#MC gets a proper night of rest without nightmares

[renard-dartigue]

"Won't you join me in worship?"

Uh oh. My hand slipped and I combined two hyperfixations.

Here is Vessel in Touchstarved. A cultist who shows interest in the MC after Sleep tells him to reach out. MC thinks it's a weird sex cult but soon learns that Vessel is just a music nerd who wants them to join his band.

[kykyonthemoon]

Bad Luck Streak

After losing to him for the tenth time in kitty cards, you decide to throw a tantrum.

ಇ. Character x Reader/MC

Included parts in order: Rafayel - Xavier - Zayne - Caleb

ಇ. Tags & warnings: a little spicy, 16+, MDNI, fluff, short and sweet, making out, fluff, domestic fluff, established relationship, some jealousy (from Zayne), MC being a baby (tbh I would too if I lose too many kitty cards games).

ಇ. Word count: 4k5

ಇ. Based on an anonymous request.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Rafayel

“If you post on your account right now that I, Rafayel, am the most handsome and best kitty cards player, I will let you win this match.”

Rafayel's voice rang out in the room, from across the table. You frowned and said it clearly again, word by word:

"Not. A. Single. Chance!”

“Such a pity.” He spoke as if he was singing. Then, with a delicate yet merciless gesture, he set down his kitty card in the proper position of the purple cup. You quickly reached out to cover the mouth of the cup, but it was too late.

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

A “meow” sounded. The cat was the same color as the cup. And it was a six-point.

Time seemed to pass very slowly. Your lips formed an "A" and "O" shape, then the remaining cards in your hand were tossed into the air, falling all around. 

Rafayel's jubilant laughter echoed across the room. He stood up, dancing in the rain from your losing cards. He even made a song:

“Rafayel! Rafayel! Who is the most handsome and talented kitty cards player? It's Rafayel!”

He paused, his index finger and thumb creating a "V" and resting on his chin. He looked at you with a sarcastic expression.

"I offered you the chance to win. It's unfortunate you didn't accept it."

“Will you stop?”

You furiously gazed up at him.You had just lost the tenth game. Even if you had a nightmare, you would not have expected to be that unfortunate.

But seeing your sour expression, Rafayel became even happier. He constantly teased you, claiming that you had just lost to a kitty card master. You clenched your teeth.

“You cheated! There was definitely cheating!”

“Is that so? Then why couldn't you catch me?" He continued to laugh. “Without proof, you must have lost because of such poor skills.”

"That's enough, Rafayel!" You stood up, irritated. To his amazement, you grabbed his collar and hauled him out. You pushed him hard into the vacant corridor. “Go home! I don't want to see that arrogant face of yours anymore!”

"Eh!" Rafayel attempted to run inside, but you swiftly shut the door. You heard him beating on the door outside: “But it's already late. There are no more trains or buses! Are you really going to leave me out here all by myself?”

You opened the door a crack, threw his phone into his hands and said:

“Call a taxi and go home!”

Then, you slammed the door again. Rafayel continued to make noise outside: “Hey! How could you bear to let me go home alone with a stranger, in the middle of the night like this?!” 

But you gave no answer. You let Rafayel boo and protest outside. You put on headphones, deliberately turned on the music loudly and headed into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

After a time, you approached the door. You could still see Rafayel on the CCTV screen. He stopped screaming and crouched with his head down in the corridor just across from your main entrance. He looked miserable. The hubris of victory had simply vanished from him. You sighed, knowing that you had lost since your compassion decided to speak up.

You opened the door. Rafayel lifted his head and gazed at you, perplexed like a lost puppy. It was very late and he had yet to leave. You were about to tell him to go home when he suddenly ran towards you, arms spread, seeking to hug you.

Instinctively, you moved aside. Rafayel was running and could not stop in time and rushed straight inside. Both surprised and not paying attention to the steps connecting the main door and your living room, he fell. 

He appeared both pathetic and humorous. You did not know how to react anymore. You closed the door, trying to suppress your laughter while Rafayel made a fuss again. He did not even bother to get up, but lay down on the floor to throw a tantrum.

“Miss Bodyguard is bullying me! Come out and see! Oh, good neighbors! She kicked me out of the house. She even made me collapse on the floor! It's all because I'm so attractive and better than her at kitty cards that she hates me!"

"You want to go out there again, don't you?" You spoke quietly. You felt more amused than upset at him. You approached Rafayel, leaning down slightly to see how he was. “Hmm. You still can shout out so loud. It means that you're okay, right?”

You poked his body with your finger. Rafayel struggled like a fish out of water. Then, he suddenly grabbed your wrist and pulled you down to the floor with him.

“Ouch!”

You yelled aloud. In the blink of an eye, you were lying in his lap on the floor. 

“Rafayel, what are you doing? Let me go!”

He smiled triumphantly, once more.

“Be still. I'm hurt so much... right here.”

Rafayel pointed to his chest, which was rising and falling with each heavy breath. You could hear a chaotic heartbeat there. He said again:

“Why do you want to chase me away? Why do you have to say that you don't want to see me anymore? It's just kitty cards! If you like winning that much, I'll let you win all the time!”

“I don't need you to let me win.” You said. With your competitive nature, you wanted to defeat him in a fair and righteous manner while also enjoying his sullen face. "If you give in, there's no fun anymore."

Since you could not stay on the ground like this forever, you attempted to get up. But Rafayel would not let you go. He grimaced while holding you above him.

“My whole body hurts so much! My head hurts too! Compensation. I request compensation!”

You supported your body with my elbows on his chest. It was never easy to coax this fish. You just had to use your usual tricks.

"Alright. Here comes compensation.” 

You giggled, then leaned down and kissed him for a long while. The delicate kiss on his lips gradually melted down his neck, then, the chest, turning into crimson flower petals - the way you left your imprint on him. Rafayel lay beneath you and struggled a little, but held you even more tightly. Perhaps you must admit that you had no intention of letting him go home alone that night.

Xavier

You worriedly looked up at Xavier, who sat across from you. His face was hidden in the pile of cards in his hand, displaying just his intensely concentrated eyes. You clutched the very last card tightly in your hands. Just one more step, as long as he spared the last cup, you would win.

Yet things did not always go your way. Xavier picked up a card and placed it in the cup. It transformed into the cat with number six, earning double the points. 

"Another win for me."

His words, so gentle, but it cut your heart for the tenth time. You had lost ten games in a row in just one evening.

“You… YOU!!!” 

Anger choked in your throat. You grit your teeth. How could this be? Apparently you were the one teaching Xavier how to play kitty cards, yet he certainly outperformed you.

Unable to accept this, you became enraged and took out your frustration on the cats in the gaming kit. The cups tipped over, and the virtual cats leaped out. They cautiously seeked shelter on Xavier's arms and shoulders. You growled:

"We. Are. Done. Playing!!!"

You stormed into the bedroom like a hurricane. Ignoring the kittens, ignoring Xavier. You buried yourself on the bed and struggled for quite some time.

“AAAAAAARRRGGGHHHHH!!!” 

Perhaps Xavier overheard you yell. However, he did not come in to comfort you as usual. This made you feel even worse. You disliked the sensation of losing. 

You returned to the living room after a lengthy period of lying in bed and felt considerably calmer. There was no one around. You merely discovered a beautifully packed kitty cards kit on the coffee table. You huffed with annoyance. Xavier must have left without saying goodbye. Was it your juvenile reaction to losing that offended him?

You felt humiliated and angry with yourself. You must have upset him. It was only a few card games, but you let it impact both of you. Still you could not accept the fact that you had lost. He could have let you win one match, just one match, right? Finally, you decided to make yourself a cup of hot milk and go to bed early.

A bit later, the doorbell rang. As you went closer to the surveillance camera, you saw Xavier standing outside. However, there was something odd. You had to rub your eyes many times to ensure it was him.

You quickly opened the door. Xavier stood there, his light hair adorned with a pair of white bunny ears with black tips swinging back and forth. He was dressed in a white and blue suit, his hands gloved, and he was holding them up like a cute bunny who had just lost his way to your house.

“X-Xavier?!” You were taken aback, but you had to admit that you admired the way he looked. 

"Can… Can I come inside?"

Xavier looked around with embarrassment. What if he was caught like this? Thinking about it, you swiftly drew him inside. Only you were permitted to adore this aspect of his. 

You shut the door and followed Xavier into the living room. Yet you could not tear your gaze away from the round white rabbit tail waving behind him. You felt guilty because you wanted to reach out and touch it. 

“Why are you dressed like this? In the middle of the night?” You asked. Perhaps you were so furious and fatigued that your imagination conjured up this scenario.

“I'm here to be your bunny butler.” Xavier spoke up. “Since last time you said you would like a bunny butler…”

Xavier left his sentence incomplete. He carefully examined your reaction before saying, "I hope you like it."

“Ah, erm…” You coughed. “Are you doing this because of the kitty cards incident earlier?”

Xavier nodded slightly. Oh Lord! His dangling bunny ears looked so adorable beyond imagination! You just wanted to pull him down and touch them a lot.

Seeming to know what you were thinking, Xavier sat down beside you. You tried to keep your face stoic as if you could not care less, and said:

“You don't need to do that.”

“Do you really not want your bunny butler?”

As he drew in closer, you felt your pulse skip a beat and your throat dry. You responded:

“Eh… um… I mean… You didn't have to go to this extent…”

Xavier sighed sadly. He stretched out and scratched the rabbit ears on his head, which made you want to touch them more.

“If you don't like it… I'll leave…”

"Wait!" You stopped him. Soon your hand was holding a bunny ear on his head. “Oh, hey…”

The smooth cotton layer calmed your rage. You proceeded to caress the rabbit's ear with one hand before grabbing another one with the other. Xavier patiently resided quietly as you played around. He breathed gently and steadily, and his cheeks were slightly rosy.

“I thought you didn't like it.” He mentioned.

“When did I ever say that?” 

“You do like fluffy things, don't you?”

Your giggles rang out. “Yeah. I also like an obedient bunny that knows he should call me master."

Xavier took a short peek at you before turning away. His face lit up even more. He mumbled: “Okay… If this makes you feel better… My Lady….”

You gently lifted Xavier's chin so he could no longer avoid your gaze. Then you grinned with satisfaction:

"Very good. But I still haven't completely forgiven."

“So, what do you want the bunny butler to do for you, My Lady?”

“Let's see…” You pretended to think, then your hand quickly went behind Xavier's back and touched his bunny tail. He dodged intuitively in an instance.

“This… You cannot touch…”

“Why not?” 

You frowned and tried again, then again... You kept attacking Xavier's back with both hands, and he kept avoiding you. In the end, you suddenly leaned close to him. 

"Got it!" You grasped the rabbit tail behind Xavier as you hugged him and sat entirely on his lap. His breath wafted across your shoulders and neck. You also blushed.

“My Lady, are you content now?” He asked with an expression like he had just been bullied. Then, without waiting for your response, he gripped your hips firmly and forced you closer to his body.

Your heart was racing pretty fast. You could not take your eyes off Xavier. He was very close. So close. His lips brushed the tip of your nose, slightly parted and whispered:

“Are you no longer mad at me?”

You nodded slightly, since you were helpless to say anything else in this situation. 

“So have you had enough of playing, My Lady?”

Another nod. Xavier seemed satisfied. He said:

“Then it's my turn.”

"Huh?" 

Before you could grasp what was actually going on, Xavier put a hand behind your neck and forced you into him. His lips gently parted yours, and you tasted the nectar on the tip of his tongue. You felt dizzy, to the point you entrusted your entire body weight on Xavier. Even though it was him who was wearing the bunny costume, why did it feel like you were the prey?

Zayne

“Can't you let me win for just once, Zayne?” 

You frowned at him. With a serene appearance, Zayne put down his final card and won the entire game.

“If I give in to you, how will you improve?”

You bit your bottom lip firmly. Your hand dropped the cards, and your eyes were crimson as if you were going to cry. It was the tenth game you had lost to him. Such an impossible mission to beat Doctor Zayne since he constantly blocked his opponent's moves like that. 

“You… Foul play!” You shrieked, catching the attention of a few pairs playing kitty cards nearby.

“That is called strategy, not foul play. Foul play is when you cheated to peek at my cards..."

