#It just seemed like a logically conclusion alright

[way-too-cool-raybot]

It's time I admitted that when I was a child (I was like 8 or 9) playing fable 3 for the first time I thought that Walter and Jasper were dating. Old men yaoi my first ship

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.

(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"

"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.

"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.

"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.

". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.

Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.

"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."

"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"

"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"

Kon . . . blinks.

"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"

"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."

"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"

"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?

"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."

"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.

Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.

Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .

Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?

Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.

Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.

It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.

But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?

Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.

Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.

Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.

. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.

Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.

Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.

Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.

"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.

"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"

She stares at him.

"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."

"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."

"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"

"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.

"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.

Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.

"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.

"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.

"Definitely not," Kara says.

"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.

"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."

"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.

"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"

"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.

Eh, whatever.

He calls Tim.

"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.

"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."

". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"

"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."

"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."

"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?

Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.

. . . then again, Bernard did ask.

"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"

"Yes," Bernard says.

"Bernard," Tim says.

"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.

"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.

"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"

"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"

"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"

"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."

". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."

"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."

"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.

"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."

"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.

"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."

"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."

"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."

". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."

"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."

"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."

"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.

"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.

"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."

"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.

"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.

"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.

"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."

"Kon!" Kara chokes.

"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"

"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.

"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."

"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"

"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."

"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.

"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."

"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.

"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.

"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."

"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.

"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.

Spoilsport.

"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.

"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."

"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."

"How is that obvious?" Tim says.

"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.

"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"

"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.

"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.

"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."

"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."

"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.

"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."

"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.

". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.

"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."

"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.

"You kinda implied–"

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.

So it definitely happened to her, yeah.

"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"

"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.

"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.

"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.

"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."

"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."

"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"

"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.

"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"

"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.

"I'm just asking," he huffs.

"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."

"Right?" Kon says.

"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."

"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"

". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."

"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.

"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.

"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"

"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.

"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."

"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.

"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."

". . . um," Bernard says.

"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."

"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."

"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.

"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"

"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"

"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.

"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."

"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"

"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.

"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"

"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."

"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"

"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."

"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.

"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.

"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.

"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.

"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."

"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"

". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.

Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".

"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."

He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.

"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."

"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.

Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?

Definitely best.

[ashthemadwriter-archived]

Baby Boy Darling!

—Your boyfriend turning into a little baby? What are you going to do with him?

Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs

Pairings: Dazai, Chuuya, Fyodor, Nikolai, Ranpo, Jouno X Fem! Reader

Genre: Fluff, Humor

Format: Drabble

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1.8K

A/n: Mildly rushed but acceptable ig!

↳Osamu Dazai

"You know... I don't think this is a good choice for a bedtime story"

The little infant in your arms looked at you curiously. He wasn't old enough to make any sounds other than crying, but the martyred expression he was wearing and his firm grip on your thumb displayed his intention with no complicacy. Nevertheless, that didn't stop you from putting the suicide manual on the nightstand.

"Now now, don't look at me like that. I'm a good babysitter, and a good babysitter doesn't teach babies ways to kill themselves"

You gently caressed his puffy cheeks. "I'm also a generous babysitter, which is why I don't slap your hand away when you grab my boobs"

His gaze fell on his small chubby hand that was trying to get a hold of your breast. It was a good thing you had a T-shirt on, or with the way he was trying to cup them they would've been bleeding by now.

"I'm sorry honey, I don't think you can hold them anymore. Your hands are just too tiny!"

He whined and pouted in response.

"I know! I'm sad too. C'mon, smile a little for me will you? Smile for your mommy"

If he was still an adult, he would have rolled his eyes and smiled, but he wasn't. He was just a cranky baby who was probably planning your murder in his cute little head.

"Get it? Mommy? I'm your mommy! God you didn't have a sense of humor when you were a child did you? I miss my kind, loving boyfriend"

He looked at you unfazedly.

"Alright, how about I sing you a song? Twinkle twinkle little star, how I wonder what you aaaaaaaa— ah!?"

Dazed, you looked down at your baby boyfriend with widened eyes, only to find him staring back at you while his mouth was on your right breast. He was trying to suck on it, but that wasn't easy when it was covered with two layers of clothes, your bra and your T-shirt. Your eyebrows jumped in surprise.

"Wow, you still like the right one better?"

↳Fyodor Dostoyevsky

"So this is the power imbalance they were talking about huh?"

The violet eyed infant stares at you blankly, having a "it won't be this way for long" look in his eyes. You're holding him in front of you while sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing the cheekiest grin you could ever wear.

"No wonder you were so crazy about it. Having somebody wrapped around your finger... feels awesome!"

Still the same bored look.

"giving me the cold shoulder now? I'm just using simple logic to prove my point-which is also what you used to do. I'm saying that from this moment, you're totally and completely dependant on me"

Fyodor tilts his head to the side and gives you a weird look, tempting you to imitate his gesture. A strong feeling is causing you to brag about the current situation and tease him, and you're willingly giving into it.

"Alright. Since I'm the one in charge now, I'm setting a few ground rules. No more acting all workaholicly and staying up until late. No more skipping meals, mister. Im gonna feed you with my special milk, hehehe~ Also, I've got some confessions to make"

It's probably a bad decision to bring these up right now, but you're too captured in the heat of the moment to realize that.

"Ok. I've been trying to tell you this for quite a while. The truth is... I'm pregnant"

The unfazed look is still on.

"Yeah, that was a lie. The real truth is... I was the one who ate all your snacks"

Still no change in his expression.

"...But I assume you already know that. Ugh, keeping secrets from you is such a pain... could you not figure me out for just once?"

Fyodor doesn't seem very eager to respond. He's already very annoyed with how things have turned out and is not really in the mood to joke around. You come to that conclusion when he touches your forearm with his chubby little hand.

"You're gonna activate your ability and kill me, aren't you?"

↳Nikolai Gogol

"Quiz time!!"

Your baby boyfriend whines in annoyance.

"Who's gonna get paid one in his own coin and suffer like I did every time he teased me?"

You flash him a cocky smirk, matched with the way you're looking at him from above as he's lying on the bed. You're standing next to the bed, happier than you could ever be, planning all the steps of your revenge as you trash talk to him.

"That's right. It's no one but youuuuu! Hahahahaha!!"

Nikolai wants to prove to you that he's still strong and nobody can defeat him, but he realizes there's noway he can imply that other by a sulky attitude, which he reluctantly suffices to.

You hold his favorite snack in front of him and shake it, smiling wildly. "Come on darling! Have some! Eh? What are you waiting for? Awwwww! You can't? Then I'll help myself!"

You shoved the entire thing in your mouth and laughed hysterically.

"Nom nom* tastes nom* heavenly! No wonder you never let me have a bite!"

Nikolai is starting to feel a little guilty now. He didn't know that his teasings have made you a spiteful whore.

"You hate babies so much, and now you are one! That's the scariest punishment itself! Can you feel the power of karma? It's a bitch, ain't it? Well, now that you can't talk anymore, I have something to say to you!"

You bend over until there's a small gap between you, pointing at his tiny figure. The bullying attitude is all gone and instead, there's soft glare lying in your eyes.

"I want one of these. Give me one when you get back, Kolya"

You're wrong. This is the scariest punishment.

↳Saigiku Jouno

"Thank you for the meal!"

Jouno is upset. There are many unfortunate things happening for him at the moment. He doesn't like to be a baby. He doesn't want to be unable to do anything other than crying, pooping, eating and sleeping. More importantly, he doesn't want to feel your teeth on his cheeks.

"Mhm, so soft and squishy!" You smile sweetly and look at his puffy cheeks, stained with your bite marks in crimson. "I could just eat you up now, 'giku. You tatse so sweet!"

Anyone who hears this would be happy and blush slightly, but Jouno wasn't one of them, as he tilts his head and looks away, having the most adorable pout on his lips.

Grumpy as always.

"C'mon now, it's not that bad! Look on the bright side! Everyone will have to do everything for you since you can't do it yourself"

Jouno tilts his head back, his eyebrows jumped in surprise.

"Right, that wasn't a really good example of the bright side"

Sighing, you lay next to him on the matress, hands traveling through his white locks. His muscles relax a little bit as he gives into your warmth, nuzzling his head in your chest. You hum with a soft beam, inhaling his baby scent.

"You smell very nicely too, 'giku. Don't be too depressed about this. It's not the end of the world. We'll find a way to turn you back eventually. Plus..."

You lightly pat his back, pressing a lingering kiss on his forehead. "I can have you all to myself, since you can't go on any missions and leave me here all alone anymore"

Yeah, Jouno thinks, maybe it's not that awful after all.

↳Ranpo Adogawa

"Ouch! Why you- let go of my hair you aggressive baby!"

Ranpo cries a whine out and pulls your hair harder, leading you to scream back even louder.

"Stop it! What is wrong with you? I dont care how upset you are, I'm not gonna give you any sweets- ow ow ow!! Ranpo- I said let go of my fucking hair you dumbass!"

Your angry shout startles the dark haired baby. It's not just that he's little, you'd never talked like this to him before. Slowly loosening his grip on your hair, he starts sobbing quietly, covering his face with his chubby hands. This breaks your heart.

"Nooo... I'm sorry sweetie! Mommy- Aunty- god I dont even know what I am to you anymore! Whatever- I'm sorry ok? But you can't eat sweets baby boy, you're smart enough to know that, right?"

Smart enough to know that?? Huh!

Ranpo sees right through your little plan. He knows all these little tricks inside out- hell he was the one who taught you all of them; but what pisses him off is how it's working on him even though he knows your true intention.

The smirk you've been holding back shamelessly appears on your face when he wears a serious expression, nodding like someone who's given an important task and is determined to do it carefully and correctly, then points at your boobs.

Your smile instantly fades away.

"Shit. I'm not doing that"

↳Chuuya Nakahara

"Your struggle is hilarious to me"

Baby Chuuya watched you with a threatening glare. He was clearly unhappy about this situation, and you enjoying his frustration was not going to help him at all.

"I know you really need it right now, but honestly, I don't think your little tummy can digest that"

Merely ignoring you, he tried to open the bottle of wine he was struggling to hold with his chubby feet; but every time he pulled, the bottle would slip out of his not so tight grasp. He couldn't use his ability on it, since the bottle would sink into his little body. He couldn't even roll over on the bed, and his so called nanny was laughing instead of helping him.

Forget about all the things he'd been through. This was the true misery.

"Alright. Give me the bottle"

He didn't seem to agree, because he immediately hugged the bottle with all the strength he had, like it was his dearest thing. Your serious expression showed that you weren't going to give up either.

"You give me that bottle mister or you won't get extra milk tonight"

Reluctantly, he opened his arms and you snatched the bottle, putting it somewhere high. When you turned around, you saw him sulking.

"Don't be like that baby, you know you can't drink that right now. I thought you were a reasonable person hmm?"

The cute pout resting on his lips made you giggle and bend down to kiss his cheek. He was still pretty upset, so he looked away from you. Unfortunately, he couldn't do anything about the little blush on his face.

You carefully held him up and looked at his tiny figure. His long hair was gone and instead, there were short ginger locks on his head. His bluebell eyes however, hadn't changed one bit, still as gorgeous as ever.

You smiled at him. "You want me to throw you up?"

He looked oblivious. He probably knew what you were talking about, but hadn't figured out whether you were serious or not.

Shaking your head to the side, you tightened your grip on his waist before throwing him up in the air, and catching him before he fell on the ground. He got so excited that he started laughing, letting out adorable baby noises.

"Aww, you like that huh? want me to do it again?"

He blinked.

"Ok! Three, two, one! Whoa!"

Chuuya had jumped higher than this before, but not once did he feel the thrill he was experiencing now. He was having the time of his life, flying in the air with no effort. Every time you threw him up, his mouth got opened wider, wider, and wider,

until vomit came out of it, landing on your chest.

There weren't any throwing and catching after that, since you were too busy looking at the vomit, shocked. But it wasn't him vomiting that caught you off guard, it was the vomit. It wasn't milk, it was wine.

"Ok, we need to talk about your drinking problem when you turn back to an adult"

All rights reserved © 2023 AshTheMadWriter. Please do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works on any platform.

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[the-case-book-of-fanfiction]

Rain-Soaked Kisses

Ship: Steve Harrington x fem!Mayfield!reader

Summary: Steve hates storms but loves the rain—just another oxymoron of his life, like the secret the kids are trying so very hard to dig up.

Word Count: 6,582 words

Warnings: fluff!!!, sappy & romantic Steve, scheming Dustin & Max, healthy Mayfield sibling relationship, Billy mention, lumax sprinkles, secret relationship, friends to lovers, byler sprinkles, jancy sprinkles

Note: Told in part from the perspective of the kids! Written because it's storming where I am, and I love this weather so much.

☟ Continue below the fold ☟

"Who could he possibly be dating? There's not a girl in Hawkins that wants to go out with him!"

"Well, clearly one of them does!"

Dustin sighed, taking in Max's exclamation. As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Steve had stopped complaining about bad dates and girls who left quickly; Robin reported he'd completely stopped talking about Leah and Heidi and Helen and the five other girls he'd been on-and-off again with; he walked around with a dopey, happy smile on his face all the time; and he was less and less reliable for rides, instead going on dates with a girl who's name he always pretended to forget.

As impossible as the idea seemed, Dustin had to admit it was a logical conclusion.

But who?

"Robin?" Max suggested.

Dustin shook his head. "Impossible. Steve steadfastedly refuses to date her. It's not Nancy again, is it?"

"Nope—saw her with Jonathan yesterday." Max huffed a sigh. "Maybe we have to...think outside the box more?"

"Who's outside the box? Who hasn't he already tried to date and failed miserably at dating?" Dustin demanded.

Max was silent for a moment too long. Then she said, "Alright, I don't know. I can't think of anyone who would actually go out with him."

"Exactly, neither can I," Dustin said. "We've got to watch him. We need to know who this is."

~❊~

But tracking Steve and his mystery girl down was much, much harder than either Dustin or Max had anticipated.

Without Steve driving them around, getting around town took twice as long as it needed, either in the attempts to find someone to drive them or in walking themselves everywhere. Nancy was either busy or with Jonathan most of the time, which ruled out Jonathan as well, and Robin still didn't have her license.

During yet another slow afternoon of trying and failing to put together the pieces of where Steve was going and with who, the phone rang. Dustin and Max both looked up quickly, scrambling over furniture and Dustin's new cat to beat each other to the phone.

Dustin got to it first. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dustin? It's Robin."

"Yeah, I know it's you, Robin, I can recognize your voice."

"Now's your chance."

"What?"

"Steve just left work—he said he's going on a date. Now's your chance to go find out who he's going out with!"

"Oh, shit!" Dustin turned to Max. "Steve's going on a—"

"I heard," she said. "Does she know where he's going?"

"Where's he going, Robin, did he say?"

"A restaurant, and he changed into a really nice outfit before he left here. And by nice, I mean really nice. Like fanciest restaurant in town kind of nice. Whoever this girl is, he really wants to impress her. And he's obsessed with her, too, he's been smiling all day from excitement."

Dustin scoffed. "And you didn't call us before he left?! Now we have to find out where he's going and how to get there!"

"Well, it's not like I could call you talk about him in front of him! Besides, we do know where he's going. What's the fanciest restaurant in town?"

"Enzo's," Dustin realized. "That's where he's taking her."

"I can guarantee it. If you go to Enzo's, he's going to be there. I'd go myself, but Steve and I'll both get fired if at least one of us isn't at the store right now."

"Thanks, Robin!"

"Good luck, guys!"

Dustin turned around to give Max the details, but she cut him off. "I heard. Enzo's."

"All we have to do is catch them in the middle of their date, and we know exactly who Steve's dating," Dustin said with a grin. "Easy!"

"Yeah, easy," Max snarked. "How are we supposed to get there?"

Dustin paused before he sighed. "Start calling everyone we know with a car, I guess."

Max rolled her eyes. "Like that'll ever work. Nobody's been willing to drive us around so far!"

"Can't hurt to try," Dustin insisted.

"No, Dustin, we'll be wasting time! We should just start walking now!"

But Dustin was already dialing the number to the Wheelers' house. It was answered by Mrs. Wheeler.

"Hello, Karen Wheeler speaking!"

"Hi, Mrs. Wheeler, could I talk to—"

"MIKE!" Dustin flinched at the volume from the other end. Max cringed, hearing the shout from where she stood. "Dustin's on the phone!"

A few seconds later, Dustin heard Mike's voice. "Yeah?"

"Is Nancy there?"

Dustin could see Mike's frown. "What do you want Nancy for?"

"Mike, I don't have time for this—"

"What. For? If this is Keith trying to get a date with her again, I swear that I'll—"

"Oh my God, Mike, no! Steve's going on a date and we need to catch him to figure out who he's going out with! We need Nancy to drive us there."

"Dustin, do you realize how idiotic that sounds? Nancy's not gonna drive you to go spy on her ex and his new girlfriend!" Mike hung up without another word.

Groaning, Dustin tried to call again, but he was met only with the dial tone.

Max rolled her eyes. "I told you it wouldn't work."

"I'm calling the Byers," Dustin grumbled. He dialed the number, but when Joyce picked up, she was talking to someone else in the house and by the time Dustin had gotten out "Is Jonathan there?" he heard the click of the receiver being put back.

"Try my sister," Max said.

Dustin dialed the number to Max's trailer, but no one answered. He shook his head.

"She's probably out running," Max sighed.

"Another run? Isn't that all she does now?" Dustin asked with a frown.

Max shrugged. "She says it helps her...deal with things."

Dustin sensed a can of worms—the kind that most people would avoid, the kind that Max clearly wanted to talk about anyway. So he asked it, when most people wouldn't. "Things?"

Max nodded slowly. "Yeah. You know...the Upside Down, Eddie..." She hesitated. "Billy."

Dustin glanced down at his feet. There was blood associated with all of those memories. He knew they plagued all of them, those who'd survived Vecna and his creatures, and he knew that they all had different ways of coping. Dustin's was research, Max's was music, yours was running.

"She's more like him than she wants to admit," Max said. "At least, she is with the running. Billy, he...he used to exercise to distract himself. She runs."

"Is that a bad thing?" Dustin asked.

"No, it's just... She needs someone in her corner is all. And I don't...I don't think that person is me anymore."

Dustin's heart squeezed in his chest. "Max..."

She shook off his concern. "Come on—we'd better start walking, or we're never going to make it to Enzo's on time!"

~❊~

It started to rain halfway through their walk to Enzo's.

The storm didn't start gently. There was no warning before it started to pour, no flash of lightning or boom of thunder. Just a steady downpour, hard and fast and painful against the skin.

Dustin and Max hid from the weather as much as they could, ducking under store awnings and hiding under outdoor umbrellas as they came across them.

After getting turned around at least twice, they spotted the restaurant's glowing sign. They ran toward it, stopping at the bay windows peering in. They scanned the tables inside. From the parking lot behind them, there was laughter and the slamming of car doors.

"Do you see them?" Dustin hissed. He looked at every face he saw, overanalyzing the back of every head that looked like it might be Steve.

"Are we sure they're still there?" Max said. "It's been, what, almost an hour and a half? Who eats for that long?"

Dustin shrugged. "Enzo's is a fancy place, they've got designated courses and shit. They could still be there."

A car engine revved. "Are you sure?" Max took Dustin by the shoulders and spun him around. "Is it just me, or does that look like—"

"Steve's car!" Dustin hissed. "Shit!"

They raced after it in the rain, Dustin catching sight of Steve through the driver's side window, his hair perfect and a huge grin on his face.

"Is he wearing a suit jacket?" Max asked.

"Did you see who was in the passenger's seat?" Dustin demanded.

Max didn't answer, still staring after the car, her face fixed into confusion.

"Max?"

"Huh? Oh, no, I...I couldn't tell who it was."

Dustin groaned. "Shit! That was our one chance!"

"We'll get another one," Max snapped. "He's been going on dates a lot, right? Robin said so, and he's always gone because he's been on a date. He'll go on another one with her soon."

Dustin sighed. "Good point. Now we just have to wait. Come on—we should call Robin."

~❊~

Max walked home in the rain by herself, hearing her mother fuss that she would get a cold if she kept walking around in the rain without a jacket, but not caring. Louder than her mother's voice was El's: friends don't lie.

Should Max have told Dustin what—who—she saw in Steve's car? Or the fact that she'd seen them going into Steve's burgundy BMW in the parking lot while he'd been focused on the store?

No.

Yes?

It was too late now. Besides, was she absolutely sure of who she'd seen?

Well, yes, she knew you better than anyone. You'd been by her side her entire life. There were pictures hanging in the trailer of Mom in the hospital bed after she'd given birth to Max, but it was you who was holding her, sitting in the plastic chair next to the bed.

The lights of the trailer were on when Max reached it, but only your car was in the driveway.

She pushed the door open. "Hey, I'm home!"

You poked your head out of the door to your bedroom. Your hair was just as drenched and stringy as her own. "Max! There you are, I was worried— Why are you soaking wet?"

"I walked home," she said, shrugging.

You hurried out of your room. "Come on, we need to get you out of those clothes. Mom will kill us both if she finds out we've both been out in the rain in the wrong kind of clothes."

"Where were you?" Max asked as you brought her into the bathroom.

You glanced up at her but didn't meet her eyes. "You couldn't get a ride home?" You left her in the bathroom, running into her room to grab her some dry clothes.

"No—Steve's the only one who will drive us anywhere, and he's unavailable most of the time."

Guilt flashed over your face. Max narrowed her eyes, watching you closely. You didn't seem to notice. "We'll tell Mom we took showers if she gets back before our hair dries." You paused. "You could have called me, you know."

"I did," she said. "You didn't answer."

Your face fell. "Max, I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"Are you dating Steve?"

The question stopped you in your tracks. "Max, I..."

"Are you?"

You sighed, wiping a a hand over your face. You sighed. "Yeah."

Max sighed. "Hand me a towel, please." You did so silently, taking one of your own to towel-dry your hair. "Why didn't you tell me?"

You shrugged. "At first, I wasn't sure if it was a good idea. I mean... I knew I liked Steve, but his track record with girls hasn't been good lately, and I..." You sighed. "I wanted reassurance he wouldn't be gone after a week."

"And after that?"

You groaned, putting your head in your hands. "This is...gonna sound stupid, but... Steve has been everything for you guys. For you, for Dustin, for El, everybody. He's saved you countless times, I watched him stand up to our brother to protect us, even though Billy beat him bloody for it. I didn't...I didn't want to feel like I was taking him away from you all, but I also...kind of wanted him to myself sometimes. And he seemed to want time alone for the two of us, too, so..." You looked up at Max. "And I didn't...want you to feel like I was taking away from you. After Billy..." Your voice caught in your throat.

There it was again. The silence that surrounded death.

"Died," Max whispered. "After he died."

You nodded. "After he died, I know Steve kind of...stepped up for you. I didn't want you to feel like he cared less about you just because I was in the picture now." You laughed shakily. "I know that kind of, uh, backfired. I'm sorry to keep him away from you guys for so long."

Max shook her head. "Stop apologizing for wanting someone that's yours." She breathed out a laugh. "I was just telling Dustin that you needed someone in your corner. I should have known it would be Steve. I mean, he's always been there for the rest of us, why wouldn't he be there for you?"

You looked over at Max. "Just how mad is Dustin that I'm dating Steve?"

"He doesn't know," Max said. "We've been trying to figure out who Steve's mystery girl is for months. He won't tell anybody, so Dustin wanted to try and see if we could figure it out ourselves." She glanced at you. "We saw you guys last night. At Enzo's. Or rather, I saw you. Dustin was too busy trying to peer inside the restaurant to even notice Steve's car."

You made a face. "How can you not notice Steve's car? It's a burgundy BMW for Christ's sake."

"I know!" Max giggled.

You laughed with her for a minute. The lightness in her voice—it had been a while since you'd heard her laugh like that.

After a moment, you said, "So...nobody else knows that it's me Steve is dating?"

Max shook her head. "Not even Robin."

You whistled. "I'm surprised Steve's capable of keeping a secret from her. It's gotta be killing him, I just know it." You giggled. "However...we could have some fun with this."

Max raised her eyebrows.

"If Dustin wants to know who's Steve's dating, he can keep digging as much as he wants." You grinned. "That's gotta be amusing, surely?"

~❊~

The storm that had swept in over a week ago had lasted the whole week, turning Hawkins into a mud patch and its roads into rivers. It let up briefly, leaving behind perfect spring days, only to return with a vengeance the next week—randomly on a Thursday afternoon.

Thursdays had become movie nights at Steve's house, and Dustin had concocted a plan to trick Steve into telling him who he was dating.

Max knew it wasn't gonna work. She had been present when you told Steve about Dustin's snooping and the both of you had decided to continue yanking Dustin's chain. Steve had seemed more excited about it than even you had.

While Steve set up his house for the group of rambunctious teenagers for movie night, Dustin explained his plan to Max in whispers.

"So, I'm going to try talking about Suzie for the first few hours," Dustin started, watching Steve like a hawk while he moved about in the kitchen, making popcorn for the group. "Get him thinking about his own relationship, you know? And then you know how he gets—" He cut himself off abruptly when Steve came into the living room with bowls of popcorn, setting them on the coffee table.

"Any idea when your sister's supposed to be here, Max?" Steve asked. "I thought she was driving you."

Max shook her head. "She said she'd come after she got out of work, but I don't remember when her shift ended."

Steve nodded. He disappeared up the stairs in the next moment.

"You know how he gets when it gets late into the movie and its dark and he's focused?" Dustin continued, picking up immediately.

Max frowned. "Like when he's so focused on something you can ask him a question and he'll either go 'huh?' and make you repeat it or he'll just answer without thinking?"

"Exactly like that," Dustin said. "That's when I'm—"

Steve returned with a stack of blankets. "How many of us are there, again? Twelve?"

"Thirteen," Dustin and Max both said.

Steve tossed the blankets onto the couch. "Go grab five more. Up the stairs, closet on the left."

They went up the stairs, Dustin whispering again before they'd even reached the landing. "I'm gonna ask him who he's going out with when he's like that."

Max rolled her eyes. "You don't know that'll work. He could say 'huh?' and make you repeat the question, like I just said."

Dustin shrugged. "Then I'll ask him something different, wait a little bit longer, and then ask again. He can't do that the whole night. Can he?"

"How should I know?" Max picked up the blankets and started back downstairs. Steve was whistling in the kitchen. "This whole plan is so stupid, Dustin. It's hardly a plan!"

"Do you have a better idea?" he hissed.

Max stayed silent. Of course she had better ideas, but those might make Steve actually tell Dustin.

"That's what I thought," Dustin said, clearly on the wrong path. "We'll stick with my plan." He glanced at Steve's back in the kitchen. "Unless your sister knows who he's dating? They're pretty much best friends now, right?"

Max nodded. "Blame Robin for that," she said, praying her poker face held. "I don't think she knows. I can't see Steve telling her if he hasn't told Robin."

