone could afford to deny.

“We’re here,” Hoshi tells you sooner than you’re expecting. You look around at the trees before giving him a questioning look.

“We’re still in the middle of nowhere?” you prompt him for some kind of explanation.

He smiles at you through another small cloud of cold breath. It’s amused, like you’ve told some kind of inside joke. If only you were in on it. But it’s moments like this when you wonder what sort of person Hoshi was before the world began to crumble. He holds one finger up, asking you to wait just a minute as he kicks away at on the ground. You dig your hands as far into your pockets as they can possibly go as you watch him with furrowed brows.

It takes a few minutes of his foot swiping back and forth before he uncovered what he’s looking for. He takes something small from his pocket and leans down to unlock the metal bulkhead door. “What is this place?” you try asking once again, going for something a little more explicit this time.

“A safehouse,” Hoshi answers plainly.

“For who?” An important detail in your opinion. You weren’t eager to cross paths with anyone Hoshi had been running with when you’d first met.

“For now, us,” he assures as he stands up. You eye the dark stairs unfavorably and tilt your head to one side as you return your gaze to his. The smile has already faded, but his expression is softer than the one he’d worn all day. Tired, perhaps, if not some kind of relief.

So you follow his lead down. The safehouse is no more than one room with dwindling supplies that suggest you're not the first to take shelter here. But the site of a fully-made bed and a space heater makes you perk up almost immediately.

Hoshi practically winces when he goes to turn on the heater, bracing himself for the very real possibility that he may have been lied to. The generator promised to power this might not exist or might have been depleted already.

When the heater clicks to life, power button flickering on, he lets loose a victorious bark of a laugh. And then he’s waving you over to sit beside him. You drag blankets from the bed before you do.

Both of you shrug off your damp coats before wrapping a blanket around your shoulders each as you settle in front of the slowly warming machine.

“Seriously?” Hoshi catches you off guard a few moments later when he reaches out for your hands. Your fingers are red with cold. “Really, you’re gonna lose a limb or something if you don’t watch yourself.” He sounds annoyed by the ordeal. His actions suggest something different as he cups your hands in his own and brings them up to his mouth. He breathes warmth out onto your shaky hands and rubs his fingers back and forth over the backs of them to create some heating friction.

You watch him care for you with parted lips. It isn’t the first time it’s dawned on you that it must be so. That he must, for some reason, care about you in order to have abandoned his cause in favor of trying to find some kind of safety with you. Nevertheless, each time the thought occurs to you it feels just as foreign and inexplicable as the first time. He’s never done more than hold you, and even then it there’s always been a logical, survival reason for him to do so. Yet here he is, when he could be god knows where instead.

“Hosh,” you utter in vain, as he doesn’t lift his eyes from his careful work warming up your hands. All the while you're certain your cheeks are plenty warm at this point. It’s silly. You’re being silly. At this point, he may only be protecting you just to prevent being alone. With the bridges he’s burned, you might be the only option he sees left. Because for all the moments where he seems this tender and mindful of your needs, you can also make a list of times he’s bristled, held you at a distance or refused to make eye contact with you. “Hoshi,” you say it a little louder. He hums an acknowledgment, and you give a half-hearted tug of your hands in his hold. “Can you let go?”

He complies without protest or hesitation. As the tangle of hands falls away from his face, you see a strange sort of frown on his lips. Almost like Hoshi feels he’s being deprived of something. But the space heater is finally giving off some tangible amount of warmth, and it feels much better to hover your hands in front of it instead. It helps steady your heart rate.

You can’t bring yourself to look at him now. If you do, those pesky gears in your head will only start churning to try to decode whatever look he’s giving you. And he is giving you one; you can feel his eyes on you.

Hoshi has never asked for your name. So why does it occur to you right now that you could simply turn and tell him it? It feels like ages since you’ve said it out loud. A part of you imagines you might stutter over its pronunciation. You shut your eyes. This must be the call of the void, this impulse to do something dangerous and self-destructive based solely on the fact that all you’d need to accomplish it is right there.

You’ve had dreams where he already knows your name. While he’s been cruel in a handful of them, in most he’s whispering it like a holy prayer or panting it against your skin. Really, your mind must be your greatest traitor. You lean forward, beginning to curl in on yourself as you try to push these thoughts to the back of your head.

“Are you alright there, Daydream?” The nickname makes you sigh. He could have just asked if you were okay. But no, of course, he tacks on the moniker just as you're in the midst of contemplating just what might be possible if you shed yourself of it altogether.

“It’s just cold,” you lie. For added effect, you pull the blanket a little tighter around yourself. Silence sinks in once more. You still can’t manage to check on Hoshi’s expression, though at least now you can guess he’s scrutinizing your response.

“You look exhausted,” he reasons after a beat. His hands find your shoulders and upper arms before he guides you towards the bed. Normally he’s better about this; he’s led you plenty of places, but rarely by physical force. While it feels far from forceful in this instance, it bothers some sense of vulnerability rooted deep inside you all the same.

But you are exhausted, and your head is swimming in a thick, confusing stew of thoughts about the man currently shifting blankets around to tuck you into the first proper bed you’ll sleep on in a long time. He’s just about to pull away, to suggest you should just sleep. You can sense it, and suddenly out of all your hazy thoughts one question bubbles to the surface. “Have you ever used someone’s name against them?”