“La la la! I won't listen to you anymore!” You covered your ears tightly. “You're always so cruel! Look at the pile of support cards you have! You just have to back me into a corner like this!” 

Even when the game ended, in Zayne's hand was still a stack of assist cards he had gathered from the beginning of the game to attack you. He seemed to have every type of support card in a kitty deck. How come he was so lucky? Every card he drew was a fatal card. He left you no chance to win.

Despite your outraged expression, Zayne remained remarkably calm. He put the cards back in the kit and cleaned up the mess on your side of the table. He replied:

“This game only has two players. If I don't attack you, then who?"

“I'm not talking to you anymore.” You rose up and marched away in anger. Zayne grinned at your childishness and continued with cleaning up the cards.

That day, a special event was held at Akso Hospital. Patients, relatives and staff were all excited to play kitty cards. Small tables were neatly set up around the hall and the main garden for each pair of players to participate. Everyone was very happy, except for you. No one would be, if they lost ten consecutive games of kitty cards.

After a time, with no indication of you returning, Zayne began looking about. He knew your childish and competitive nature, as well as the way to comfort you. Yet it was a different time. He had not expected to discover you leaving him to play cards with someone else.

You sat at another table with Doctor Greyson. You just won a high-scoring game and chose to celebrate by howling and swaying your body left and right. Then you asked Greyson:

“Let's play one more round, shall we?”

Greyson had barely nodded when he felt a strong cold. He was shivering in the nice warm bright weather. 

“Ah… um… Somehow… I-I feel so cold… P-Please... excuse me…”

Having stated so, the doctor rose up, hunched, and proceeded into the hall, where the nurse, Yvonne, appeared to inquire as to why he had suddenly felt sick.

You sighed because your victory did not last long. But right after that, you found someone else who was also looking for a partner to play cards with. It was an elderly cardiology patient. You warmly encouraged the elderly man to sit on the chair. But after only a few minutes, before you could even play your first card, the old man sneezed loudly and said it was too windy out here and he felt cold. He then requested the nurse to take him inside.

How strange! You felt no cold at all, and it was not that windy here. You glanced around for other folks to play with. Since you had lost so much, you felt compelled to win many more games to compensate for the resentment in your heart. But another person came, then another, and another... Whether young or old, sick or healthy, everyone felt a shiver run down their spines as soon as they sat in the chair opposite yours. Was this table haunted or something?

You decided to change positions and see what happened. But, as you rose up and prepared to sit on that dreadful chair, you noticed a familiar figure from a table in the garden's most secluded corner. There was just one person seated there: Doctor Zayne.

"What are you doing?" You were outraged and dashed to inquire. It was not a work day for Zayne, and his casual dress added to his laid-back demeanor. He calmly replied:

“I'm waiting for someone to come play kitty cards with me.”

“It's not what I meant! Did you just use Evol on the people who came to my table?”

Zayne put his hands in his pockets, indifferently:

“A person may feel cold because their body is not feeling well. It's best for them to go inside for a check-up."

“That's it! Obviously you did something on purpose!” You muttered a few words of bitterness under your breath. Surely he had pulled a trick to ensure that no one would play cards with you again, and that you would not be able to taste glorious victory. You definitely must figure this out.

“Doctor Zayne, show me your hands.” You made it sound like a demand. 

"Why?" 

“I want to check your hands.” If Zayne had just used his Evol, his hands would still have ice on.

Of course, Zayne would never let you catch him that easily.His hands remained securely tucked in his coat pockets. Losing patience, you grabbed him with both hands.

“He who excuses himself, accuses himself! If you're innocent, why don't you prove it?"

Zayne did not respond. You used all of your might to take his hand from his pocket. He gazed at you briefly, a mischievous smirk on his lips. Then he took out his hand and spread it in front of you.

"Here. Don't mess around anymore.”

You carefully examined Zayne's hand. Nothing. The palm of his hand was just cool, not freezing. You huffed loudly. Unwilling to accept this defeat again, you quickly pulled up his sleeve. In the sunlight, little snowflakes emerged, dazzling precisely like your triumphant smile.

“Ah ha! Here it is! Doctor Zayne, I've caught you red-handed!”

Being exposed like that, Zayne did not flinch. He looked up at you and then, as quick as lightning, the hand you clutched tightly turned the tables. He grabbed yours and pulled you down into his arms.

"Be still. You're too loud.” Doctor Zayne grasped your waist and even placed his finger on your mouth to remind you to be quiet. Your chest rumbled again, especially at the notion of someone catching you both here, in this position.

Fortunately, the area was primarily covered with decorative plants. One must look attentively for the existence of a secret kitty cards table in this corner of the garden.

“Doctor Zayne,” you whispered. “You are too much! You scared away everyone who wanted to play cards with me. Now I can't win anymore."

Zayne gently nudged his head at yours. He seemed miserable.

“Do you like playing kitty cards with other people more than with me?”

You lifted your hand to massage your forehead. "Hmm. Of course. Because whenever I play with you, I always lose."

Zayne's eyebrows furrowed. He said: “Understood. Then I'll just make everyone else stay away from your table.”

"Eh! Doctor Zayne! I didn't expect you to be that unfair!”

Zayne smirked. His hand raised your face, causing you to stare into his eyes. “Be still. Do you want others to find us here?”

You turned red, but remained defiant. "What's the matter? Are you afraid that others will find out you're bullying me here?”

"Maybe." 

He answered idly. Why did you suspect he was up to something? He leaned so near to you that you could detect a scent of mint candy on his breath. A soft kiss landed on your cheek.

“I intend to keep you here for myself. So that no one else can see your cute reactions when playing kitty cards anymore…”

He began kissing you, gently then fiercely. His kisses were as sweet as candy, cool as summer ice cream. His arm tightened around your waist, keeping your back straight. Your feet were lifted off the grass. Between kisses that melted the ice on Zayne's hands, he whispered:

“No one else, but me.”

Caleb

Never once had Caleb given in to you in kitty cards games. Every time you played cards with him, it ended in arguments, yelling, and even tears when you ran to tell Grandma about it.

And then, that trick no longer worked, since you had moved out and grown up. Caleb would not be swayed by a few tears from you.

“Don't do that anymore.” He spoke from the opposite side. “It won't work now.”

He proceeded calmly. You snorted. At this pace, you would lose. You did not want to do housework for the following week when you both returned home to see Grandma. Every time you played kitty cards with him, housework was what you bet on. The loser must do all the chores for the winner. This time, Caleb came to Linkon to pick you up before you both came home the day after.

“You are truly an evil person.” You murmured. His phone rang at the time, and while he was answering it, you swiftly took his green kitty and swapped it with another cup.

"Hey!" He grabbed your hand, hastily murmured something on the phone about calling back later, and hung up. He stared at you, clicking his tongue. “Cheater!”

"I did not cheat!" You lied. “This cat… wanted to climb out of the cup. I was just helping you catch it."

You attempted to draw your hand back. The cat returned to its previous place. Caleb still did not let you go. He shook his head:

“Cheating is cheating. If Gran knows about this, she would be so sad!”

“No way…” You pouted. 

“I saw it with my own eyes. Don't deny it. You've lost this game.” 

Caleb declared. Of course, you would never accept this result.

"I'm not lost! It's my turn! I haven't lost yet!”

He dropped the cards and placed them on the table. “Whoever cheats loses. Stop playing. We have an early train to catch tomorrow. It's over. A week of housework for you!”

Caleb grinned with victory. He rose up and attempted to leave. But you would not let him have it. You surged forward, flinging yourself onto his back. You pinched his ear and shouted:

"No! Play again! One more round! I have to restore my honor!”

Caleb fought but was unable to shove you down. He spoke:

"You've lost ten games already. Even if you keep playing, you won't be able to beat me, pip-squeak!"

"No! I refuse to lose! Let's play again!”

You kicked your legs hard, causing Caleb to lose his balance. Then you both sank into the comfy sofa. You could hear him mutter, his words garbled since his face was crushed against the mattress.

"Oh dear! What did you eat to become this heavy, pip-squeak?!”

You got up, but because he called you fat and you wanted vengeance for those ten lost games of kitty cards, you refused to get down and simply lay on his body. 

“Get off, pip-squeak?”

"Nope. Unless you're willing to play ten more games, I won't come down."

Caleb smiled and sighed, powerless before your stubbornness. Finally, he turned so that you both lay on your sides on the sofa. Your back rested against his chest. Suddenly, you felt quite hot in the room. 

“Are you confident that you will beat me in the next ten games?” Caleb asked. His breath brushed your hair and nape, leaving you ticklish.

"Yeah…" You responded quietly. Caleb placed one hand on your tummy and softly pressed, which startled you.

“But I don't want to play anymore.”

"Why not?"

Caleb did not respond, instead pressing his body further closer to you. It seemed you already had the answer. You looked at the virtual cats blinking on the table. They were waiting for both of you to start a new game. It was fine to let them wait a little longer. 

“Pip-squeak, you know why.” 

Your cheeks felt heated. You gently turned around and adjusted your posture to lie straight on the sofa, looking at him for a moment.

“Know what?”

Caleb smiled at you while you attempted to be innocent. He replied:

“Someone pretends she doesn't know anything. You just cheated. I haven't punished you yet."

“I don't remember anything.”

“When we were little, you made a rule that anyone who cheated would be punished, right?” Caleb reminded you of it. 

“S-So… what kind of punishment do you want?” You nervously gazed up at him, waiting. 

“How about this?…”

Caleb whispered. Then he began tickling you. You fought and yelled. You almost fell to the ground, but he caught you and drew you closer. You rested your hands on his chest to maintain balance. 

“Okay… Is that it? Now… Can we continue playing?” You gasped for air as you gazed down at Caleb. He shook his head.

"Not yet. It was simply the beginning.” 

You were about to protest when Caleb quickly locked your lips. The virtual kitties over there must wait a little longer then.

[aevellewritessometimes]

One Step Closer

Vere x Reader: Reincarnation AU Part 2! I really need to come up with an official name for this, shouldn't I? Anyway, this ended up being much longer than I was planning, so it looks like there will be a part 3 before I start getting to the endings. I currently do not have access to my laptop, so I had to depend on someone else's playthrough for dialogue, so if the MC in this one feels catered towards the Hound origin, that's why and I apologize in advance.

Content Warnings: Vere-typical swearing, innuendos, and death threats. Also, there's a brief mention of a dead body.

Other: Yet another brief Undertale reference, but it only pops up once. Vere might be OOC. Hopefully better usage of italics and semicolons (English is my first language, but I am a victim of the American Education System). Trying to avoid using a name for MC/Reader during two scenes where the use of their name was very deliberate and important to the game (because I forgot that "y/n" is a thing). Word Count: 3k words.

This work may be edited in the future if I discover any previously missed typos or content warnings. This work will not be cross-posted anywhere and I will make a direct announcement if that ever changes. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

The memory of your face was both a blessing and a curse to him.

Sometimes it was a bittersweet sight from his sweetest of dreams; a reason for him to get through the motions every day just so he could see you again once sleep came for him.

Other times it haunted his worst nightmares: the look of fear, pain, and betrayal being the last thing he saw in your eyes before the life vanished from them completely.

He tried to forget that face, but he clung to any memory of your other faces the way a web clung to a spider's prey.

Many of the pages in his sketchbook were dedicated to those faces of yours. Many lives were taken from poor fools foolish enough to be curious about them.

None of your faces---or bodies, for that matter---were exactly the same; there was always some small difference.

Eye color. Hair length. Freckles. Height.

There was always something different. But despite that, it was always you.

So imagine his surprise when it was you---or at least, a particularly familiar stranger---he spotted strolling out of the Wet Wick and through the streets of the Amaryllis district as he waited for the Senobium cleric given the unfortunate task of having to deal with him today to finish her business.

Whatever was left of his heart froze for a moment and his lungs felt as if they were filled with dread instead of air.

Surely it wasn't you.

It couldn't have been you.

He easily could've just ignored them; let them walk past without any knowledge he was there.

But he had to know. He had to be sure.

He needed them closer---needed them to turn and look him in the eyes so he could get a proper read on their soul; it would put any and every question to rest.

Besides; if it wasn't you, then they'd make a good distraction for the night before he inevitably killed them by the next morning.