"Fair point," Dustin decided. "Even more reason to rely on my plan."

She rolled her eyes. "Your plan is just going to annoy him until he kicks you out of his house."

"He likes me too much," Dustin said, with confidence Max wasn't sure he should possess—not about this, at least.

When they reached the first floor again, Steve was pacing around the living room, double checking he had everything set up. Max had to admit she liked the set up he had for movie night: the coffee table was set up with bowls of popcorn and a drink tray, there was a cooler next to filled with water bottles and soda cans, he had dragged every pillow in the house to the couch and floor, a fluffy winter comforter spread out on the carpet to make the floor more comfortable, and an egregious number of bagged snacks in a wicker basket.

"I think we're all set, guys," Steve said, surveying the room with his hands on his hips.

As if cued by Steve's motherly behavior, the rain outside grew louder, falling fast against the AC unit in the window. Steve winced.

"Looks like we're going to have to have the volume up high to hear the movie over the storm," he said.

"What are we watching?" Dustin asked.

Steve shrugged. "I dunno. We've got a couple choices in that cabinet over there, plus the stuff Robin's bringing. I think Nance had a movie she wanted to suggest, too, but I can't remember what it was..." His eye caught on the stack of blankets, leaning down to count them.

Dustin dug through the movie cabinet. "Come on, Steve, what are these movies? Why are they all romantic comedies?"

"Because they're my mom's favorite, dipshit," Steve said with an affectionate roll of his eyes.

"There's nothing of value here!"

"Well, I'm not watching Star Wars again, so—"

"It was Star Trek last week!"

"Even worse." Steve looked up at Max and waved her over. She glanced at Dustin, but he was too busy judging Mrs. Harrington's taste in rom-coms to notice her get up.

"Would it be too obvious if I gave your sister my blanket? I miscounted and we're short one."

Max bit back a laugh. "I think Nancy might notice, Robin would definitely notice, but Dustin's still a little too oblivious for that."

Steve huffed a sigh. "Can't have one of them letting it slip. Alright, fine, I'll use mine and give her a different one." He glanced at his watch. "Her shift ended almost an hour ago, she should be here any minute."

Max frowned. "Why do you know her work schedule better than I do?"

He shrugged. "In case she needs a ride to or from work. Can't leave her stranded if her car breaks down again."

A knock sounded at the door. Steve grinned at Max, both of them knowing you had arrived. He rushed to the door, slowing down only when he was within Dustin's sightline again.

You were hugging your arms when he opened the door, your hair wet and stringy, your clothes soaked through. "What took you so long, Stevie?!" you demanded, hurrying through the door. Max pointed to Dustin before you could kiss Steve's cheek.

"Jesus, you're soaked," Steve said, taking in your more than damp appearance. "Did you walk here?"

"No," you said, pointing out the still-open door to your car. "It's just raining hard enough that I got drenched on the run from my car to your door."

Steve slammed the door shut before more water could get inside. "Uh, okay, come on, I think I've got something for you to change into."

You blinked at him, gaze flicking briefly to Dustin. "Oh, no, that's alright, I'll just—"

"I'm not letting you stay uncomfortable and catch a cold in these clothes," Steve insisted. You nodded, all too ready to curl up in one of Steve's sweaters. "Come on—you two, we'll only be a minute. Answer the door if anyone else comes while we're gone."

Steve ushered you upstairs. Max waited a few minutes before telling Dustin she'd be right back, using the bathroom as her excuse, wanting to keep an eye on the two of you and stop you from any funny business. She followed the damp footprints you'd left behind, slipping into the bathroom across from Steve's room and peering around the door. She smiled at what she saw.

You had ditched your wet pants and shirt and were pulling on a pair of Steve's jeans. Steve had his back turned as he dug through his dresser.

"Um...do you need a different bra? I'm pretty sure you left one here last time..." Steve glanced back at you and smiled. "God, you look cute."

You looked up at him, cheeks pink. "You're just saying that because I'm half-naked in your bedroom and the clothes I'm wearing are yours."

Steve shook his head, still smiling. "I'm sayin' it 'cause you're cute." He walked over to you, sweater in hand, and kissed your nose. "You are beautiful, Miss Mayfield." He brushed your wet hair out of your face. "Arms up, honey."

You lifted your arms for him and he tugged his sweater over your head. He pulled you to his chest as soon as it was on, holding you like it was the last time he ever would. Max watched your hand go into his hair, pulling a soft sigh from him.

"Kiss me, Stevie," you whispered, coaxing his head toward your own with your hand.

Eyes closed, Steve obeyed, kissing you softly, chastely. Max heard the movie-perfect sound of your lips parting before you tugged him back down for a second kiss, deeper than the first.

"I love you," he whispered.

"And I love you," you said back. The two of you smiled at each other, sickeningly sweet, and Max wondered if the look on your face was the same one on hers whenever she was with Lucas.

Steve adjusted his sweater on your body one more time. "We should get back downstairs," he said. "Dustin might get suspicious."

You fell back into his arms for another hug. "Okay."

Steve took your hand and slowly lead you out of his bedroom, though he seemed just as reluctant as you to have to let go and pretend to just be friends. "Your sister thought it would be too much to give you my blanket during the movie, but I think I like having you in my clothes more."

You smiled. "If it's anything scary, I'll jump a lot and cling to you and we can blame it on the movie."

Steve grinned. "Let's hope Robin brings a good scary movie, and that Eddie wins the vote tonight, then."

Max shut the door before you could see it was open, making sure it closed quietly, quickly flushed the toilet, and turned on the sink and made a show of opening the door to see the two of you. She glanced pointedly at your hands.

"I thought we were still making Dustin guess," she said.

Steve sighed. "Yeah, yeah, I know." He brought your joined hands to his mouth and kissed the back of your hand before letting you go. "Alright, I'm done now."

The three of you headed back downstairs, Max at the lead and you just behind. Max knew Steve had let you go down the stairs first just so he could watch you prance around in his clothes and run his gaze over you again, but she'd give him a pass, just this once. You did look rather at home in his clothes.

Max watched you while you made yourself at home in your usual spot, in the middle cushion on the Harringtons' couch. In fact, she realized, you looked more like yourself, the happiest you'd been, since Billy had died—maybe even since you'd left California.

Credit where credit was due, Max would have to thank Steve somehow (without it seeming like she was thanking him for bringing you back).

"You want anything?" Steve asked you, tossing you one of the blankets. He set his down on the cushion next to you, then the blanket Robin had claimed on your other side.

"I'm all set," you promised. "Anyone else here yet, Dusty?"

Dustin rolled over onto his back from the place on the floor he'd claimed as his several months back, which he said was the best place to watch the movie from, but Max knew was his spot because it was still close enough to Steve, too. The middle, which was hers, was definitely a better view than Dustin's righthand side.

"Not yet," he said. "Hi."

You smiled. "Hi. Find a good movie?"

"No," Dustin said. "Steve's taste sucks."

Steve narrowed his eyes, picking up a piece of popcorn and throwing it at him. "For the last time, it's my mom's rom-com collection!"

~❊~

Max lay in her spot between Lucas and Dustin, Erica on the other side of Lucas, only half-paying attention to the movie while she braided El's hair, Will and Mike snuggling on the opposite side of Dustin. Max was sure Dustin felt singled out, being boarded by two couples, plus Nancy and Jonathan sharing a blanket and a lounge chair just behind him. Eddie had curled himself up on the chair on Steve's opposite side, covering himself in his blanket to protect himself from the blow of the AC unit.

Robin had managed to snag a new release that had just arrived at Family Video—Tim Burton's Beetlejuice, a movie that had only been out for a few months in the theaters. The kids on the floor had propped themselves up on their elbows, drinks and half-eaten bowls of popcorn in front of them.

Every so often, Max faked a yawn to duck her head back to glance at her sister and Steve. Robin was stretched out across both your laps, and the two of you had leaned together to share both of your blankets after Steve had muttered something about the AC being too cold, only for the others to shout for him not to touch it.

And judging from the way you and Steve occasionally exchanged a look, Max guessed you were holding hands beneath the blanket.

Max turned her attention back to the movie, lifting a small handful of popcorn to her mouth. Not so subtly, Lucas fake-stretched and laid his arm over her shoulders. Giggling quietly, Max snuggled into his side. She heard your amused hum behind from behind her, followed by a small chuckle of Steve's.

As it had the entire movie, thunder crashed outside. While the rain had lightened up enough not to be distracting, the flash of lightning visible through the curtains and the boom of thunder had been frequent and often made the room's occupants jump in fear.

Another boom of thunder announced the power flickering.

Dustin looked back at Steve. "Uh, Steve?"

"We've got a generator," Steve said, but he had sat up straighter and had pulled away from you, his face uneasy.

With the next flicker of lightning and crash of thunder, the power went out.

The group of thirteen sat in the pitch-black room in silence. Lightning illuminated faces briefly, showing Max that Robin had sat up, and that you, Steve, and Eddie were all on your feet.

"There are candles in the study," Steve said, breaking the silence. His voice was wavering, and Max remembered you saying something about cutting a date short due to the storm earlier that week. Was Steve...afraid of storms?

"I'll get them," you said.

"Matches in the drawer next to the sink and lanterns in the sunroom storage cabinet," he continued. "Eds, come on, let's go see if we can get the power back to the fridge and a few lights, yeah?"

"After you," Eddie said and followed Steve out the front door. The pattering rain grew louder as the door opened, revealing a world in grey scale, but still lighter than the inside of the house.

Dustin sat up. "Candles? Why not just use flashlights?"

"Steve only has two flashlights," Robin said. "Working ones, at least. But candles? The Harringtons have plenty of those."

Max followed you around the house, lighting the lanterns as you found them and helping you carry the candles back to the living room.

With the room now illuminated by flickering flame, it was easy to see the worry on people's faces.

"Do you think the whole town's out?" Mike asked.

"No, it can't be," Nancy said, but she didn't sound sure.

Will wriggled out from under his blanket. The look he exchanged with Jonathan was concerned.

"Everybody keep calm," you said, setting a lantern down on the floor at the center of the group. "Steve and Eddie will get the generator running in no time."

Silence fell, still and eerie. You sat beside Max and Lucas, and Max laid her head in your lap, trying to smile up at you. It only took a look for her to know you were lost in your head, in memories of the night Billy went AWOL and had been controlled by the Mind Flayer.

Max took your hand in hers. "It's okay," she promised.

"Mmm," you hummed, but your gaze was fixed on the door; you wouldn't relax until you saw Steve walk back in, unscathed.

The AC kicked back on. A few lights flickered to life and the low hum of the refrigerator filled the room.

Relief filled the room with the sound of an audible sigh. Moments later, the door opened and a waterlogged Steve and Eddie stepped back in.

"Did it work?" Steve asked. Then he heard the AC. "Alright, good." He looked around. "Turn the lights back off—the candles will do until power really comes back."

"Steve, you're drenched," Nancy said, "you're going to catch—"

"A cold, I know," he sighed, glancing over at you. You fought a smile. "Sorry about movie night, guys."

Dustin shrugged. "It was only a matter of time before we lost power. The size of the storm—"

"Oh, shut up, nerd," Erica said, rolling her eyes.

Dustin leaned around Lucas. "Do I need to remind you of the vents?" he hissed.

Erica narrowed her eyes at him.

"Children, children," Eddie admonished with a shit-eating grin that said he knew his chiding was only going to rile them up more.

"Eds," Steve warned, opening the curtains to look outside.

Eleven craned her neck to peer outside. In a small voice, she asked, "Can...can we dance in the rain?"

Nancy hesitated, then said, "I'm not sure that's the best idea, the weather isn't exactly kind at the moment."

Steve looked back outside again. "It's not raining too heavily right now."

El wrung her hands. "Joyce says it's...fun and romantic to dance in the rain."

Robin leaned forward, gasping. "You've never danced in the rain before?"

El shook her head. "Only biked in it."

"We have to go dance in the rain!" Robin insisted, jumping to her feet and pulling Eleven up with her. "It's a...a...a cognitive milestone!"

"I don't think that's the right phrase, Robin," you laughed, but you were also getting up. "Still, I think it's a good idea. Good way to pass the time until the power comes back."

"Come on, Nancy," Jonathan said softly. "Let her have fun. Mom's right. It's fun in the rain."

You took one of Robin's hands and one of Steve's and dragged them into the rain. Robin created a chain by grabbing El, who grabbed Max, who grabbed Lucas. The small group raced out into the street, running through puddles and spinning through the falling rain.

Dustin appeared at Max's side, his hair matted to his face. "It's like the time they were drugged by the Russians," he said, staring at Steve and Robin, the latter of whom was trying to taste the rain.

Max did a doubletake. "When they were what?"

"Don't ask," Erica suggested.

Laughter filled the air as the group danced around each other, twirling each other and splashing through the current of water at the side of the road. Steve tripped through puddles with Robin; Jonathan convinced Nancy to dance in the driveway; Will and Mike splashed each other in the puddles.

"May I have this dance?" Lucas asked, holding his hand out to Max and trying his best to look gentlemanly, which was ruined by the water running into his eyes and making him squint.

"You dork," Max laughed, but she took his hand anyway and let him pull her close, guiding her in a slow dance through the rain. She rested her head on his shoulder and watched as you went over to Steve and Robin.

Steve stopped his fooling around, watching you approach with a dopey, lovesick smile. He held out his hands to you and you took them; he twirled you in the rain, catching you and pulling you close before you could fall in the wet road.

"Careful there," he laughed. Even with his hair plastered to his head, his clothes heavy and hanging off him, you were still looking at him like he was the most beautiful creature you'd ever seen.

Max watched the time slow around the pair of you. She knew you were both completely oblivious, cut off from the company around you, even from Robin's stare as she took in the way the two of you gazed at each other.

Steve swayed you, getting himself lost in your eyes. He cupped your face with one hand, running his thumb over your cheekbone.

Lost in your bubble, neither of you noticed that the others had all stopped to watch, unable to speak and break the spell—not even Dustin, whose mouth hung agape.

You were lost in Steve, Max could tell. Close enough to the pair of you now, she could see you drinking in every detail: the water droplets hanging off Steve's hair and eyelashes, the amazed curve of his open mouth, the gentle swipe of his thumb, the lovestruck look in his eyes, his rosy cheeks so stark against his otherwise pale, cold, and wet skin, the reassuring hold of his arm around your waist.

Max knew what Steve was going to do before it happened, before even you had caught up. He bent his head, slotting your lips together.

Like some magic, divine will, the rain fell a little faster, distant thunder boomed, and lightning splintered through the sky, lighting up the clouds above you and Steve, a dramatic backdrop to a kiss so similar to a first kiss.

Robin whooped first. You and Steve smiled into each other, but neither pulled away, and Max realized you had been aware of your audience the entire time; but keeping it a secret hadn't been worth skipping out on a spectacular rain-soaked kiss.

Mixed in with the cheering was Dustin's incredulous cries of "What?! Max, did you know?!" that she pointedly ignored.

Steve swayed you while the kiss continued, embarrassingly long but adorably sweet. When it finally broke, Steve pressed his forehead against yours.

"I love you," he said, loud enough to be heard over the storm. (Robin shrieked.)

"I love you, too," you giggled. (Robin shrieked louder.)

Steve pushed your wet hair behind your ear and kissed your forehead, then shoved his hand through his own hair to get it out of his face.

"Not what you were expecting, huh, Henderson?" he said with a cheeky grin.

Dustin looked flabbergasted. "How did you know I was— MAX!"

You and Steve burst into a fit of giggles. You snuggled into his chest.

"How is that comfortable? I'm soaked!" Steve asked you.

"Yeah, but it's you," you said. A soft, sweet smile pulled at his lips, barely distracting you from his quiet moan of relief. He squeezed you tight.

"You're going to need to borrow more of my clothes," he said.

You grinned up at him. "I'll happily live in your clothes, Stevie."

A few feet away, Mike sneezed violently.

"Alright, back inside," Steve decided. "That's enough rain for today. I don't need you all getting sick and still needing me to drive you everywhere."

Dustin rolled his eyes. "Are you actually gonna drive us again?"

"If you give my girl the front seat and behave when she's in the car with us," Steve said. "Inside, come on. Go, shoo."

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, watching the others flee to the safety of his house, then following them in with you. You kissed his cheek as you walked. Max hung back with Lucas, wanting to know what you said about the sudden rain kiss.

"You are perfect, Steve Harrington," you whispered. His cheeks darkened.

"Says you," he said, nuzzling his nose into your hair. "Hey, um... You wanna stay the night?"

"Gotta take Max home," you said. "But...I can come back?"

"I...I'd like that," Steve said. Max wondered if he'd ever been this shy with a girl before.

"Me too," you whispered. Steve squeezed your hip.

Dustin rolled his eyes from the doorway. "Get a room," he groaned.

"Oh, shut up," Max teased. "You're just annoyed you couldn't figure it out!"

Dustin scowled. "You knew! You knew and you were hiding it from me!"

Max shrugged, fighting a giggle.

Steve passed out towels with a warning not to let them get close to an open flame. Halfway through his warning, the power flickered back on—and so did the movie.

The group cheered, but Max watched you and Steve sneak upstairs and come down a few minutes later in dry clothes, hand in hand. She smiled before shaking her head and turning back to the ending of the movie.

And if—no, when—Steve asked her for advice on how to propose to you, Max was going to tell him to do it in the rain.

☞ ❊ ☜

Stranger Things // Steve Harrington

Taglist: {comment and let me know if you'd like to be added to the S.H. taglist!} @ohatropa@nix-rose@live-the-fangirl-life

[orqheuss]

Clumsy Love

(Ominis Gaunt/F!Reader FLUFF)

Summary:

Ominis was supposed to be your best friend, so why did being close to him suddenly make your heart race? *** A relaxing day in the Room of Requirement takes a turn that you never expected. Not that you were complaining, though. Who doesn't love a little bit of dancing?

Word count: 3k

AN: I thought this was a really cute idea, and I love the trope where a character is so emotionally constipated that they don't realize they're in love until a really inopportune moment.

If you wanna listen to something while you read, I have a jazz playlist here BUT, if you want specifics, the two songs that I was thinking of for the swing dancing scene started with "Dream a Little Dream of Me" by Ella Fitzgerald, followed by "In the Mood" by Glenn Miller. (if you want a song for the ending, I suggest "The Face I Love" by Stacy Kent)

You didn’t know what you were expecting to come from your day when you retreated to the Room of Requirement, but it certainly wasn’t what was in front of you at the current moment. 

In all honesty, your day started fairly normal— double potions with the Gryffindors, followed by Charms. It wasn’t uncommon for one of your boys, sometimes even both, to follow you from Professor Ronen’s room to your little sanctuary in the Astronomy tower, and today it seemed that Ominis in particular wanted to bask in your company for a little bit longer. Just Ominis. He seemed to be doing that more often as of late. Be it little lingering touches on your arm when he goes to gather your potion ingredients for you, offering to carry your textbooks to a class that you shared, sitting slightly closer than what was normally deemed appropriate at your house table during supper, or going as far as to fall asleep curled against your arm in History of Magic, he was always around. Not that you minded, of course; he was your best friend, bar Sebastian. 

What you did mind was how your body reacted to his closeness, something that happened completely outside of your control. Every time his skin brushed against yours it was like a swarm of lacewing flies hatched in your stomach, their tiny wings beating harshly against the lining of your gut and scratching all the way up to your brain, making it fuzzy and muddled. Your palms would sweat when he stood close to you, small tremors wracking through your form if his shoulder so much as bumped against yours as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. At one point, Sebastian, noticing the extreme shade of pink that overtook your face one evening in the common room when Ominis’ hand “accidentally” brushed against the bare skin above your knee when he reached for his Astronomy textbook on the table, made a big show of pressing his hand to your forehead and feeling for a temperature, asking if you were feeling alright.The most concerning part, though, was that you had become incredibly clumsy whenever he was around. He could just simply speak your name and you would nearly drop anything you were holding in your hands. Sometimes it was something small like your quill, or a hairbrush, but once, to your, and everyone else in your Herbology classes, displeasure, you had dropped the mandrake you were potting when he whispered in your ear asking for help locating his offending tuber. You were beginning to think that you should go pay nurse Blainey a visit— someone must have cursed you to act like this around the sweet blond boy. There was really no logical reason to be this worked up in his presence, and it drove you mad that not only had your peers begun to notice your little slip-ups, but Ominis had also begun to take note of your strange behavior. 

The worst part of it all, though, was instead of asking if you were alright, or coming to the same conclusion as you about the possible curse, he seemed obnoxiously smug about your reactions to him once Sebastian had the gall to point them out. 

What did he know that you didn’t?

Either way, you had developed a new symptom that day in your Come and Go room. An old gramophone had appeared in the corner of your little sitting area not long after you entered, playing some soft ragtime tune chalk full of brass and jaunty piano that created a lovely ambiance to your impromptu study session. Ominis had started humming along soon after it began, seemingly recognizing the melody. His voice had a lovely timbre to it— something deep and earthy that rumbled in your chest and made your heart race with every lift and fall of the notes. Eyes fluttering shut, the book in your lap quickly lost your interest much like most other things when you were in the Slyrherin’s presence. He had this gravitational pull to him that you couldn’t help but react to; everything in your body screamed that you needed to be in his orbit forever. 

Normally, the smallest of movements from him captured your attention, but you were so enthralled by his angelic voice that you didn’t notice him standing before you, his hand outstretched in front of your face and his palm facing the sky, until that heavenly throat cleared itself. You shook yourself from your hypnotized state, fumbling with the book open in your lap and slamming it closed by accident from the shock before snapping your gaze to his. He was looking down at you with a gleam of mirth in his eyes, the mischievous glint making the oceanic blues glitter like the reflection of stars on the black lake. It was uncanny how well he could meet your gaze, no matter the struggles his disability would normally pose. Ominis chuckled lightly at your squeak of fright, flexing his fingers in your direction again as he spoke, his smile clear in his tone. 

“Care to dance, dearest?” 

Dearest. Your two boys called you little pet names before, nothing more significant than a “dear” or “love” here and there, but dearest? Merlin help you. You had felt your heart pick up its pace around the blond before, but the way his mouth moved around that sweet sounding word made your trusty organ completely stop. 

That was definitely new.

He laughed again, a velvety sound that completely wiped your mind of whatever you were about to say. One of Ominis’ perfect eyebrows quirked up slightly, his teeth biting his lower lip in an attempt to hide his cheeky smirk. 

Your jaw opened and closed like a fish gasping for air as you struggled to find your words again. Detangling one of your hands from the knot that your fingers made on your lap, you carefully placed it in his waiting palm; your heartbeat skipping again at the sight of his long, lithe fingers completely engulfing yours. 

You stuttered around the sudden dryness in your mouth. “Y-Yes! I’d love to.” 

The pretty blond’s smile only grew wider as he pulled you up to stand, his pearly white teeth catching the sun rays streaming through the large skylight above as he pressed his hand to the small of your back, drawing you closer until you were flushed with his chest. You prayed to the gods above that he couldn’t feel how harshly your heart was pounding in your chest. 

Ominis carefully swayed the two of you to the beat of the music, his smooth voice humming softly in your ear again as he moved your bodies to and fro. Your shoulders slowly relaxed as the music picked up in volume, the warm-toned sound of the trumpets backing the warbly voice of the jazzy songstress flowing pleasantly through your ears and curling around the forefront of your mind. The boy started to move a bit more, taking your gentle breath against the junction of his neck as the go ahead to move the both of you in a more pronounced motion. As much as he loved messing with you, he still wanted you to feel comfortable around him. Ominis slowly spun you around, keeping small circles for now and letting himself truly relax into the music. His soft hums pittered off more and more with each passing moment, the sound soon being taken over by his singing voice melding with the lyrics of the song playing. Your heartbeat slowed as a contentedness filled your entire body. There was nothing in the world that you could compare the tonality of his voice to; it was truly divine— the lilt of his accent taking you like a breeze on a cooled, winter morning. 

The music only got livelier the longer the two of you were tangled in the embrace. Saxophones sang alongside the standing bass with each swung note, trumpets called across the recording studio and were answered by the trombones on the other side, the piano plucked through a scattered melody that was finished by the vocalist. All the while, Ominis never faltered in his steps. You had never seen his smile so big before— so full of joy and life. Looking at him was like the sun had finally come out after a long, dreary blizzard. There was nowhere else you wanted to be in that very moment, everything was absolutely perfect. 

As the ragtime piano sped up in tempo, so did your steps. The two of you spun around the large, expansive room, letting the music carry you away into its sweet oblivion. Your skirts gently brushed against Ominis’ calves as he swung your body where he wanted it to go, leading you to the best of his ability without his wand to guide him. You served as his eyes, gently pulling him away from things in your path like end tables or chairs as you climbed up and down the stairs, winding around your vivariums and through the grand, columned hallways connecting each section to the other. It wasn’t a good dance in the slightest, neither of you quite coordinated enough to warrant any applause or win any competitions. More often than not your feet ended up atop of his, but he never once flinched or grumbled at your lack of experience. The wiry boy was completely content in this little bit of chaos— he would happily let even the likes of a graphorn crush his toes if he could keep holding you in his arms like this. Your laughter mingled together, bouncing off the tall cathedral ceilings and ringing like the bells of Hogsmeade on a spring day, the smell of fizzing whizbees from Honeydukes and the tiny bangs of fireworks from Zonkos dancing together in the air. 

All of it came crashing down, however, when you did not see the corner of your wizards chess table come into focus— much too distracted by the way the light of your gas lamps caught the white streaks in his pupil-less eyes just right. One wrong move of your ankle and down you both went, tumbling to the ground in a grand knot. Ominis quickly turned his body to shelter your fall, pulling you closer to his chest in a show of protection as he braced for impact against the cold stone floor. He landed first, a soft puff of air leaving his throat alongside a pained “ooph” as your dead weight pressed against his ribs. You clumsily gathered your bearings, scrambling up to your elbows and a rouged blush stretching from ear to ear as apologies fell frantically from your lips.

“Oh Merlin, I am so sorry, Ominis. How unbecoming of me, let me just—” 

His arms tightened around your waist, his fingertips digging into your sides and keeping you steady and exactly where you were, giving you no room to move from his hold. The contact was near burning, like ten tiny hot coals against your skin. You didn’t think you could possibly blush anymore than you already were. Luckily, it seemed that Ominis was in a very similar state under you. His own cheeks were painted the color of roses, making his birthmarks stand out exponentially more against the normal paleness of his skin tone. You traced the tiny, homemade constellations, casting your eyes up more until they met his unseeing, wide-eyed stare. You had never been this close to the boy's face before— never noticed how deep his eyes were, like two endless whirlpools off the Clagmar coast. They drew you in, pulling you deeper and deeper into his frothing currents. You could see entire coastines in them, the seafoam tides that rolled through his turbulent irises smooth but strong like a riptide. There was no question in your mind that you would be completely content drowning in those waves. 