Regret immediately fills you twice over. Once for how taken aback Hoshi looks by the question. Secondly, because his surprise has drawn him to a standstill, half-hovering over you. He’s so close. Too close, you determine as you feel his breath fan out over your face.

“Have you?” he asks in return, dark eyes scanning your features too obviously. You nod weakly and mouth the word once. “Ah,” Hoshi voices at a whisper, “Well, you know what I came from.” Barely, you want to protest. But it does answer your question, however vaguely it may be. “Why are you thinking about that now?”

Your voice feels impossible to summon. He’s still far too close, only inches away from something more intimate and something which would have to be a mistake. When you finally manage to speak, it sounds a thousand miles away to your own ear. “I think I’d tell you if you asked for it.”

Something you can’t pin down colors Hoshi’s face. The very corners of his lips twitch upwards, sending a small worry through you that he knows exactly why you’d say such a thing. His eyes, however, bore into yours with a concern that has your throat drying up. You’re fully dressed and covered in bedding, yet this must be the most exposed you’ve ever felt before him.

“I won’t ask,” he promises. You press your front teeth into the soft flesh of the inside of your lower lip. It sounds too convenient. Everything has gone to hell. It’s simply too good to believe you’ve managed to stumble your way into the company of someone truly didn’t want even the possibility of that power over you. Your disbelief must be evident on your face.

“Hey, I won’t,” repeats Hoshi. There’s a ghost of a laugh on the tail end of his words, good-natured and hopeful that somehow saying the same thing twice will work. It’s the laughter that your mind clings to first, taking it as proof of the sort of person he was before this. Of the sort of person he still is when the world is kind enough to give you some reprieve.

It feels like you’ve pulled off some trick, having managed both to take your risk and keep safe all at once. You release the small gasp of air you’d been holding and feel your shoulders loosen and sink into the mattress beneath you. You press your fingertips into the palms of your hands and find no chill runs through you at the contact. Warm, you think to yourself like you’ve only just remembered the name of this sensation.

Hoshi catches you off guard when he reaches a hand out to your temple. His fingers thread into and push some small section of hair away from your face. Close, still, but your heart does a somersault and now you wish he’d move even closer.

“Will you get some rest now?” he asks you, no longer holding back his small simper as he glances over you.

“You have to, too,” you remind gently. Hoshi blinks at you, appearing surprised once more as he stands up straight, letting distance break the tense need for barely-there volumes. He looks pleasantly surprised by your lack of an answer. Perhaps, you dare yourself to think, it’s because he’s as fascinated by your expressions of care for him as you are by his towards you.

“I know.” Hoshi turns ninety degrees away from you, needing the space just as much as you. He hopes that maybe he’s still flush from the snow anyway, that there’s no way you’ll notice the color rising in him.

It was slow to set in, but it means too much for you to say you’d give him your name. If he’s not careful, if he doesn’t take a few breaths and steps away from your side, he’s afraid he’ll take you up on the offer. If only because even he can recognize how silly it would sound to say I’m falling for you, Daydream.    

[sunshinepunks-secretsanta]

Secret Santa for PotatoTrace

Hey Guys!~ Happy Holidays, first off. Christmas is here and I do hope that everyone gets at least one thing that was on their Christmas list.~

This little song fic is for a fun little event the wonderful Snek in the MAS Discord chat was so amazing in organizing! My giftee is @doodlepotatoalien and I do hope you enjoy this. 

Song / Movie: All I want for Christmas is you - Mariah Carey

Pairing: MAS - SabAce

Summary: Sabo had thought what he wanted was friendship, but was what he was searching for something deeper than that?

Disclaimer, I own nothing in regards to One Piece or any other referenced media. Enjoy!~

I don’t want a lot for Christmas

There is just one thing I need

I don’t care about the presents

Underneath the Christmas tree

Sabo sat by the fireplace, with his back to the warm fire and his large green eyes on mountain of presents that sat underneath the large 15 foot tall christmas tree. There were at least fifty wrapped boxes of differing sizes piled underneath the tree, and Sabo knew without a doubt that the majority of them were his, who else could they belong to when he was the only child?

Normally one would assume that Sabo was living the dream. Sabo was the single child to a wealthy family, he had anything he could ever want in terms of what money could buy. But what about what money couldn’t buy?

Sabo had parents sure, but he never once had their attention. From the minute he was born, Sabo was handed over to a nanny who raised him until his father decided she was not being a good influence because she filled his imagination with far away adventures. After his nanny was fired, he got a governess who was more to his parent’s likings, one who schooled him in not only the basic subjects but also focused alot on business material. Sabo was five, there was only so much his brain could grasp.

Pretty soon Sabo was enrolled into private school and learned that just like his parents, those kids didn’t really care about making any connections other than business ones. If Sabo wasn’t in the market for trading information about companies and setting up partnership deals, then the children cared not to get to know him.

Sabo was beginning to think that friends were a myth until one fateful day that he was walking alongside a sidewalk on his way home. Sabo had been able to talk his father into letting him walk to and from school, so that he could assess the advertisements and see what the general public liked, it was a blatant lie that apparently worked and got him another few minutes of freedom from the stifling walls that were his home.