But if it was…

As he pondered on what exactly he would do if it really was you, the stranger strolled further down the street. He had to act quickly.

It wasn't much of a hassle; just a little trick with the shadows which loomed from the walls of the surrounding buildings.

The stranger froze, the smell of their fear permeating the air as he nabbed a key from their cloak's pocket.

They reeked of blood, death, sweat, and cheap booze. The latter two scents weren't unexpected; they did just leave the Wick, though he did let out a brief, rumbling snarl when he smelled that damned hound on them. The former, however? Neither of the two scents were uncommon in this shithole; just earlier today he watched as a few locals stepped over a partly rotted corpse that had been left in a walkway because nobody could be bothered to clean it up.

But the scent clinging to the stranger was a bit different---as if it was the stench of their own death and blood clinging to them instead of someone else's.

How curious…

He retracted the beastly shadow once he noticed they were going to turn around; finally allowing him to see their face.

It looked startlingly similar to the face you the day of the incident. The only immediate difference he could spot was that their hair was off a shade.

They surveyed the area, panicked and confused, before finally spotting him, sitting on a stoop and lounged against a wall.

While he was able to see their eyes now that they were looking at him, he wasn't able to get a good view of their soul just yet.

He needed them closer.

He baited them with their key---claiming that they had dropped it, but he didn't want to toss it to them, just in case some urchin ran by and stole it while it was still in the air.

They didn't trust it. If it weren't an inconvenience to him, he would've laughed at how they were smart enough to be cautious of him right off the bat despite getting all close and personal with Leander.

But with some teasing and flirting, he eventually managed to urge them closer---even if it was just to snatch up their key and move away from him as quick as they could.

Unfortunately for them, he was faster.

As they made to grab their key from his palm, he snatched their wrist and pulled them closer; finally giving him the chance and view that he needed… as well as a good whiff of the smell of that fucking doctor.

His suspicions on that note were proven to be correct, but there was something else…

Something not quite Human, but also not quite Monster… How inter---

"VERE!"

And of course the fucking cleric chose right then stop taking her sweet time. Gods-fucking-dammit.

He managed to trick the woman into believing he was just chatting with a friend and sent the stranger off with some free advice before the cleric dragged him off on his leash.

As he listed to the sound of their footsteps as they walked away---at an insultingly yet understandably brisk pace---he made a mental note to go visit the Wick once he was let off his leash for the night.

He'd get another chance there.

-=-=-=-=-

The Wick was suficatingly filled with the usual regulars; the stench of sweating, unwashed bodies watered-down booze clouding the humid air.

Vere sat by Ais---who had only just showed up less than an hour ago---towards the end of the bar, watching the crowd.

He still hasn't spotted the stranger yet. At this point, he was starting to wonder if he was wrong about their lodgings. He was close to just leaving---the mixture of annoyance at his incorrect guess and at Leander's joyful chitchat making a truly dangerous combination.

"Pardon me."

No human being would've been able to hear the soft-spoken request from where he was sitting, but Vere could hear the doctor perfectly well as he parted his way through the crowd.

His exasperation at his appearance was just enough for him to almost get up and leave---until he spied two heads trailing behind Kuras's towering form:

Mhin, who apparently formed a habit of following Kuras around like a lost kitten whenever they needed something to do with their time…

And the stranger from before.

About damn time.

He watched as the trio approached Leander, who was just putting the finishing touches on whatever abomination of a drink he was trying to kill Ais with this time. He was momentarily distracted at the glowing green liquid in the glasses that Leander slid down to them, which was followed by Ais downing it in one go.

"It's chewy."

"Chewy? Wait, let me try again…"

"I told you this place was a nest of degenerates."

Vere's attention was drawn back towards the three at the sound of Mhin's grumbling. As Mhin and Kuras quietly spoke to each other, the stranger observed the bar; seeming surprised to see him and Ais there.

He noticed that their gaze lingered on him for a moment longer than it did for Ais before they returned their attention back to their companions.

"Ah, if it isn't Kuras and Mhin!" Leander exclaimed, finally taking notice of them.

Either he didn't see the stranger, or they haven't been introduced yet.

"Good evening, Leander. Ais. Another drinking competition?" Kuras said, approaching the bar and ignoring him entirely.

Good. He didn't need another annoyance on top of everything else already.

Vere just turned to Mhin. "I almost didn't see you there, Mhin. Looking for your booster seat?"

It was petty and entirely unprovoked, but he needed to take the edge off somehow.

The white-haired mercenary pushed back their hood. "I though Ais wasn't allowed to bring his pets in here."

Oh this little---

As Vere's ears flattened against his head and his tail twitched angrily, Leander vaulted over the bar, slotting himself in between Ais and Kuras, snaking an arm around the latter's shoulders and offering him one of his horrible drinks---effectively preventing a fight.

"I'm afraid not. We were merely escorting them back to their lodgings." He responded, gesturing to the stranger, who reluctantly stepped out of the shadows at their acknowledgment.

Leander's face brightened---indicating that the two of them had, in fact, been acquainted. He immediately waved them over and introduced them to him and Ais.

(The name was different than the last one he remembered you bearing, but that didn't mean much of anything. They were almost always different---except for that one time, but even then, the spelling was different.)

Once again, they were still too far for him to get a good look at their soul. At this point, he almost believed they were doing it to be spiteful.

Leander starts talking again, and Vere tunes him out as he orders a flute of champagne---the only drink that doesn't taste too much like rat's piss.

Everyone's attention turned towards him when the bartender popped the bottle.

"They serve champagne here? Since when?"

"You don't mind, do you?"

"No, be my guest. I know you've got expensive taste…"

Vere sipped from his glass as Leander shot the bartender a frantic look and Ais offered to buy a drink for the stranger---calling them "Sparrow" as he did so.

Leander interjected and offered to buy them a drink instead.

It's their first night here and they've already got these two in a dick measuring contest over them. He was almost impressed.

Either way, they get their drink and Leander holds a toast to their arrival---much to their own dismay. Vere was finding himself more and more peeved by the minute, but still, he lingered.

They'd move towards him eventually; he was sure of it.

The conversation moved---Vere learned that the outsider apparently already managed to find themself on death's door twice today. Clearly, they had not taken his oh-so generously offered advice earlier.

Vere just turns to speak to Ais for a moment. Once he tunes back into what the rest of them are doing, he notices that Kuras, Leander, and Mhin have all disappeared somewhere; leaving the poor outsider all on their own.

"Lost your tour guide?"

They turn to him and Ais, their expression going from indifferent to mildly irritated.

Guess Ais left a bad impression on them as well. Or he was just particularly successful in his earlier ploy to annoy them.

He tried to offer them the seat next to Ais, but they were still hesitant.

Ah. The song and dance continues.

"How about we start fresh, hm? Begin with proper introductions, get off on the right foot and whatnot. I'll start…" He readjusted himself on the counter, resting his chin on the back of his hand, "The name's Vere. Hunter extraordinaire."

They were quiet for a moment. "I'm sure you already know my name…"

"Hard not to when Leander's shouting it every other second. It's a pleasure to formally meet you…"

His tone when he spoke their name was slow and deliberate, savoring every syllable; earning him yet another flustered reaction.

They were far too easy. If they weren't who he thought they were, they'd be fun to toy with for the night.

They glance over Ais's shoulder, then they start heading towards the entrance. "I'll be back."

He just hummed and waved his fingers at them. As they stepped away, he considered ordering another drink, but chose not to. It would be easier to plan a way to get them closer if he were at least somewhat sober.

Then he heard a grunt behind him. "Out of my way, shitstain."

Turning, he saw that the outsider had apparently bumped into some drunken roughneck. Or maybe it was the other way around.

"You watch it!"

Probably the other way around, then.

That was enough to piss off the roughneck, who shoved a bloodhound out of the way as he angrily stalked towards the outsider. Once he makes it over, he shoves them down to the floor.

Well, that's certainly an issue for his plans.

Fortunately, before he can start throwing punches, a few bloodhounds circle the two of them; sizing him up as the outsider was still stuck on the floor.

Ultimately, the roughneck was smart enough to back off at that point. He spat at them, barely missing their cheek, and started to walk away…

Only to find himself face to face with Ais.

Ais smiled. "You'll do."

Then he punches him square in the jaw. Chaos follows in the form of shouting and cheering as the outsider scrambles to their feet.

It doesn't take long for Leander to yell at the two of them to take it outside and distract the rest of the bar-goers with a free drink; immediately followed by the bartender throwing him an annoyed glance as everyone else started cheering.

Ais left out a back exit, dragging his quarry out with him.

Kuras lingers near the door, surveying the bar for any wounded people before departing.

Mhin drew up their hood and slipped through a side door, apparently separated from Kuras during the brief fight.

Leander made his way to the bar opposite of where Vere sat, frantically apologizing to the bartender.

Vere just leaned over and grabbed a glass of wine from behind the bar, watching the outsider through his peripheral vision.

They stand still for a moment, surveying the bar. Then, they move towards him; their steps hesitant. Eventually, they slide into the seat beside him as he sips from the wine glass.

Finally.

He didn't turn to them just yet; souls were easier to read when their bearer was vulnerable. He wanted them to let their guard down, first.

"I didn't think you planned on sticking around."

"A free drink's a free drink, even if it tastes like rat piss."

"Didn't you say you wouldn't be caught dead slumming in this shithole?"

He sips from his glass, tail thrashing below the bar. "You've caught me red handed." He peered at them over the rim of his glass, "How ever will you punish me?"

"I figured my company's punishment enough for you."

Vere felt a small smile form on his lips. "So, you survived the night. Are you here for praise or would a headpat do?"

"About that. Turns out you were right; I did run into trouble---"

He knows. He could smell the Seaspring's lingering odor on them, as well as the stench of a Soulless.

"---Now I don't know if you're and oracle, a threat, or just completely full of shit."

He scoffed. "Most people would buy me a drink before insulting me."

"After the way you jerked me around? If anyone's owed a drink, it's me."

He didn't dignify that statement with an immediate response. Then, he propped his chin on his wrist. "I don't think you understand how things work around here. Information is a luxury; one you flung so carelessly aside."

"I'm not following."

"If you valued my words, you'd have taken them seriously. I gave you free advice---warned you of the danger you were in, and still you went parading off to the Seaspring. Small wonder the Soulless didn't tear you to ribbons."

"How did you know---"

"I have a very sensitive nose, remember?"

They glared at him. "Right how could I forget. Do you normally greet people by shoving your nose into their laps like an overeager Labrador?"

Vere glared at them for a heartbeat; a warning. Then, he laughed under his breath.

He'd let them get away with that one. After all, they only just got here. It's not like they knew…

"Only the ones I like." He sets aside his now empty wine glass and reaches for a long-abandoned tumbler of whiskey. "But the truth is, I despise most people."

His eyes flickered over their shoulder as Leander's boisterous laughter erupted from the other side of the bar, as if proving his point.

"What about me? Now that we've started off on the right foot…"

At last, he turned to face them fully. His gaze slowly glided over them as he sized them up, before finally ending on their eyes.

He could see the faint flickering of an agonizingly thick layer of suffering. An enticing sight, but still an inconvenient one. The suffering that one has gone through during their life always clouded the true nature of their soul; especially if it was left untreated.

"I haven't made up my mind about you, yet."

He turned back to the bar. Neither of them said anything for a moment.

"Have I done something to piss you off."

He let out a short sigh. "No. I'm just disappointed. People like us can't help but attract danger. Yet you seek it out, and for what? Cheap thrills?"

"I wasn't trying to get eaten by Soulless! There's something I'm looking for…"

"And you think Mhin can help you? Leander!? Are you really willing to risk your life with those dipshits?"

"What life? You've got no idea what I've gone through--- Oh, forget it."

They made to get up from their seat, but Vere stopped them by softly placing his hand on their shoulder; little more than a brush, but apparently enough to get their attention.

He said nothing, for a moment---simply searching their eyes; trying to glean whatever information he could from the suffering which marred their soul.

Now that he actually had a moment to read it, the answer was clear as day: betrayal.

Yet there was something… different, about it. There were many forms of betrayal, and each one left its own distinct mark, but whatever form this outsider faced was new.

No, not new. Not quite. Instead, there appeared to be two different type of betrayal there: one dealt recently, and one that seemed more… ancient.