Your thoughts came to a pause when the most adorable giggle you had ever heard came from the boy underneath you. His eyes began to crinkle at the corners as his smile grew wider, tiny little whimpers of a laugh escaping through his parted lips as the situation at hand began to take shape in his mind. Ominis’ entire face lit up like the sun as he laughed, the volume of his voice rising steadily until loud guffaws wracked through his entire body. The tremors vibrated where you were connected, sending a warming buzz through your system as you too were taken over by uncontrollable laughter. Your head fell to his chest, pressing your temple against his sternum as one of his hands reached upwards and thread its way into your hair. If anyone were to come into the room they would think you both had gone completely loony. Who knows, maybe you had. All you knew, though, was that this was the happiest you had felt in a very long time. 

Your cackles soon slowly pittered down to soft giggles as you straightened your neck, opening your eyes again and gazing at the beautiful boy you were still on top of. You didn’t notice when he had stopped laughing with you, but the look on his face at that very second could have ceased time itself. Ominis’ lips were curled upwards in the softest smile you had ever seen, his eyes gentle and half lidded like a cat content in a sunbeam. You were sure he would be purring right now if he had the ability. He was somehow looking at you in a way that you could only describe as how the moon would look at the earth— like your laughter was the sole reason his world continued to spin on its axis. 

Everything you had been feeling, every physical reaction that had confounded you as of late in regards to the blond suddenly made sense. You had not been cursed to act like a blithering idiot like you had originally thought, the answer was much more simple than that. It was truly idiotic how long it took you to realize the simple fact of the matter: you were in love with him. It wasn’t a shock when you finally pieced it together, if anything the revelation came to you as easy as breathing. You were in love with Ominis Gaunt, no if’s, and’s, or but’s. 

One of your hands shifted slightly to the right, cradling the side of his face and soothing your thumb against his cheekbone as his reached to do the same, brushing the hair that fell from your bun behind your ear and gently holding the side of your jaw that he didn’t already have a hand on. A surge of bravery shocked through your veins like lightning as your eyes narrowed in on the soft curve of his cupid's bow, your face leaning minutely closer and your breath fanning against his lips as his eyes flitted closed. 

Screw prosperity, and screw what was deemed “ladylike.” Right now, there was only one thing you wanted to do, and you didn’t think you would ever get another chance as perfect as this. 

Your lips curled into a smile of your own as you whispered against his skin, mouth a hairs length away and gently brushing against his as you spoke. “I am going to kiss you now, Ominis, if that’s alright.” 

All he could do was nod slightly, his own words nothing but a trick of the wind. As if he would ever deny you, and by extension himself, of that simple pleasure. “Okay…”

And then there was no more space between the two of you. Your lips fit together like two puzzle pieces, both torn, well loved, and worn but still able to fit together no matter how many times your edges are frayed. There were no grand fireworks, nor bursts of stars behind your eyes as your mouths moved in tandem, just the feeling that this was right. This was what was missing from your life all of these years. His hands pulled your face impossibly closer, one set of fingers working their way under your top knot and gripping at your roots as you both poured everything you had been feeling into the other. For once, everything was bliss. 

The kiss ended much sooner than you would have liked it to, but unfortunately as humans you needed to breathe every so often. Ominis’ smile was contagious as he pulled away, his breath fanning heavily across your cheeks as he pressed gentle pecks into your skin. It was like a weight had been lifted off his chest. His subtle gestures of courting had finally worked. 

“I have wanted to do that for so long.” 

You snickered lightly, rubbing the tip of your nose against his. “Why didn’t you, then?” 

It was his turn to laugh now, his breathy chuckle your new favorite sound. “It seems I’m just as clumsy with my emotions as you are, my dearest.” 

You both dissolved into giggles again, letting your heartbeats slow back to a normal pace before continuing your activities from before. The gramophone continued to warble from the corner, beckoning you to dance once more with its saccharine song, and who were you to deny its call.

No, it may not have been a perfect dance, nor a perfect first kiss, but it was yours. 

As you clamored off of the fallen blond, cradling his hand in yours as you helped him up from the floor and back into the dancing position you had found yourself in moments ago, you knew one thing for certain: there were definitely going to be more dances, and certainly more clumsiness, to come. 

AN: I won't lie, I don't think this is my best. I still wanted to put it out there though. It's my birthday, pls be nice to me.

***

like what you read? here's more!

[fairyofshampgyu]

Corrupt File !

genre: smut, college au

pairing: programmer! beomgyu x gn reader (afab when it comes to smut)

warnings: nsfw, sub virgin nerd! beomgyu, dom! reader, corruption kink, mentions of p0rn, handjob, riding

word count: 1.8k

Choi Beomgyu. Goodie two shoes in your comp sci class who was the teacher’s pet and notorious for being an ‘excellent’ and ‘strong’ programmer who can program amazingly well in any language and has great debugging skills. Apparently he learnt how to program at the early age of 7 and made his own pac man after a week. 

He’s also a little pretentious bitch. He thinks he’s better than everyone else in the class and doesn’t bother speaking to anyone, giving others judgemental stares. You’ve seen him a couple times on campus with four other dudes though but none of them were in any of your classes. He comes to every single class early with his cute little outfits, sweater vests and cardigans whilst everyone else is in their hoodies and deranged with little sleep, sits at the front and doesn’t talk to anyone but the teacher. 

You? Well, you’re mediocre at programming. You’re not too bad but you prefer other aspects of computer science and your programming skills have always made you slightly insecure because you weren't the best of the best and you didn’t learn it at some ridiculously young age and program 24/7 all types of games and websites and other stuff. You had to work so hard to actually get to a good level of programming whilst it came so easy to people like Choi Beomgyu. He seems so perfect. It made you want to imperfect him. 

You were late to class today, getting a bit delayed by some cats on the way there. They were really cute cats what can you say! And you loved cats. But being late to class today meant that all seats were occupied except for the front row and the spare seat, unsurprisingly was next to Choi Beomgyu. He doesn’t pay you any attention though, waiting for his computer screen to load and then the teacher begins.

“Alright, today I thought our class was in great need of some partner work and we’ll be doing programming today. With whoever is sitting next to you, I’d like you to develop a program with them. It can be on everything and anything and you have the weekend to create it, using Python.”

Wow. It was just your luck. 

The boy besides you sighs, pushes his cute, round, kinda too big for his face, glasses up and turns his body to face you. 

To be honest, you wouldn’t have minded working with him. Despite being slightly jealous, you did admire his skill but with how hostile he was being and how clearly he resented the idea of working with you, you didn’t think this was going to go too well.

“...We could make like a simple video game or something...” You speak up first.

 “On python? And too basic.” He rolls his eyes and shuts your suggestion off.

You’re slightly agitated with him now and you show it with your tone. “Well what do you think we should do then, huh?”

“I think we should make a music suggestion tool. We could make an algorithm run that recommends music based on what we think the user will like.”

He doesn’t wait for you to agree, opening up python and already starting to write some code.

For the rest of the class, you don’t contribute much, just trying to give him some suggestions to add maybe a function over there or a loop over here, maybe trying to find a reason as to why a syntax or logic error came up. You’re already halfway done and sure it would need more refining but now you know it won’t take up your whole weekend which is good. You watch him carefully as he stays very focused, fluffy dark hair falling into his face and eyes and his circular glasses that had drooped back down to his nose. You look down to his hands. He was very fast at typing and his hands were oddly very pretty.

Upon inspecting his features, you come to the conclusion that he was in fact actually pretty attractive. How had you never noticed before?

“We can carry on working on it at my place right now if you want?” Beomgyu asks, packing up his pink laptop, pink pencil case and pink notebook back into his crossbody bag after the class had finished. You stare at your own laptop that just has a black hard case cover, your pencil case that looks like it’s been through three wars, and your notebook that was really just a bunch of lined paper. Wow, he even had a theme going on. 

“Oh I've actually got another class after this that won’t be done until about two hours but I can come after that. Just send me your address.” So you exchange phone numbers and go off your separate ways. 

Apparently you were the only one who wasn’t informed that your class was actually cancelled today, your professor going on strike or something like that. Sighing, you check your phone to see that beomgyu had sent you his address and it’s not that far from the campus. You could go there early then.

knock, knock, knock. He was taking weirdly long to open his door and you could hear some rustling and bustling until he finally did open his door.

“Oh. You’re here early.”

“Yeah turns out my class was actually cancelled.”

His room was exactly how you expected it to look; clean and cute and quite perfectly him. The room had a pastel coloured running theme but mostly just pink and white. Fairy lights, strung across the headboard of his bed, a pastel pink record player in the right corner with an assortment of vinyls underneath, ones you recognised and liked and some you didn't recognise, an acoustic guitar to the left on a stand near his shelf and there was a worn out teddy bear occupying his bed. 

He sits on his bed and you follow...and then you both just sit there doing absolutely nothing for a few seconds in awkward silence.

“Uhhh aren’t you gonna get your laptop? We wrote it on your laptop?” You laugh, awkwardly.

“Uh yeah. Right.” So he gets his laptop, very slowly opening it and he’s just about to open the .py file when his mouse board falters over the safari accidentally and the hidden window was freed with a very suggestive video on it paused and an even more suggestive website. Your eyes go wide and so does his.

“I-it’s not- it’s not what it looks like! I-it’s just when you’re watching on a dodgy website and those pop ups come up! yeah...yeah!” He’s furiously clicking the red button on the top left hand corner to close the window immediately. But you can’t help the grin slowly appearing on your face.

You move slowly closer towards him and he moves back, stopping when his head touches the pretty fairy light headboard. “Oh really? Because it seems like you were jerking off before I was here.” Your face is only a few inches away from his now and he gulps, looking up at you. When he doesn’t even say anything to defend himself, you chuckle at him. “What happened to the little goodie two shoes? I didn’t know you were such a fucking whore.”

“I’m not-i’m not a whore!”  

“Are you sure?” You move to his clothed dick which was painfully hard now, lightly palming it and his whole body jerks, moaning and eyelids fluttering. 

“More, more...” 

You scoff. “Have you ever had a handjob before?” He shakes his head. “Do you want one?” Slack-jawed, he nods his head profusely.

You free his dick and take it into your hands, starting to stroke him and his hands fly to shyly cover his face, attempting to conceal his moans but not to much success.

“Don’t cover your pretty face.” You tut at him, “I wanna see it.” You bring your own hands to remove them away from his face. Not gonna lie, it’s turning you on immensely seeing beomgyu like this. Little put together, pretentious, perfect beomgyu is like this right now, begging you to touch him, clueless and embarrassed. You want to absolutely ruin him. 

 “Aw I bet you didn’t get to cum before did you?” 

“yeah...”

“Don't worry, baby I'll let you cum.”

You use your thumb to go back and forth on his sensitive tip while your other hand grabs the base of his dick and his mouth hangs wide open in endless moans and gasps. You pump his dick fast up and down, ruthlessly jerking him off and his breath hitches.

“Close!” He lets out the loudest moan so far and you abruptly stop. He utters a frustrated whine, hips bucking up and pouting at you, “I thought you said you’d let me cum.”

You can’t help but giggle at him. He’s so cute. “I will. In my pussy.” That seems to shut him up.

You get on top of him, straddling his waist and gently pinning both of his hands to the headboard. He looks at you slightly nervous.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“But I want to.”

“You sure?” He nods his head.

“Okay.” You inhale a breath before positioning his tip to your entrance and you look to his face again for confirmation and when there’s no sign of uncertainty , you slowly sink down.

“Oh, fuck! Feels so gooood” His face contorts in pleasure and he turns his head to the side, burying it into the pillow whilst his mouth stays parted. You lift up and drop back down hard, making him cry out a loud moan and you begin to ride him slow.

He was already so blissed out by you riding him slow you wonder how he’d be if you quicken your pace so you do, riding him mercilessly now, basically bouncing on his cock and he moans uncontrollably, incoherent words coming out of him with a fucked out face in a daze. Only his moans getting higher in pitch by the second and the noise of skin slapping filling the room.

“C-cumming, cumming!” And with a loud whine and his eyes slightly rolling back, his dick jerks and spills all inside of you with his body trembling.

His face right after being fucked is gorgeous. He’s breathless and panting by his first proper orgasm with his cheeks and chest flushed, face glistening because of the sweat and his fluffy hair completely wrecked now, glasses a bit crooked and head in the clouds.

Yeah, maybe you won’t end up getting the program done in time after all.

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS ARE REALLY APPRECIATED GUYS 😭<333

[yunhoszn]

alright babes you already know it's bro but sleep deprived

anyway we were talkin abt this in the dms but i think its time to share w the class

who in atz are briefs guys and who are boxers guys?

also i love you •3•

ateez & boxers v. briefs

erm mentions of underwear?,,,, extremely suggestive….. half of this makes no sense im high as shit typing this and my logic probably does not logic like i thought it did…

OKAY ok here we go

⟢ hongjoong likely wears boxers.. i feel like if he did one of those calvin klein ads, he’d wear the briefs for the bit but that’s about it. he seems like the type who likes the free-ness of them if that makes sense 😭

⟢ seonghwa. ok. i feel like he varies. i could def see him in boxers like… hovering over you, knees caging you in, his hair long enough that it wraps and curls around the base of his neck— i’m gonna stop talking about this— but i could also see him in that same calvin klein ad setting and i feel like he would look really good in some grey briefs…

⟢ yunho is fs a boxers guy. tbh i feel like most tall men are just cause they’re comfortable and most tall men are carrying very well endowed,,,, packages,,,, so yeah i think he would wear boxers, but not too loose. like they’re actually on the snugger side

⟢ yeosang is a briefs guy. u cannot convince me otherwise. (i’m imagining the jeremy allen white calvin klein ad) that’s how i imagine yeosang in briefs. like it just makes so much sense to me.

⟢ san…. i told u my thoughts on san. but i’m sharing with the class now <3 i think if this were inception era san, the answer would be boxers no questions asked. but current san, extremely built, shaped like a dorito san, the answer is obviously briefs. they hug his thighs and his ass just right… muscular men in briefs is a weakness…. a plague…

⟢ mingi is another obvious briefs choice. slightly dorito shaped, mingi is the exception to my ‘tall men wear boxers’ disclaimer from before. U cannot look at him and tell me he does Not wear briefs. then ur lying straight to my face. tell me u do not see this man being the ateez man who would Actually do the calvin klein ad.

⟢ wooyoung, i had to toss around with. but ultimately i think he’s a boxers guy. my conclusion is more of a technical analysis bc i was thinking about his style and the kind of clothes he wears, which are usually on the baggier side, so i’d think he prefers comfortability. and tbh boxers fit that whole vibe.

⟢ jongho is also a boxers guy no doubt. his wasn’t even a meticulous analysis or anything. i thought about it for one second and immediately came to the idea; ‘jongho wears boxers’. solely based on vibes. like look at him. once u see the vision, u just do and there’s no turning back. boxers guy.

(also hi i love YOU MORE!!!!! :3 hehe i got the last word so i win in terms of size of love)

© yunhoszn. do not steal, claim, or repost.

[plusvanity]

Yesterday, I wanted to say that people who blocked me did the wiser thing, but today, I want to touch on a recent issue, a hugely (intentionally) misinterpreted and degrading problem.

The controversies that people started to spread about me literally make me sick to the stomach.

They don't give a fuck about my countless explanations of how this ship is my comfort ship, designed to help me heal from severe abuse, self hatred, body dysmorphia, depression and anxiety.

I try to switch from unhealthy coping mechanisms to something that is both productive, helpful and most of all, harmless (because it's imaginary).

They felt the need to turn something that I created as my own personal fictive escape into a gross sadomasochistic, abusive and extremely toxic 'excuse' for 'why is this ship and not that?'. My guts twist for seeing such cruel assumptions when I have one thing that makes me happy (a story, a healthy narrative) viciously turned into a gruesome scenario that is not what it is at all.

The fact that they accuse me of shipping fair-skinned, blonde people is also the biggest hypocrisy that they could come up with when they themselves forget that Øystein's natural hair is blond and his eyes are blue in their own double-standard ship.

The fact that accuse me of romanticizing self-harm while they themselves 'like' (I have proofs) and approve art of EuroDead self-destructive romanticism shows their duplicitous and impostor nature. This is not to be taken as an insult, but an obvious fact concluded by their behavior.

My ship has little to do with physical looks and everything else to do with the in-depth psychology. It's not me, PlusVanity who says that there's a gigantic overlap between highly-autistic traits and trauma response (in personality disorders), it's Freud, Jung, Lacan's teachings and many other's scholars, neurologists and psychiatrists came to this conclusion many many years before you and I were even born. If you, dearly-opinionated friend, think that you can prove to these honorable psychoanalytical figures (and me, of course) otherwise with credible and well-documented research and not your 'I don't like that just because' synthetic opinion, I will gladly listen to what you have to bring up. I am well-versed in the philosophical and psychological domain, and I can provide solid arguments to everything I claim.

It's more than just unfair to point the finger at me, accusing me of a ludicrous sadomasochistic and 'subliminal racial element' in my art just to satisfy your late frustration with an ' good-enough explanation' for something that you never even bothered to look into because otherwise you would know that you are wrong. I'm not spiteful, I'm just pointing your flaws in logic as straightforwardly and inconsiderable as you seem to point mine, but it's not like you will actually try to understand what I'm saying because this must imply 'admitting defeat' and a kick in the ego, so you don't even bother with my transparent explanations. That's alright.

This message is for the people who are open and mature enough to read the motive behind my art and writing. This monologue is not for the ones who blindly accuse me of horrible things or a hidden agenda that I don't have or try to promote.

If you think that you know better than me, you simply don't. Why might that be? Because I am the author, because you don't think with my brain and you have no access to what I stand for, other than my words and actions and neither my words or actions stood for any type of abuse or political extremism.

You also put words into my mouth by calling me a fan of Varg, when I'm most certainly not, but I mean you hate me, of course you will say such things. Everyone who's following me knows that I not only hate Varg, but mock him daily for his spiteful persona.

I do not engage in any drama, I am not here to fight anyone.

I will only have civilized conversations (if openness exists). I am here to be and share with my friends the one thing that makes me happy. To subjugate me for simply having a different view than yours is tyranny and black and white extremism.

Pairing real people is morally bad, but this includes all real people. Not just Varg and Pelle, but Øystein and Pelle too. Doesn't sound fair now, does it? I understand why.

Anyone is free to believe anything, but a conspiratorial opinion will never compare to the ultimate truth that only the author can provide.

Please block me if you wish for. This is a far more mature approach than lurking here or sending hate. I hope this is constructive.

To sum it up, I'm beyond hate and ingoing frustration. I will gladly wish my late-proclaimed haters a wonderful day even if they roll their eyes. 🖤

You cannot change options, you can only provide your insight.

Be kind, be open, be alright 🖤

I wish this post can be shared so a lot of people can read this 🙏

[mediocre-daydreams]

𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐲, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐲, 𝐨𝐨𝐡-𝐥𝐚-𝐥𝐚

james potter x Seer!reader

summary: james keeps showing up in your readings, so the logical conclusion is you must be horrible at divination. (inspired by "kissy kissy" - isaac dunbar)

w/c: 6.8k

notes: she/her, reader in denial and james is Boy™ about expressing his feelings, hypothetical violence, reader self-friendzoning, first fic in like 3 months + not proofread so go easy on me pls and ily

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

nice to meet ya, i'm pleased 'cause i've seen you around in my astral projections i'm a mess, i'm obsessed, overdressed for you dear, this is my, my confession

there was a reason you weren’t a ravenclaw, and as you sat in front of this damned crystal ball, it was becoming increasingly evident why.

“i have Seen limitless potential amongst this group…” sybill trelawney crooned, waving her hand around in exaggerated loops. “now, relax those conscious minds and tap into your Inner Eyes to see what truly lives beyond this surface reality…”

you weren’t really sure how to access your Inner Eye. you let your eyes—your normal ones—flicker sideways to james, who seemed just as perturbed.

james looked out of place in the bright divination classroom. he hadn’t bothered untangling his bedhead and his glasses were smudged in the corners, which always seemed to bother you more than it did him. he was discreetly rebuttoning his crooked shirt and sneaking glances over his shoulder to avoid trelawney’s “all-knowing eye.”

your best friend was undeniably pretty, this you knew. even with his eyebrows furrowed and the skin on his lips beginning to peel from the harsh november air, you could practically feel the admiring gazes and swooning stares from around the room directed at james’ back—and you, by association—instead of the crystal balls the class was meant to be studying.

“alright, ‘m sorry about that, sweetheart!” james’ head popped up and he smiled at you with too much energy for so early in the morning. “ready to gaze?”

you scoffed. “please, i’ve already Seen your entire life in the time it took you to button your shirt.” you squinted at the hazy glass as you pretended to glean a message from the future.

“well, what do you see?” james shuffled closer like he’d only be able to see the same imaginary image if his thigh was touching yours.

“how interesting…” you tsked, extending a cautious hand to touch the glass. “it looks like you’re lying on the ground-”

“well, i’ve always loved naps-”

“-but you’re screaming! oh wow, you’re thrashing around too. you’re being eaten! by a big… black… dog!”

sirius’ head whipped around. he winked when he caught your eye. “it looks like we’ve got ourselves a Seer!” he announced. “c’mon, See something for us!”

james laughed, elbowing you encouragingly as you rolled your eyes. divination was no one’s favorite subject (except maybe lisa turpin’s, who was either a very gifted Seer or a very convincing fraud) and you often found yourself passing time in class by conjuring ridiculous predictions with the marauders.

you turned to your crystal ball and tried to muster up a shred of seriousness, but all you could hear was lisa turpin muttering something in the back of the classroom. godric, she had such an annoying voice. it wasn’t like you cared about divination or anything, but lisa turpin was such a stuck-up teacher’s pet and trelawney always fell for it; you were pretty sure she was lying anyway, and—

trelawney’s eyes appeared in the reflection of your crystal ball and you jerked back with a shriek, frightened by the buglike quality of her glasses further warped by the ball’s distortion. two strong hands wrapped around your biceps and anchored you in place.

“sybill! i’m so sorry, you really- i-” you huffed, pressing a hand to your racing heart. “i got caught up in my… reading.”

“not to worry, dear,” trelawney mused, patting your shoulder. she didn’t so much as look down at you as she spoke. “it appears i was right… we do have a Seer among us… now, why don’t you take a look into your ball? yes, do bless us with your premonition…”

you shook the hands off your biceps—james’ hands—and tried to smile at trelawney. it probably looked more like a grimace.

lisa turpin’s scathing look of jealousy did not calm your on-the-spot nerves. you widened your eyes at james. for a second you saw a resemblance between his large, circular frames to trelawney’s curved, oversized lenses.

james raised his eyebrows in silent communication. “just make something up.”

“what do i say?” you panicked and the corners of your lips twitched up and down.

“uh, predict something really horrible,” james mouthed. “like… tell her that pads kills me, but make it gorier and more devastating this time. also, do i look good with scars? i’ve heard girls love it when i guy is half dead and covered in blood.”

you felt a smile tugging at your mouth and you shook off the flutter of butterfly wings that james’ cheeky suggestion lit in your stomach. leaning closer to the crystal ball, you pretended to See, waving your hands around as mysteriously as you could for dramatic effect. 

“i see something!” you declared, much to trelawney’s delight. you hummed, tilting your head as you pretended to look more intently. “it looks like…”

to your surprise, the hazy center of the crystal ball began shifting, almost like a white cloud of finely ground floo dust was being blown and scattered into the air. two figures, almost familiar, emerged from the dust and began approaching each other from either sides of the ball with smooth, confident strides. you frowned. of course you’d “seen” things in divination before, like a three-legged cat in your tea leaves or a tic-tac-toe board in the creases of someone’s palm, but nothing with such clarity. it was much more frightening having your first experience under the scrutinizing gaze of trelawney and lisa turpin.

the two figures began fading away and you were glad that the anomalous Sight had finally left you alone. you cleared your throat, prepared to make up some tragedy that would appeal trelawney—

two hands, one small and one large, had taken focus in the center of the crystal ball. you looked behind you. there were no intertwined hands culpable of casting a reflection. tendrils of graceful smoke morphed into fingers that interlocked until the hands folded in on themselves had suddenly become lips… lips that were brushing against each other, gently at first, before diving forward with heat and vigor. you weren’t sure whose steamy makeout session you were predicting, but it was an awful time to be thinking about these sorts of things. you couldn’t stop the tingling on your own lips and a thunderous roar in your own ears as you stared, transfixed, at the scene before you…

“-y’ alright? still there? …hey, sweetheart?” james’ hushed voice roused you from your gazing. you jolted into the present and felt those steadying hands on your biceps once more; instead of shaking him off this time, you let yourself cross your arms over your chest and cover his hands with yours. you pressed your lips into a flat smile at james and then directed it toward trelawney, who was still waiting eagerly for a report.

“i saw, uh,” you stammered, unwilling to divulge the true nature of your Sight. “i saw a dying man. yeah, it was really, really sad. he was being torn apart by a rabid dog—a big, ugly one—and there was blood everywhere!” you snuck a glance at james, who winked at you and squeezed your muscles encouragingly. “oh, it was terrible. i’m feeling really worn out and- and lightheaded after Seeing that. i think i should lay down… don’t want to overdo it…”

professor trelawney nodded, solemn but understanding. “wonderful job, dear. how honored i am to have another Seer this year… i look forward to seeing where you go… now, let’s get back to gazing, class!” trelawney lingered for a moment, staring down at you fondly, before making her way to sirius and peter’s table with a disapproving frown already loaded and prepared.

“ you’ve got the Sight, now, have you?” james teased, his frustratingly attractive grin growing with each fervent shake of your head.

“merlin, not this again-”

“what does my future hold, O great and omniscient Seer?” james pressed the palms of his hands together in a begger’s pose and leaned into your side, resting his head on your shoulder. his unruly curls tickled the bare skin at the base of your neck. the poor boy must not have slept well last night.

“you’re not funny, potter,” you grumbled. you said this each time he poked fun at trelawney’s fondness toward you and each time he ignored it.

“yes, i am.” james cozied his head further into your shoulder. you shivered involuntarily. “i know you think i’m funny. everyone thinks i’m funny. even evans thinks i’m funny.”

of course, james had to go and mention lily evans.

there was nothing wrong with lily evans. in fact, there was nothing about lily evans that could be described as less than lovely. you could see why james was so taken with her—she was clever and hardworking and kind. she was beautiful, too.

you felt your smile falter and you plastered on a new one, albeit very unconvincingly. “lily!” you exclaimed with false excitement. “oh yeah, she’s wonderful. i wonder what she’s Seeing?”

sitting not far from you, lily and marlene seemed undisturbed by your macabre prediction and james’ foolery. you watched as lily lightly tapped the surface of the crystal ball with a well-manicured finger. marlene giggled at whatever it was they Saw; she leaned over and scribbled something on lily’s divination journal.

lily caught your eye and blushed. you waved awkwardly, feeling heat creep up your neck from being caught staring. you felt james’ chest vibrate as he chuckled gently behind you. james shot up and removed his head from your shoulder when he noticed lily’s attention directed toward the two of you. he fixed his posture, shifting himself until his thigh was no longer touching yours. james nodded in acknowledgement to the two girls and you watched as lily’s smile grew.

it was cruel, you thought. it was cruel of james to make you feel this way, but mostly, it was cruel that you got upset every time the two of them seemed happy. they were two of the best people you knew—who wished discontent upon their friends? maybe that was what distinguished lily from you… lily wouldn’t be resentful if she were in your shoes. 