Sabo was walking slowly, trying to make the walk last as much as possible when all of a sudden, a freezing slushy mass slapped him across the face. Sabo’s feet stopped moving and he stood in the middle of the street stunned and wide eyed as the melting snow slid off of his warm cheek and onto his shoulder as laughter reached his ear.

Sabo’s large eyes looked over to the boy who was laughing at him, eyes closed and laughter creating small puffs of air around his mouth while other kids around him looked on unsure of how to react, some smiling tentatively, and a few looking worried. By all rights Sabo should be mad, seething even. He was just attacked by this kid with a ball of snow.

I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know

Make my wish come true oh

All I want for Christmas is you

“Whats'a matter kid? Ain’t ever been hit with a snowball before?” the freckled boy asked after he stopped laughing and dusted off Sabo’s sodden shoulder.

Sabo had two choices in that moment, to be an utter embarrassment and tell the other kid that no he had never engaged in one of these fabled snowball fights, or lie through his teeth and give some half assed excuse of why he had been caught off guard. Sabo didn’t know why, but he didn’t like the idea of coming off as a fool to the boy and his friends, so he puffed out his chest and lied his ass off.

“I just wasn’t expecting to get ambushed is all… got room for one more?” Sabo asked the boy and looked past him to the group that was waiting for him to return.

The boy immediately brightened, “Hell yeah we do, what’s your name anyway kid? Mine’s Ace and that’s Marco, Thatch, Izo, Luffy, Nami, Law, Zoro, Sanji, and Koala.”

Sabo was not in the least overwhelmed with the names as he let a smile come to his lips easily enough, and waved only slightly awkwardly in their direction, “Hello, my name is Sabo, it’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

The kid with the large hair laughed, “Look at that Marco he talks just like you!”

The aforementioned child, Marco, looked over to the laughing redhead and sighed, “No he does not, yoi.”

“Well I guess not exactly with that tic of yours bird brain, but close enough.”

Next to Sabo Ace laughed again, “Don’t worry they do this all the time, c'mon you’re on my team.”

I don’t want a lot for Christmas

There is just one thing I need, and I

Don’t care about the presents

Underneath the Christmas tree

Sabo had stayed out that day until the sun set and when he returned home, he was scolded and consequently punished, there would be no sleigh ride for him that year. Sabo was disappointed and yet at the same time, he was not. Sabo had learned that even someone like him, who had never had friends, could have them. And that someone like Ace, was capable of wanting Sabo as a friend.

All Sabo wanted that Christmas was to have friends, primarily the one that made it happen, Ace.

I don’t need to hang my stocking

There upon the fireplace

Santa Claus won’t make me happy

With a toy on Christmas day

Sabo didn’t see those kids again the next day, or even when winter break released him from his classes. Sabo walked home and retraced his steps in order to possibly bump into one or two of the children from the group. But nothing of the sort happened and he had to trudge home in disappointment.

Christmas came and went and Saint Nick didn’t give him what he had wished for.

Sabo didn’t see Ace and his friends again the following week either, nor on new years; and pretty soon the year began to pass without a single sighting of them.

And yet, each year Sabo passed by the same street with that same hope, that Ace and his friends would be there throwing snowballs again. Sabo even refused going along with his parents to their island resort in order to wait by that street.

It was the first Christmas Sabo spent without them, it wasn’t like they were always present during it, but at least they were home.

And again Santa let Sabo down, there were no children waiting for him to play with. No friends to be given to him.

I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know

Make my wish come true

All I want for Christmas is you

This became a cycle pretty soon, Sabo knew that he should let it go and move on. But… he couldn’t.

That year soon evolved into a second, and then a third, and Sabo began to forget the many faces that he had committed to memory when he was ten. And by the time he was seventeen, he had all but forgotten how they looked like. He had also forgotten their names.

Sabo had more or less convinced himself that it was a dream his younger self had had and moved on into the corporate world that his father had wanted for him.

Sabo graduated at the top of his class and with a year to spare, he was out a few months after his seventeenth birthday and on his way to his interview to his very first internship.

The meeting went spectacular, and Sabo was sure he had locked in the position without really needing to try. His parents would be pleased to know that, but Sabo… he didn’t really feel as if he had accomplished anything. Sure he was educated and knew the ins and outs of the business world and trade, but was he really happy?

Sabo had stayed up countless nights wondering this very thing, just as he did now as he sat on a park bench, watching small children run along the grass, large smiles on their faces.

“Hey watch out!”

Sabo heard the cry right before something very solid and fast hit the back of his head. Sabo’s head whipped forward and he clutched at the sore spot just in time to tune back in to the repeated apologies of the person above him.

“–rry, I didn't–fuck, the ball–are you okay? Fuck that’s a stupid question, how many fingers am I holding up?”

Sabo’s glare became stunned shock as he looked up to the guy above him, his wide green eyes meeting the other’s concerned gray ones.

“Whats'a matter, are you not able to count?” A panic rose within the other and he looked over Sabo and called out for help, “Marco, he can’t count!”

I won’t ask for much this Christmas

I won’t even wish for snow, and I

I just wanna keep on waiting

Underneath the mistletoe

Pretty soon Sabo found himself surrounded by a group of teens, one of them pressing a cold pack against his head and shining a beam into his eyes until his surprise wore off and he was able to push away the overbearing hands.