The outsider simply continued to become more and more interesting by the hour.

"They couldn't even begin to understand you. But I could. I could help you, if only you'd listen."

"…How do I know I can trust you?"

"You don't. But I'm slightly less inclined to waste your time with empty flattery and insults than those two."

They didn't respond to that.

"Is what you desire truly worth risking your life for?"

"If you knew what kind of life I've live, you wouldn't be asking."

Vere considered their response for a long moment before speaking again. "Will you trust me?"

"…For now."

Vere ignored the oddly familiar pinprick of satisfaction in his chest. "Good enough for me." He raised the tumbler to them, then he snapped back the dregs. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand once he finished. "Let's talk. Outside. If I have to smell Leander's skunky aftershave for much longer, I'll hurl."

He slipped away from the bar, leaving the outsider to trail after him, out a side door and into and alleyway.

< Part One | Part Three >

[notasdriedapricots]

Hi! If you don’t mind, would you share a lot more of dad!Lucas headcanons please!

Well I do not mind at all! I'm sorry if there's people wishing I'd shut up about it lol Here is the first part of these, just in case, and here are some comments on pregnancy and choosing a nanny. And sorry it took me so long to get to this!

So, some more general HC and then I'll add some specific for a girl or a boy because why not.

- That child is getting technology time so, so limited… They're gonna be playing outside (likely taking classes for a chosen sport), they'll get tons of pencils and paper to draw, paint, jigsaw puzzles, cubes, books, playdough… Physical things, rather than an iPad and Kids Netflix 24/7. I HC Lucas as working in rehabilitation, and some fellow psychologist will remark the importance of early cognitive and motor stimulation. And he'll take it very seriously, even if it requires a bit of extra work from him and MC.

- He would be the one teaching them how to walk (again, according to my work HC for him, he already does that with grown people so he would take this as a personal mission).

- OBSESSIVE about proper nutrition while they grow up. Lots of research about when children can start eating certain things, swatting forks away screaming "ARE YOU INSANE?? DO YOU KNOW HOW ALLERGENIC TOMATOES ARE??". That kid will have no allergies and a killer immune system.

- So much frustration during the "picky eater" phase, oh my god. He can't understand why they won't eat something they used to like, and now they just want spaghettis with cream and nothing else.

- Slightly hurt if he's woken up by a distant "Mom, I had a nightmare" instead of a closer "Dad, I had a nightmare" in the middle of the night…

- His worst nightmare is the supermarket tantrum. MC knows the basic principle of: You just explain why you said "no" and let them cry their eyes out, the rest of the people know kids that age throw tantrums. But Lucas? Lucas would get anxious that people would think he's a bad father and end up giving in even if he knows he shouldn’t, and then when they don't stop because sometimes what children actually want is just to cry, he would get even more anxious and just leave the supermarket without whatever they were there for.

- Punishments are smart and evil, but effective. Nothing physical, of course, and nothing unenforceable like "No TV for a month", and nothing cruel like "Not seeing your friends for two weeks". No. Something simpler. "No TV, only for two hours, for a week". Which two hours you ask? The two hours their favourite cartoon is on. "Sure, we'll still go to your favourite park. But later. When the dog you always pet has already gone home." "Yes, you can have a cookie after lunch. Any you want, except you favourite." Little things that make a point. They didn't do anything unforgiveable so it won't merit anything big, but he'll make sure there are consequences to it.

- No family portrait, but he takes all their drawings to his practice and pins them on a board next to his desk.

- Firm believer on the "one language, one physical activity, one artistic interest" triad. The specifics in each category are up to the kid.

- "Daaaad, can we go for a ride on your bike?" "Absolutely not." "… Why?" "Because it's dangerous. No." "Why is it dangerous?" "Because it goes very fast and you can fall and get hurt." "Then we'll get another bike that's not dangerous." "All bikes are dangerous." *Points to his arm* "That one too?"

- Bonus points if after that they cry every time they see Lucas grab his helmet. "Dad, no! You're gonna die!"

- The kid would be curious about his job and think he's a doctor. He would kinda let them believe it while they're still young because explaining the difference would be a bit too complicated for a small child; a "Not exactly a doctor, but close" type of deal.

- He's so over the top when it comes to material stuff… "Dad, can you get me a book by this author?" "Which one?" "Whichever you find!" *The next day* "I got what you wanted!" *puts three bags filled with the author's entire bibliography on the table*.

- I don't like it, but he would be kind of a "suck it up" kinda parent… Not because he doesn't get that you shouldn't shake everything off but because he doesn't know how to deal with it himself. Mom would be more understanding.

- This has to do with a very specific HC from my Lucas in my fic but I figured I might as well share it. Lucas would never ever suggest it, it probably wouldn't even cross his mind, but if MC said she wanted to be a stay at home mom for a couple of years, he wouldn't oppose.

- Another personal HC (a bit too personal as it vaguely comes from actual personal experience), is that he doesn't have a bad relationship with his family. They are all just a bit distant, mostly only talking and seeing each other for Sunday brunch with very little interaction besides that (which makes some sense on a particular level but I won't get into it right now). So, while he doesn't actually resent his family, he wouldn't want his kid to feel that distance or coldness; it would be difficult because that's the way he's used to interact with family, it's what he learned, but he would make the effort and follow MC's lead on being a more loving parent.

Lucas and a daughter:

- The OG, my first dad!Lucas HC ever, from the Baby Challenge I've had written since last year, is that he would melt for the rest of his life if he had a daughter.

- She is a princess, she's perfect, and no human being will ever be good enough for her, don't @ him. No one is surprised by this headcanon, right?

- He can't say no to her, he just can't. Again, no one is surprised.

- Also, she grows up seeing him as the model of the ideal partner, seeing how he treats her mom and being taught that's how her partner should treat her.

- "Can I put make up on you?" "Sorry, honey, no." "… Well, can I give you another tattoo, then?" "… Okay."

- "Lucas, we can't keep buying her just dresses. She's a kid, she needs to run around and play, and be comfortable. Just let her be in a pair of trousers or shorts and a t-shirt." "Yeah, you're right… She looks so cute, though!" "Yes, but all those pretty dresses are going into the sandbox, you know?"

- "Lucas, why did you buy her a real tea set?" "What do you mean why? What did you want me to buy her? Plastic?" "Yes! It's a toy!" "I'm not buying her a set of plastic Barbie-pink cups. That's tacky." "Okay then, what do you think it's gonna happen if she drops one, it shatters, and she tries to clean it up without asking for help." "… She- she would ask for help." "You never know." *Suddenly pale Lucas*

Lucas and a son:

- If he's into them, sports! If he's not, Lucas won't force him.

- While Lucas is away he would ask mom or the nanny for one of his white shirts and pretend he's wearing a lab coat like his dad. Lucas would get him a tiny lab coat of his own, with the pockets and everything.

- Some physical play, as in putting him upside down or tickle wars type of deal.

- He would look up to his dad so much it's ridiculous. He's his hero, and his role model. He would copy his walk, the way he seats, the way he talks… So much so, people would insist they look exactly the same even if they don't because the "vibe" resemblance is that strong.

- Just imagine his face if the kid said he wanted to follow his footsteps profession-wise.

- The chats about how to treat women and how to stand up to bullies both for himself and for others…

- Quiet camaraderie when he's older.

Okay, I'll stop here again lol. Now I'm thinking about teens and Lucas, but if I get into that this will be a novel and we don't want that. Again, thanks for asking these! Now I want to write a dad!Lucas fic, damn you all.

[sugaredraspberries]

MLQC Gavin - Fluff abc headcanons

So by the popular demand - I am back.

Just kidding. No one was asking.

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen's Choice

Warnings: None (the reader is gender neutral)

Dedication: @marytheredqueen

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

You need to trust me when I tell you that Gavin had indeed tried to find at least one thing he could dislike about you. Many times.

Yet your body seems to have no flaws. He checked quite a few times at this point.

Your heart is pure. Loving. Patient. Loyal.

Whenever you’re at his side… The world is at peace. No pain exists, nor does suffering.

You are his purpose. You are his equilibrium. Nothing matters as long as he can be by your side.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Your beautiful eyes.

There will never be anything more beautiful than the way they shine before your lips meet in a loving kiss.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Him on his back.

You in his arms. Laying on top of him.

Your head rests on his chest, no matter if it’s your front, side or back that presses against his muscular torso - it’s perfect.

He also likes the smell of your shampoo… it’s just intoxicating for him.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

He likes doing things outside with you.

Attending festivals, engaging in new, interesting sports, indulging in some street food or picnics.

He’s a sucker for long, romantic walks too, soooooo

He takes you out to the festival. Buys all kinds of yummy food for both of you to share. Wins you an enormous plushie and then carries it around for you. While holding your hand. Tightly.

Then takes you for a night stroll, to then kiss you under the sky full of stars before you turn back.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

He only feels like he can really express himself around you - so it will get intense. In all the best ways.

Gavin doesn’t shy away with showing you his affection, even if he tends to have a slight problem with voicing it sometimes.

His expression softness, his fingers brush delicate circles on your skin.

He doesn’t need to say anything. You know.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

Oh he really, really wants a family.

Two kids… or maybe more.

A dog for them, maybe.

House with a big garden and a treehouse.

He wants to play and fool around with his kids. Put them to bed. Support them. Be proud of them… Everything his father never did.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

When you want something, no matter how silly it might be - it’s yours.

Don’t even make me start on what you need.

Because there are very little things (and all of them are about you) that could make him happier than seeing you happy because of what he gave you.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

It's not optional.

There will be hands holding whenever it's possible.

It’s as much for your safety as it is for his comfort. 

All these guys with eyes better don’t use them to stare at you. 

See this hand? This beautiful gem of a person is with ME.

Likes to hold your hand while snuggling on a couch. Or in bed while falling asleep.

Holding hands is like a physical projection of the bond that’s between the two of you - and he loves it.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

He would blame himself. No matter what. It might be ridiculous, but he would always feel guilty for not preventing it from happening.

Wouldn’t leave your side. Would help you with anything and everything.

If there’s a concrete person or a group of people that caused your harm... Insert a very, very angry and strong bird cop with a gun.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

You would have a light-hearted relationship in which he would tease you from time to time and he wouldn’t be mad if you did the same to him.

However he’s not one to prank you. He would find no enjoyment in it.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Gavin loves to be kissed and he loves to kiss. All over your face. All over your body.

Any kisses are game. Slow and passionate ones. Heated ones. Sweet, delicate, loving, appreciating - he loves them all as long as he can share them with you.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Acts of service - He looooves to spoil his lovely sweetheart (you) this way. Wants to bring you food, tidy up your apartment for you, brush your hair, paint your nails… Just ask him and he will do it. Whatever it is. And then he will do things on his own initiative, because he likes to surprise you. You smile so beautifully when he does…...

Gifts - He likes gift giving as I already mentioned in G, but it’s no indication of love to him. He just enjoys your reactions. Prefers to show his love differently.

Physical touch - His number one and you can not convince me it is not. He’s a snuggly bear who loves kisses. You are just so soft and warm and he loves you sosososososo much. Would never want to hold this way any other. His physical affection is something reserved only for you. 

Quality time - see Q.

Words of affirmation - Gavin is not very good with words. Not that he can’t be when he wants to, but he kinda doesn’t want to most of the time. It’s uncomfortable. He’s feeling unconfident doing so. He prefers other ways, but when he does speak up… It’s the most adorable and loving thing you will ever hear in your life.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

It was your first 'real' date, but even though you both confessed love to each other, you weren't a ‘official’ couple yet.

At least there was no proper act of becoming a one.

You walk through the park on an evening of a chilly fall. Not many people in sight.

You just finished a lovely dinner date. Gavin even bought you a dessert to share.

And it just felt right. Everything.

The way your fingers were laced. How you both couldn't spot peeping at each other.

"Will you be my girlfriend Y/N? Please?"

He sure was pretty sure you wouldn't deny him, but he didn't expect you to throw your arms around his neck and kiss him the way you did.

"Nothing could ever make me happier than that, Gavin."

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

He’s scared of losing you.