“what’s goin’ on?” james muttered. where his head had once rested was now his warm, wandering hand, rubbing and massaging your shoulders. “you’re tense all of a sudden.” james’ other hand cupped your cheek and guided your head around to face him. his lower lip jutted (and you tried to ignore that) as his eyes searched yours. “is something wrong? did you actually see something just then?”

you swallowed hard and tried not to choke on your own saliva. yes, there was something deeply wrong, you wanted to say. it was wrong of you to feel this way toward your best friend, especially when he was feeling this way—feeling love—for someone else.

you cleared your throat. “all good, james.” you pushed his hands off you and grabbed your divination journal, holding it between your and james’ body like a shield.

--

“moony, can i copy your divination homework?” james slumped onto one of the common room couches; coincidentally, the same one you were already occupying. his head landed heavy in your lap. james sighed contentedly as he tucked his hands behind his mass of hair, fingers brushing against your thighs.

“no,” remus deadpanned, rolling his eyes at james. no, not just james… james on your lap. james and you, you and james, james was on top of you… remus needed to-

“cut it out!” you yelped, grabbing two fistfulls of james’ hair in shock. “you’re tickling me!”

james’ fingers twitched from beneath his head, sending another wave of shivers through your body that you were pretty sure james could feel. “i’m not tickling you,” james frowned.

“yes, you are!” you tugged at james’ wrists, exhaling in relief as soon as his hands were no longer touching your legs. “you’re being touchy today,” you noted. “what’s up with that?”

“am i not allowed to touch my favorite girl?” james pouted, batting his eyelashes innocently. 

“no, because you’re making me…”

“shy?” james suggested.

“uncomfortable?” remus countered.

“oh, merlin!” james practically lept out of his skin. “i’m so sorry! i wasn’t making you uncomfortable, was i?”

you melted at the worry in his voice. “nah,” you admonished, wrinkling your nose, “you’re fine. come back here.” in all honesty, you were more than fine with james’ head on your lap. there was nothing sexual about it; physical affection had always been a facet of your and james’ relationship. you rather liked it, actually. if you could, you’d like to be able to hold james forever. but he could never know that.

“wait,” james said suddenly, falling into your side and grabbing your arm, which he seemed to be doing a lot these days. “have you done the divination homework? can i copy yours, please?”

“why, did remus already say no?”

james had the decency to look guilty.

“well, normally i’d let you, but the homework is supposed to be analyzing palmistry data from last class. did you- did you not do that?”

james frowned and looked down at his hand. “what does trelawney even want me to write; ‘james potter has ugly quidditch callouses?’”

“you have to analyze someone else’s palm, idiot,” marlene chimed in from across the common room. “just make something up if you have to. that’s what i did with lily.”

james looked down at his hand thoughtfully and then at yours. “you’ll be my palmistry partner, right, sweetheart?”

“don’t you ‘sweetheart’ me, potter, i’m not helping you with divination ag-”

“thank you!” james cried, throwing his arms around you and burying his head in your chest, forgetting all about his previous inhibitions. you fumbled backward on the couch until your back was pressed flat against the cushions, james on top of you and hanging onto your torso.

you could feel james’ heart pounding through the fabric of his shirt. his body was warm all over. poor james. he must’ve been really nervous about his divination homework. 

“you’re the best friend ever,” james said, his voice muffled as he remained face-down, pressed against your side with no intention of moving.

marlene raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “‘best friend,’ my ass,” she mouthed to sirius.

sirius waved his hand dismissively. “his words, not mine.”

you chastised james as best as you could with your respiratory abilities compromised. he clambered off you and extended a gentlemanly hand he used to tug you upright.

instead of letting your hand go, he turned it over and splayed your fingers until your palm was exposed, facing upright and nestled in his larger one. 

“you have nice hands,” james commented absentmindedly. “they’re a good size.”

“for what?” you stiffened as james began rubbing slow circles into the center of your palm, suddenly hyper-aware of how intimate your touches had become.

“for holding,” james said. he was silent for a moment as he traced your life line. you didn’t speak. you didn’t dare breathe. james’ thumb was tracing the creases in your palm because he was completing an overdue assignment, not because he was admiring the way your skin looked against his. his touch was soft because he was your friend, not because he was caressing you like a lover, you had to remind yourself. 

“okay,” you responded stupidly.

“yeah, okay.” james cleared his throat. “for holding and- and for palmistry, of course. you’re still gonna be my palmistry girl, right?”

he ran his hands through his hair sheepishly, fighting a couple knots at the back of his head. james was whispering to himself, dragging the nail of his pinkie finger along the lines on your palm, like a cartographer mapping out a foreign land he was afraid to one day forget. there was a part of you that ached to tilt his chin up so he could memorize the planes of your face instead—and so you might do the same—but the part of you that treasured your friendship with james won. it always did.

“pass my bag, please?” james murmured, tapping your knee with his free hand. with a flick of your wrist, you summoned his divination journal.

“wandless magic,” marlene laughed in astonishment. “remind me why you aren’t a ravenclaw?”

you huffed. “well, i’m no good at riddles and i-”

“-oh, you’re plenty smart!” lily interrupted. you felt your heart sputter. “i mean it; you’re the only person who’s properly predicted anything in divination.”

lily sounded so earnest that you felt a stab of guilt pass through your chest. you weren’t actually good at divination—all you’ve ever seen was gibberish—and right now you were distracting james from spending time with the girl he’d been pining after for years who had just began to tolerate him.

“-and what are you doing, james?” lily asked, cutting through your spiraling thoughts.

a few beats of motionlessness from james prompted you to scratch his head to catch his attention. james seemed to startle momentarily before glancing up at you and lily shyly, cheeks slightly flushed and tongue swiping over his teeth. 

“yeah, hi lily!” james blurted, blinking a few times to come to his senses. “i’m- we’re just doing divination stuff… palmistry and whatnot.”

james was all of a sudden much less confident and you felt a second knife of guilt cut through your conscience. you wanted to be the one flustering him. but that wasn’t a very kind thing to wish upon someone, was it? the guilt ate at you again—oh, how you wanted to be selfish and have your best friend all to yourself; but you couldn’t, not without tearing him and lily apart and not without ruining the most important relationship in your life, platonic may it be.

“no offense, but i’ve never seen you so dedicated to homework. and divination, of all things! did trelawney say something to you, or what?” lily shifted her weight to one leg and quirked her head, examining james.

“i thought you’d be glad to see me doing my work, evans,” james said, “you’re always nagging me about it.”

lily rolled her eyes, grinning. “you act like i enjoy nagging you. if nobody reminded you, i’m fairly sure you would’ve failed out of being quidditch captain. though, it looks like it’s not my responsibility anymore.” lily jutted her head toward you.

“yep! that’s me,” you smiled fakely, feeling second to lily once again. “so, what does my palm say?”

james turned back toward you. “right, right! so, you have the mount of jupiter, which means you have a connection to…” james peered over his shoulder at his divination textbook. “you’ve got a connectioin to the spiritual realm and divine aptitudes.” james looked pleased with himself. “hey, i figure that’s a pretty accurate reading! you’re good at divination, after all.

“hm… i think your head line is saying you let your doubts get in the way of seeing what’s actually in front of you. maybe that you fixate on what you think you know, and that prevents you from learning and growth? and…

“ooh-la-la! you’ve got a deep heart line.” james waggled his eyebrows at you. “who’s the special someone?”

you clicked your tongue. “and you were on such a roll too. nope, there’s nobody for me.”

james seemed much too cheerful at your pitiful state of loveless solitude. 

“merlin, will you at least pretend to feel bad for me?” you said in acknowledgement of james’ eager expression. you loved james, but sometimes his enthusiasm shone at the wrong moments.

“no, that’s not what i-” james started. “okay, but look. your heart line really is deep. i would know; mine is too.”

“but james, you’re a hopeless romantic. everyone adores you. i’m not exactly the mushy gushy type.”

james scoffed. “oh please, plenty of people like you! what about that twat from hufflepuff- what was his name? joshua matthews?”

you looked at james, unimpressed.

“okay, i know i didn’t like him at the time… but who the hell has two first names instead of a normal surname? hey, there was also anthony abbott in third year and winston clearwater last year.”

“right, well that’s what you think. how come none of them ever asked me out, huh?” you rebutted. you weren’t that self-deprecating. you knew you were pretty and you knew that joshua matthews for sure liked you, but there was no explanation as to why, in your five years at hogwarts, nobody had ever asked you out.

“well, maybe they-” james seemed to lose momentum. “maybe they were just… intimidated?”

“wait, am i scary?” you stressed.

“no! they’re just cowards. all of ‘em. anyone who can’t tell you how they really feel… well, there’s a reason none of them were in gryffindor,” james laughed awkwardly. “yeah, that’s pretty cowardly of them. that’s why you deserve way better, sweetheart.”

“right, james.” you drawled in a way james knew you didn’t believe him. “it’s whatever. i didn’t really care for them too much anyway.”

--

do you see me or hear me, just give me a sign i just want your attention Teenage Dream on repeat as i stare into space write your name in my journal (i should burn it, right?)

you were going to toss yourself out the girl’s dormitory window. you were pretty high up; you figured the tower was high enough to at least knock you out long enough for you to forget this very, very bad dream.

well, the dream was only bad because it was so good.

in your dream, you had been in the quidditch stands with paint on your cheeks and a hoarse voice from screaming; your mittens were in your pockets so that you could clap louder. maybe if you clapped loud enough, your boyfriend, james potter, would hear you over the deafening crowd. you had tucked your nose into the scarf around your neck, hiding the evidence of last night’s activities, and breathed in james’ cologne.

you could not handle this today.

“what’s going on up there?” lily was perched on the wooden foot of her bed, brushing her long, ginger locks with all the grace of a fairytale princess. “in your head, i mean.”

you realized you’d been sitting upright on your bed and staring into space for probably a few minutes now, stuck in your daydream continuation of last night’s horrendous, disgusting, absolutely revolting fantasy.

“nothing,” you brushed off. “i’m just dreading divination. i bet trelawney’s gonna make me do a reading in front of the class or something.”

“well, at least it won’t be spontaneous,” marlene said. “we’re doing our dream journals today. you can just read whatever you wrote. bam, easy.”

oh yeah, you definitely could not handle this today.

like the cherry on top of a curdled ice cream sundae, you arrived to divination two minutes late. normally, that wouldn’t have been a big deal. (plus, you were trelawney’s new favorite and she was bound to let you off easy.) well, it was a big deal today. everybody else had found their seats, and as always, james had saved the one next to him for you. it wasn’t as if you could simply take another seat, not when he was looking at you with those eyes. 

“mornin’ jamie,” you whispered, stealing a glance at the blushing boy as you dug through your satchel for your dream journal. “d’you wake up late too? looks like you’ve just run across the castle.”

james clapped his hands to his cheeks. “what, am i red?”

“a little,” you admitted, pinching one of his cheeks gently. “don’t worry about it. you’re cute.”

james went even darker. the poor boy must’ve had a rough morning too. perhaps he’d eaten the jalepeño omlettes at breakfast today instead of his usual spinach ones.

“what’d i miss?” you absentmindedly recorded the dream you’d had in your journal as trelawney lectured on about interpretation and her latest prediction.

james shrugged. “not much. lisa turpin tried sitting next to me, but don’t worry, i fended her off. i’m pretty sure she wants to peel off and wear your skin, if i’m to be honest. she’s been vying for trelawney’s attention all year.”

“james,” you teased, “i’m pretty sure it’s because she has a crush on you.”

“a crush? on little old me?” james pressed his hand to his heart and looked at you pointedly. “there’s no way. you know my heart will only ever belong to one.”

that was true. james, unlike sirius, wasn’t the type to flirt shamelessly or sleep around, though he could if he wanted. james was one of those kids who grew up on happily-ever-afters instead of beetle the bard. even today, he was a vehement defender of true love and soulmates and fate, and you weren’t sure if that was admirable or naive.

“don’t underestimate yourself, pretty boy. every girl in our class—no, probably in the whole school—has liked you at some point.”

james went quiet and for a moment you thought trelawney was behind you. (she was not.)

“every girl?” james swallowed thickly, his adam’s apple bobbing. perhaps he needed a drink of water, you thought. “uh, including you?”

your teasing smile faded. “i mean, i-”

“-now, let’s get started on our interpretations, shall we?” trelawney interrupted loudly, and it seemed your luck was turning up for the first time this morning. “shall we first try an example? how about… you, my darling?” to your horror, trelawney waved her fabric-draped arm toward you, bangles clinking together and drawing the entire classroom’s attention toward your mortified expression. unlucky again; it seemed you’d spoken too soon.

you did a quick scan of the room and then a quick scan of what you’d written in your journal. shit. fuck. shit. there was no way you could read this out loud, especially not while sitting next to james.

fuck! shit! fuck! you were sitting next to james, who could definitely see the writing on the page. you slammed your journal shut and looked up at trelawney, frenzied. “um, could somebody else read their journal, please?” you managed to croak out.

trelawney looked slightly disappointed, but obliged. “miss mckinnon, why don’t we hear from you?”

you refused to look at james. your eyes were glued to your lap as you listened to marlene clear her throat. “well, the gist of it was that gryffindor won the quidditch cup by around 200 points, which was sick, but i analyzed something else. it was really interesting, actually. y’know, i couldn’t tell i was dreaming until i woke up because it was all so realistic-”

“please stay focused,” trelawney said, the corner of her mouth twitching.

“right! sorry, professor. anyway, james was actually in my dream—yeah, hey james—” marlene said, waving in your direction, “and i’m gonna be honest, he wasn’t looking too great. super muddy and sweaty and stuff; he’s always kinda gross after games… regardless, you didn’t seem to mind.” 

marlene wasn’t even trying to be subtle. she pointed a finger at you and waved it in a small circle. “yeah, the two of you had no complaints when you started eating each other’s faces off. it was such a nightmare, professor. i was having such a good time celebrating our win and then, of course, it just had to be ruined by bloody james potter and-”

trelawney cut off marlene, red-faced and unprepared. “good job, miss mckinnon; thank you for your contribution. why don’t we speak after class?”

there was a low wave of “oooh”s and hushed gossip, but trelawney shut that down as well. “no, miss mckinnon, you’re not in trouble. i’m simply curious; you seem to excel at dream work. many students-” trelawney coughed pointedly, “overlook its usefulness… dreams are a direct gateway to the subconscious, and oftentimes our Inner Minds are wiser and more perceptive than we think. you’ve done a good job, miss mckinnon; quite accurate. you have a wonderful mind and impressive clarity. this will take you far.”

marlene was smug as she settled into her cushion and elbowed lily. lily bit her bottom lip as she tried to conceal a laugh. after swallowing their amusement, the two girls looked in the direction of you and james. well, more so james. you weren’t sure if either lily or marlene could actually see you. you had shrunk into yourself in your embarrassment and you prayed you were no longer visible to the curious class.

it didn’t matter though, not really, because you were still visible to the one person whose opinion mattered most. you were seated, transfixed and frozen, right next to james, who seemed equally as taken aback. your heart was thudding so violently you thought it might grow wings, expel itself from your throat, and land in a bloody, drooly puddle on your lap. that might actually be less embarrassing than this, whatever this was.

and you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows when you noticed lily’s eyes still glued on james. her straight brows were raised so high they formed creases on her forehead and you felt a second wave of shame overtake you. lily must’ve been heartbroken. not only had marlene told the entire class about her dream, but she’d done so while sitting next to lily, who’d been clearly pining after james for months now. you knew marlene and lily were friends. what was that all about?

james pushed his hair back from his face and adjusted his glasses. he seemed equally as flustered as you, if not more. james’ eyes flickered between lily and marlene and ever so often his nervous hands would come back up to his face and fiddle with something—a stray curl, an itch on the back of his neck, or the tip of his pinkened nose. 

“i need to use the loo!” you jumped to your feet, declaring your bladder’s needs much louder than necessary. trelawney shooed you with a dismissive hand and you scrambled past sirius and remus’ table, pretending not to notice their trailing stares on your back.

you didn’t actually need to use the loo. clarification: you didn’t have to pee. you entered a stall anyway. waves of nausea had been coming and going ever since james had caught sight of what was written inside your journal, and it was better to be safe than sorry, right? the only thing that could make today worse was if you hurled all over your uniform.

your hands were trembling as you rubbed your eyes and took a shaky breath. how were you supposed to recover from this? at this point, it wasn’t just your relationship with james on the line, but lily’s feelings too. and, if the situation escalated, you could risk losing sirius, remus, and peter to the awkwardness between you and james. you loved marlene, you truly did, but damn if you didn’t want to jinx her off her broom during the next quidditch game.

your misery must’ve made the time pass faster, because soon after your classroom escape, you heard the bustling of students pushing their way through the corridors to their next classes. you kept your head down as a couple girls streamed into the bathroom, chatting freely and checking their reflections, and hoped not to be spoken to.

“hey, you’re that girl from divination, right?” some hufflepuff caught your elbow before you made it to the door. “the one mckinnon had a dream about?”

“uh, yep. that’s me.” you pursed your lips and tried to look like you weren’t on the verge of murdering marlene.

“aw, i knew it! i just have to say, you and james are like, the cutest ever. i’m kind of jealous. victoria over there-” the hufflepuff tilted her head toward a ravenclaw girl leaving over a sink and re-applying her lipstick, “-was totally freaking out when i told her about it. she’s had a crush on sirius for like, ever. do you think you could introduce her?”

you shut your mouth as soon as you realized you were gawking. “wait, sorry, i’m a little lost. you want me to introduce you to sirius?”

“yeah, ‘cause sirius is more likely to listen to his mate’s girlfriend, right?” the hufflepuff said.

“wait, james and i aren’t together—no, marlene just had a really weird dream. we’re friends. been friends forever. only friends. plus, james is all over lily evans, so…”

“lily evans?” victoria hummed as she smudged her lipstick with her finger. “i thought lily didn’t like james. she’s always looking at him like she’s judging him.”

“‘cause she’s probably checking him out,” you countered.

“there’s no way,” the hufflepuff argued. “she’s been rejecting him since second year. she’s like, never shown any interest in him at all.”

“i mean, i dunno. but i should probably go to my next class.” you patted your side to check for your satchel. it wasn’t there. you must’ve left it in the classroom. “and i’ve gotta go get my bag—sorry, but it was nice talking to you!”

you heard the girls giggling as you rushed out of the bathroom.

the crowd of students had thinned out from when the bell first rang; you took the stairs to the divination tower two at a time. as you hoisted yourself up through the trapdoor, you remembered what trelawney had said just before you ran out.

“…our Inner Minds are wiser and more perceptive than we think. you’ve done a good job, miss mckinnon; quite accurate.”

what did she mean by that? the dream wasn’t accurate by any means—you’d never kissed james before (though you would not at all be opposed to it). everyone knew trelawney was a bit off her rocker, and you’d never taken divination seriously, but there was something undeniably odd about this situation. what were the chances you’d have the exact same dream as marlene?

“hey…” the voice behind you send a dreadful creep of goosebumps down your arms. “you missed the rest of class.”

you turned around slowly, like a character who was about to die in a low-budget horror movie. “james?”

“yeah?” james stood in front of you, holding the strap of your bag with an outstretched arm and looking unusually shy.

“um, yeah. i was in the bathroom.” you sighed, mustering the last of your sense of normalcy. “so, what’d i miss?”

“we finished our dream analysis and trelawney assigned us an essay on dream symbolism; two pages. you… uh, you left your journal out so i packed it for you. i hope that’s okay.”

“wow! that’s so- thanks, james. that’s so kind of you. thanks.” you stammered, reaching out to take your bag from his offering hand. james’ knuckles were pale, and when he released his grip, there were faint indents from how tightly his fist had held the strap.

“you’re welcome,” james said dully. “i guess we should get going, right? to class, and all.”

“yep. yeah, to class.”

there was a heavy silence between the two of you, during which neither of you moved. james’ eyes were boring into yours and rather than making you uncomfortable, it felt like he was seeing right through your thinly stretched facade of faux-platonic feelings. 

“i’m so sorry, i-saw-the-inside-of-your-journal-but-i-swear-it-was-an-accident,” james blurted, eyes wide and apologetic. it seemed like he hadn’t meant to speak, and he clapped his hand over his mouth. even as you felt yourself actively disintegrating from humiliation, you still found yourself thinking how endearing james looked when he chewed his lower lip and let his eyes wander across the classroom; anywhere but your face.

“oh,” you muttered, “i’m sorry about that too.”

“what?” james’ head snapped back until he was facing you once more. he stepped forward and you forced yourself to stay where you were. james looked frantic. he blinked twice in confusion. “what are you talking about? why are you apologizing? you have nothing to apologize for,” he reassured you. his words came out like a half-formed train of thought, rushed and blurring into each other.

“it’s so invasive and inappropriate; i swear, i didn’t mean to have that- that sort of- i didn’t mean to dream about you! i don’t know what happened, it must’ve been some subconscious thought or- or something,” you blabbed, waving your hands in front of you as you tried to explain yourself. “i hope i haven’t made you uncomfortable; i don’t want this to ruin our friendship or anything, and i completely understand if you want to sit with someone else in divination or something-”

“wait, please don’t apologize!” james rushed forward in a surge of desperation-fuelled bravery. “i don’t want you to apologize.”

“you don’t want me to apologize?” you repeated dumbly. “but-”

james placed his hands on both your shoulders and shook you gently. “no, i don’t want you to apologize! i’m- i- how do i say this…” james closed his eyes and took a deep breath. you watched his eyelashes flutter with the movement of his eyelids. “i’ve had so many dreams about you, just like that one. and sweetheart, i’d love nothing more than for those to be real. i like you. i like you so much.”

you squinted at him, dumbfounded. it must’ve looked like you were judging him, because james backtracked immediately.

“i mean, only if you want it to be real- i’m sorry if that’s creepy or gross or perverted; i swear, it was all family-friendly. no funny business. i just really like you, sweetheart, and i can’t stop thinking about you, and i mean, for you it might’ve been some subconscious thought but you’re in my mind all the time,” james said. he pulled his hands from your shoulders and held them in the air, like he’d been caught stealing. “maybe i’ve misinterpreted this; maybe i-”

“what about lily?” you coughed out.

“what d’you mean, ‘what about lily?’”

“lily likes you, james. i thought you liked her too.”

“what? lily does not like me.”

“james,” you sighed exasperatedly, “she totally does-”

“i- lily’s been this close-” james pinched his fingers together, “-to slaughtering me because i’ve been trying to ask you out for nearly a year now and i keep chickening out.”

“wait, a year? you’ve liked me for a whole year?”

“um, yes. and are you gonna say anything? like, do you like me too? i’m kind of freaking out here, sweetheart.”

“jamie, are you insane? i’ve been bloody in love with you since forever; merlin, i like you so much it’s embarrassing,” you scoffed.

“what? why didn’t you say anything?” james exclaimed, mouth dropping open as he leaned backwards to look you up and down incredulously. 

“well, how was i supposed to know you felt the same? i didn’t want to mess everything up! it’s not like you said anything either.”

“are you kidding? sirius said i was making it obvious!” james cringed, dipping his head in defeat. he took your hands in his and squeezed them as he chided you. “hell, even marlene and trelawney saw it before you!”

“in my defense, am i really supposed to believe what trelawney does?” you huffed, crossing your arms in frustration. “you always talk about how she’s a fraud! you were totally sending me mixed messages!”

james looked down at you. his glasses were beginning to slip down his nose and you wanted nothing more than to push them back up, but he had you transfixed. he unwraveled one of his hands from yours but his touch never left; his fingers brushed up your forearm and squeezed your shoulder affectionately before cupping your jaw. james’ thumb brushed against your mouth, coaxing apart your pursed lips and soothing your pinched expression.

“what did you see in the crystal ball?” james whispered teasingly, eyes never leaving yours.

you remembered the way your own lips had tingled as you watched the smoky figures kiss and you felt your mouth curve into a self-satisfied smirk, knowing—despite how cliché it sounded—you’d actually predicted the future. pushing yourself to your toes, you threw your arms around james’ neck and pressed your lips against his and it was like you were back in the divination classroom once more and you were feeling the haze of the crystal ball overtake your mind as you drowned in the heat of james’ kiss. there was nothing else in the world except the brush of james’ tongue against your bottom lip, his choked inhale from when you pulled him closer by the front of his shirt, and the victorious bubble in your stomach at having secured yourself an O in divination. take that, lisa turpin.

james laughed breathlessly, eyes flickering between yours as his face shuffled through a million different emotions. “i take it back. trelawney is not a fraud."

kissy kissy ooh-la-la, babe, i want ya so tell me that you want me the same i fantasize about you today and tomorrow so kissy kissy ooh-la-la, forever

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

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[applebutter-and-cinnamon]

Bar Introductions

Summary: You meet Rooster at a the Hard Deck, the start to a relationship that's destined by fate.

Pairings: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Reader

A/N: This is going to have multiple parts but I'm not sure how many. I'm having a lot of fun with this combination though, so it'll probably be more than I'm anticipating. This is a lot longer than I had expected it to be.

Read the Story: The Beach Date (Part Two) Moonlight Serenade (Part Three)

When Rooster had walked up to you in the bar for the first time, you had thought that you were in his way of the bartender.

"Oh, excuse me," you muttered, eyes down as you tried to move past him.

"No, you're fine," his voice drawled, "I was actually on my way to talk to you."

Your eyes bounced up to meet his which were hidden behind a pair of dark, aviator sunglasses. He wasn't in a uniform like a lot of his friends were but in a hawaiian style shirt and jeans.

"Me?" You asked him bewildered.

He raised an eyebrown and nodded, raising his beer to sip from it. His eyes were assessing your face which was probably bright red by this point.

You were trying to come up with something to say but all you managed was, "Oh."

You were naturally a very shy person, never the one to start conversations or make a whole crowd laugh. The man standing in front of you had just charmed the whole bar with his rendition of Great Balls of Fire and you couldn't help but feel very out of your element.

You'd agreed to come to the bar tonight to hang out with a friend from work but she'd been seduced by a miltary man at some point and you had been left on your own. She was the more outgoing of the two of you, never afraid to speak her mind and always tugging you to be more confident.

"My name's Y/n," you offered shyly as you held out your hand as a way of introduction.

Immediately you felt regret, who the hell shakes hands at a bar?