“I’m fine, please.” Sabo began and sighed, “Thanks for the cold pack, and yes I can count.” he said shooting a glance over to the guilty looking one with a frown, “I was just… taken off guard.”

The guy at the very least had the decency to look sheepish and bowed low, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hit you, the ball slipped and it flew over here and–”

“And, if you need to see a doctor, we can take care of all the medical fees, yoi.” the one who had given Sabo the cold pack interrupted and Sabo shook his head, only wincing slightly with the action.

“Na I’ll be okay, tender for a day or so, but fine… thank you for the offer though. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Sabo made to stand and was surprised when someone blocked his path.

“Hey, before you go at least let me make up for this by treating you to lunch or something?” and there was that smile again, so bright Sabo didn’t doubt it could eclipse the sun.

“Uh–sure?” despite his words, Sabo didn’t feel too sure about accepting this strangers invitation, but that combination of his, the smile, eyes, and freckles; there was something there that Sabo was supposed to recognize.

“Awesome! Let’s go now, I’ll see you at home Marc, tell Lu I’ll be help him with his homework later.” and with that he turned to Sabo and turned his world upside down. “My name’s Ace, and yours?”

I won’t make a list and send it

To the North Pole for Saint Nick

I won’t even stay awake

To hear those magic reindeer click

Sabo hadn’t jumped down Ace’s throat the moment he realized that this Ace was the same Ace of his childhood and demanded to ask why Ace hadn’t searched for him as Sabo had, because that would have been childish. Sabo had remained silent about the coincidence and wondered if Ace remembered their previous meeting.

Just as their meal was ending, Ace confirmed Sabo’s ponderings on that though. “I… I’m sorry if I’m just assuming here, but are you the same Sabo who once had a snowball fight with a bunch of kids?”

Sabo nodded, eyebrows knitting as he wondered where exactly Ace would take that conversation.

The freckled boy smiled, “I thought so, I remembered your eyes. We were starting to think you weren’t real because we never saw you again, we tried to go back, but some of the cops kept running us away, something about ’stinkin’ slum kids’.” Ace chuckled, “Anyway, we’re sorry we never got to hang out again, it was fun that day and you guys really did have some great snowball throwing snow.”

“I’d like that too.” Sabo blurted and then reddened as he reeled back his enthusiasm. “I mean, I would like that… to hang out with you more if you want?”

Ace’s bright smile came back and Sabo’s redness deepened. “Of course I would, here I’ll give you my number.”

And just like that, they fell into friendship and somewhere along the way, it became more than that and deeper feelings were shared.

‘Cause I just want you here tonight

Holding on to me so tight

What more can I do

Oh, Baby all I want for Christmas is you

And it was in that year that they shared their first Christmas together. Sabo for once didn’t spend it at home and alone, but surrounded by Ace’s abundant family as they laughed and enjoyed their evening. Some of them already getting so drunk they couldn’t walk properly.

It was a nice change as opposed to what he was used to, but Sabo welcomed it.

The liveliness of the household was so overwhelming that Sabo couldn’t help but let himself be carried along with it. Sabo joined in on the singing and merriment. And in that moment Sabo could truly appreciate what it meant to be in a family.

It turned out that Ace was part of a group of fostered and then adopted kids, along with his many brothers and sisters. Sabo hadn’t even known such a thing was real, but was happy for all of his new friends that it indeed was true for them and they had found their home, no their family right then and there.

All the lights are shining

So brightly everywhere

And the sound of children’s

Laughter fills the air

Over time the situation at home began to get more and more complicated, Sabo hadn’t necessarily told his parents about Ace and the activities that he was involved in because he knew that his father would never approve. They questioned where he was spending his time, and Sabo made up excuses about the internship demanding more work of him than it actually did.

It wasn’t until the next christmas eve was just around the corner when his father confronted Sabo about it and told him that he had had a talk with Sabo’s employer who denied that Sabo was running extra errands for him as Sabo had stated.

And everyone is singing

I hear those sleigh bells ringing

Santa won’t you bring me

The one I really need

Won’t you please bring my baby to me quickly

So Sabo came clean about what he was doing, and the new world that he had stumbled into, and he was loving.

His father was furious. Even went as far as to forbid Sabo from engaging in his newfound “activities” telling him that he had a legacy to uphold, an obligation. And that such people would not be permitted into his son’s life.

Sabo had been furious and defended his position.

To which his father gave him an ultimatum. His house, his rules; if Sabo could not abide by his father’s wishes, then he was not allowed in his father’s house.

Sabo was numb after that, the choice was clear. But it still weighed on him.

I don’t want a lot for Christmas

This is all I’m asking for

I just wanna see my baby

Standing right outside my door

Sabo was disowned that Christmas eve and standing in the cold at the gate of Whitebeards house, his numb hands holding onto the one bag he was able to pack, or was he?

“Sabo?” the voice asked softly and Sabo turned to look at Ace who was looking on in curiosity and then in concern as he reached over to Sabo’s pale cheeks, wiping away at the wetness he hadn’t even known he had.

“What’s wrong? And what’s with the bag?” Ace asked as he scooped it up. “Not running away on Christmas are you?” Ace asked and Sabo appreciated his attempt to lighten up the mood but his smile fell before it could fully form.

“Can’t really run away when you don’t have a home to run from, you know?”