Either by you walking away from him after discovering that you “deserve so much better”

Or by not being alert enough to protect you…

Surely, he would prefer the first option, but he can’t deny that both would hit him harder than anything else ever could.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Gavin is a little bit of an odd duck in general, but I think he has one major weirdness about him.

I would call it… A Keanu Reeves complex.

He doesn’t like compliments. Always feels like they’re far from true, because he always feels like he’s not enough and maybe even never will be.

Which is so far from true.

Like, Vivi, come on! You’re so freakin perfect!

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

He usually calls you simply by your name, but the boy has his moments.

Moments when he can help but call you all sorts of the cutest names.

Little angel, starry eyes, little munchkin along with the classics like honey, babe, sweetheart, treasure and my precious.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

How?

Often.

Intensely.

Calmly.

Comfortably.

Restlessly.

He just wants to be by your side. Any. Chance. He. Gets.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Moonlight by Ariana Grande

Because Gavin’s sweet like candy, but he’s such a man...

Or A Drop In The Ocean by Ron Pope 

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

Not at all. At least at first.

He gets better with time, but you still need to ask for it. He would never just come to you to lean on your shoulder and tell you what troubles him.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

Well. A lot.

Because of what I say in X below.

He just assumes that you don’t reciprocate his feelings, because he doesn’t deserve it.

He eventually tells you about his feelings under your insistent questions regarding the subject.

And then? After he finally tells you?

That’s when it escalates quickly.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

At first he tries to keep it inside. Not let you see… But it’s pretty obvious since he doesn’t talk to you. Barely throws any acknowledgment your way.

It would take quite some convincing for him to tell you what’s wrong.

Unless it’s jealousy that is a reason behind his anger. Then he will show you just how upset he is…

Not necessary in a bad way, tho...

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He’s very proud of you. Always.

Even when you think you’re a failure, he still recognizes how hard you work and how smart you are.

And he also prides himself for earning love of a woman as wonderful as you.

But he’s not a show off. He doesn’t like to be in a center of attention. He doesn’t care for compliments or recognition.

He knows how wonderful you are and that’s all that matters to him.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Well, it goes without saying.

Yes. Obviously.

This is Gavin. He does it actively throughout the whole story like it’s the only thing he knows.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He’s not an expert in emotions.

He gave MC a blood stained letter and was surprised she was troubled by that.

Okay, let’s not sugar coat it - he’s not good at it at all. I said it.

I’m sorry. I wish it was different for you Vivi.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

I think in Gavin’s case it would be no kneeling with a ring type of thing, because he personally sees no value of that.

Of course, he would if you told him that that’s what you want, but if you don’t…

It would be a beautiful, summer evening. The both of you watching a beautiful sunset from the rooftop of a high building.

Last months you spent together were absolutely wonderful. Life with you by his side was much happier than Gavin could ever dream of… And the way the golden sunlight graces your skin is so, so beautiful.

It wasn’t the first time the thought crossed the bird cop’s mind. He caught himself thinking about it more and more often as your relationship progressed… And before he knew it, the words left his lips.

At first you were sure you must have misheard, so you asked him to repeat. And he did.

His beautiful eyes glimmered with so much love… just as much as you felt for him. 

How could you say no to that gorgeous man that adores you so much?

And after that, expect to someday come back home to find the most beautiful and meaningful ring in the world waiting for you to wear it.

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Gavin is a man who enjoys simple things in life.

He likes to cozy up with you on a couch on his birthday. 

Watch a sunrise and drink cocoa with you on Christmas.

He obviously enjoys various sports, especially if he can enjoy them with you.

But what really, really makes him perfectly calm? Driving Sparky with your hands around his ways and your chest pressed against his back.

The feeling of freedom mixed the warmth of your closeness… how could anyone ask for more?

[uwua3]

Yo! Can i ask for a cute Pirate AU with an adventure seeking MC pirate captain, who, when she and her crew are making a stop at some port, meets her childhood friend, Tenma, with whom she has romantic tension, only Tenma is a big blushing tsundere mess, and MC is verrrryyy oblivious to his blushiness, but accidentally innocently flirts with him?? If that makes sense? Also oops the soldiers have seen me, the wanted pirate, wanna get out of here and join my crew?

summary: a deal is made between a pirate captain haunted by their legacy and an island medium who wants to go home

warnings: alcohol, death (mentions), cops/police, crime, fights (physical/arguments), fires, ghosts, military, near–death experiences, pirates, slow-burn, swords, unrequited love/love triangle

author’s note: thank you so much for your patience requesting this pirate story~ i did my best to do this justice, as i love pirates more than anything! .*:ﾟ（｀・ω・´）ゝﾟ:*. this was a jolly good time to write, thank you! (please let me know if you would like a part 02 to this, as it ran longer than expected)! thank you!! :D

word count: 6,163

music: ship in a bottle – fin

captain, let’s make a deal.

☀️🌻 sumeragi tenma

even out at sea, you couldn’t escape the fire that destroyed your town years ago. the fire that made you become a pirate captain

you were born by a local village by the coast, where the air tasted like salt no matter what and trade was your community’s main economy

it was home. a place where everyone knew each other as family, where the sun was hot upon even warmer smiles and the euphoric laughter of children surrounded the island. this was the land of the happy, the free, and the united

it wasn’t until the damn navy—your first enemy until death—came

according to heresay, pirates were supposed to plunder and pillage without mercy. pirates were the villain and yet, what would the navy be then? after what they did to you, they were anything but heroes

yonaguni was made of tall palm trees that provided shade during the eternal summer that sunburnt your skin, floating markets by the pier with tricky elderly and learning apprentinces in the family business, and rare wildlife not found anywhere else

now, it was nothing more than hell. you could remember it all—how the flames licked the open wounds from navy seamen, the screams of the innocent replacing what would’ve been last words meant for decades later, the sound of crashing trees blocking every available escape route as birds flew away in the distance

you were just a yonaguni native, and now, there was nothing left of your hometown. it was permanently erased from world history forever, and you were the sole survivor of the island, making you the most wanted vigilante alive

it had been years since you last had a nightmare of the attack. was haunting your brain and traumautizing you for life during every waking hour not enough?

but, you knew the answer why you couldn’t stop mourning the loss of yonaguni

it was nearing the anniversary of your friend, sumeragi tenma’s, death

and, as you climbed to the crow’s nest with the power of the ocean running through your salted veins and spite overwhelming you in the deepest, darkest parts of yourself, you could see it over the horizon

the navy said dead men tell no tales, but you were alive, and you would be a legend

“all hands ahoy or you’ll be given no quarter!” (everyone on deck or you’ll be shown no mercy)

“aye, captain!” your crew replied eagerly, their loyalty unwavering and strong as always. you stood atop of the main mast, surrounded by vast ocean bordering a blue, cloudless sky. even without your telescope, you could see everything in the world

beneath you sounded the swing of the lines (rope) against the wind before two feet landed in the crow’s nest. the sailor had the type of agility that only came from a boy born on sea

“cap, don’t tell me ya forgot about me?” your quartermaster, rurikawa yuki, grinned (a rare sight that only came when the ocean smelt strongest of salt and treasure), standing at the ledge whilst holding onto the lines with one hand. any other novice would’ve immediately fallen off with how strong the random gusts of wind were, but yuki was an enigma and your second in command for a reason

“ahoy, yuki! so long as the jolly rodger waves, this crew will always be ready to set sail.” you responded, sliding down the mast to be in the crow’s nest as well. yuki just rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and leaning upon your frame like it was nothing

“don’t hornswaggle (cheat) me, cap. what are you thinking about?” yuki read you like a map, as expected of the second best cartographer (after master boatswain muku, of course) in all the seven seas. you tried to remain present in the moment, with the wind flowing and sky clear, but it wasn’t enough

“... tell me, yuki. is it so easy to read the distraught upon my face?” you joked, but it fell flat as yuki raised an unimpressed eyebrow at your facade. yuki didn’t take bullshit from anyone, not even his own captain

“aye, do not be acting as if you’re feeding the fish (about to die), captain.” yuki carefully watched if any of their small crew was eavesdropping, but the rest were doing their proper tasks for the morning. cartographer muku was happily reading directions to helmsman misumi. the two were a fantastic pair, considering the “sky” ship hasn’t sunken

surgeon kazunari was dutifully sanitizing his medical tools besides them, taking some time to laugh loudly at some story misumi was dramatically reenacting as he spun the wheel skillfully

“boom about!” yuki called out without looking away, already feeling it in his bones moments before anyone else could. his intuition was unheard of, and you watched no one hesitate as they ducked just in time

“sorry~!” misumi responded without any apologetic tone to his voice whatsoever. his sailor’s grin was infectious and wide, a smile only those accustomed to the fatal winds and waves of the ocean could make. just like everyone else on the “sky” ship, they all were forged by the sea

“smartly make way to land before i toss you off myself!” yuki snapped, but it held no malice. he rolled his eyes unimpressed when kazunari laughed at misumi’s sarcastic salute, knowing pirates did no such navy thing without mockery

“oh, dear yuki, how could i drown with you by my side?” you reached over to ruffle his hair, the precarious creak of the wooden mast the last thing on your mind as yuki swatted at your hand, irritated by the littlest of things as always

“you’re right, i’ll have your head first anyways.” yuki said with no malice, giving you a small frown as his calculating eyes glanced over you once more, trying to find any cracks in your confident visage. when he found nothing, he climbed back down, seemingly unsatisfied when you didn’t break under his stare

(you were one of the few on the crew who didn’t flinch. the other was misumi, who just had no fear towards anything, so it wasn’t personal. after all, misumi was the finest swashbuckler around!)

ahead, your acute sight narrowed in on the growing formation in the distance, your gut tensing before realizing it was far too large to be another ship

with a grin, you hanged over the edge (a habit that no longer scares your crew), your voice amplified as it was carried downward by the wind. it was to be expected, of course, as a yonaguni native, your town always had a special connection to nature that no one else did

“my men, turn your heads and look forward into the horizon! what do you see?”

“land, captain!”

“then let us sail faster! the sooner we reach the shores, the quicker you all can take a damn shower!”

with a shared lighthearted laugh, everyone focused on their role and position towards the land mass ahead. whether it was the possibility of smelling like something else other than a siren’s cove or something more, you smiled, forgetting about last night’s sleepless disturbances

up ahead was fukusaki, sky crew’s next location for the night

after three months or so on sea, your crew’s resources were dwindling (much faster since everyone had a bottomless appetite). it was time to visit a port town to stock up and set sail the next sunrise

sure, it was a rushed habit of yours, but it was never good to stay in one place for too long. that came with the risk of losing again...

besides, who liked a crew of pirates to suddenly come to the town square in their stained clothing and gleaming swords?

after barely securing a place to tie down the great beauty known as “sky”, entering fukusaki was like any other town. merchants upon the docks were experts at haggling prices, civilians went by with their day to day life, and the sun burned everyone’s skin just the same

but as you placed your leather boot upon the wooden dock, something inside you turned. like something had suddenly shifted in the town but you had no idea what

yuki seemed to have felt the same thing, even if his facial expression didn’t change. as kazunari kept muku from fighting with a seller for a map of the local area (misumi was unfortunately encouraging him), yuki inched closer to you, his brows furrowed

“you feel that? something isn’t right.” yuki bluntly stated, eyes scanning his surroundings like usual. except he didn’t know what he was looking for, so a frustrated sigh left his lips

“aye, feels as if someone’s running a rig (playing a trick) on us...” you murmured under your breath, careful not to alarm the returning muku with haughtiness ablaze in his eyes and sheepishness from an apologizing but relieved kazunari (it was hard to believe muku used to be shy prior to joining)

“keep a look out. let you know if somethin’s amiss.” yuki peeled away, checking in with muku asking where the closest tavern was. at the mention of alcohol, misumi jumped in, rambling about how he had already talked to a local about all the best spots

you took a moment to take a deep breath in, the scent of palm trees and fruit replacing your usual endless seas. it wasn’t unsettling, just new. your sea legs itched to return to somewhere always changing, always new, but you knew you couldn’t do that to your friends

you straightened your back and walked with the confidence of a true pirate captain, swinging both your arms around kazunari and misumi, peering down at the map with an easy smile

“alright my hearties, where to?”

this gut feeling could wait, you had a few hours to relax before everything turned upside down

of course the captain got the most inconvenient yet boring jobs that could’ve been assigned