He just seemed amused as he grabbed it in his own. "I'm Rooster," he told you as he bent to put a kiss on the back of your knuckles.

Your eyes widened and you took a large breath as the nerves increased, spreading from your stomach to take over the rest of your body.

He let go of your hand and straightened back to his full height, leaning on his right arm against the bar as he turned to give you his full attention from where you were sitting at one of the tall chairs.

"So, you're a pilot?" You asked meekly.

Rooster smirked, "Yes ma'am, brilliant deduction on your part."

You huffed out a small laugh, "Well, when you introduce yourself as a barnyard animal it's the logical conclusion, unless of course your parents have an excellent sense of humor."

There was a flash of humor that sparked across his features for a moment, "Well, they sort of did."

"How do you mean?"

His hand reached up to scratch the back of his neck, "Well, uh, my full name is Bradley Bradshaw."

You giggled loudly before slapping your hand across your mouth, "Oh my god, sorry that was so rude of me."

He just chuckled, shaking his head at you. "It's fine, I get it a lot," he offered with a shrug.

He was still leaning on the bar when someone came up from behind him and slapped a hand to his shoulder, "Alright Roost?"

He nodded, his mouth turning into a displeased expression, "Was just fine before you walked over, Hangman."

The man smiled a blinding white smile in your direction, "Well, who is this?"

You shared a glance with Bradley, your more shy characteristics coming back as you were shaken out of the little world you were sharing with him. He must've picked up on your histance because he shot Hangman a warning look.

"I'm Y/n," you offered, keeping your hand to yourself this time.

Hangman set his hand on the back of your chair, leaning a bit closer to you and from the corner of your eye you saw Bradley tense.

"Well, it's nice to meet you Y/n. I'm Jake, I fly with old Rooster here," he told you.

He would've been handsome if he wasn't so over-confident. Instead, his approach was making you want to flee the room, a few minutes ago you were fine as you drank your Shirley Temple and now you were engaging a verbal battlefield with two men who were no-doubt masters at it. You wondered which side each of them thought you were on.

You turned subconsciously, closer to Bradley as you tried to put distance between where you were and where Jake was.

"That's cool?" Your voice came out shaky as the feeling of wanting to escape grew.

"Is there something that we can help you with, Hangman?" Bradley asked, his voice has lost it's goofy, charming quality and had taken on one of a gruff tone.

"Nope," Hangman shook his head, "Just wanted to see if this pretty thing needed a ride home tonight."

You froze at that, something Bradley picked up on. You did need a ride because your friend had already left, but the idea of having to get into a car with a man with such a large ego and a flair for flirting was the last thing you wanted to do.

"I knew she need one seeing as her friend left with Coyote and figured I'd offer my services," he flashed a shit-eating grin at Rooster who was gritting his teeth together.

Hangman looked down at you, "What do you say?"

Your eyes shifted between the two men. This, this was why you didn't come out to bars.

"Well, I, umm," you couldn't think of an excuse.

Bradley cut you off before it got too embarrassing, "She doesn't need a ride from you, I already offered and I'm taking her to her home."

"Is that so?" Hangman asked cocking his head to the side, "Alright," He shifted to look back at you, "You know where to find me when you're ready."

He walked away from the two of you back towards a group of pilots who were playing pool.

"I-sorry," you offered, eyes focused on the bartop.

"For what?" Bradley asked with a small laugh, "That wasn't your fault, if anything he came over here because he knew it would piss me off."

"Why?" You asked, tilting your head back up to meet his gaze.

Bradley pulled his sunglasses off and fiddled with them in his hands, the first time you'd seen him even slightly nervous the whole night. "Well, I - ," he cleared his throat, "I've been working up to talking to you for most of the night. My friend, Phoenix, was giving me a pep-talk before I walked over and he must've heard it."

He was close enough to you now that you could smell the cologne that was still clinging to his warm skin and you could make out the flecks of green that were painted in his eyes.

"You needed a pep talk to come talk to me?" You asked as a blush took over your cheeks.

He nodded, huffing a nervous laugh.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and took a deep breath as you summoned your confidence, "Well, I, uh, I do need a ride home. If you were serious about that?"

A handsome half-smile took over his face, "Yeah of course, let me pay my tab real quick."

You left him to use the restroom and took a minute to splash some cool water on your face in an attempt to rid yourself of the heat in your cheeks.

"Are you alright?" A woman with dark hair asked you.

You nodded, "I'm just not really used to all of this, I guess."

She nodded, "Yeah, I saw the altercation between Bagman and Rooster that you were caught up in."

You froze, "Phoenix?"

"That's me," she told you with an apologetic grin, "Are you sure you're alright? I don't mind going out and telling them both to fuck off."

You huffed a laugh, "No, Bradley seems great and I want to get to know him a little more. I guess... I'm just not used to all of the attention."

"Really?" She asked, seeming surprised.

You nodded shyly, "Do you think Bradley's safe to ride home with?"

She nodded, her eyes softening, "Yeah, he's one of the safest choices in this bar."

You let out an exhale that you didn't know you were holding in, "Ok, that's good."

"C'mon," she held the door open, "I'll walk you over to him."

You walked side-by-side over to where Bradley stood at the bar in conversation with a man in glasses which was cut off as Phoenix made her presence known.

"Rooster," she called, "You piss her off and I'll make today's pushups look like nothing."

His eyebrows rose and the other man choked on the beer in his mouth.

"Understood," he told her before turning to you, "Are you ready to go?"

You nodded and the two of you left them standing at the bar. He led you out to an old Bronco. He opened the passenger-side door for you, helping you in and shutting it, before getting in on the other side.

You gave him your address as he pulled away from the bar.

"That must've been some conversation in the bathroom," he told you as his eyes flashed between you and the road.

You shrugged, "She just asked if I was alright."

He hummed, "Are you?"

You met his eyes, "Yeah."

"Ok," he answered, pulling his eyes from you to focus on the road.

"How do you two know each other?" You asked curiously.

He snorted, "She beat my ass on the first day of flight school and I have since dedicated my time to making her my friend instead of my enemy. Something you managed in two minutes that took me until graduation."

You laughed at that, feeling more comfortable with him in the car than you had in the bar.

"She seems really cool," you said as you smiled out the window. The sun had set and the stars were out in full force, a sight you could never get enough of.

"She is," he affirmed, "Her WSO was the man in glasses that I was talking to before we left."

"What was his name?"

"Bob," he answered and laughed when you raised her eyebrows.

"No call sign?" You asked.

He feigned offense and said, "What do you mean?"

You laughed at his dramatics, "You've been referring to everyone by their call sign's but not Bob and I'm just a little curious as to why?"

He smirked, "Well, I'll have you know Little Miss, that Bob is his call sign."

You gave him an exasperated look.

"I didn't give it to him," he defended but laughing at your reaction.

He pulled up in front of your house, turning the radio down as to not disturb your neighbors.

"Thank you for giving me a ride home," you told him, flashing him a smile.

"Any time," he offered, giving you a small smile that sent your heart racing.

You began to unbuckled and get out of his car when his voice stopped you.

"Hey Y/n, would it be alright if I took you out on a date sometime?" His eyes were hopeful.

You bit your lip, grabbing an old receipt and a pen from his cup holder. "I'd be disappointed if we didn't, here," you told him handing him the receipt, "It's my number. Text or call or something and we can set it up."

You pulled your hair over to one shoulder, "See you soon, Bradley."

"I look forward to it, Y/n," he told you as he leaned over to press a sweet kiss to your cheek.

You blushed hard and let yourself out of his car. You fumbled with your keys as you opened the door and as you stepped inside you heard him pull away, satisified that you'd made it inside safely.

That night when you went to bed, your thoughts were full of a certain pilot and the way your heart raced when his lips made contact with your skin.

[anderscim]

bagel’s drdt death predictions but they’re all based on character relationships and assumptions (lots of assumptions)

//spoilers for drdt ch1 + ch2 pt. 1

//long, long wall of text warning (nearly 4k words am i right 😭)

i mean, the title explains it all.

there’s really nothing else other than my unhinged predictions which will likely be wildly incorrect compared to the actual outcome in DRDT

so, as always, take this with a grain of salt

alright, let’s get straight into it.

arturo and j:

obviously these two have a… very interesting dynamic. they’re constantly at odds with each other, and this worsened especially after arturo found out about j’s family through her secret.

arturo is following j around and she hates it. arturo constantly crosses j’s boundaries, idolizes her, places her in his own “perfect image” that she doesn’t want to be a part of, and she (justifiably) hates it.

meanwhile, arturo sees j as one of the “beautiful people” that he idolizes and tries to get close to in order to improve his self value, possibly in an attempt to resolve his own insecurities. (okay i don’t think i’m gonna talk about this later so i’m gonna say it now. but based on the fact that arturo seems very attached to “societally valuable” things and people (major brands, celebrities, etc.) and the fact that he instantly pushes away things he sees as “ugly,” arturo may actually be trying to preserve a certain image of himself and/or his ego by surrounding himself with valuable things—which could be due to holding some sort of insecurity that he can’t be as “valuable” as others without those factors surrounding him constantly. maybe because he sees himself as “ugly.” just a thought. not justifying his actions though. idk)

but though i love j with all my heart… i’m very, very scared that she’s going to be the culprit for this chapter.

except for the possible motive, there’s actually a suspicious amount of logical conclusions and reasonings one can make that point to j being the culprit.

this isn’t my post, but i’m going to put this here because u/Difficult-Parfait627 on reddit explained the logic significantly better than i could have:

i also saw some theories on j’s secret weapon (the remote) possibly opening trapdoors that only she could access, so that’s definitely another possible advantage.

aside from that, i find it intriguing that MonoTV makes specific mention of this detail regarding the playground:

it would be very, very interesting if this proved to be foreshadowing of some sort regarding arei’s murder. whether it would just be the height of the room that plays into a factor of the case, or the fact that the movie screening room and the playground are only separable by a single wall, or both—that, i don’t know. but seeing multiple prevailing theories it could be possible that this is more important than we think.

not only this, but during the trial j constantly pointed fingers at many people and jumped from suspect to suspect—which is exactly what min did as well, and might be an indication that j is desperate to pin the crime on someone else.

though i’m probably wrong

revision: the following is… likely incorrect (_ _;) i’ll keep what i originally said here for the sake of it, but just know that arturo is more likely to double down and shun himself even further from any guilt if this theory proves to be true. here’s a reblog chain ft. @/aquariiium that explains it really well!

but if j is the culprit for this case, it could actually lead to character development for arturo. after all, if j gets caught, he would probably blame himself—if he didn’t get so worked up over eden and the reveal of his secret, if he didn’t let j overhear the conversation—she might’ve not committed a murder. i think he might feel intense guilt that he let j die—especially since he’s so (unhealthily) attached to her.

don’t know man. just trying to give him redeeming qualities here lmao

essentially, i think j might die this chapter as the culprit for arei’s murder, and arturo will survive for at least the next few chapters. whether he’ll be a victim/killer in the last few chapters i’m unsure about at this current moment, but bear with me

side note: it would be absolutely cruel if whoever the killer is, they get a quiet execution in a way that reflects arei’s body discovery ;-; also tbh i’m probably wildly wrong about all of this. for you guys who say the true culprit is someone else (especially people who think it’s levi, eden, or whit), i see you and i do see why that’s definitely a possibility. take all of my theorizing with a grain of salt lmao

whit and charles:

(sorry i couldn’t find a proper CG for them haha)

ah, one of my favorite dynamics. i love these two so much

it’s cool to see how they’re actually quite open with each other now, compared to the beginning where they were established as near-total opposites of each other (mainly looks at the free time event)

but as it goes with many ships in danganronpa…they’ll probably end in tragedy. unfortunately

i believe i made a really brief analysis earlier on how whit deals with grief by completely deflecting his true sentiments through the use of humor, and i think as of now this still holds true. whit’s bottling up his grief, and sooner or later he’ll have to come to terms with it.

whit has developed an understanding for charles, though, and seems to be genuinely considerate towards him. plus, he’s willing to admit to any mistakes he makes and is very open about it to charles, which indicates how close they actually are

charles struggles with not only his hemophobia + necrophobia (fear of blood and fear of corpses/things associated with death), but with the pity from others that result from it.

he really, really hates being pitied. we actually saw this earlier in the FTE between charles and whit as well—he seemed very worked up with how whit was “belittling” charles to make teruko laugh. obviously whit figured this out, admitted what he did, and eventually became more considerate of charles’ feelings. charles notices this and decides to open up to him.

👆 this line is so cute btw

i think though, especially because they’re so close to each other it’ll really impact their characters when tragedy strikes. personally i’m more scared that charles is going to die (as a victim) because plot-wise it would force whit to come to terms with his grief—the grief over not just his mother but the participants of the killing game—that he has pushed into the back of his mind for a long time.

but at the same time charles surviving is also definitely a possibility given his importance in the plot right now—and not only that, if whit dies, i think he would have a clear moment of feeling ashamed of himself for not even being able to look at his partner’s body and being unable to come to terms with whit’s death until later.

either way, one of them is definitely doomed to die, and the other is probably going to be a survivor.

for me, regardless of who bites the dust, they’re going to be a chapter 3 death. i personally believe this because it would give both of them time to cope and face their grief in their respective character arcs over the next few chapters—but also because i think chapter 4 is going to be surrounding a separate character dynamic.

nico, ace, and hu:

yes, it’s the “two people who absolutely hate each other and the one person that stands in between” trio.

as already established within the series, nico and ace hate each other. i don’t even need to put screenshots as proof—plus nico literally attempted to murder ace.

and by the way, for those of you who said other people manipulated nico into doing it, i think that would be very contradictory with what the series is trying to get at. nico is their own independent person—and they’ve tried to solidify that fact. this specific murder attempt was to probably establish that nico has their own limits, despite how much they are infantilized by others. if it’s true that someone manipulated nico, i feel like it would… just take away from nico’s individuality and turn them into someone to be pitied upon.

not only that, even nico established themselves that they have a tendency to be agressive.

there’s not much to analyze here, but it definitely is a strong indication that nico does have their own limits and will not act all innocent-like if those boundraries are crossed. it’s interesting though, because this kinda makes nico a foil to ace. while ace is “all bark and no bite,” and/or accusing and insulting everyone 24/7 but never acting upon it, nico is the opposite: not the type for words but will genuinely act if they are pushed hard enough.

i genuinely think nico attempted to murder ace on their own accord. plus, it would fit perfectly with one of the themes from this chapter

anyways—though i’m not going to condone her for infantilizing nico—there’s one person who’s kinda been keeping both of them in check. (or moreso, keeping ace in check) quite literally, hu defending nico, despite the fact that her way of doing so was really flawed, temporarily stopped their conflicts with ace from escalating in a short amount of time. at least until ace almost got murdered though.

the thing is, hu sees things in black and white. she trusts a little too much into nico and she thinks they desperately need to be protected. meanwhile, she essentially antagonizes ace, and didn’t seem to attempt to sympathize with the fact he almost got murdered. she didn’t make many attempts (especially during the second chapter) to genuinely understand their “grey areas,” instead jumping to what she knows. and… it’s understandable why she does this, but regardless, it’s one of her greatest flaws. however, that flaw is exactly what humanizes hu. she cares immensely about others, even if that means trusting them too much. she puts it on herself to help anyone she can. she wants others to rely on her, even if that means she inadvertently forces the role of “the damsel in distress” onto them as a result. though it doesn’t exactly justify her actions, i felt it was still important to bring up. (by the way i actually like hu, plus i love the concept of a really flawed but sincere mother figure. i don’t hate hu at all lmao i think she’s a really good character)

especially as of ch2 ep11, hu seems to show possible signs of change after getting called out by david. his so-called “betrayal” (by throwing hu’s personal impression and expectations of himself out the window) might begin a development arc allowing hu to see past her… i guess… her biases.

but, i’m scared that hu’s character arc would end (whether abruptly or gradually) in the middle of the series, rather than continuing to the very last episode of DRDT—and that she’ll get killed/executed before she can truly develop and leave the killing game with a new perspective.

additionally, as far as i can tell i don’t expect nico and ace to ever make up during the killing game—because in traditional danganronpa, that never seems to be an actual occurrence. not only that, but the whole tension surrounding their situation has already gone too far—neither of them will probably ever forgive each other after how far this conflict went (especially ace, who almost got killed by nico). i personally think hu, though the way she went about this was not exactly the best, acted as a “mediator” of sorts between ace and nico by throwing herself in and breaking up each conflict. if hu dies, their relationship will completely fall apart and their arguments will likely escalate past the point of no return—which seems to be a perfect setup for a murder case. personally i’d put hu as a chapter three death (regardless of victim or culprit), nico and ace’s dynamic escalating to a breaking point during chapter four, and either nico or ace dying in chapter four (with the other one surviving the killing game). my personal opinion as for who dies is nico, but mainly because i think ace might actually be a survivor.

ace and levi:

oh no i wasn’t done talking about ace yet, did you seriously think i would stop talking about him after all of that? plus i. didn’t give ace a proper character analysis in that previous section

ace and levi’s relationship is very unique as well. at first, ace and levi felt at least relatively comfortable around each other—which was really rare for someone like ace, who’s essentially scared of everything and holds many insecurities that prevent him from easily trusting people/processes/objects.

over time during chapter 1, ace and levi get closer to each other. ace develops a feeling of safety when around levi, since to him, he seems like one of the only few people who don’t just see him as a coward.

and that was true for a while, at least, until this happened.

this blog post by @thefandomenchantress explains the effects of levi’s dialogue here better than i ever could. go read this. please but essentially—the death threat is really important because it essentially shattered ace’s sense of security around levi, but the fact that levi out of all people called ace a coward really seals the deal for him. this is my interpretation, but ace probably felt that levi was more non-judgmental than the others and was also one of the few people that saw past his insecurities. so levi specifically targeting one of his largest weaknesses, probably hurts a lot.

not only that, but ace genuinely seems to believe that this is what levi actually thinks about him. though he focuses on the death threat here, i think it still holds true that he’s really paranoid of levi and thinks he actually hates ace, despite their dynamic in the first chapter.

on the other hand, levi regrets threatening and insulting ace in the first trial, and makes attempts to apologize and make up with him. he even asks teruko for advice here.

since ace is really insecure, it’s really difficult to make him actually forgive levi. ace’s paranoia makes him believe that others are out to “get him” and cause him harm, especially when it comes to people who bluntly pointed out his insecurities in the past. and as a person who genuinely hates those parts of himself and wants to get rid of his paranoia, it makes ace act really aggressive when people begin pointing out those issues again. after all, they’re reminders of what he thinks he is.

👆this quote is actually from an earlier point, and is ace talking about why he still races despite being scared of horses. but it’s representative of how he hates his own reputation and his insecurities that are connected with it—which he desperately doesn’t want people to see. that’s why ace is so aggressive. it’s because he feels he needs to bluff and act all “strong” to prevent people from targeting his insecurities.

the reason why i actually believe ace would be a survivor is because of some personal unhinged interpretations i have for chapter four. like i mentioned earlier, i personally believe that the current conflict between nico and ace will reach its climax during chapter four, which will likely also be a major part of the murder case during that chapter. and uh. if we go by traditional danganronpa patterns we know which character is probably doomed during that chapter (that is, assuming DRDT still follows a similar equation). though i admit the stereotype of “buff character dies during fourth chapter” is a bit overused—the thing is, if the conflict between nico and ace does actually reach its climax during that chapter, it actually makes sense relationship-wise for levi to play a major part of it. getting into major “this is probably wrong” territory here despite the fact that ace is currently distrusting towards levi right now, i think there’s still some part of him that harbors more personal feelings towards levi (whether that’s positive or negative)—i don’t think ace would be attacking levi so much otherwise. he probably feels like he was betrayed by levi, likely due to their changes in character dynamic during the first chapter. i also find it interesting how ace has always harbored a feeling of resentment towards nico—and i personally feel that this is because nico also reminds ace of one of his insecurities. they represent something that ace hates about himself, or they represent the antithesis of this insecurity—as for what specifically, i’m not sure, but it likely has something to do with ace’s paranoia. that’s probably why he attacks nico so much—because they remind him of something he hates about himself.

if both of them die, in the same chapter, i think ace would start doubting himself. all that would be left are people who have already seen how insecure he is. i think he’d lose his “purpose” and “relationships” in some ways, in that case—which would actually be a great setup to his secret quote: “i don’t know what to do with myself anymore.” ace markey existential crisis at 3 anyone /j

okay but. like. idk what i was even trying to say there. just take all of that with a grain of salt

okay, finally:

david:

(okay he’s literally just his own category at this point.) (i like to psychoanalyze him independently because i uh. have so much to say about him)

if you couldn’t already tell from my multiple theory posts about david, i have a considerable amount of interpretations regarding his character:

his current demeanor doesn’t reflect his true personality, but it’s not exactly like he’s a constantly optimistic person either

he’s not actually manipulating everyone into making the worst decisions. even his plan, though it wasn’t foolproof, was probably better than any of the options the cast had. however he did try to preserve his own image a little while presenting the plan since he’s trying to hide his depression

(both of those bullets are linked to other theory posts i made that elaborate more on these points)

either way, david is currently established as the “antagonist” character for this series, which was especially solidified after his breakdown in ch2 ep11. i think we all know what usually happens to the antagonist character in chapter 5.

however—david, unlike other canon danganronpa antagonists (especially nagito and kokichi from goodbye despair and killing harmony), has different motivations. rather than acting fully evil and/or cynical in an effort for the “greater good,” to me, he just… seems like he’s acting cynical and manipulative because that’s who he thinks he actually is. he’s playing a glorified version of his self-doubts and insecurities. so, to be completely honest, i think rather than him acting in a way to throw everyone off and ultimately end the killing game, i think david’s just in the middle of a breakdown and is acting suicidal. he’s actually pretty smart, so unless he was really emotional/desperate, i don’t think his lying would be as obvious as it is now. i think he honestly would’ve thought about it more (/lh) if he was genuinely attempting to end the killing game through lying and making everyone vote wrong. plus, we have already seen in chapter one that david doesn’t really… think straight when he’s emotional. we saw this during xander’s trial with the way he kept accusing teruko and thought she was the culprit despite the gradual accumulation of evidence that proved her innocence. (i think it’s general consensus that david actually did care about xander—and arei actually—and was therefore pretty emotional regarding their deaths, but i will make a post on that later if necessary.)

if david really is breaking down and acting suicidal in the second trial, i think it would fit if the plot decided to pull some irony and… y’know, have the one person who wants to die the most actually be a survivor. i really have no backing to this (and tbh i think i’m saying this because i want david to live LMAO), and i don’t exactly have any concrete evidence that establishes david as an antagonist character that doesn’t follow canon danganronpa antagonist traditions, but even then i still think it would be pretty cool if that happened.

god. this was. unhinged.

okay but watch me be entirely wrong on this lmao

i hope you guys could actually understand that entire wall of text because i don’t even know what i was writing halfway through also i didn’t put chapter 5/6 here because i literally have no idea what’s going to happen. it’s just going to be full of plot twists and i know it

i also didn’t exactly put a clear amount of killers/survivors so they don’t exactly. match up. plus i didn’t actually do a thorough analysis on veronika, rose, eden, teruko, etc so i’m probably going to have to go through those if i genuinely feel like doing a proper death order. (something is telling me rose and veronika are both going to get significant character development though, especially in the later chapters. we don’t have too much information on either of them yet (moreso veronika than rose) so i’m kinda waiting until we get more scenes to make assumptions about those two in particular)

but in summary:

j might die this chapter, arturo’s going to get significant character development as a result

no matter what, charwhit is absolutely doomed and one of them is going to die in the third chapter while the other is a survivor

hu will probably die in the third chapter, leading the conflict between nico and ace to escalate and reach a climax during the fourth chapter

(of course, this is assuming drdt follows traditional danganronpa and has a double murder during the third chapter. i’m not too much of a fan of the trope myself, but for the sake of organization)

nico and levi, who ace has the most personal (mostly negative) emotions towards at the current moment, will probably die during the fourth chapter leading ace to have an existential crisis and get character development (and will have to navigate his way to the end)

david is a non-traditional antag so he might die during chapter 5, but i personally see it more ironic and fitting to see him survive until the end seeing his current emotions and character

anyways.

i know there’s a lot of you who are significantly better at analyzing certain characters than i ever could so please please don’t hesitate to correct me if there’s an assumption i made that’s incorrect, and/or if you have anything i said that you could refute

plus i didn’t like. rewatch the entire series to make this i just had a long train of thought and searched for certain scenes that fit the most to what i was saying even if my assumptions weren’t correct

and as always. take this all with a grain of salt

(no but seriously, feel free to voice your opinions on this as well! i’ll definitely listen to them)

[throwaway-yandere]

The Fox Hunt (Yandere Mafia!Cyno, Tighnari, and Alhaitham/Reader)

A very brief summary of chapter 2 for those who had to skip due to CWs: You had been bottling your grief. You hired Alhaitham as an underboss and he tagged along when you negotiated with Diluc. (Thanks to his presence, you avoided getting kidnapped by the Visconti). When you visited the church, Rosaria offered to help you track Tighnari down and Cyno shared his story about losing his younger brother later on. At night, you decided to visit your old underboss's grave. An old friend, Dainsleif, found you in the cemetery, and helped you finally cry your eyes out for all the lives you lost that day.

CW: yandere & religious themes, mafia syndicates (therefore guns, violence, etc). Possible major character death. THIS IS AN INTERACTIVE FIC: YOUR CHOICES MATTER.

"O Capo! My Capo!" - Chapter 3

Previous chapter

—----

[4 years ago:]

"You seem to be stealing fleeting glances earwards the whole time I've been leafing pages."

"Ah, so you've noticed." You spoke sheepishly. "My apologies, Professor, but your ears are…"

Tighnari's ears boastfully straightened as he shrugged with a tiny smile.

"They do not feel as nice as you're imagining. They honestly just feel like any regular cat's or dog's."

"Your behavior says otherwise." You said. "But it's deserved. You groom it every other hour, don't you?"

"Hah?"

On a late 1910s night, renowned writer Professor Tighnari prepared his next discussion in the Innamorati Familia’s mansion. 

Why inside such a dangerous place? Well, what is Teyvat without corruption? The Syndicates remained in control for most of Teyvat, and no military forces can quell their power. It reached a period where people cannot envision life without these organizations as detrimental to society. No man can exhaust the flames that burn brightly amongst the Fatui mafiosos, and should they try, they'll only find smoke in their wounded chest. 

Professor Tighnari joined the Innamorati Familia when several academics from his university inexplicably vanished. The fox believes they'll target him next based on their trend of research topics. He initially gave his services in exchange for the security of his research, but unanticipatedly discovered that everyone in the Familia has values, culture– precious lives of their own. They were kind people who simply had a penchant for violence. As strange of a revelation as it may sound, they lived their lives hurting as little as they could with their religious restrictions upheld by their capo.

Not long after that, the hitherto snarky professor had become close friends with the aforementioned boss.