Ace’s concern only deepened as he put two and two together, “Fuck, oh shit. I’m sorry Bo… I didn’t mean to, but why are you standing out here in the snow, do you want to catch a cold? C'mon let’s get you into something warm and I heard Thatch was making his famous hot chocolate, I’ll get you extra marshmallows if you want.”

I just want you for my own

More than you could ever know

Make my wish come true

Baby all I want for Christmas is you

Sabo didn’t protest to being moved from his spot, nor being shoved into a bathroom to catch a warm bath and the clothes that were given to him were a little too large, but they were warm and comfortable and they smelled like Ace.

Ace then lead Sabo down to his room and sat him on the bed where he enveloped Sabo in a hug. They didn’t speak for hours it seemed until Sabo glanced at the clock and noticed that it was no longer the same day, but Christmas day.

“Merry Christmas, Acey. I hope you get what you wanted this year.”

Ace hummed in thought and a soft kiss was pressed to Sabo’s cheek. “All I want for Christmas is you, Sabo*.”

And I hope you like it ^^;I’m sorry I couldn’t MAS T^T the trio eluded this particular song and setting, but now that Sabo lived with the Whitebeards it could happen right? ;3c

The only Lyric here changed was Baby to Sabo for Ace’s last spoken line ^^

I hope you have a very Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone! Till next time!~

[drinkupthesunrise]

For the fic prompt requests: In your whump fic there was a wonderful line about Tycho needing to keep Plourr from getting into any fights that will cause diplomatic incidents. I've been giggling off and on about that since I read it, so my prompt is: Plourr starts a fights, which ignites a diplomatic incident, and poor Tycho is left to clean up the mess. ((Also, I think the whump fic is really fantastic!!! You're a gift to this fandom!!! -the anon who sent you the ask game message a while back))

*shakes fist at you* you know, I tossed that throw away line in thinking it would be a great fic, but fully knowing it would be a pain to write. After thinking a lot on it, I came up with this, which I’m quite delighted by, so I guess I should say thank you?? :D (also on ao3)

Tychoreally doesn’tappreciate being roused from his bed by military police at four inthe morning. He can’t help but think that, whatever has happened,it could wait until a sensible hour in the morning.

Butno, one of his pilots may have caused a major diplomatic incident,and apparently that’ssomehow his problem.

Tychoshrugs on his jacket and pulls on his boots and makes himself lookalmost presentable, before heading on down to the local lock up. Hethinks about waking someone to endure this hell with him, but hissenior officers are currently Hobbie, Wes, and the very person he’shad to haul himself out of bed to go rescue, so none of them arelikely to be of use to him.

It’sat times like these when Tycho really wishes that Wedge would somehowbecome miraculously better. But no, he’s off on Naboo, with Luke,and hopefully happy and content as he recovers from an accident thatalmost cost him his life.

SoTycho soldiers on alone.

Whenhe gets to the police station, and observes the situation at hand, hegroans. It’ssomehow even worse than he thought. “Kriffing hells,” he says,taking in the two women sharing a cell. “Verlaine, I thought youwere supposed to be above all this.”

EvaanVerlaine – leader of the Alderaanian contingent, effectiveheir-to-the-throne, and a woman Tycho treats with the utmost respect– is sitting next to Isplourrdacartha Estillo, better known to theRogues as just Plourr. Both of them look they’vebeen dragged through a back alley fight. They have, as Tychounderstands things. Which would be fine, if both of them were justpilots, as they both would like to pretend they are.

Onlythey are not. Both of them are the figureheads of worlds. And anyfight involving them has serious ramifications.

“Don’tworry about me, Commander Celchu, I’ve got my own help coming.”Evaan waves Tycho off. She’s got a black eye, and her bottom lip issplit. Tycho has only ever known her as the appointed leader of hispeople, but Wedge knew her when she was just a pilot and from thestories he tells, she could always brawl with the best of them.

She’smaintained a dignified reputation, largely, these past years sinceshe left the Alliance Forces after Yavin. Apart from now.

“Plourr.Please tell me you have an explanation the Chandrillan Police willaccept.” Tycho pinches the bridge of his nose between thumb andforefinger, feeling the stress rising through his bones. “Beforethe government of Eiattu and the Alderaanian Council go to war withthe New Republic, which I think we could all stand to avoid.”

“Itwon’t be that bad.” Plourr is overly casual in her response. Thatconcerns Tycho. “We did a good deed. Took down a bunch of Imperialrat-bag sympathisers who were harking on about the glory days.”

“Imperialsympathisers? On Chandrila? That’s a story and a half to sell.”Chandrila is the birth place of the New Republic, friend to the RebelAlliance. Imperials have never been welcome here.

“I’llback her up on that,” Evaan says.

“Youattacked ten men. Three of them are in hospital. The rest of them areseething and baying for blood. If you tell me this fight wasjustified, then I’ll go bat for you.”

“Itwas justified Tycho,” Plourr says. Tycho looks her in the eye andshe doesn’t back down. Tycho has to trust her; she and Evaan haveno reason to lie. They aren’t like that. “I know it’s a mess,but we didn’t just get in a fight for the hell of it.”

Tychosighs. “Ibelieve you.”

.