(yuki didn’t look sorry as he happily enjoyed your childish huff at being the grocery shopper, knowing how much you hated to interact with people outside of the crew)

due to your very limited people skills, you awkwardly tried to summon your confidence to come back around all the fukusaki shop vendors. when you were with your crew, all eyes were on you and how high your head was held. but, when alone... a captain was nothing without its crew, you supposed

a messily scrawled list by kazunari was in your hand (never ask a doctor to write anything) as you tried to decipher the words, holding it up to the sun to figure out what the hell he wanted

after getting the main idea of what each person wanted within budget, you stood on the outskirts of the town square, desperately trying to decide what was the best way to approach this situation

you couldn’t appear helpless or confused! how were you supposed to haggle in this state of mind?! as you slowly spun around in a circle to view all of the sellers before settling on a rather small, unimpressive stand

maybe that meant cheaper prices! you thought cleverly, walking over with the poise of a seasoned native. with a neutral expression, you reached a wooden display with a certain swagger to your step

however... there was nothing. as you stood in the front of the set-up and realized no one was there, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. what kind of service was this? was there no one actually here to sell anything?

before you could leave, a flash of orange appeared in front of you, purple eyes wide as if surprised they even received a customer. “w-wait!” he called out, nearly falling over his own table. this kid would clearly not make it upon a ship, you thought

for whatever reason, you stopped, looking over your shoulder with an unimpressed expression at the simple boy. he was tall and lean, wearing a bandana around his orange hair and an unbuttoned shirt. it was a casual appearance unfit for a merchant

“what is it? i’ve got places to be and there’s nothing here to be sold.” you stated, a wave of shock passing over his face before solidifying in a stubborn crease in his forehead

“huh? what are you talking about? haven’t you come here to get rid of that?”

when he reached out, you jolted back, a surge of energy visible in your body. you felt that strongly, what the hell did this random merchant do to you?!

“w—calm down! stop moving or i can’t remove the yokai! you’re making this difficult.” he demanded roughly, his proper words clipped from an accent unlike any other on this island. there was a certain... twang, to his vocabulary. as if it didn’t sit right, as if it was on the tip of his tongue

so much for customer service! you didn’t listen, dodging his hand like your life depended on it. as you ducked beneath his arm, you gripped his bicep with a death glare. at your narrowed eyes, the orange-haired boy gulped and stared back with astonishment

clearly, fukusaki natives weren’t this rude

“yokai? what the hell are you blubberin’ about, kid?” you questioned, your patience thin like a century-old rope worn down by salt. he set his lips in a straight line, as if trying to assess if you were serious or not. when you didn’t budge, he yanked his arm back and rubbed the sore spot, giving in

“ghosts. you got more spirits than normal around you, they’ve been there for a long time.”

you were about to retort, but fell silent at the remembrance of yonaguni. had your ancestors been with you all this time? you almost couldn’t believe you’ve been actually haunted by their deaths for this long

“i have no ghosts. do not try to scam me.” you flatly said before turning on your heel, intent on leaving the possibility of ghosts behind before tenma took a hold on your arm this time

“but, they’re trying to tell you—”

before tenma could finish, an irritated and offended voice boomed just down the cobblestone pathway

“you dare lay your hand on our captain?!”

“yuki, wait!” the crew clambered after him, hands always short of his shirt fabric as yuki’s sword made a sickening sound when pulled out of its sheath. the orange-haired boy let go immediately, attempting to make a run for it before coming face to face with misumi, whose previous smile was cold and nonexistent

it was as if the other merchants disappeared, fearing a start of a fight would be terrible for business. tenma was caught in the middle of a 5-person circle, with yuki pointing the tip of his sword at his throat

“state your name and business for grabbing our captain like that!” yuki was adamant on proving his sword was real by putting it closer to the boy’s adam’s apple. he tried not to shake under the pressure, but you noticed how his feet had no shoes and looked ready to run to anywhere but here

“um... t��johnny. it’s johnny, and i simply belong to a family of fukusaki mediums, that’s all.” johnny(?) said, as if trying to convince himself. all of you secretly exchanged a look, trying to decide whether or not to believe this so-called johnny

“you see ghosts?” yuki scoffed, his position already clear on the issue. ever since you two have met, you knew yuki never believed in anything involving the supernatural. after all, so many mysteries were hidden in the ocean, yuki doubted anything could scare him on land

but, you... you’re starting to believe johnny as you notice his eyes waver towards you. maybe not so much you, but whatever was surrounding you

“yes, sir. i can communicate with them as well. ever since i was a young boy, i’ve brought peace to the dead.” your head snapped towards him at that, something inside of you turning

that boy could bring your ancestors peace? could it be too good to be true? as if hearing your thoughts, johnny nodded to reaffirm your beliefs

before anyone else can join in on the questioning, you held your hand up and everyone fell silent, waiting for your next words. you could easily tell yuki to kill this boy and he would... but you won’t

“how much are your services?”

johnny blinked, clearly not used to this question as he mentally calculated whatever in his head. “uh... i usually don’t get paid.”

“if we took you on your ship, how much then?” (you immediately hushed a protesting yuki and wary crew)

“my payment wouldn’t be money.” johnny quickly said, almost shocking himself with how fast that answer came. you raised an eyebrow at that, about to question his terms before muku turned, eyebrows furrowed

“there’s someone coming.” muku whispered in a hush, immediately on guard as everyone shifted to a defensive position. at the first sound of a boot on ground, kazunari’s eyes widened. a telltale sign of the cop’s traditional uniform, which kazunari knew better than most

“go! go! go!” you ordered, everyone taking off running. without thinking, you took a hold of johnny’s hand. he squeezed it without flinching, turning and impressively staying by your side even as you got faster and faster

you were fast, but you despised running with a passion. if you closed your eyes longer than a blink, you could almost smell the smoke and crack of the tree trunks. for some reason, johnny smelt like coconut, and that humored you to a certain extent as your crew ran for their lives from the officers. someone must’ve alerted local authorities nearby...

even with a map, muku was lost to the island’s complex system. despite being quick on his feet, muku’s eyes frantically analyzed the outdated lines and pressed his lips into a straight line out of frustration. you knew you should’ve stepped in, but what could you have done?

“follow me!” johnny whispered hurriedly, turning into a waypoint before stopping and looking back. your crew subconsciously looked towards you as well, as if asking if this fukasaki native was trustworthy

though, it’s not like you had a choice now

you ran with johnny, the rest of your crew following suit. when you reached a dead end, you expected this to be a mistake before johnny nimbly flung himself up the ivy-covered wall, landing with a hard thud as if he hadn’t done so in a long time. ignoring the pain, johnny extended his hand an impressive height away

“grab my hand and we’ll be free!” pirates weren’t one to say no to freedom (or put all their coins in one chest...), so you got down to provide a boost to your crew mates. it wasn’t a time to be noble, so they all took your support without complaining, easily being able to run past johnny

when it was your turn, the sound of polished boots grew increasingly closer, much to your chagrin. you backed up quietly, gulping and trying not to look behind you as you glanced up. both johnny and yuki were standing there, their hands extended as you got a running start

you closed your eyes, breathed in the imaginary smoke, and leaped, feeling the grip of both their hands upon yours as they helped you up. just as you ducked beneath the foliage, you breathed a sigh of relief as the officers ran by without sparing a second look

when you opened your eyes, you noticed johnny was still holding your hand, his fist tight around yours as you could practically feel his heartbeat through leaning on his shoulder

you got up to thank johnny before noticing yuki’s uncharacteristic quietness and the way his eyes looked between you and johnny... as if he was betrayed

you didn’t think more of it despite the sinking feeling in your stomach

it was a night to celebrate! escaping the cops was no easy feat, especially on a foreign island. your crew, who had taken a liking to johnny’s ability to hold his own, invited him to drinks (not that they needed guidance to the safest tavern, of course...)

you nursed your own drink of choice at a rickety table with the crew, watching as they became less like pirates and more like their own ages with a few drinks and good music. yuki didn’t drink, which was something that had always occurred no matter where they went

johnny was flustered under all the attention, or it was the alcohol everyone insisted he could keep down. you stifled a chuckle when kazunari hooked his arm around tenma’s neck and ruffled his hair, the look upon his face priceless

you took a sip before lowering the cup’s rim, noticing yuki’s wary gaze. he met your eye with a frown, as if hesitating on what to say next. once again, how strange

“captain,” at that, you tried not to outwardly wince. it wasn’t common for yuki to be so... formal with you, at least. “do you truly intend on bringing this stranger with us?”

“johnny is no stranger anymore, yuki. he saved our lives, we are indebted to him.” you flatly said, glancing at johnny once more. yuki huffed, clearly disagreeing with your opinion as he rolled his eyes

“we would’ve been just fine without him. plus, he’s a medium! how do you know he’s the real deal, anyways?”

“i just... know.” you tried to elaborate, but it fell on deaf ears. there were some parts of your past you just couldn’t elaborate on, some parts that wouldn’t make sense to a non-yonaguni native

yuki slammed his water on the wooden table, a sound barely distinguishable in the rowdy atmosphere before getting up with a skid of the stool. he silently left, no doubt heading back to the docks where the stars shined the brightest and moon made things shrouded in dark more visible

you got up and followed without speaking another word. the crew knew disagreements between you & yuki were far and few, so there was no time to ask silly questions

when you reached the outside, the salt in the air and muffled sound of everyone having fun made you stop. behind you, you noticed the door didn’t slam completely as a quick-footed pair of feet made their way besides you

“are... you okay?” johnny asked, his hands in his linen pockets as you exhaled, nodding as you leaned onto the wall. johnny stiffly stood by the door, as if guarding it

“yeah, yeah. i am... just a little tussle, that’s all.” you sounded as if you were trying to convince yourself, but neither of you pointed it out. a few moments of awkward silence passed, before johnny cleared his throat

“okay, i didn’t hear nothin’. just... heard the spirits around you get loud.”

there he went again about the ghosts and spirits! you subconsciously patted your hair down flat, turning to look at johnny with yuki-like skepticism in your narrowed eyes

“how can you see there are ghosts on me? how do i know you’re not pullin’ my leg?” you suspiciously questioned, watching as johnny bristled under the attention. it seemed as if the island natives didn’t question his credibility as a medium

“you know i’m right. you have tens, maybe more, spirits attached to you. i can help you take them away, for a price, of course.”

“which is?”

“i want to find an island lost to me long ago.”

if you blinked, you could’ve sworn you were talking to a past-version of yourself. why did that request seem so familiar?

“do you know its name?”

“nay... my family refuses to tell me anything about where i’m from. all i know is the navy is the reason i lost my parents.”

“mine too.” you admitted with a breath and the conversation paused, you two sharing an understanding expression of sympathy but unshakable faith. you two understood each other despite knowing one another for a few hours

“then, is it settled?” johnny held out his hand, which you took with a firm grip. his palms were soft for an islander, funny enough. he must’ve thought differently since this was one of the few times you took off your leather gloves

“as long as you bring peace to my ancestors, you’re comin’ with me.”

when the hours became late and you ultimately decided everyone passed their limit a long time ago, you and johnny led them all to their barracks with laughs and humor in the air

when you reached the docks, yuki was barely noticeable in the night as he stood upon the mast of the ship, his hair waving in the wind like a flag

he didn’t look at you, not once, so you didn’t climb up. how could you when johnny was holding your hand with his eyes flickering back to you, or whatever was around you?

you introduced johnny to his new quarters and left him to be, feeling free for once in your life that night

morning came with the unfurling of your sails and your position in the crow’s nest. the sky was blue and cloudless, just like everyone predicted as the sea welcomed your crew into its arms

“ahoy, my hearties! off we go to find our next treasure!” you commanded joyously, the crew hurrah-ing in return at your enthusiasm. like most pirates did, your crew’s goal when off-land was to find a ship to rob and make off with their goods

you turned to the side, about to say something before realizing yuki wasn’t next to you. he must’ve slept in, that’s all. you didn’t question it even if he was always on time the years you knew him

disguising your expression of disappointment, you left your crew to their own means, sliding down the mast as per usual. when you landed, you noticed johnny standing awkwardly to the side as everyone was doing their own job

“hey, johnny! what are you muckin’ around for?” you questioned lightheartedly, slamming your freshly-shined boots (after an unfortunate drunk throw-up incident) upon the oak boards. johnny flinched from the sound, unaccustomed to the constantly-busy atmosphere of a large ship

“do you... need any help? i kinda, feel guilty just lazing about in my quarters.” johnny confessed, a red flush against his face as he rubbed the back of his permanently-sunburned neck. you were taken back for a moment, not used to being offered help

“um... you seem to know how to throw a person off their rhythm! i have nothing on mind as of now, hmmm....” after much consideration, you snapped your fingers with a start. “perhaps consider shadowing me for today! get the feel of a captain’s life—”

“no need, captain. i will take him off your hands for you.”

you turned to see yuki besides you, his feet silent and eyes attentive as always. you sensed the tension still imbedded between you two, gulping as you tugged at the collar of your shirt. for some reason, you immediately felt disappointed at the missing opportunity of tenma being with you

why were you feeling this way?! there was no reason to think like that as a busy, efficient pirate captain!