"Don't think I don't notice that every time I'm about to enter the room, you brush your fur like you're five minutes late to a party." 

"I-I just wanted to look presentable, that's all. Do you think I'd show up to work with bed hair? Who am I? Dimitri?"

Aware of his sharp tongue but lacking the means to keep it in check, Tighnari accidentally insulted your underboss. The hairs on his body stood and he was ready to make a fool of himself by offering an apology, but your usually unreadable resting face looked warm.

"Mhm. Sure. I'll choose to believe that." Without hiding your curiosity, you turned back to his ears. His ears were not touched, despite your hands being close to his head.

"A-as you should." Fortunately, Tighnari is good at masking his emotions. If cowardice overcame him, he would encounter a blade's glimmer rather than your gaze. Tighnari digressed by returning to his books while maintaining the illusion that his thoughts were clear.

"Alright then. Platonically, can I pet you?"

"... Excuse me?"

"You're one of those Vulpes who always wondered why close friends would think touching your ears would make you angry right?" You told him in an as-a-matter-of-fact tone. 

Tighnari is a smart man, yet he is unable to understand how your mind may go in circles and still arrive at a logical conclusion. He did ask, but it didn't make sense.  You sincerely advised him to give up most possessions and gain a new perspective from the experience when he sought guidance on how your deduction functions. There is no way in hell that he would act in that manner.

You continued. "I'm just skipping that whole step. So, are we intimate enough for me to run my fingers through your hair?"  

Tighnari snorted. "Phrasing, Capo."

"So, am I a close enough friend to touch you in that special area?"

"You'll never get me flustered– I might just bite you instead if you keep testing me."

"What a major shame."

Your gaze lowered to the pages he was writing. Tighnari is a well-known botanist at the University of Teyvat, a public university for bright students with limited financial resources. His intricate writing style regarding the fundamentals of bryophytes speaks volumes. You doubt that students can understand what he jotted down, but then again, Tighnari's an effective communicator.

In all honesty, you hated those books, not because of their contents, but because of the memories laced within them.

These were the type of pages you sift through in hopes that you will be the one to decipher a cure. Dottore used to help you sort through whatever books were more easily digestible. Nowadays staring at something related to moss feels akin to reading about an end of a long relationship. It was fun and exciting, but ultimately the compatibility led nowhere. As much as you want to tell him that he should take his research elsewhere, he'd probably reply with a sassy "Or what? Are you going cage me?" reply. Simply not worth the effort or time.

He cleared his throat, his cheeks dusted in a pinkish hue. "Whatever. You can pet me if y–"

"Mosses huh? Why this area of study?" Those words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Tighnari tucked his tail underneath his chair, his eyes unblinking. 

" … I have a theory."

You nodded, recognizing the shift in his tone. "Go on."

"The Goddess of Flowers often described in their books that Sumeru's mosses have an intricate healing property in them that can only be harnessed by those who are as knowledgeable as the Scarlet King."

"I never thought you were a devotee."

"I'm not," Tighnari answered. "I only believe in Gnosticism when it benefits me."

Spoken like a true University of Teyvat graduate.

"But phytotherapy is a rather complex and time-consuming field– why focus on this?"

"And why does a Capo like you know that?" Tighnari asked, and you digressed immediately to avoid him probing on things he need not know.

"–Our familia is doing fine, Professor. Hmm... Is there someone in particular that you're praying for good health–"

"You have Eleazar, don't you, Capo?"

You knew it. He saw the recollection in your gaze when you glanced at his books. You weren't surprised that he figured it out quickly. You were just waiting for him to confess that he knew your condition. However, you just didn't expect him to ask at that very moment.

This time, you patted his head without asking, tracing your fingers around his fluffy ears. You grinned. Your smile was just a centimeter off and your shoulders were square; neither of those rigid signs sent him a positive response. The way you held his ears was restrictive, far from the quote-unquote "platonic" gesture you offered earlier. Your soft chortles sent chills down his spine and your glare froze his nerves akin to Snezhnayan rivers.

"Hoping to sell that information, Vulpes?"

"Of course not!" Tighnari was shocked to hear himself raise his voice. "I'm not stupid."

You hummed and pulled your hand away. Tighnari may have acted tough, but you knew he was shaken by that exchange. 

Oh well, it's not like you were being serious. 

You just did that so you can hold his ears. (By the way, he lied. They're even fluffier than most animals.)

Unbeknownst to you, Tighnari found your touch enthralling. He shook by an entirely different reason compared to your assumption.

Talking to you was addictive. Tighnari could take his studies elsewhere, but what's the point if you're not there?

He chuckled.

Save for the low-volume classic jazz the fox played in the background, you both indulged in the comfortable silence of each other's presence. An atmosphere as cozy as this makes it tempting to brush your cheek against his shoulder and flutter your eyes shut– but the dawn hasn't crept in and you will not be deterred from your sleep schedule. Tighnari's pleasant pen strokes came to a halt, releasing you from your trance.

"Capo?"

"... Yes?" You sucked your yawn in.

"If– If I told you I could find you a cure, but I'd have to sell my soul for it, what would you do?"

"Easy question: don't."

He was taken aback. Tighnari did not expect that answer.

"But why?"

"I know that look in your eyes, Tighnari." You shifted on the sofa, doing your utmost to stay awake. "Those were the same eyes Dimitri had when he killed his step-sister. That's the gaze of a feral animal. You're part of my familia, Tighnari– I'm not letting another fratello of mine lose himself to greedy impulse."

"What if–"

"No."

You spoke dangerously low in the tone Tighnari hears when you interrogate those who were chained in your basement. This was not the voice you used to talk to your men. This (Y/n) was not just commanding– this Capo was daunting and domineering. And he would loathe being at the receiving end of your torturous whip and fingers.

Suddenly, Tighnari had an epiphany.

Before he could save a kind friend, the professor would have to save a cold-blooded murderer first.

"Alright. Fine then. If you don't want to be the patient who'll help me get a Nobel Prize then have it your way." Tighnari joked, but his mind was made up.

He won't do as you commanded. 

"But don't think I'll stop studying mosses. The world doesn't revolve around you, Capo, I still have many to save."

And just like that, he retired for the night. 

Once upon a time, these half-asleep conversations were routinely done in order to check up on one another. A Capo is the busiest person one could be in Snezhnaya, and it warmed his heart to know you allot some time for his mundane conversations. But these heartfelt gestures are now mere ashes behind Tighnari.

Never to return.

—----

[Morning, 1 AM:]

The Fatui Headquarters is a daunting place.

Filled to the brim with murderous sociopaths, no sane man would act juvenile amongst your crowd. This room never fails to make you feel small. Everyone, from 2nd to 10th, showed up dressed to the nines with capes and fur, which was slightly less grand than the funeral clothes everyone wore for La Signora. Their extravagant yet sensible winter attire contrasts sharply with your unimpressive standard Prussian-blue coat in the sea of whites and blacks.

"Can't believe you showed up."

You turned to face the front. Scaramouche, in his custom-made Kasa hat, sat on the opposite end and sneered with disdain.

This gremlin never took a shine to you. The feeling is mutual. Whenever he utters a nasty word, the impulse to clothesline him to the nearest tree arises.

"It's not a habit of mine to miss meetings, it's not gonna change now no matter your wishes, Scaramouche."

"You dare use that tone against me? Remember who you are talking to, number eight."

As the 8th Capo– higher only for Tartaglia (10th) and the 9th– you were looked down on by the rest of the Harbingers. Had the 1st rank not been filled by a fellow Khaenri'ahn, Archons know how mistreated you would've been. 

"I have a firm grasp of my identity. Never have I shared your indecisiveness, number six." You spat. "What about you? Have you decided on whether or not you're human yet?"

Everyone knows that Scaramouche may not even be human, but no one would open that can of worms other than you. 

He crossed his arms.

"Maybe after you figure out whose fault it was that your men died, you… or that fox?"

"SHHH!!!" Tartaglia shook his pointer finger near his lips. When he noticed you staring, he donned his best brotherly smile. "H-Hey (Y/n), what do you think about the rising inflation in Mondstadt City?"

Tartaglia actively avoided talks about the Innamorati Arson Incident. It's been days and he has not once brought it up. You recalled how when you first visited his manor, he asked about your experience in the church of Sumeru– and it was solely focused on what happened AFTER the incident. 

… Now that you think about it, he probably made those stupid jokes about Alhaitham that day because he didn't want you to look so grim.

"More problems with their funds, considering how most of it is all gone." The shorter man managed to still find a quip along the way. "Honestly, why are they even here? Shouldn't they go back to selling matchsticks by now?"

You visibly stiffened.

"Shut it, Scaramouche." Arlecchino interjected with a sympathetic yet mildly condescending outlook. "They're still a Capo through and through, even if they're past their prime."

Prime.

That's how they referred to the Dottore who had never taken a dose of canned knowledge. The youthful and composed Dottore you were once friends with.

You've always dealt with the very murky morality of your line of work by contrasting the transgressions of your coworkers. At least you went through rehab and detox when you were hooked on heroin. Meanwhile, he hasn't done anything other than feed his addiction. Truly, Zandik is fortunate to receive a wage that exceeds his necessities.

You and a monster like him are not so different, not anymore. He is no longer human; instead, he is a corpse that runs back home covered in more scrapes than on his previous visit. As for you? Well…

Batting your eyes, you scoffed breathlessly. Are you really past your prime? Words failed to come up when you tried thinking of a retort, and perhaps that was for the best.

Finally, the man of the hour entered the room. 

Like many Khaenri'ahn kids, you formerly held Pierro in high regard. He was the gleam of hope that even impoverished and orphaned immigrants might change the tides, even if it was in a world other than their home country. For most, he's the one who would nod his head upward. Pierro, the first Khaenri'ahn Capo, was the hero in the eyes of your younger self who lived off thanks to the table scraps of your even younger foster siblings. Tsaritsa knows you fumbled on your first meeting, and you were proud that was the only time you embarrassed yourself in front of him.

Considering how things are now, it certainly wasn't the case.

Pierro took a proud stance and showed no remorse for what had happened to you. His gaze veered in your direction. At that very moment, if you had been blinking, you would have missed the disappointed expression on his face. He promptly rotated the whiteboard after removing his sheets from his folders.

You stood up. "Lord Pier–"

"Let's start."

You sat back down again.

The entire meeting was a blur. You felt like you weren't there the entire time. Arlecchino eagerly chatted about her child soldiers whilst the other occasionally quipped a word or two. When her turn was done, it was Scaramouche, then Capitano, then Tartaglia– not once had the bottle turned to face you. The reason behind that is simple:

Pierro did not plan to call you, Number 8th, during any of his discussions. 

—---

The meeting was adjourned, but far from over. Just as you were about to head to the cathedral, a lithe hand pulled your coat sleeve, stopping you from reaching the front gates. 

You sighed, looking at their perfect doll-like fingers, there's no one else it could be other than…

"Shylock businesses aren't my style– ask Tartaglia instead." 

"You know damn well that's not what I'm gonna ask, Brighella?" 

"Then what is it, Kunikuzushi?"

He flushed red at your venomous retort.

Neither of you liked those names– unlike you, who dislike your Harbinger title purely because it sounds stupid– Scaramouche doesn't like hearing his baptismal name out of family reasons. Guess who's the more insecure one between the both of you.

"Are… Are you al– tch. Forget it." He paused before he scoffed and pointed his finger accusingly. Scaramouche grumbled. "I invested a lot of money in your casino project, so there better be some results!"

You nodded, barely paying attention to his tirades. His infantile behavior was never endearing to you; you either find it repulsive or boring. With the weighing pressure on your mental state, you were quick to chuck his new burlesque anger as mind-numbingly monotonous this time.

"Sure."

"Sure? Sure what, worm?"

"The Casino is not affected– the men who handled it are all alive. Zero casualties."

Unless you count Dimitri who used to manage the Casino in his spare time.

"That's good to hear." Surprisingly, he sounded genuinely relieved for what felt like their safety rather than financial compensation.

"Agreed. Are we done here?" 

His grip on your sleeve tightened.

"One final thing." Scaramouche leaned closer. "Use caution. Tighnari had likely received divine favors."

"Maybe you're stupid or you just don't care, but my devotion to Gnosticism is just a front. I appreciate your concern, though."

"I wasn't concerned. Just can't have my idiotic colleague underestimate what the divine can do." He smirked. "Can't have you burning another property you don't deserve."

You yanked your sleeve away.

Heartless puppet. 

"Goodbye, Balladeer."

—----

[Morning, 3 AM:]

With Felix trailing behind you (Alhaitham was in his Akademiya job), you both entered the church searching for Sister Rosaria.

The stained glass of the church had recently been updated. No one was surprised when disciples started taking away any hydro-related emblems from all northern churches. Even if those pieces of art are incredibly captivating, the fascists had already started utilizing them as a sign of movement, thus they are deemed not worth saving for future generations.

"Since when did they begin removing those things?"

"Since yesterday," Felix said with bags under his eyes. It's clear to you that he genuinely didn't want to be here. "Under Architect Kaveh's orders."

"I see. Go get some rest, Felix. There are surely some empty rooms in the convent."

"Thank you, Capo."

You let him leave.

Should you die today, you've already written a will that Felix will be the one to inherit your position. You'll let him have his quite-possibly-last good sleep before the Capo life keeps him busy. 

You stared back at the glass. 

In a way, architect Kaveh was similar to Alhaitham in that you were familiar with their names but not their faces. Even though he is consistently the first to offer to assist you with construction, this man always finds a way to decline your requests for an audience. The last time it was because he caught boar fever (how? ), but that was nothing compared to the time he wrote you a disorganized handwritten letter about how an Akademiyan spy sabotaged his clothes after breaking into his home and harassing him to gain confidential information.

... At least he has extraordinary talent. You can excuse any eccentric traits as long as a person's value outweighs the costs. That is the same reasoning you employed when you hired Alhaitham.

"(Y/n), is it true that you're going to find Tighnari?"

That voice couldn't be anyone else but your little fratella.

You were about to answer with a firm "yes", but when you turned around you felt a pang of guilt seeing how troubled she looked. Her hands gripped the hem of her dress in a suffocating hold and her eyebrows were knitted together.

"In Sumeru City? Of all places?" Barbara scurried and hugged your arm. 

"Don't go. Please."

[CHOSE: REASSURE BARBARA]

"Mia sorella, don't worry…" you cooed and soothingly lowered your gaze before bluffing. "Sumeru City's a lot safer nowadays. Alhaitham told me so."

[DID NOT CHOOSE: SAY "GOODBYE"]

[FAILED TO UNLOCK CHANCE FOR SECRET ROUTE: "MUSICIAN VENTI"]

"No…" Barbara stiffened and tore herself away. She clenched her fist, but everything else about her was calm and resolved. 

Barbara looks exactly like you when she's mad. She mimicked your traits so perfectly.

"No. You're lying. I heard Sister Rosaria talk to Inquisitor Cyno– it's not safe there."

"Barbara…" You traced your thumbs against her cheek. Her heartfelt display of anger almost successfully beseech you to reconsider. She slapped your hand away, but you kept talking. "I have to go."

“No. No, you don't– don’t be prideful! At least bring some of your men with you.” Barbara argued. 

You can’t. Some are stationed to help with church work while others are with Visconti Diluc. You purposely made them preoccupied so that they won’t put themselves in danger (like you.) Besides Tartaglia, there’s no other Capo who loves their people more than you– and perhaps this overprotective nature will be your cause of death, but so be it.

“Sister Rosaria will tag along. I'll be back soon– like I always do." You scooted closer to her, bending your knees a bit. With an unnoticeably forced chuckle, you shook her slightly. "C'mon, it's me, your very cool older Capo sibling. Don't you have faith in me?"

"I-I…" 

There are two things that can convince a pure-minded individual like her who has been sheltered from harm: a prayer and a cheerful smile.

"If you're worried about me, why don't you pray for my safe return?"

And you know damn those are the only thing that helps Barbara keep moving forward– the two things that help keep her sanity intact or else she'll break down. Religion is her sole solace. Despite living in poverty, she wouldn't sin. She's "used to hunger", that's just the type of person she was. Without prayers and smiles, nothing can help Barbara forget how her real biological sister left her in this chapel.

"Can you do that for me, sorella?"

Barbara paused. 

Snezhnayan men are the most religious. The people of Mondstadt nor Sumeru couldn't possibly compare with how Snezhnaya rears their impressionable children. Barbara was raised in this chapel and Snezhnayan culture ran deep in her veins.

“F-Fine.” Barbara sighed. “I’ll pray for you.”

You ruffled her hair.

“Grazie, sorella.”

—----

After reassuring Barbara that you will be safe and praying to an archon you don’t believe in, you slithered behind the church. 

"You watched everything earlier, I presume?"

Inquisitor Cyno didn’t move a muscle from his position. He was leaning by the wall, staring at the church cemetery. Still, he cracked up a small yet wholesome smile. He seemed pleased by your response.

[AFFECTION METER: 39.05%]

"It's in my job description."

You smiled sweetly. "Forgive my sins, Inquisitor, I forgot you were a professional stalker."

"Not stalking; I'm monitoring you."

"What's the difference?"

"Stalking has a more sinister connotation."

"Oh, then forgive me, your holiness." You theatrically bowed.

Cyno nodded. "You are forgiven."

You laughed loudly.

The inquisitor innocently raised his eyebrow and tilted his head. His pup-like demeanor shut you up. Apparently, that response wasn't a joke. Ex-priest Cyno wholeheartedly forgave you in a religious fashion.

Why is he only hilarious when he's not trying to be?

You cleared your throat. "My apologies, I suddenly remembered a joke, that's all."

"Would you mind sharing?" Cyno asked. "I want to find new comedy material. My previous jokes didn't seem to work."

You were about to cut it straight that he's the joke but ultimately decided to keep your mouth shut. 'You mean 'ALL your jokes don't seem to work.'' is what you wanted to say, but kindness is not the absence of mean-spiritedness. It is when you are restricting such actions.

“I don’t think you’d find it funny.”

“Is it an inside joke?”

How very kind of him to offer you a way out of this one.

“Something like that.”

“Then I won’t ask.” The Inquisitor nodded. "But there’s something else I want to request. Won’t you allow me to join you–"

"No."

[CHOSE: DO NOT INVITE INQUISITOR CYNO]

[AFFECTION METER: 25.00%]

Cyno paused.

You cannot allow him to join. Since you observed how the inquisitor and your new underboss interacted, you had a feeling that Cyno's presence would cause more issues than they would solve. He knew Tighnari well. He might even kill him before you do if he is provoked. Besides, it's not as though any sane man would hold an Inquisitor captive if given the chance; that would be like trying to wrestle an alligator to scare a dog.

Plus, you want to exploit Cyno and Tighnari's previous friendship against him. The safest course of action is to bluff and say you'll kill Cyno should that bastard try anything funny.

“Why not?”

“I hate to impose or be more indebted to you, Inquisitor. My conscience will not allow it.”

Cyno frowned.

“You shouldn’t be afraid to rely on others, Capo.”

“How very strange that I’ll hear that coming from you,” You said. “I know it is not my place to say this, but I’ve done my research and found out that you fulfill your duties alone. Candace kindly told me that you’ve always been a lone wolf, so I can’t say I’m persuaded by your advice.”

“Hmm. Understandable.” That’s all he could say. “Is there anything I can do to change your mind?”

You held his hand. He flinched, both shoulders tensed up like a shocked cat.

Your hands weren’t warm. They were cold. But as a desert dweller his hands oddly fit well with yours– a perfect balance. Unlike you, however, he had never used these hands to do evil. The Inquisitor silently wondered how would it feel like if these fingers wrung his neck–

Cyno closed his eyes. 

He cannot think of such sinful thoughts.

“Please relax, Inquisitor.” You spoke, circling the back of his palm. “I know what I’m doing.”

Should those words be the whole truth, then you must know unsavory your actions must be behind the pretense of kindness.

You debaucher.

“Do you now…”

You grinned.

That effectively made his heart skip a beat.

Cyno doubts you somehow knew about your hold on him.

“Hmm!”

“Fine. Then I’ll let you be.”

—----

He shouldn’t do this.

He’s worried. The Inquisitor did work with the spy before–

But Cyno doesn’t trust Alhaitham.

Cyno handed the disciple a dagger.

Alhaitham is calculating and most of all selfish. This was the man who actively disobeyed the church’s teachings unapologetically. Perhaps such behavior is cultured in the Akademiya but Cyno cannot stand it. 

Maybe that's why he tried stopping himself first, but after that fire…

Cyno's overprotective nature worsened.

He convinced himself that this feeling was a product of his past losses and argues that this is just a precaution. The Goddess has given him a second person to watch over. A second Usir. A new blessing to make up for his past transgressions.

And he will not waste this second chance.

"Take this. And do not forget my orders."

—---

[Morning, 4 AM]

Towering dome buildings, abundance of trees yet eerily silent streets– Sumeru City was not a tourist spot for amusement. 

Considering these facts, Dunyarzard, in all her former glory, still built a large theater underground called The Zubayr Theater. She had the intention of making the city a more joyous location with her contributions, and it's sad to see that it had done little to brighten up its citizens. Then again, Dunyarzard probably won’t be bothered by this if she lived longer.

You would know this because she was once your friend too.

Dunyarzard...

It’s a shame an invasive fox is hiding inside her paradise-on-earth. 

That, and a troublesome dog too.

You glanced at Alhaitham. He behaved strangely the entire time, glancing at his watch as if he were counting his seconds down. Soon enough, he walked closer and tapped your shoulder.

"(N/n)."

Assuming this is about the akasha terminal he let you borrow, you let him talk. "Go on, speak."

[AFFECTION METER: 28.00%]

"Tuqburni."

"… what?"

"Means you bury me in Sumeru," Alhaitham said, looking away sheepishly. "I decided it'd be best if you heard it again, even if Cyno isn’t here."

Is he trying to imply that an Inquisitor would care enough to kill him? Please. He’s an insignificant cog in the grand scheme of things. If he’s so sure you’ll lead him to his death then he should just quit. Go back to being an Akademiyan spy, it’s not that hard.

"Good to know." You'll forget about that word in ten minutes, tops.

He pursed his lips, troubled. "You don't remember what Tuqburni means?"

"Can't remember something I never learned."

Alhaitham frowned.

"I see…"

Sister Rosaria swerved her way between you two before pushing Alhaitham away with little force. "Take a hike. We don't have time to entertain you, underboss."

His nose scrunched. "Sister Rosaria, age 25. Weight 80kg, height 5'9, address–"

"Yeah, no shit I know where I live, so what?" The nun retorted. "Think you can take me on with your calculator, kid?"

You snorted.

"I'm not trying to intimidate you," Alhaitham spoke. "I'm letting you know that–"

"Whatever." Rosaria clicked her tongue. "Capo, what're your orders?"

Thank the Tsaritsa that Rosaria is here.

“We’ll split.” You pointed at the theater. “There are three main sections in Zabayr.”

You handed Rosaria a map. Alhaitham didn’t ask for a copy– he presumed that you already trust that he knew the location with the help of new technology. Instead, it was Rosaria who had a follow-up question.

“Where’s your copy, Capo?”

“They don’t need one,” Alhaitham answered. “They were here when the place was built– they helped Lady Dunyarzard build her dream theater.”

“I didn’t issue any orders for you to speak.” You glared. “Know where you stand, underboss.”

You cleared your throat. "As I was saying, we'll split up. I'll scout the theater, Rosaria outside the buildings, and you're on the apex building. Understood?"

"Yes."

"Of course."

—----

Despite saying "of course" confidently, Alhaitham found himself in a small library. 

This was likely NOT the place you ordered him to find, but the wealth of information stored around here was relevant to your investigation. Why? Because these were records haphazardly left by the fascists.

Their intel was right. The theater was one of their headquarters.

"These runes…" His eyebrows furrowed. “‘A tool that can only be used if the wielder upholds absolute justice above all else and would sacrifice the means for a satisfactory end.’ None of these descriptors match the Akademiya’s records at all, except...”

Alhaitham's eyes widened. 

This specific piece of information corroborates how Tighnari behaved thus far.

"However, if the Archons live with us and not Celestia then isn't it possible that Focalor is–"

His fingernails dug into the papyrus while his eyes frantically skimmed through its contents. If the contents of this papyrus were true, then what the hell was that collaboration between La Signora and the Adepti about? What the hell did they exchange?

Alhaitham heard the sound of breathing.

He turned around and turned on his terminal, hoping to reach you before the assailant stops him.

"(N/n), be careful! Whatever Tighnari's holding, that's a gn–"

[SHUTTING DOWN…]

—---

The Akasha Terminal buzzed, the signal muffling its voice. You surmise that this was caused by the theater's layout. The architect of the Zubayr Theater– which is funny enough, still Kaveh– specifically chose this location for its lack of noise. That being said, it would be nice to watch an actual play here now that Alhaitham wouldn't bother you with his senseless blather. Pity that no one's performing.

"… B… c…ful! Wh….. na… ri…ho…."

"T…s … ...sis!" 

You shook your head and nonchalantly thought out loud.

"The terminal must be acting up." 

There's no one there to accompany you in your confrontation with Tighnari should you encounter him, and you preferred it this way. 

You opened the door to the main stage.

And you finally found him.

You spotted the back of his silhouette lingering on the theater’s second floor. Props were crushed and some built-in chairs were knocked over. Whoever wreaked havoc around Dunyarzard’s theater had to pay– but that isn’t your main priority. Your target is already right here.

The professor no longer wore his cotton dark caramel coat– instead, he replaced it with a blander yet bolder black one that made his figure look larger. His eyes were vacant, looking forward as if a person would warp from near the ceiling. The bastard appeared to be waiting for someone.

Someone that isn’t you.

"Hello, professor."

A chill shot down his spine as his eyes met yours. Tighnari looked down, seeing you stare at him with a small smile. There was malice behind your peaceful expression. He made indescribable noises when he took a step back. No one else was in the vicinity except for the two of you, but his thoughts screamed that there was nowhere else to run. Tighnari knew that look was nothing he had ever seen before– a look of pity and anger reserved only for a dead man walking.

He sensed bloodlust, and it was consumingly relentless.

"It's been a while. Mind if I bother you outside office hours?"

Tighnari's hands were trembling but the rest of his limbs were frozen. He couldn't completely deny the possibility that he could die at this very moment. After all, he had seen your agility wipe out an entire floor of men with two dull daggers. If that was lazily done to protect him, he can only imagine the full extent of your abilities. On the bright side, at least you were below him and he could sprint somewhere– he just didn’t know where that is.

When you go on a hunt, you don’t stop until you catch your prey.

The professor knows that damn well.

"N-No," Tighnari answered with false confidence. "No, I don't."

"Can I ask a few questions, then?"

Your way of speaking contradicts whatever thoughts you both had in mind. Your voice inflection bounced off lightly, but the air shifted as soon as you traced your holster.