Tychospends his next thirty minutes trying to convince the Chandrilanpolice of Evaan and Plourr’sversion of events. Whilst Tycho thinks that they are all inclined tobelieve it, there are the political concerns; two world leadersgetting in a physical altercation with members of the general publicnever looks good. Evaan and Plourr can’t be released, because therewill be accusations of a cover-up, sweeping things under the rug,smoothing the way for those in power; yet, if they aren’t releasedby morning, the Eiattu Government and the Alderaanian Council willkick up one hell of a storm about the imprisonment of their leaders.

Andthat way lies Tycho being dragged in front of his superior officers,given that he’snominally responsible for Plourr’s behaviour, and explaining why hedoesn’t discipline his pilots properly. An investigation into theconduct of all members of Rogue Squadron. No one wants that. ButTycho is scratching his head about how to get the Chandrilan policeevidence that would prove the fight was justified, that Plourr andEvaan were helping to keep the peace instead of breaking it.

Healso wonders the help that Evaan said was coming will arrive, becauseright now he’strying to represent them both, and it’s difficult to convince theChandrilan police you don’t have a vested interest in setting theleader of the Alderaanian contingent free when you yourself areAlderaanian.

Salvationcomes in the form of a lithe, white haired woman, who walks into thepolice station with the bearing of nobility. Her features arestrikingly familiar, and yet Tycho swears that he’dremember a woman like this. But he doesn’t have a clue who she is.

“MayI speak to the chief officer on duty, concerning the arrest ofPrincess Isplourrdacartha Estillo and Lady Evaan Verlaine?” Hervoice is familiar too, soft and calming. Tycho fixates on her, tryingto work out just who she is. A sergeant scurries away, presumably tofetch someone capable of answering her questions. She is the sort offigure who demands respect; much more than Tycho, in a thin semblanceof a uniform with dark circles under his eyes, does.

“Howare you, Tycho Celchu?” The woman is suddenly by his side,addressing him directly.

Tychoblinks, forgets himself completely. “Howdo you know my name—?” Then he remembers himself. “Hello.Sorry.” He sticks out his hand. “Nice to meet you. CommanderCelchu of Rogue Squadron, at your service, I’m alright, and I seemto have missed the pleasure of being introduced to you.”

Shesmiles, and shakes his hand. “WinterRetrac. It’s good to meet you at last, though I’m sorry it has tobe under these circumstances.”

“Ican think of worse ways to meet someone, Dame Winter.” WinterRetrac – that’s why she looks so familiar. She has Leia’sfeatures, a resemblance that is almost uncanny. And her voice was onethat spoken often alongside Queen Breha’s, in the days when Tychowas on Alderaan. “You must be the help Verlaine was sending.”

“Noneed to stand on formality. Winter is just fine, one Alderaanian toanother.” Winter sits down besides him. “And yes. Leia is inlittle need of my services these days. And Evaan would like tobelieve that she has no need for them, but—” Winter shrugs. “Theevidence says otherwise.”

“Evidenceis a fine thing.”

“I’vegot some that might help,” she says.

“I’dtake anything.”

“Howabout proof that those men are exactly who Plourr and Evaan say theyare, that they were completely right to attack them, and in doing sothey may have stopped a major terrorist incident?”

“Icould kiss you.”

Winter’ssmile is wry. “Careful flyboy. Might just take you up on that.”Tycho blushes to the roots of his hair. He’s saved from having torespond by the local police chief choosing to make his entrance then,and Tycho instead gets to listen to Winter’s exoneration of Plourand Evaan, and not think about the fact that he really wouldn’thave any complaints if Winter did take him up on the words that justslipped out of his mouth.

.

“Thankyou gentleman, my friend and I have had a very pleasant night in yourcells, we’ll be sure to tell everyone how accommodating you allwere.”

“Evaan—”

“Yes,Winter, I know, the less the general public hears about this thebetter.” Winter hands Evaan a hooded cloak. “Joys.”

“Well,next time—”

“Don’tget into fights. I know. Like you’re any better.”

Tychocan tell that this is a time worn argument between the pair of them.He just sighs and looks at Plourr. “Just.Wait until Wedge is back to do this again? I’m not cut out forthis.”

Plourrshakes her head and laughs. “Andyou think Wedge is? Oh men. You have a lot to learn.” She linksarms with Evaan and heads out, leaving Tycho standing there wonderingwhat on earth he’s going to do with her. He turns to Winter,similarly abandoned.

“Howdo you feel about breakfast?” Winter asks.

“Ingeneral, I’m in favour of it, though in practice it’s not usuallymore than hot caf and whatever my pilots force-feed me from themess.” Tycho runs a hand through the back of his hair. He alwaysused to yell at Wedge for not eating properly, now he’s fallen intothe trap.

“Feellike doing it properly this morning?” Winter’s eyes sparkle.

“Withyou?” Tycho’s eyes widen. “Sure. I guess. If you want?”

“Itwould be my pleasure.”

[juniperallura]

Voltron Hogwarts AU

Part 3/?

(A (sort of) Lance-narrated Shallura fic in multiple parts)

(Now with a prequel)

The sky was clear, its bright blue accented by the autumn colors that lined the street and crunched underfoot. A slight breeze heralded the new school year, it’s novelty only just beginning to wear, calling the young witches and wizards to enjoy the season before the bone-chilling wind of winter replaced it’s gentle coolness. All in all, a perfect weekend for Hogsmeade.