“thank you, yuki. return him in one piece, alright?” you joked, turning away to review what needed to be done that day. as you left, you didn’t notice yuki place a cold grip on johnny’s shoulder with an uncharacteristically eerie stoic pose

johnny looked after you, wondering what was behind that shroud of spirits who wanted nothing more than to see you freed of them

“you’re quite lucky the captain has taken quite a liking to you, johnny, was it?”

yuki & johnny found themselves ending the ship’s tour in the underground of the main deck, located along the cannons placed in their corresponding holes. the smell of gunpowder and flint was nearly suffocating, but yuki moved with ease and seemed to revel in johnny’s tight expression

“y-yes... the captain is very kind and charitable to take me on board.” johnny managed to get out without coughing, his eyes inspecting the materials and wondered how loud it truly was during battle

“you agreed to come so soon. you have no family of your own?” yuki asked innocently, mindlessly fixing the placements of the bombs behind the barrels. johnny shook his head, explaining it wasn’t an emotional attachment he had to fukusaki

“how... suspiciously fortunate.” yuki deadpanned, suddenly whipping around with a blank stare. it caught johnny off guard, who nearly stumbled back into a cannon. yuki wasn’t armed, but his tense demeanor and personality change was jarring

“listen, kid, i’ve got no clue who you are, but you have no reason to be upon this ship.” with every word, yuki seemed to come closer until his pointer finger pushed in the center of johnny’s chest

“you may have fooled everyone else, but our captain has always been too naive. i see right through you, johnny. who are you, really?”

johnny shuddered, backed against the wall and desperately holding onto anything that can keep his wobbly legs up. he didn’t know if it was the rocky seas or yuki’s simmering anger, but he felt like he was staring straight into one of those cannons

“i’m johnny, an island medium who sees ghosts on your captain. it is my duty to let them go, that’s all.”

a moment passed, before yuki took a few steps back. before johnny could react, he found the tip of a real sword pointed at his neck once again

“you’re lying, i know it. do not make me ask you again, who are you?”

johnny tried to remain placid in the face of a weapon, but he gritted his teeth and couldn’t help himself

“why the hell does it matter to you? are you in love with your captain or something?!”

silence, then yuki lowered his sword. he sheathed it back, before turning and leaving without another word. johnny let out a deep breath, sinking to the floor as he closed his eyes

if johnny listened hard enough, he could hear your spirits try to communicate with him. but, their voices were garbled and unlike anything he’s heard before. who were you and why was he here?

the first time you & johnny met in terms of spirits was two weeks after a pattern of sleepless nights

he already found you teetering close to the edge, your hands folded as you searched for something, or someone, past the blackened seas

it was as if some savage sea monster had spilt its ink-like blood into the waters, the once blue surface that reflected lucky skies now murky and as mysterious as the dark side of the moon

with your usual guarded glint now gone, you still seemed just as capable to be the one responsible for such dark seas

“good evening.” johnny mumbled lowly, placing the lantern besides his feet as he made his way next to you. you hummed, not particularly fazed by his sudden appearance despite not paying attention. it’s as if you had eyes in the back of your head, like a sea monster

“i suppose fukusaki isn’t used to the rocking of wooden ships?” you retorted, to which johnny sharply exhaled through his nose, a sign of amusement at your observation

“nay, but... i haven’t been able to properly maintain my sleep schedule ever since boarding. your spirits... are rather loud for ghosts.”

you full-on laughed at this, disturbing the intimate atmosphere between you two. johnny couldn’t help but smile at your worn-down exterior. you presented yourself like you were made of a glass bottle, but you were as intricate as a carved artisan ship

“try living with them your whole life, boy, then you can start complaining about their volume.” you jested lightheartedly, offering a soft smile at the newest recruit. as you leaned back onto the railing of the ship, you watched the constant surface of the waves, as if you could anchor your endless thoughts to davey jone’s locker

johnny mimicked your position, his elbow knocking into yours. his hands were much too soft for a seasoned sailor, you noticed this in the dim lantern light. for a moment, you let your impulses take over and you wondered how they felt against yours

“pardon my words, but when will you let me speak to them? i can never find you through the day...” johnny began to ask, but trailed off when your salted eyes and weariness became apparent in the way you exhaled quietly

“it is not your fault but mine, johnny. this is my ship and i am the captain, that’s all. i cannot allow myself to suddenly become weak in case i am needed.” you spoke like a true hero, well, as much of a hero a pirate could be

johnny didn’t exactly understand, considering he just got up and left his entire life on a whim of a promise to find out who he was. but, he nodded anyways, watching blurred movements of entities swirl around your head like troubled smoke

“what about now? will you let me—?” when johnny reached out, you immediately stepped back, your lips pressed in a straight line as if restraining your true reaction

“you look for every reason to touch me, don’t you?” you tried to force it out like it was nothing, but it was clear how your boots twisted like they were prepared to run away

when was the last time someone physically comforted you in any sense? or... comforted you at all?

“captain...” johnny mumbled, eyes wide with pity and you couldn’t stand it. he called you captain, but he didn’t revere you like a typical person would. he didn’t flinch at your sword or head held high, it was unnerving

“what is the purpose of having a crew if they cannot help you through this?”

the wind wailing against your ears reminded you of how little time there was in a day, and how the sun would rise soon and this cycle of pretending everything was okay would begin again

it was maddening, to live the same day again and again with no change

johnny perhaps was someone you looked forward to, a diversion from the expected

“do you consider yourself apart of my crew, then?” when johnny took a moment to think, you wondered what he was remembering. was it the night where misumi pretended to fall over board to scare everyone or was it when kazunari didn’t react to seeing a skeleton that time? was it when muku could predict every type of weather for the next day without fail or when yuki finally cracked at a joke after a hour of pretending nothing was funny?

or, was it when you two shared glances across the deck, clinked your glasses a little too long, or when your hands ghosted over another when pulling lines?

“yes, your crew is my own as well. and like them, i wish to help you, if you’d let me.”

you always found yourself unsure around johnny, unaware of how to respond in a way worthy of your pirate captain title. as you hesitated, johnny looked you in the eyes and his eyes reminded you of storm clouds thundering in the distance

“why else would you take me on the ‘sky’? if you didn’t want help?”

perhaps those were words you would reveal later, but you couldn’t bring yourself to share the real answer. it was a gut feeling that your world would be turned upside down, and you were right when you felt your throat dry at johnny’s hopeful gaze

johnny continued on, straightening his usual bent posture and his voice carried, like he was one with nature. as if they supported him unconditionally

“i know this is your own battle to win and this is your ship and you are my—our captain, but please... let’s make a deal.”

you stood, intrigued, as you witnessed a side of johnny never seen before. once meek, once easily intimidated, now talked to you like an equal

“let’s promise to say things we both really feel. be honest with me, do you want me to help? to remove the spirits and let them move on?” when you nodded, johnny let out a breath of relief and moved closer, gathering your hands in his. when you didn’t pull away and only tensed, he spoke as if he was sure things would change

“i can help you, i can make them go away. you bring me back to my home, i let your spirits go home. deal?”

“is that how you truly feel?”

“and more.” johnny’s eyes glanced down, and you felt your heart stutter as if the surface rocked

“i feel the same way. i wish to help you.”

that night, you remembered for the first time in a long time, a captain was nothing without its crew

[bored-storyteller]

How would the the dorm leaders react to a mc having a mental breakdown from stress? Please.🙇‍♀️💕

So, for convenience I divide this request into two parts (I will do it for all requests concerning all leaders), so this is the first part with the first three leaders! 🌸

Furthermore, as far as mental breakdown is concerned, in reality reactions and symptoms can be manifold, I remained on something light (if we mean the same thing). I hope you like it anyway! ❤️

13- Twisted Wonderland- Dorm Leaders x down!s/o pt. 1

Riddle Rosehearts

· Riddle is basically used to being under stress and is used to keeping people around him under stress, so he doesn't immediately notice the problem of s/o, or at least he doesn't connect to the fact that maybe they are too stressed.

· He perhaps notes that the body of s/o becomes thinner and at the same time tense. He wonders if s/o is following a proper diet and every now and then he might even scold them for not eating properly.

·It may be disadvantageous to have relationships with him in a similar situation. Just because he loves and appreciates s/o, Riddle could expect a lot from them, and between the study, the school responsibilities and also the orders and rules of the leader, life cannot be simple at all.

· In recent times, Riddle's heart may have become a little more worried when he sees s/o's eyes more dull than usual, and with heavy dark circles under their lower eyelids. But since it is the tests period he can imagine that it is because of the night study. Still, s/o should close the books at night.

All of Riddle's rigidity, however, collapses when he glimpses the figure of s/o in the library, curled up on itself, trembling and shaken by violent sobs that apparently cannot hold back. He hasn't figured out what's going on yet, but he rushes to them with concern.

"S/o, what happens?"

The question naturally comes from his lips, immediate, perhaps too hasty to show empathy, but still, he feels as if that tears were his fault even if he doesn't know the cause.

"I can’t."

The trembling voice of s/o responds as soon as it reaches them, and Riddle suddenly hears it the world collapsing on him. Even if they replied they don't seem to really realize that he is there, they seem destroyed.

"I can't do it anymore. I can't pass the tests, I can't meet all deadlines. They will reject me, they will hate me ..."

The crying does not end, and what worries Riddle the most is that they are on the book of their favorite subject! It is certain that they could not fail the test even if they wanted to! How much did they have to endure to break where the problem isn't there?

He is ashamed of himself. Has he never noticed this situation? What kind of leader is he? He doesn't really know what to do, but he knows he has to do something.

A little hesitant, he puts a reassuring hand on their shoulder, and he is amazed at how violent their tremor is.

"You will make it. You have always been strong ... here ... it is a difficult time for everyone."

He certainly can't be convincing, Trey would be much better than he is. But he can't let himself go with s/o, he doesn't want them to be ruined. So, he try to think of the words that would have made him feel better if he had found himself so alone, as it seems to be s/o.

"I am proud of you and I am proud even if you sometimes fail."

It's probably the most beautiful and profound thing Riddle can say to someone in need.

Carefully squeezes the shoulder of s/o. Slowly their eyes land on him, moist but somehow raised.

"Sorry ..." they murmur, sitting down on the chair again.

Riddle does not get too upset, but remains there with them until they have finished studying, leaning against the back of their chair, pretending to absently read a book that does not interest him at all.

Leona Kingscholar

· Ok the relaxation with which Leona seems (seems) to take everything that happens stresses practically everyone around him. He does not show that it has really big requests despite continuous orders, but the simple fact that he is present - even if he sleeps - requires that everything goes exactly as he wants.

· Well, there are people who know how to bear it, like Ruggie, but while s/o suffer the weight of the tests on their shoulders the simple presence of the prince (however much they may love him) becomes unbearable for them. But obviously they would never dare to tell him or deny him something

·The way out of that period seems increasingly distant, almost non-existent. Also a little problem becomes giant for s/o and more and more often they lack their breath for no reason, nor are they able to sleep without having nightmares. Some nightmares concern the Savanaclaw leader. Although they have never been reprimanded by Leona, the anxiety that came from his presence has now turned into fear.