He didn't reply, and you took that as a yes.

[FREE TALK EVENT: START]

[READER REPLIES MARKED IN RED]

"Why." 

It came out more like a general statement than a question, so you repeated it with added conviction. You're not a static force. You're here because you willed it– you're here to satisfy your demands. Your lust for revenge.

"Why did you do it? Why did you burn my manor?"

Like a grim reaper appeasing their curiosity, you spoke calmly while simultaneously patronizing his inconsequential life.

Tighnari bit his lip. "You already know why–"

"But I need the confirmation, the closure. Any reason to make your death tenfold more satisfying." 

"I did it so that you'd get your cure."

Your eyes squinted.

Of course he did. You don't doubt him. You've known his obsession with Eleazar and how he rightfully suspected that you're burdened by this illness. 

But he took the whole truth and poured some out.

"That still doesn’t make sense, Professor Tighnari."

He took a sharp yet deep breath. Tighnari's treading on thin ice. He was scared not just for his life. He was scared that this would be his final moment when he had yet to give you what you needed. 

"I had to–"

"Surely the cure for Eleazar doesn't involve mass murder."

You were remarkably calm. As opposed to your uncharacteristically feral actions during the previous few days, this argument was entirely typical of you. Strategic and reserved, but ready to unleash everything in a single strike. 

"I…" Tighnari bit his cheek. He sighed exasperatedly. "Just. Just trust me for once, Capo–"

"Don't call me that." You tensed up. "You lost the right to call me Capo the moment you betrayed your familia. How can I trust you when I don't forgive you? Why trouble yourself so much when you can rip my head off my shoulders right now? I'm just another body between you and your precious cure, correct?" 

He almost didn't notice how you threw a dagger mid-talk like pelting a mere pebble. Tighnari dodged it, albeit barely, and you calculated as much. You won't let him die until he hears everything.

You spat lowly. "You snuffed the lives out of the only people that mattered to me." 

"Please don't be mad. I had to–" Tighnari spilled. "I had to or else Focalor wouldn't help me."

"How the fuck can I not be mad? You're a fox, I'm sure you can smell the hatred I have for you. Your olfactory system is sensitive, after all." You masterfully kept your voice calm despite the severity of your words.

"Your associates are such idiotic bastards then if they have to kill my men for a cure." Your eyebrows furrowed. "Where is it? Where the fuck is the correlation, Professor?"

"It's to prove my loyalt–"

"The only thing you've proven is that you're a piece of shit. Is this what fascism is about? I can't see why you'd ever want to be one."

Tighnari looked down and muttered something you didn't hear.

"Who said I wanted this to happen?"

You continued. "I know I was only spared because I was in the chapel– so take out your gun so we can settle this already."

You fired a warning shot, this time with a bullet and not a dagger, burying another close call between his tall ears.

There were so many things to worry about, but Tighnari relied on hopeless dialogue. It's the only tool he has left to de-escalate the situation.

Unfortunately for him, you're better with words.

"I don't want to kill you."

"Teppei."

"... What?"

"Lyudochka, Kazari, Bao'er, Viktor… " You cocked your gun. "Lindhart. Did you regret killing them?"

"Capo, I know what you're trying to do."

"You should or else we'd both look stupid."

"But saying their names won't change my mind. I've already decided that they're replaceable as friends."

Replaceable?!

"You bastardo–"

You fired a second shot– it missed. With a bit of spite, you aimed higher knowing that he'd evade. You didn't repeat the same mistake.

He ducked behind the second-floor barrier.

But didn't take its spiral pillar designs into account, and the gaps were exactly where you aimed at.

"GAH–"

His guttural scream echoed across the theater.

You shot him in the leg.

Whoever designed that barrier had great tastes– you'll thank the architect for this later.

It'd be so easy to just kill him now.

"Your fur will look better draped around my shoulders, Vulpes." You aimed with Tartaglia's revolver. "It's winter, is it not? Don't worry, I'll put it to good use."

The most significant thing he would do with his life is dying.

Lucky for him, you can’t grant him that just yet.

You still have hope. 

You still believe that there’s a way to get rid of Eleazar.

And as much as you hate it, you also believe in Tighnari.

Rather, you believe in his abilities and nothing more.

With the "goodness" in your heart, you’ll let him finish what he started.

"But I’ll suffer through the winter for now. That cure is the only thing keeping you alive. The day you finish your research will be the day I finish you. After that, I’ll make sure to kill every last person you hold dear."

Tighnari huffed self-deprecatingly, clinging onto his wounded leg by the theater's second floor. gazing at you with a melancholic stare. "Jokes on you (Y/n), there's no one else but y–"

"Cyno. Collei."

His eyes widened.

You smirked jadedly. "I had Inquisitor Cyno keep her in our custody. Did you know that pain is heightened ten times more for those of us suffering from Eleazar?"

You traced your old battle scars. They were all healed, but their numbers will keep multiplying.

Each time you pinch, no matter how dated these may be, it's as painful as yesterday's wounds. Nothing prepared you when you were diagnosed with Eleazar. Each wound, each papercut– the pain clings onto you like a leech that can never be scrubbed out, or else it'll cling tighter. 

"It's excruciating. That's why I was addicted to heroin– it numbs everything. Have you heard? Children are more vulnerable when it comes to drug addiction–"

"Don't." He faltered, lowering his gun. "Please. Don't touch them."

Bullseye.

Them. He used the word “them” instead of “her.” Despite Cyno’s impression, the fox still cares about him.

Maybe you should’ve invited Cyno to tag along.

You tilted the revolver sideways. 

You want him to inflict even more pain.

If Cyno were here, you would’ve made sure he said all the wrong things and watched Tighnari squirm. After all, you do have the uncanny ability to get people to behave in the way you want them to, don’t you?

"Then parry this."

But you didn’t pull the trigger.

Surprisingly, Tighnari bravely climbed up and hung his leg by the barrier, making him more susceptible if you attacked. You can’t tell if you hesitated or you’re curious as to what he’s trying to accomplish– the second floor was meters high above your station– he’ll surely die if he jumped.

Sister Rosaria emerged from your peripheral vision, ragged and stripped of breath. It's a long way from the main theater to the bazaar– she ran when she heard your argument as soon as possible.

Tighnari fished something out of his pocket.

A blue light shimmered in what appeared to be a chess bishop.

… What kind of trick is this? 

"Tighnari, what the hell are you holding?" Your nose scrunched, squinting at the small piece. You could've sworn you've seen that symbol somewhere– in large glass-stained imageries.

"Can't you see?" Tighnari croaked, angrily crying out in a desperate attempt to make deaf men such as yourself hear. "Focalor is the Hydro Archon– there's no better healer than her if you would just allow us to help you find a cure."

His eyes… Whatever it is you’ve said, it had its impact.

Tighnari lost his mind.

Sister Rosaria's breath hitched. Fortunately for both of you, she understood the situation.

"CAPO, GET BEHIND ME–"

"This is the Hydro Archon's gnosis," Tighnari yelled. "I'll prove to you– I'll show you that all those sacrifices were worth every drop of blood I had to spill. Maybe I haven't figured out how to heal with it now but destroying things has always been easier than fixing them!"

Gnosis?

What the fuck is he talking about?

Like the 7 gnosis the Tsaritsa collected?

That bedtime story?

"Fox, where on earth did you get that?!" Sister Rosaria pushed you near the exit door, mediating the argument. "Where did you steal that divine artifact?!"

"Dear sister…" Tighnari chuckled darkly. 

"If there's a will, there's a way."

He raised the chess piece to the sky. 

"I'm sorry Capo– but this I swear: I never betrayed you." He spoke softly while his ears lowered. "Open your eyes– everything I do is all for your health and wellbeing. This little thing right here is worth more than your men. Easier to do things first before apologizing later, that's what you told me last time, right?"

"Fuck off." You didn't take a step forward. In this instance, Rosaria would handle this better than you could. "Take a swim in the river Cocytus for all I care– but don't you fucking dare dedicate that slaughter under my name."

[FREE TALK EVENT: END]

Tighnari grinned emptily.

[AFFECTION METER: ERROR.]

[AKASHA TERMINAL STATUS: DISABLED]

“I’ll never know.” He spoke softly. “I’ll never know why I like you so much. At this rate, I’m too afraid to find out.”

His hold on the “gnosis” tightened.

The bishop piece beamed.

“Farewell, my Capo.”

—-----

[6 years ago]

Alhaitham lived a monotonous life.

The same old nine-to-five schedule: wash up, dress up, eat, work, eat, sleep, and repeat the following day. When compared to his former self, he had a professional short haircut and was dressed in white dress shirts that were buttoned up. Alhaitham has the appearance of a plastic toy. Too typical and bland. Nothing exuded uniqueness.

He thought he got what he wanted. Alhaitham graduated and became an accountant, just like what he aimed for for years. As a child, he grew up under the misconception that he had something special. Alhaitham was the boy every parent preached about when their lackluster children produced little results. Maybe he was the smart kid everyone loathed– but his repertoire was genuine. The world handed him an easy-to-follow script, and he mindlessly fulfilled it with his innate abilities.

But for goodness' sake, if this is what success is, then why is it so empty?

His purpose in living had turned into nothing more than a bank's problem fixer until he returns to doing what he loved most:

Nothing.

What the hell is life boring him for?

"Tired of life, tesoro?"

Alhaitham looked up.

He saw an underdressed person wearing a white tattered shirt and lousily safety-pinned flip-flops. Had they worn white instead, they would be easily mistaken as a hospital escapee. 

More specifically, they looked like they just got out of the heroin rehabilitation center just a few blocks down the street.

Alhaitham didn't send them away. They had a sparkle in their eyes, something that he lacked nowadays. However, there's something about it that made it more noteworthy compared to civilians around here.

Those pupils are (e/c) Khaenri'ahn eyes.

A natural trait, but its presence alludes to artificial happiness in the same manner endomorphs appear friendly and kind. No matter how lifeless a Khaenri'ahn may be, the gem in their eyes will always make them look more alive than the rest of the world.

They covered their mouth.

"Oh, pardon. I can't help but ask. You're rather down and I thought you needed a distraction..." 

They didn't seem all that sorry when they immediately sat down beside him after that apology.

"Incorrect." He bluffed. "What makes you assume that?"

They smiled.

"I dare say you look like you've achieved everything you thought you wanted in life, but you're still feeling empty inside, aren't you?"

Alhaitham's head snapped back in their direction.

"What do you mean?"

"You work for the Banco Di Snezhnaya, around age 23, have a wage of 500 thousand mora per week," they chuckled, gesturing at his hair. "Aaand you probably don't own a hair dryer."

Stalkerish-ly spot on.

"How did you–" He clicked his tongue, disappointed at himself for becoming immersed in parlor tricks. "Nevermind. I'm not buying into whatever astrology thingamajig you're selling."

"Oh please, the only thing I'm selling are matchsticks. Hair dryers ain't astrology, ya dumbass, they're a new Fontaine invention." They huffed. "If my matchsticks could tell the future I would've achieved my dreams by now."

Alhaitham still can't phantom why, but he's oddly intrigued by whatever came out of their mouth.

"And your dreams are?"

"I want to become a journalist." They said, softly knocking their chest with a closed fist. "Future Teyvat Times journalist. The best of the best."

"Unlikely." Alhaitham muffled his laughter. Unlike most people, he can regulate his emotions masterfully well. "Someone like you who obviously achieved no real education? Give up on that dream while you're still ahead."

"Yikes. Already sizing up my intellectual capacity? That's rude."

"I'll see your dreams if it happens." He continued. "But it's my turn to guess things about you– you're a heroin addict who just got out of rehab and now you're stuck doing community service by selling matchsticks. Not only are you uneducated, but you also have a drug record so say goodbye to any stable employment."

They smirked. They were right– he's not the type to hold his tongue. That just makes him a better conversationalist.

"Close, but no dice." They snapped their fingers, pretending to be saddened by his faulty inference. "EX-heroin addict. I got out of rehab a year ago and I'm not selling matchsticks because of community service– that sure sounds better than the actual truth, though."

He'd rather they communicate properly with little subtext and implications. Alhaitham sighed. "Alright, fine. I'm hooked, what's the truth?"

"Don't tell me you can't tell." They raised an eyebrow before they pried their left eye open, showing off their unique pupil. "I'm an immigrant, so of course finding a job is as easy as becoming the seventh archon, ragazzo."

Their butchering of the Snezhnayan language further cemented that they're not from here.

"I didn't get any quote-unquote "real" education, but living on the streets? You'd be caught dead if you're not skilled at inferences." They said grimly, but the smile on their face never left. "That's why I know how to spot a person easily. I know a guilty murderer when I see one, and I know an unsatisfied man once I look down on him sulking by the fountain."

"Right. I forgot you're Khaenri'ahn." Alhaitham muttered.

"Well, then you must be the first person to do so. That's literally what everyone points out after looking at my eyes. Congratulations." They snickered. 

"Why am I even talking to someone as arrogant as you?"

"I may be arrogant, but you're a lot happier now that I'm here, aren't you?"

Alhaitham froze.

"See? I'm pretty good at swaying people into behaving the way I want them to."

"What's your goal exactly?" Alhaitham pulled out his wallet. "Need me to buy a pack of cigars? I'm not funding your addiction."

He said that but he already took out 150 bills.

"Nah. That sounds great though but I was just trying to practice my conversation skills." They sheepishly told him. "I want to practice speaking Snezhnayan, and also cause I want to seem friendly."

"'Seem' friendly?"

They laughed. "Well, we all have secrets, don't we? There's something powerful about being charismatic yet setting boundaries all the same. Master both and you might just get somewhere."

"I'll keep that in mind," Alhaitham grunted.

"We've been talking for a while now– I'm (N/n), and yours?"

"That's…"

Alhaitham subconsciously glanced around. 

Morepesok was not one of Teyvat's safest plazas. And they look Khaenri'ahn in the worst place possible, not that anyone besides him would appreciate that. Drugs are prevalent but it's not the only social cancer in the plaza. Petty thievery, human trafficking, money laundering, the list is bottomless and in no small thanks to the syndicates. Immigrants especially get a bad rep around here as either helpless victims or eager puppets, so forgive him for exercising caution based on generalizations.

They cringed. "Ah, right. Don't worry– no need to spill your real name, just give me something I can call you."

He paused.

"... Deshret."

"Well, well, nice to meet you Deshret. Is that from The Scarlet King's Court Jester?"

"Nevermind. Let's just change it to–"

"No no no! It's perfect." They said. "Very underrated bedtime story. The kids loved it… even though it was pretty dark and abusive."

"Many say it's a real tale."

"Do you believe that?"

It was also his favorite story as a child. 

"Yes."

"Heh. I don't, but I don't want to make little Kaeya cry." They laughed. "As you can probably tell, I'm Khaenri'ahn, and we just don't have all these strange cultural beliefs you people have…"

They gazed down his thighs. 

"Hey Deshret, isn't sitting with your legs together uncomfortable? Go on, cross your legs, or whatever. I don't mind."

Alhaitham raised an eyebrow before he slowly did what he was told. It's been a while since he sat this way. He trained himself to stop since it wasn't appropriate in the office, and somehow he forgot he could still do it outside work.

He relaxed. The change in posture was effective.

"... You're creepily perceptive."

"As I said, gotta be more observant." They chuckled. "Being liked is key to survival–"

Out of the blue, a loud metallic thud reverberated around the plaza. The both of them flinched at the sound and everyone turned their heads to its source.

"Hey, isn't that Adepti Underboss, Xiao?" They whispered.

The Adepti were incredibly busy that year. By June, a rat published a book entitled "Rex Incognito" where they detailed and provided evidence that Morax is the Geo Archon himself, which makes the piece both heretical AND entertaining.

The man, whom they both assumed was underboss Xiao, tossed a man upward till they landed on the roof of a nearby car. With his lithe yet muscular form, he swiftly disposed of a 70kg policeman like a garbage bag. No one moved a muscle in their direction. Not a single person showed empathy for the nose-bleeding cop in the middle of the plaza. The civilians pitied the car owner and not the injured man. Only children shrieked at the sound. For the rest? Just another Wednesday garbage cleanup.

There's no semblance of justice in Teyvat that remains in broad daylight.

Alhaitham closed his eyes, disappointed.

"Pathetic how the tri-mafia overpowers the military police in every way. The police are useless." 

"Yeah man, fuck the system."

"Fuck the system indeed." Alhaitham nodded solemnly. They nearly laughed at how strangely innocent the word 'fuck' sounds coming from him.

"Wanna know what we should do?"

"I genuinely don't."

"Let's join the mafia together."

Alhaitham snorted. It's funny how he considered himself a pro at regulating his emotions moments prior because now he couldn't hold back the cute little chuckles that betrayed his lips. His shoulders trembled as well as his hands while he composed himself.

That was the stupidest idea he had ever heard.

"W-What?" They asked mid-laughter as well, clearly not considering their own enthusiastic suggestion. "Don't think we can overthrow the government together? Tsk, tsk."

They look positively malnourished. Alhaitham would bet on the chance that they'd achieve their dream journalist career rather than a stable life as a future mafioso. 

Then again, Alhaitham looked very straight-laced and put-together before he joined Akademiya. 

"Ah yes, an accountant and a matchstick vendor joining the mafia together; one of them might even become the next leader. Find out next time in chapter 3."

"Coglione, I'm the one who's going to be a journalist here, not you."

"Not with that awful pronunciation you're not."

They frowned. "You Teyvatans are so strict with your stupid lingua francas."

"But still, it's not a bad idea, isn't it? Let's meet each other again after we join the mafia." They nudged his side. "Same time, same place. C'mon, it'd be funny if the next time we meet you'd be holding your head thinking that there's too much excitement in your life now."

Alhaitham rolled his eyes before he looked down at his watch.

"At 6 in the morning?" He looked rather amused for someone who claimed to be uninterested.

They bantered back with the same vigor. "6 AM sharp of course, tesoro."

Alhaitham chuckled. 

They laughed along with him. 

"Heh. Anyways, say, what's it like being an accountant?"

"Well…"

Since then, the two of them began meeting weekly as Deshret and (N/n). They've used their morning hours as an excuse to get drunk in the crack of dawn. Both have forgotten what the true purpose of that time was, 

But it's not as if they'd both remember that joke, right?

—---

Well, if that's true, then Alhaitham doesn't know what the fuck he's doing.

Something about that small conversation rekindled a fire in him– a torch he had never once touched for he saw no need for it. But after seeing how empty those cubicles were– how mechanical the bigger picture was– nothing had been the same for him. His conversations with coworkers were barely anything compared to what he shared with (N/n). Dialogues in the office were canned scripts, and they were oh-so-predictable.

And so that morning, he went up and quit his job before accepting the offer to be the Akademiya Syndicate's bookkeeper. 

But (N/n) was nowhere to be found in their usual spot. 

Not in the fountain– not in the old bar. 

Where the hell were they?

Alhaitham asked the people of Morepesok if they'd seen them, but these efforts were futile. Some were eager to point out that they know what's-their-name-s, but none led back to where they were. And the street urchins that were familiar with the name (N/n) assumed they'd departed the country and gone back to their homeland.

He refused to believe that. Passions quite like theirs do not burn out as easily as he did.

As a result, waiting in Morepesok for (N/n) in the hopes that they'll return has become a daily ritual. For the first few days, no one was eager to approach the new Akademiyan mafioso; instead, he would monitor the time with a feverish bloodlust. Even in Snezhnaya's harsh winters, he is frequently observed by numerous concerned bystanders who urge him to get inside because it is cold out. None of their worries stopped him. He saw waiting as a chance to relieve stress. These quiet moments remind him of his humble humanity, and he was grateful to have ever met (N/n) because of this.

Yet they never came back.

But Alhaitham never held it against them. It's alright.

Thanks to them, he lived the kind of life he never knew he dreamed of.

"6 AM sharp, huh?"

The more he hung around the square, the more people thought they understood him. They were under the impression that this immovable man was not on a syndicate mission– he was just a lovelorn yet patient man.

"But I doubt I'm far gone. I just appreciate them. That's all there is to it." These were the words that helped him sleep at night. But if the term "lovelorn" simply means "unrequited" then perhaps the way he feels while waiting for them to return fits the description.

He was still sitting upright by the fountain in Morepesok Plaza, waiting expectantly for (N/n) to return like a dog.

—----

And even now, he waited.

Until (Y/n), Capo of the Innamorati family, found him lying on the ground.

(N/n) didn't come.

"(Y/n)..." Rosaria whispered while her face grimaced at the pungent and metallic smell. You both observed the pool of blood on the ground.

You and Rosaria narrowly escaped the blast of whatever divine power Tighnari conjured– and you’re still processing what happened in the theatre that you couldn’t comprehend the body right in front of you. If Rosaria wasn’t there to lift you on her shoulders you would’ve stood and resigned to your fate. Thankfully, you weren’t wounded, but the bump you had on the seats when the water pressure pushed you back nearly gave you a concussion. 

In the end, you both came back for Alhaitham with soaked coats and socks, dripping from head to toe. Rosaria’s veil was discarded and left by the doorsteps as it was distractingly clinging to her skin– you would’ve done the same with your coat had it not been one of your favorite ones. Your cold and quivering limbs weep for respite but you remained steadfast. However, your mind does not share the same willpower. Your thoughts were slow but chaotic. 

Just how did Tighnari flood the underground theater earlier?

Was that really a gnosis?

Why did he have one? 

Where did Tighnari flee now?

You shook your head in an attempt to focus on what was in front of you.

Who attacked Alhaitham?

His neck is bleeding and there's a clean stab wound on his neck. The crimson trail trickled down to his exposed arm. With his back leaning on the wall and head facing down, Alhaitham did not move a muscle. You know little about Alhaitham but you did know one thing: he wanted to work with you far longer than your first guess. 

Suppose he’s underqualified to be an underboss, after all, failing his first (and last) mission like this. You once heard Pantalone say that "Akademiyan spies are the weakest species in Teyvat" and your new "underboss" proved that right by messing up the marble tiles with his blood.

The collar you were supposed to give him feels useless in your pocket.

Maybe you should've picked Enjou instead. That crazy maniac would survive better than him, and he's just a merchant in the Abyss Market you like to gossip with.

Alhaitham is pathetic. Was pathetic.

"One of those fascists likely killed your underboss," Rosaria said, sounding awful like she was reading from a script. "It seems that Tighnari will do anything to stop you from maintaining your position."

That's funny, cause the only way those shits can achieve that is by burying you alive– and they failed miserably– comically, even.

Did they seriously think you'd weep for Alhaitham?

For someone as “replaceable” as him, as Tighnari would put it?

You've said it once and you'll say it again: that's fucking hilarious. Tartaglia would love this story– you're sure. They've already taken your best friend Dimitri, everyone else is secondary. You love your men, but they know they can never be him. Hell, you'd argue that if the others were equally loved, Alhaitham would be "less equal" than the others. 

You didn't take a second look at Alhaitham, and not because you lack remorse. 

The real reason is too boring.

He's not dead. 

He's just unconscious.

Sadly no, that was not just the first stage of grief speaking. There's still some life left in him. He's nowhere near as cold as a corpse shouldn't be. Would've made your job a lot easier if he was, but he's still breathing, albeit shallow and excruciatingly so. However, that doesn't change the fact that he'll survive. All for one damn good reason–

Sister Rosaria was the one who attacked him.

The inquisitor must've left him like this hoping that fate will decide whether he lives or not, which means she was hesitant to kill him. In a way, your casual friendship with the nun saved your second underboss. This isn't your first rodeo– you've had good friends who tried to kill you once and vice versa, and it's nothing a visit to Angel's Share can't fix. Rosaria was merely a tool. Her feelings had nothing to do with this. It's a good thing your conversations with Sister Rosaria are never dull, you hate to imagine what you would've done to her otherwise.

Lucky bastards, both Alhaitham AND Sister Rosaria.  

Still, this meant that someone else ordered you to assassinate your underboss.

Someone from the church. The very same cathedral you swore fealty to and devoted half of your life's work on.

You laughed furiously.

"Hahahaha! I see!" 

Who the FUCK is the rat that tried to take what's YOURS?

You wrapped the scarf around his neck taut like a gauze and propped him upward. Alhaitham's weight leaned on your right side as you began lazily carrying him. It doesn't look like he'll wake up soon, so at least he wouldn't be bragging about getting carried by his boss.

Rosaria wore a stiff expression.

You both know the truth, and she's wholly aware you've pieced everything together. But you're not mad at her– any sister of Barbara is a familia to you. She's just following orders, and if what the church wanted was to frame Tighnari for this…

Then who's to say they haven't pinned someone else for any other crime?

But that's not what matters now– Alhaitham's situation is urgent compared to these half-baked conspiracies. 

"He lives." You said. "Don't worry Rosaria."

Neither of you addressed how you subtly forgave her.

She placed two fingers on his wrist. The nun sighed a little too relieved when she felt his pulse. 

"Good. Then we should go find help."

You smirked. "Oh, no need to worry. I know a medical professional nearby."

"Whoever it is you have in mind, you better make the right call, we're losing him." She spoke casually.

Neither of you showed any semblance of panic over a dying man.

Sister Rosaria, a child of the Archons, was more afraid of your fury than his stripping lifeline.

"Of course, Sister Rosaria."

In all honesty, he's by no means the "right call" for this scenario. But who else can you turn to,

other than Il Dottore himself?

—---

→ Common Route First Half Complete!!! ←

A/n: Did y'all think Alhaitham was going to die? Me too. Trust me, I'd give you guys a lot of chances to kill these three.

Btw, did some of their dialogue sound familiar? You're all very creative!!! I had to cut some responses off (I'm sorry.) because some were already similar while others currently don't fit the situation… But I hope some of you read it and went "oh, this is MY answer from the open-ended question (⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)!!!" I want you all to feel like you're part of what builds Capo!Reader's personality! 

Same as usual, the underlined word (Il Dottore) leads to the polls. Have fun voting!!!

Deadline: TBA

Taglist, thank you all for reading "OC!MC!" ❤️: @scaranaris-lil-niko @ruru-senpai-is-an-infp @vienettacream @theglowfly @vermillionite @nasidibakar

[nemoys]

a very long messy review of link click (season 2)

alright so reading through a bunch of (mostly negative) reviews of the season thus far i've come to my own conclusions over how this season felt, and i really feel like addressing them since i personally feel like it deserves recognition (and rightful criticism) within certain aspects. really interested in everyone's takes so lmk whatever you think about all these aspects i'm about to gloss over.