Hunk, Pidge, and Lance met up first, impatiently talking World Cup stats until Keith surfaced from the Slytherin dungeon. The group followed the mass exodus from the Castle, everyone in high spirits as a month’s worth of pent-up energy (Quidditch season having yet to start) was collectively expelled.

The enchanting power of Hogsmeade’s main street never got old. Everyone’s attention was quickly pulled in different directions; including Lance, whose gaze was caught by a familiar pair slipping through the crowd. Even badge-less and out of their usual black robes, Lance could spot Allura’s shining mane from a mile away. She and Shiro were walking oddly close to each other, making a beeline toward a storefront covered in bows and painted a sickeningly sweet pink.

“What the hell-” Lance muttered, stopping in the middle of the sidewalk to squint. “Guys! Guys!” he called, gesturing to his friends. They stopped a few feet ahead of him, but didn’t bother retracing their steps. “Do you see this?” Lance pointed across the street, his eyes bulging as the full weight of his realization dawned on him, “Do you see where they’re going?”

“Who?” Pidge called, scanning the other side of the street.

“Shiro and Allura,” Lance hissed, furiously beckoning to them.

Hunk strolled over to Lance’s side. “So? What’s wrong?”

Lance’s mouth hung open, “They’re going to Madam Puddifoot’s!”

The tingling of bell wafted across the street, and the pair were gone. Hunk snorted. “They’re going where?”

“Madam Puddifoot’s!” Lance cried, throwing up his hands.

A smirk curled over Keith’s face. “Madam who?”

 “-Puddifoot!” Lance huffed at the chores of giggles that rose from his friends, coupled with Pidge’s pleas for him to never say that again. “Keith, how can you not care about this? He’s your brother!”

Keith shrugged, “I don’t care what he does- and I don’t even see them.” He started to turn away, gesturing over his shoulder, “C’mon Lance, don’t you want to get to Spintwitches’ to see the new Nimbus?”

“Oo, let’s go!” Hunk clapped a hand on Lance’s shoulder before moving down the street, “Shay’s birthday is next week, I want to get her some new Beater’s gloves-”

“-Blowing all your money on Shay, huh, Hunk?”

        “-Shut up-”

Lance stood still for a second, staring at the tea shop sign as his friend’s voices got further away.

“Hey, wait up-!”

| h | o | g | w | a | r | t | s |

“Good luck out there, Pidge,” Lance smiled, holding a hand out to his fellow Seeker.

“You too,” Pidge adjusted her glasses, slapping her hand against Lance’s and giving it a quick squeeze, “See you on the pitch!”

The two parted ways at the pitch entrance, Lance making his way toward the Gryffindor locker room. 

First match of the semi-finals. Time to get his head in the game. 

Forget the Charms essay that was already two days late; forget that he and Keith weren’t speaking to each other for who even remembers what reason; forget that he almost lost his arm in disapparation practice the other night. This was what he was good at; although, maybe if he showed up to Charms as early as he showed up to matches his grades would be better.

Lance shook his head as he pushed through the door marked Gryffindor, chiding himself. Upon entering, he was met with two wide-eye stares.

Shiro and Allura were sitting on the center bench, practically in each other’s laps. Lance swore he saw hands unclasping, a palm zoom away from a lap. If their position wasn’t incriminated enough, both of the captain’s faces were red and guilty as hell.

Before Lance could even muster a word, Allura produced a piece of parchment from out of nowhere. “-Ahem, hello, Lance-” Allura flashed a smile, a little too wide to be natural, “Shiro and I were just going over our offensive tactics for the match-”

Shiro nodded, his eyes shifting between Allura and Lance, “Yep, talking strategy-” he cleared his throat “-You know those Ravenclaws, and their…” He and Allura shared a panicked glance.

Lance raised a brow, “-Defense?” He surveyed their emphatic nods with narrowed eyes. Why did he feel like the suspicious parent? Wasn’t that their job?

Before he could say anything else, the other Gryffindor Chasers walked in, immediately pulling Shiro into their conversation.

— “I can’t believe you don’t believe me!” Lance stabbed at his sausage, huffing at the damp lock of hair that kept falling into his face.

“It’s not that we don’t believe you…” Pidge propped her chin in her hand, still exhausted from the match, “But I mean, Shiro and Allura? If anyone’s going to actually be going over Quidditch tactics, it’s them.”

“Yeah, I don’t know, man,” Hunk added, anxiously eyeing Lance’s punctured lunch, “Trust me, I’ve been waiting for it to happen, but-”

Keith reached over to grab a plum cake from the newly refreshed tray. “I don’t know about Allura, but I live with Shiro and I didn’t notice anything off this summer.”

A laugh rang out from the other side of the Great Hall, where Shiro, Matt, and Allura were sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table. The younger counterparts all turned, each one trying to calculate from their place at the Hufflepuff table just how close the pair in question were sitting. Matt saw them and stretched out his arm in a sweeping wave, disturbing some stray post owls as he called, “Hey Pidge! Great flying today- you’ll get ‘em next time!”

Lance slumped against the table with a sigh. Keith frowned, setting down his dessert. “Hey, you never know,” he smiled mischievously, nudging Lance’s elbow, “Maybe it’s all a cover for Shiro and Matt.” The image was enough to get a laugh out of Lance, who decided it was best to change the subject.