NOTE ; i'm not going to be talking about the art direction or OSTs . i believe those have been nothing short of phenomenal and i feel like we can all universally agree over that

1) tonal shift : from a more emotionally driven s1, coupled with sprinkles of slice of life moments, we turn to a mostly thriller/mystery plot line. personally, i've always seen this coming. the tonal shift really didn't take me by surprise. with the lg stabbing at the end of season 1 it almost seemed inevitable that the more light hearted aspects of the first season weren't going to happen. more importantly, it was very clear that there was always a higher presence to fight. link click was always meant to be a thriller, this was always the plan, and so i suppose logically i assumed the second season would follow that path. i understand how people might've felt disappointed, or 'robbed', but i don't think the shift was all that shocking quite honestly, it was always set up. link click was never light hearted, even at s1.

the more shocking shift has to be the shift from an emotional, to suspenseful change in writing. the emotional writing in link click has always been the best part of the show and that hasn't changed, the emotionally driven plot lines of s2 (chen bin, ltc/ltx) have been written very well. the suspenseful writing also works. replaces the tear jerkers with an unsettling anxiety, and it's executed relatively well. you can clearly tell that the crew's been experimenting quite a lot with this season, and yes, that's usually what season 2 is for.

2) pacing : now i totally get the criticism in this aspect. in my opinion, the weakest part of s2's been the pacing. with overly drawn out fight scenes, and unnecessarily long recaps, i think the issue has to do with the fact that lc just has a LOT to address, and so it makes us feel less inclined to sit through longer scenes that don't directly advance the plot.

obviously i get that the fight scenes show off a lot of the animation budget #tm and they do look great but the fact that we had way too much time dedicated to a five minute long fighting cutscene in the FIRST episode just made me feel impatient.

3) red herring endings: alright this might be an unorthodox opinion but, aren't red herring cliff hangers a norm in general with these kinds of shows lol. idk i've come to expect the total opposite every time so it doesn't really bother me i guess i'm just used to the medium. not really a lc problem it's a story telling problem in general but that's just marketing i don't know what else to say.

it'd be nice if they followed through but some part of me thinks they're pulling a whole boy who cried wolf situation, eventually they'll pull the trigger when we don't really expect it.

4) shipping/ main trio reconciliations : it's a really serious ongoing situation. i kind of get why the main trio/shiguang don't get a chance to talk things over amongst themselves, it just isn't the time. keep in mind everything that's happening rn is happening continuously, there are no gaps within the days or anything, kind of makes sense that they don't really talk about it. they probably will get to once it's all over, which might be well into s3. again, this was always meant to be a thriller more than it was trio focused. also idk about you guys but i think we actually did get a lot of sweet moments within the trio, cxs and lg, even the sibling dynamic with ql and cxs were really lovely this season.

5) the women: okay i REALLY don't understand the problem here. the women are written well. ql is written FANTASTICALLY and all side characters like ltx and that one red eyed lady i'm forgetting the name of were great too. hell even chen bin's wife was great. i think for a donghua/anime where women are usually given dirt in terms of actually strong writing, lc has always been very solid. their lives do not revolve around the men in the show it just happens to be that men are a part of their lives. they have very distinct personalities and aren't treated like weird objects to gaze at (what a bar lol) but yes i do think the women are written quite dimensionally.

6) unanswered questions : when have linear shows ever answered questions (especially mc based) in season 2?? when has season 2 EVER tied loose ends? when it comes to linear television, season 2's purpose almost always build towards a greater evil/climax. there's a reason why season 2 hasn't answered questions we've had, season 2s in most shows rarely ever do. from what i can tell, with a confirmed s3, i've always expected s2 to simply do its job as a second season and further raise stakes and raise even more questions. i do get the frustration, i get the lack of any backstory, but i want to refrain from making any actual comments over that till every episode's aired ahah, however, im not too mad at it. i just think this show's ride is currently still at an increasing accelerated pace (guys i'm sorry i study physics), things will only be explained once we've once hit the climactic point or go downhill right after. time will tell i guess

Conclusion

overall, i think this season was actually pretty solid. s1 set a very unrealistically high bar, as s1 in my opinion is one of the best seasons in television period. but s2 and s1 shouldn't be compared in the same way, their tone is quite different, and needs to be analysed individually instead. i'll make a complete review once the season is over, but honestly i've come to enjoy the season most when i stop expecting too much out of it. i think people had way too many things they've expected from s2, that were bound to simply never happen.

that said, i do hope the crew takes the valid criticism regarding the pacing (and ig the character focus?) into consideration and implements it well into s3. it's worth noting that i believe nothing was meant to be complete with s2 in the first place.

i've really enjoyed this season, and i'm beyond ecstatic to rewatch it all once it's done airing, in order to properly take it all in. it's had its flaws, more than s1 has had (let's be real s1 had little to none). but that's bound to happen to shows when they head down their linear routes. currently sitting at a 7/10

[wowowwild]

"Maya, what are you- Franziska?"

"Franziska?"

"Miles Edgeworth!"

"Nick!"

"Miss Fey?"

"Phoenix Wright!"

"Alright, I think we've established who all is here, thanks.”

FranMaya has been secretly dating and WrightWorth is... They'll figure it out.

“Hey, uhh, so you’re going to be busy tonight, right?” “With the case? Yeah. Edgeworth is going to come over to help me, though,” He replied absentmindedly. “Oooh, Edgeworth? I’m almost sad I’ll have to miss it, but it’s probably good for you two to have some privacy.” “M-Maya! We’re not like that, and you know it. And where are you going?” “Unlike you, Nick, I don’t kiss and tell.” “You’re not even going on a date, are you? I bet you’re just going to convince Gumshoe to share what little noodles he subsists on.” “Hey, it’s your boyfriend who keeps cutting his salary, and if he wants to share noodles with me, then that’s his choice.” “You’re a leech.” “But you love me!” “Yeah, yeah. Now let me focus on this. If I can’t figure out where this case went wrong, my case will be ruined!” “Good luck with your nerd shit.”

This pleased Maya greatly.

MF: We’re on.

FvK: Are you certain?

MF: Absolutely. He is going to be soooo distracted he won't even notice. He also came to the conclusion that I'd be hanging out with Gumshoe which helps as long as they don't talk to each other.

FvK: He'd be hard pressed to speak with Scruffy on special noodle night. He will be eating microwave noodles that cost exactly $1.38 more and watching an old monster movie.

MF: He'll be hard pressed alright. It's also v cute that you know that.

FvK: It is not cute, it is impossible not to know when he so foolishly announces every single move he makes to the nearest set of ears. I do not, however, understand your first statement.

MF: I'll explain it later. See you tonight "at precisely 5:35 PM".

FvK: You shall.

Now the only thing left was to wait.

-

Maya was being ridiculous. Edgeworth was not his boyfriend. He totally could be if he wanted, but he clearly didn't want to. If Master of Logic Miles Edgeworth couldn't connect these dots, the world was doomed, therefore he totally knew and wasn't about that. Which was fine. He was still Phoenix's best friend and he wouldn't give that up for anything. But right now he had to focus on the case because once Edgeworth was there it was a 50/50 chance he wouldn't be able to think at all. If only he could figure out what was missing…

"Wright, honestly, you're going to make your back even worse leaning over like that." "Edgeworth! Uh, hey. I was just trying to figure out how this case is related to my current one, but I can't seem to get the pieces to fit." "You're hopeless." Edgeworth picked up the file and moved to the couch. "What are these notes? You think it was the same culprit?" Phoenix flopped down next to him. "Not the same, but related. I think this murder happened because that one wasn't properly solved." "I see… Assuming you're correct, do you think the victim in this case was the perpetrator in that one?" "Could be. I don't want to make too many assumptions up front and miss something." "Actually thinking things through for once? I'm impressed."

That smug grin sent butterflies to his stomach. What was he saying? Come on Phoenix, you can't lose it all yet!

"I always think things through, you just aren't privy to my grand plan." "Privy? I see that thesaurus I got you is going to good use." "Ugh," Phoenix grinned and playfully shoved him. "Now, Wright, if you continue your violent streak, you'll be the one who needs defending." "Would you defend me?" "I would tell Franziska to prosecute you and wait for the paperwork." "Aw, gee, Edgeworth, I didn't know you felt that way." Phoenix laughed. "Ahem, yes, well, I think right here needs more clarification, don't you?" Edgeworth turned so that Phoenix couldn’t see his face.

Right, too much, Phoenix. Keep it friendly but not too friendly. Edgeworth is doing you a courtesy by not calling you out.

"Yeah, I can't figure out what they were trying to hide." "Well let's think about what someone could gain and then follow to who that someone was."

They talked it over, pulled up more information, and plowed through any remaining questions fairly quickly.

“Wow, I’m feeling better about the case already.” “Aren’t you forgetting something vital?” “Hmm? Like what?” “Evidence, perhaps?” “Aw, you know me. I’ll scrounge up what I can and everything will fall into place when I get the culprit on the stand.” “Unless the culprit is the first witness, you’re going to have to actually put in some work to get them there.” “Sure, but I’ll find a way. And I do have some evidence, thanks. Making this case fit in was the last piece I needed. My client will be walking free soon enough.” “Don’t get too cocky now, Wright. You have an impressive record, I will admit, but feeling overconfident can make you miss even the most obvious of details.” “Trust me, I’m not overconfident. But if I went around lamenting how hard I’m going to fail, that wouldn’t exactly set me up for success either.” “I suppose not. What did you find, anyhow?” “You’re not going to believe what I found in the victim’s trash.” “The trash?!” “Not all of us have detectives on their side, you know. We’re lucky I was allowed to root around in there.” “I suppose…” “Now let me show you my case.”

-

Franziska von Karma was perfectly punctual as she was in all things. At exactly 5:35 PM she slipped through the door of Phoenix Wright’s foolish office and silently made her way to the back room Maya would be in. It was quiet with no sign of Phoenix Wright, but Maya had not said he had stepped out so she remained cautious.

Ever so quietly Franziska knocked on the door she knew Maya was behind. It opened softly revealing her date for the evening. This of course brought a smile to both of their faces. It was then that voices were heard coming from the kitchen area. Phoenix Wright had a guest. This must be why Maya said he would be distracted. As they moved to sneak out, however, they moved closer to the source and she began to feel that the second voice was very familiar…

She stopped in plain view of the kitchen, but their backs were turned to her. What in the world was her foolish brother doing there at this hour? Helping the foolish attorney with a foolish case? They had both taken off their suit jackets and rolled up their sleeves. How utterly foolish her brother was to be at this man’s beck and call but still refuse to announce his feelings.

Maya couldn’t help herself, Fran’s face seeing Edgeworth there was too much. A snicker or two made it out, catching Nick’s attention.

"Maya, what are you- Franziska?" "Franziska?" Edgeworth whipped his head around. "Miles Edgeworth!" "Nick!" Maya whined a bit at being caught. "Miss Fey?" "Phoenix Wright!" "Alright, I think we've established who all is here, thanks," Phoenix noted. “Miles Edgeworth, what are you doing here?!” “I could ask the same of you, Franziska.” He stood and took an awkward posture, suddenly unsure of himself. “I- well- I asked first!” “Wait, Maya, I thought you were hanging out with Gumshoe.” “Actually I said I don’t kiss and tell and you assumed some things I let you believe.”

Phoenix looked to Edgeworth incredulously.

“That is a strange thing to assume from the context.” “Well I didn’t think she had an actual date!” “What can I say, Fran and I just have it more together than you.” She gave each of them a meaningful look. “And what about you, little brother? Have you finally announced your feelings or are you foolishly clinging to your safe deniability?” “Come on, Fran, we’re gonna be late if we try to start that conversation now. Let them sort it out.” “Hmph. Our reservation has saved you this time, little brother. Let us away.” Franziska pivoted and offered her arm to Maya. “Away we shall.” Maya took her invitation with glee.

-

Miles Edgeworth regretted a lot of things in his life. Preserving his friendship with Phoenix Wright rather than admitting to romantic feelings was not one of them. Or so he told himself.

“Did you know they were dating?” “Hmm? No, I was not aware. Though that would explain where she disappears to whenever she’s here.”

Hopefully Wright wouldn’t ask for clarification as to what she was talking about.

“So, uh, you have feelings for someone?”

He jinxed it.

“I don’t know what she’s talking about. She seems to have gotten an idea into her head and you know as well as I, there is no dissuading her.” “Edgeworth… You don’t have to hide it from me. You know I’ll support you no matter what. I think it’s great you found somebody you like! You should go for it!”

If he was so supportive, then why did he sound so upset?

“It’s really neither here nor there. He’s not interested.” “Oh… I’m sorry. That really sucks.”

And yet he sounded more happy at that than his previous statement. Maybe he was nervous at the thought of being left behind? Larry only seemed to pop back up when he had been dumped, though Miles hoped Phoenix knew him better than that. Nothing would ever be more important to him than the bond they shared, even if years down the line someone else captured his heart. Which was unlikely, for the record.

“It’s really nothing to dwell on.” “I suppose. But just so you know, I think you’re a great guy, and you deserve someone who can give you everything you want. This guy is a total loser for not seeing that.”

Oh, the irony.

“For what it’s worth, I’m kind of in the same boat, so if you want to talk about it…” “Really?” He tried to hold back his shock a fraction of a second too late. Phoenix looked confused and responded slowly, as if he was piecing something together before he revealed who the true murderer was. “Yeah, actually. It’s uh, my guy’s not interested either. Which is totally fine! I love being friends with him, it just, uh, kind of sucks. But it’s fine! And I wouldn’t trade our friendship for anything.” “Your ‘guy’ is a ‘total loser’ as well, then.” “Ah, you think?” Phoenix chuckled. “I do. You are the best man I know, with more passion, determination, and heart than seems possible. Anyone who spends even a moment with you can see that.” “Oh… Say, Edgeworth…” “Yes, Wright?” “Uh, I mean… This is awkward. I’m just now getting the feeling that I might have been wrong about something.” “About your case.” Phoenix looked confused, as if he had entirely forgotten why Miles had come over in the first place. “No, not the case. Just an assumption I had made.” “You should know better to assume. Weren’t you just saying that earlier?” “In my defense, a significant amount of evidence pointed towards my assumption being correct, but I had failed to consider one unlikely option.” “Is that so? What conclusion have you come to now, then?”

It was bound to be profound and earth shattering, as all of Phoenix’s revelations tended to be.

“Am I your guy?” “W-what?!”

Damn that man and his brilliant mind. Miles should have kept his mouth shut.

“I am, aren’t I?”

Why did Phoenix seem so… excited?

“Please tell me if I’m right or not… Well, I’m always Wright, but-” “Yes, you are correct,” Miles cut him off to avoid hearing that joke for the millionth time. “Ok, so then I have a big question, what made you think I wasn’t interested?” “… What?” “I mean, I’m just wondering. Since you’re my guy, too.” “I’m- You- What?!” “Yeah, This whole time I thought you could tell so I figured you weren’t interested, but clearly I was wrong. About multiple things. But so were you, so you can’t make fun of me.”

That was a little bit too much. Though it did explain what Miles had picked up on earlier with Phoenix’s words not matching his emotions. And the more he thought about it, much of Miss Fey’s teasing could have been implying Phoenix had romantic feelings for him. And it wasn’t like that was all Miles had struggled to piece together when it came to Phoenix. Retroactively, this explained a lot.

“Wright.” “Edgeworth?” “You’re telling me… You’re telling me you have romantic feelings for me?” “Uh, yeah. A lot of feelings in general, but romantic ones are in there. And you?” “Yes. I also have those kinds of feelings for you.” “Great! … That feels like it was too easy. Like something dramatic should have happened. Do you think one of us is about to die?” Miles gave him an incredulous look. “What are you blathering on about?” Phoenix paused before breaking out into laughter. “Well I’m glad nothing’s changed!” “I wouldn’t say nothing,” Miles mumbled. “Oh, right. Can I kiss you?” “What?!” Miles felt a heart attack coming on. Maybe Wright had been… right. “Too soon, huh? That’s ok. I can wait.” “That reminds me, how long exactly have you felt this way?” “Oh, uh, haha…” Wright trailed off. “That’s actually kind of embarrassing. Um, you know how we knew each other for like, 4 months back then?” “Wright… You can’t be serious.” “I mean, that was just a silly childhood crush, but it was a really formative time for me. And when I saw you again in the paper… Crush renewed. Becoming a lawyer was probably 50% because of you and 50% to save you, so… yeah… And you?” “I’m… I’m afraid I can’t say quite the same, though I can’t deny those 4 months were formative for me as well. It wasn’t so immediate when I saw you again, either. It crept up on me… and then you did save me. And I couldn’t deny it any longer. Feelings for you had started to grow.” “Oh wow. So we’ve been kind of silly waiting around this whole time. No wonder Maya and Franziska are so annoyed with us all the time.” “Mm. That would be a fairly sound hypothesis. I think I would like to answer your question, now.” Miles could feel himself blush as he turned away, not quite confident to say what he wanted while looking Phoenix in the eye. “Huh? What question?” Idiot. “You can kiss me. Phoenix.” “O-oh. Ok! Yeah!”

-

Maya had a fantastic evening with her lovely girlfriend whom she adored. They had accidentally stayed at the restaurant until closing time, talking and laughing, trying to get as much time with each other as possible. She had figured Nick would be in bed by the time she got back since he was practically geriatric, but she was surprised to see the lights still on, and-

“Hey, isn’t that…” “My fool brother’s car?” “… How safe do you think it is to go up there?” “… You know my hotel room has a hot tub-” “Sold.”

[violetriorsons]

—in a world alone (we're all alone);

a collection of small missing moments based on xaden's letters to violet. // pre-FW; iron flame spoilers.

part one. | part two.

“my dad hoped i’d go into the infantry like he did. he thought riders were pompous pricks, and in his defense… we really are.” — chapter sixteen (iron flame).

.::.

at six years old, xaden wanted a dragon.

and well, so did all his friends.

his best friend garrick talked incessantly of how one day he'd have a huge, red dragon that he'd ride into battle against gryphons and wyvern and venin and he'd save all of tyrrendor.

(and xaden would shake his head at the boy's antics — because at six years old, they were both big enough to know that wyvern and venin weren't real.)

xaden's cousin bodhi was convinced he could have two, since he couldn't pick between the colors orange and green. he once wondered idly if there was a dragon that could change colors at his command.

most of his other peers carried similar ambitions, and though xaden couldn't stretch his imagination quite as far as they did, he could still relate well enough to obsess with them over what could one day be.

he wanted a blue dragon. one that would be his best friend and give him cool powers like turning invisible. one that would fly xaden all over the continent, to help rid the world of gryphons and anything else that could threaten his home in aretia.

he'd told his dad about all this once.

"a dragon?" his father exclaimed. "what on earth are you gonna do with a dragon?"

"fight gryphons?" xaden replied slowly, his tone suggesting that the answer should be obvious.

his dad let out a short laugh and ran a hand through xaden's hair. "alright, we can talk about it when you're taller. and when you can eat all the broccoli off your plate without me having to bribe you with chocolate cake for dessert."

xaden had told his mother once too, as she was reading him a bedtime story.

the smile she'd given him in response carried a sadness that deeply confused him (how could smiles be sad?).

"my father went to dragon school, you know," she told him gently. "but he passed away there when i was a baby. so sending you off to dragon school would scare me a little bit."

it was the first time xaden had wavered in his goals for himself. he really wanted a blue dragon. but he didn't want to make his mom sad.

.::.

at fourteen years old, xaden was thinking he could practically see his future beginning to veer in the direction of the infantry.

his father was certainly pushing for it. he wanted xaden to follow in his footsteps — serve in the infantry, and eventually take his place as the duke of aretia.

his mother was no longer around to put in her two cents.

xaden no longer thought about blue dragons. not even as garrick and bodhi and eya continued to toss around the idea of one day joining the riders' quadrant.

his father would wrinkle his nose when he'd hear xaden's friends mention it, and xaden had once overheard him complaining to his aunt about what a pain in the ass most riders were to deal with.

and though xaden tried hard not to think about it — not to think about her — his mother's confession to him all those years ago that she'd be scared of him entering the riders' quadrant was a memory that clung under any thoughts he'd have about joining in on his friends' tentative plans. so much so, that he'd begun to avoid thinking about the riders' quadrant altogether just to spare himself the heavy memory of that sad, sad smile.

he didn't want to upset his parents. so being a rider was almost certainly crossed out of his list of options. along with most of the other choices.

the thought of himself as a healer was ridiculously laughable.

and he had no problem admitting he didn't have the brains to be a scribe.

so whether he liked it or not, all signs seemed to point in the direction of the infantry. it was the most logical conclusion, even if the thought of pursuing it left him with an odd feeling of emptiness.

no, xaden didn't think of blue dragons anymore; he hadn't for a long time now. but deep down, he knew that the last time his mind had touched that idea was the last time he'd felt any sort of interest in his future.

.::.

at twenty-one years old, xaden is the rider of a navy blue daggertail.

he has shadow-wielding powers, and another signet so dangerous that he blatantly avoids calling it what it is even in his own head.

though she'd scoff and mock him if he ever dared to call her his best friend, sgaeyl knows him better than anyone else ever will. just as she had known his grandfather so many years before — the one his mother never met; the one who never made it out of dragon school.

garrick and masen have their coveted dragons, as well. bodhi and eya and imogen and soleil are all currently working to prove themselves worthy of one too.

and at twenty-one years old, xaden is big enough to know that venin were all-too real. that knowledge — (among other things) — had helped to seal his fate in the riders' quadrant.

it's bittersweet, to say the least.

especially when, two months into their second year in the quadrant, xaden finds himself stranded in the middle of a forest with the rest of his squad, a scribe cadet, two healer cadets, and a team of second-year infantry cadets.

he studies the uniforms, the faces, and the intentions of each infantry cadet. he watches their squad leader, and for a moment, he feels like he's getting a flash of what could've been.

they all watch him and his squad warily, and though xaden has put his shields back up, he can only assume that their assessment of the riders falls pretty in line with his father's opinion.

pompous pricks, he'd once called them.

and watching the attitude his squad carries all-throughout the land nav exercise — even after they fail — xaden can't argue the old accusation.

unbidden, a quick flash of his mother's sad smile invades his thoughts, and it feels judgmental as well.

it's not the first time he's pondered the irony of ending up in the riders' quadrant as a punishment after so many years of that option being written off as an unrealistic dream.

xaden wouldn't give up his bond with sgaeyl for anything in the world. the rush of pride, of confidence, of power he feels when he's flying on her back is unlike anything he's ever felt, and it hasn't lessened one bit since threshing last year.

it's the closest he's ever gotten to feeling fulfilled, and he doesn't think anything on the continent could ever compare.

and he likes to believe his parents would understand if they were around to see him now.

[quiet-hypnotist]

Plausible Deniability

"It's all a hoax," Tammy said in that studious tone that Ben always fell in love with all over again. "A good one maybe, but a bluff all the same." She nodded her cute little nod. Ben wasn't even sure if she knew about this habit. He had tried mentioning it once or twice but it always was met with pouty denial. By now he decided to silently appreciate the sight, but it still managed to make him chuckle sometimes. She frowned, her bright eyes meeting his as if to challenge him. "You don't believe me." She sounded confused. How could he not see the no doubt sound logic that led her to this conclusion? "Alright, alright," he conceded, "point for you. I admit it's pretty hard to confirm." Just out of curiosity he wiggled his fingers a bit faster, causing her to whimper for a moment before she caught herself again. "But could it not be that, I don't know, maybe there's a trick to it? Maybe the stories are so exaggerated only to make sure that bright little girls like you don't recognize when big bad hypnotists keep them wrapped around their finger?"  She entertained the idea. He saw it in the way her cheeks turned a darker shade of pink. Then again, it wouldn't be surprising if that was simply a result of her embarrassed pleasure when he found yet another good spot to rub. "I don't think... I don't think that could be." She was so cute when she got distracted. He couldn't help himself: "What if, though? Would you really notice the way I could change your thoughts?" That particular button was always the most fun to press. Every time without fail he watched her eyes flutter and get just that tiny bit wider, her lips trembling as if half between protest and a moan. And just like always he couldn't resist pushing that button just that one step further: "What if your firm belief that it's all fake was something I constructed so that you walk into my trap without suspecting a thing?" He recognized the sweet gasp as her mind took those words in. It always made his heart skip a beat when she looked at him with a mix of awe and flustered disbelief. Months of thought experiments and friendly debates had taught him that it was one of her biggest fantasies. But that didn't come close to seeing that same fantasy play out in her head when he put it into words for her. "It wouldn't work," she breathlessly countered, sounding like every fiber of her athletic body wanted to beg for the opposite. "I'm sure," he smirked in exactly the way that always riled her up. "To be so deeply influenced that you don't even know what I changed would be almost like right out of a work of fiction, wouldn't it?" Just for the fun of it he accentuated every taunting word with another caress of her warm skin. And she rewarded the idea with the softest mewls. Did she even realize that she had begun to lean into his touch? "You could be playing out a set of suggestions that I planted deep in your mind. Not even knowing that I am using my power over you to that extent." Was it maybe mean of him to attack her strongest fantasies? Of course it was. But among all the requests she had ever made, being fair had never been among them. "No way could you condition me like that." In response he merely flicked her nipples. The playful gesture sent a shudder through Tammy as her eyes glazed over: "I'm your oblivious slave." Even in the monotone sound of her tranced voice some trace of her excitement shone through and made him smirk: "Whatever you say, sweety." The words stirred her fighting spirit but even as she stuck out her tongue at him something seemed different. Her actions seemed just a tad slower. Less coordinated. As if the lights were no longer all on upstairs. "You just keep joking! I'm serious. Try to bring me under your spell. If it works you get to have all the fun you want. But I'll show you I can shake it off! It's simply make belief in the end." With a silent smile he pressed her nipple like a button. Silly, no doubt, but he really liked pushing her buttons when everything was said and done. Her face went slack before she could have caught the words that floated out of her mouth: "My mind is your toy." Even though no recollection of her actions remained, his beaming grin had to be a dead giveaway when she blinked and slipped back into awareness. "Are you... Are you already doing something?" He didn't miss the faint rosy blush that spread on her face. It really matched her hair since she dyed it last week. Though he figured he'd keep that to himself just a little longer. She always got just a bit too shy when he pointed out the many signs that he used to read her. If she wanted to maintain the illusion that he controlled her against her will, who was he to take that from her? Especially considering how it added so many options for fulfilling that fantasy for the both of them. "What would I be doing?" Even if her brain loved to let her feel oblivious to it, deep down it had heard that particular tone so often that it recognized it right away. Months of teasing and reinforcing suggestions kicked in and let her trained firm muscles melt like butter to the point that he needed to catch her. And yet her faint voice still reached him: "You brainwash me." He couldn't help it. This moment always sent an electrifying rush through him. There was nothing quite like her submission in this world. All the words at his disposal felt like not quite enough but he knew she was too far gone to mind. "Maybe I am," he simply replied and the sound of his voice seemed to reassure her as much as the sensation of his fingers on her skin, "or maybe I am just playing a trick on your mind. One easy way to find out. Just listen and do as you're told. Let me do the thinking for a bit." For one short moment her eyes sought his. A reflex as she fully let go. And yet there was so much in that brief glance that he burned into his memory, even as his words washed the moment away and lulled her back into that wonderful submissive dream she never fully remembered forgetting. * * *

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