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Winter had finally set in at Hogwarts. An evil month, really; besides Christmas, nothing good happened in winter. Sure, the Castle was beautiful, frosted in a fresh layer of snow, but Lance was freezing. Walking through the cloister hallway, he swore he could feel his bone marrow turning to ice. (No exaggeration.)

He huffed— Literally, because he forgot gloves and his warm breath was the only thing saving his poor fingers. Metaphorically, because Keith had borrowed his scarf and it turned out he looked really good in red; so now, there he was, scarf-less and inexplicably angry. His train of thought wandered off in that direction, and he nearly smacked into the towering figure of Headmaster Alfor as they both rounded a corner. “-Ah! Sorry, Headmaster, my bad,” Lance grimaced.

The bemused expression on Alfor’s face smoothed into a smile as he chuckled, “Not to worry! I won’t take any points from Gryffindor- unless it happens again.” With a wink he swept away, leaving Lance to wonder where Allura got the stick that was usually up her ass. Speaking of which-

Lance dodged back behind the wall. She was leaning against a pillar, arms folded and lips pulled into a frown. Peeking out, Lance could see Shiro’s profile as he sat on the low courtyard wall, dragging a hand down his face.

Shiro grumbled something. Allura glanced around, responding in a low voice. “-Of course he likes you…”

Lance raised a brow. Those two had been friends since they were like…eleven. Childhood friendships didn’t come with Dad Drama- something was up. 

Why was he the only one seeing these things?

Allura put her hand on Shiro’s shoulder. There was a prolonged gaze. This was getting too personal.

Lance retreated down the hall, for once glad that the snow was there to muffle the sound of his footsteps.

| h | o | g | w | a | r | t | s |

Finally, spring had freed the grounds from its wintertime prison. A fragrant breeze stirred the air, enticingly rippling the surface of the Great Lake. The gang wound their way back to the Castle after a fun afternoon spent stretched out on its banks, snacking on stolen food from the Great Hall and discovering that (apparently) Keith had a deeper relationship with the Giant Squid than anyone had supposed.

They picked up Matt as a straggler on his way back from the Quidditch pitch, and he was regaling them all with his own wild Giant Squid stories (all false, according to Pidge) as they stepped through the Fat Lady’s doorway. Evidently everyone else had also been drawn outdoors, and the couches and cushions of the common room sat deserted except-

“Oh. My. God.”

Who else was leaning against the wall but Head Boy and Head Girl, Co-Captain and Co-Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, Mr. and Mrs. Professionalism and Responsibility, Star Student and the Headmaster’s Daughter. Allura’s back was to the wall, Shiro’s hand claiming the space above her shoulder; her hands were on his chin, in his hair, on his chest; in the weeks to come Lance would swear he saw tongue.

Matt looked like he had been hit by a bus. Pidge and Keith looked like they were going to barf. Hunk looked like a proud grandmother.

A hundred words came to Lance’s mind- irresponsible, bad example, gross, sneaky, reckless- but all that came out was, “Ha!”

As if they were struck by lightening, Shiro and Allura leaped away from each other. Their faces turned a violent shade of crimson, their eyes trying to look at everybody and nobody at the same time. A mix of sputtering “I- we weren’t- you-” joined Lance’s triumphant cackling. Finally, Shiro let out a resigned, “Fuck.”

Matt staggered over to the couch, hand over his heart like a woman in need of her smelling salts. “Please tell me you guys ate some bad Nettleroot and this is some weird drug-fueled hallucinogenic thing?”

Allura glanced at Shiro, wringing her hands. After a second she forced out the words, “No, it’s- it’s been going on for awhile.”

Matt shut his eyes. “How long?”

Shiro swallowed. “…Nine-ish months.”

“Takashi. Shirogane.” Matt lurched forward, his eyes wide. “And you didn’t tell me?”

“We’re so sorry, Matt!” Allura grabbed Shiro’s hand, a move that only seemed to cause Matt physical pain. “It just happened over the summer, and we didn’t know if it would work out-”

“-And we didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, and we’re both captains, and then I got Head Boy-”

An upheld hand cut off Shiro. “Tell me exactly when. And where.”

Shiro sighed. “The first time we were in London, in July.” He and Allura glanced at each other, unable to keep from smiling. “That night with the firewhiskey, at your aunt’s…you passed out-”

“Did you two…in my aunt’s home- while I was in the room!?”

“No!” They cried emphatically, Allura adding, “Good Lord!”

Matt slumped back against the couch, waving his hand dismissively. “Well, I’ve seen this coming for years. I still can’t believe you hid this from me, but- you have my blessing.”

Allura’s face dropped into an incredulous glare, a retort on the tip of her tongue, but Shiro cut in with a pointed look at his girlfriend, “Thank you, Matt.”

“Wait, wait, wait!” Lance stepped in, arms crossed indignantly, “I think we all need to take a minute and acknowledge the fact that I told you, and you, and you! I was right all along!” A victorious finger was jabbed into the faces of Pidge, Hunk, and Keith successively.

Keith smacked away the hand. “Put it in a Howler.”

“Maybe I will, Keith, maybe I will!” Lance turned on his heel, striding toward the portrait opening as if his next task was announcing the News to all of Hogwarts. “And give me back my scarf!”