· S/o cannot please Leona, they cannot pass the tests, they cannot perform the tasks of Professor Crewel or those of Professor Trein. They don't feel the strength to do all this, nor do they feel the skills. They feel as if every second someone is looking at them and judging them. Their muscles are always tense and they can't help being alert.

· Obviously Leona doesn't notice anything. S/o have always done everything alone, he doesn't really see the problem. In short, everyone is stressed during the tests.

S/o hope that the fresh solitary air of that point in the garden and the music in the ears can erase a possible failure from their mind, while the book of ancient curses lies open on their legs.

But as sweet and relaxing the music can be, it has the effect of isolating them even more from the world, a world that now scares them too much. When something touches their shoulder it is as if everything breaks: their mind and body are shattered.

S/o screams.

No, it's not a simple scream. This is a scream of pure terror, which makes them jump on their feet and then curls them on the ground. Not even Leona can predict a similar reaction to his touch. For a moment he thought his hand had burned them.

“Calm down, herbivore!” He exclaims reflexively. He didn't even understand that he was the cause. He remains there, still staring at the curled up figure of s/o with his heart beating fast in his chest and his ears flat against his head.

"I can't do it, ok ?!" The voice of s/o is high and distressed as they hold their hair in their hands "I can't do what you ask me! I can't pass this stupid test and I can't get out of this school ever again! Don't get angry! It doesn't matter how much I try, I will never be able to do all this ... "

Leona's ears barely move. Damn, why don't people talk from the start? He barely growls as he rubs his hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm not angry, stupid herbivore."

The words are not so kind, but his voice is softer than usual. It's not that he doesn't understand that feeling at all. He met it long ago.

"Listen to me, nobody ever died from failing a test, so please get your little head in order."

With those words he bends slightly to carefully take the arms of s/o, to help them get up. It's a gentle touch to be Leona's touch.

He gently drives s/o back lean against the tree trunk and then, as if he always does, sits next to them, leaning over the study book to see the topic addressed.

"What are your problems? It seems to me that you answer the questions well ..." he doesn't wait for the sobs of s/o to subside completely, he let them explain their problems to him with a broken voice, but he remains patient, even if he can't help yawning occasionally or nodding boredly.

But on the other hand, at the end of the day he heard over thirty pages of ancient curses repeated aloud, he is not to blame. In truth, his job is to take care of the puppies, isn't it?

"You will pass it for sure, and you will pass the rest too, so stop worrying."

With one last big yawn Leona gets up, and after having playfully stroked s/o's head he goes towards the school.

It is strange, even if the tests have not passed yet, s/o feel more calm, right?

They smile, and before Leona disappears from view they turn to him with a new charge of energy: "Tomorrow I will buy you lunch for you!"

Azul Ashengrotto

· S/o spend a lot of time at the Monster Lounge during the testing period. The tension they feel about this is such a lot that they do everything to try to relieve it a little.

· The local staff don't mind; they are a polite and kind person. Even if they spend a lot of time there, it's not a problem. In addition, they never forget to bring a good income to the club, whether they are there with friends or in solitude.

· But the closer the test time approaches, the more problems in the s/o's head begin to weigh and their insecurities surface. They feel a total nullity. They will never be able to overcome everything. Never. All the commitments accumulate in a single suffocating week that will never end. They hate it, they can never do it.

· S/o don't know, but their long visits have not left Octavinelle's dorm leader indifferent. He always has an eye for them, they are loyal customers after all.

· Although he will not admit it, but Azul also has a certain eye for certain attitudes. He knows the insecurity and perceives it in the gaze of s/o and in their tired body, of those who cannot rest well at night because of a thousand thoughts.

Is the day before the test most hated by s/o. They studied a lot, but their mind refused to learn. They have faced a thousand chores in the last few days, Grim more than once had put them in trouble, and now they no longer feel the strength. And everything has yet to begin.

There is no way that they can pass tomorrow's test, nor the others, nor that they can satisfy everyone and fulfill all their duties. How can one person do everything? They are nothing but a failure.

In the Monster Lounge s/o hoped to forget this fear that lurked in their stomach, but it was useless.

Even sitting at the table in front of a glass and two empty cups their lips continue to try to repeat what they need to know, and every time the words are missing panic increases dramatically.

At the last block s/o they can no longer bear themselves, and covering their faces with their hands they collapse into a silent cry. If they could, they would like to disappear from there.

"We're going to close." The voice of the founder of the place only worsens the situation.

Oh no, what are they up to? Raising their faces in terror, they realize that they are the only ones left in there.

They would like to apologize and rush out, but terror and tears prevent them.

The arms return to cover the face while they curl up on the table, unable to do anything else. They would like to scream, but they cannot, they are already pathetic like this.

"Oh dear, I can't let a customer react like this in my cafe." His voice is quiet, perhaps even a little amused as he sits next to the sad trembling figure.

His proximity makes s/o feel even more oppressed. Being under the eyes of others is the worst thing that could have happened at that time, yet the crying only becomes louder.

What will happen? He will propose them a kind of deal? Will he blackmail them? Or will he just laugh at them?

"Please don't say anything! Pretend I don't exist! I beg you ... I can't do it! I can't do it!"

The words from their lips come out like a prayer, but Azul smiles as if nothing had happened.

"Come on, why don't you explain to me what reduced you to such a pitiful state? I'm not bad at helping people."

He has already heard them, he knows what was whispering coming out of their lips. So even if they don't answer his question, he kindly hands them the handkerchief.

"Let's make a deal between us. I will help you study, so that at the end of this horrendous session you have passed all the written tests."

The eyes of s/o open in panic. No no no, they can't stand it. What will he ever ask? To work there? They could never! They are not capable enough.

But before s/o can open his mouth to refuse Azul laughs, simply messing up their hair. His face seems decidedly amused, even pleased.

"Don't make that scared face, you don't need it. I wouldn't mind if you just sat a little near the counter. You know, I'm sure you would bring more money than you already do."

Before s/o can even accept, the hated test subject book is already open on the table in front of them. Azul holds the sign with his finger.

"Obviously this if you pass the test, but believe me, you just need not to panic. I know you can do it."

[d-p-f-m]

Obey me: Asmodeus x fem!MC | Imagine

Genre: Fluff, (slight) Angst

Trigger warning: mentions of minor character death/suicide

Word count: 1820

Author's note:

I don't even write for Obey me or anything otome related at the moment, but I just had to get this idea out of my system so I can sleep peacefully and thought I'd share it here, because there's not nearly enough Asmo content out there and some of my fellow Asmodeus stans might appreciate it. This man deserves more love!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!💞

♠️♥️♣️♦️♠️♥️♣️♦️♠️♥️♣️♦️

▪Imagine a universe where it's canon that every brother owns a ring with their sin's symbol engraved in it, but Asmo's ring has been missing for a very long time without anyone knowing what happened with it because he never gives a straight answer when confronted about it

▪when MC first arrives in devildom for the exchange program, she wears the ring on a necklace around her neck, seeing as it was passed down from mother to daughter as her family's heirloom through generations

▪with six of the brothers owning a similar ring to hers, it doesn't take her very long to put two and two together. Although, once she finds out it's in fact Asmo's ring, she doesn't tell him right away, because he's not particulary responsive as she subtly questions him about the whereabouts of his ring and she's scared of the real reason why it could be in her possession

▪Maybe one of her ancestors stole it from him? Maybe it's a sign to signal that her bloodline is indepted to the avatar of lust due to some deal someone made with him eons ago? Honestly, it could have so many reasons and a lot of them make her worry that it would have negative consequences for her, if anyone found out

▪Asmo simply tells her, that he lost the ring to a woman who died before he could take it back from her and for some reason, his words make her think of the recurring nightmare that would often cause her to startle awake growing up. Anxiously, MC asks him if the woman drowned before she can think better of it

▪eyeing her warily, he confirms her suspicion, asking her how she could have randomly guessed it right. Although, unable to grasp the weird feeling that overcame her while talking about the long deceased woman, she just brushes it off as a strange coincidence

▪she starts to wear the ring less while she's around Asmo, to hide it from him until she knows she can fully trust the demon brothers

▪one time, as she stays over at his room for a sleep-over, he almost gets a glimpse at it when it slips out from the collar of her loose pajama shirt and she doesn't want to risk him seeing it again. Because for all she knows, he could get mad at her for having it. Even though she can't really understand why she has it herself

▪over time, MC and Asmo gradually grow closer

▪they don't have any kind of sexual relationship, because MC wants to genuinely love and be loved by someone before giving all of herself to them

▪while Asmo respects her decision, it obviously doesn't stop him from playfully flirting with her and due to both their affectionate natures, they develop a close friendship that involves constant casual touches and cuddling

▪every time Asmo does try to initiate anything sexual between them out of habit -since it's the only outcome people usually seek from interactions with the avatar of lust and he's not used to someone actually enjoying his company for just his company alone- MC stops him gently and tells him she'd much rather just cuddle or spend time with him in general

▪Asmo appreciates and looks forward to their shared quality time a lot and he slowly starts to accept the fact that, yes, MC's not out there to use him in any way but instead actually cares for him and his feelings

▪it shows in little, almost insignificant gestures. Like her going out of her way to do favors for him, or how she always asks if he's comfortable with the smallest of things, or even how she makes sure to get his opinion on matters where people would usually just assume they know what he thinks, according to his sin and self-imposed image

▪from time to time he even prioritizes MC's innocent, loving touches over the pleasure his usual hook-ups could bring, staying in and spending his nights cuddled up to her instead of going out to party more often than not as the months pass by

▪without neither of them really acknowledging it, they both develop deeper, romantic feelings for each other over the course of the exchange period

▪one day, as MC cleans her room, (that Mammon wrecked while searching for something to sell lol), she realizes the small casket with Asmo's ring is missing from where she had put it and she immediately rushes after the second-born, who had just left her bedroom before she came in, in case he took it. As it turns out, he did

▪when Mammon realizes how important the casket is to her, he remorsefully gives it back and she returns to her room to hide it again but just as she's about to put it away, Asmo comes strolling in

▪seeing the fancy box, he grabs it from her to take a look inside out of curiosity and when he recognizes his ring, he freezes

▪feeling guilty about keeping the ring a secret for so long, MC calmly asks Asmo to let her explain

▪she tells him that her mother gave it to her once she had turned sixteen, but she hadn't been able to teach MC anything about its origins besides that it had been passed down between family members for centuries

▪after listening to her, Asmodeus grows quiet for a while, before finally opening up a little about how he lost the ring

▪a few millennia prior to the present events with MC, while Diavolo's father was still actively ruling and it was allowed for higher-ranking demons to freely roam between the human realm and devildom, Asmo would often times visit the humans to play with people's hearts and desires

▪one day, as he was passing through a small village, he met a young woman who didn't succumb to his charms

▪she was nice and courteous towards him while they interacted, but his powers never had any actual effect and determined to defile her someday, he payed the village more visits any chance he got

▪seeing as it was one of the rare times during the day where he would get her alone, he would often join her as she spent her evenings sitting at her favorite place on the edge of a cliff, located just outside the village

▪while he tried to find a way to get the frustratingly untainted woman to give in to her deepest desires, they would talk about anything that came to their minds and over time, Asmodeus had to admit he quite enjoyed her presence

▪slowly but surely, he came to care for her once he realized that she genuinely cared for him and even though he never admitted it out loud, her friendship was something he secretly cherished

▪as they were sitting side by side one night, like many times before, the woman suddenly admitted to him that she always feared he would stop visiting her someday. That he would find someone who was willing to indulge in him in more ways than she could allow herself to and that he would eventually get tired of her company

▪while she didn't know about his true demonic nature, she had always been aware that he wasn't exactly human per se and it was only natural for her to believe that he was simply playing with her to fight the boredom that overcame him occasionally. Which, initially, had been true

▪that's when he decided to give her his ring.

▪uncharacteristically keen to reassure her he would keep visiting, unless she told him to stop, he slid the ring from his finger and onto hers instead, telling her to guard it until he'd demand it back one day

▪from this day on, she would often times invite him into her home to talk in the comfort of her bedroom instead of at the cliff and Asmodeus would rest his head in her lap while she went on about a new topic every time, gently caressing his hair or playing with the fabric of his clothes in the process

▪when she told him one night, that her father was in desperate need for money and therefore planned to marry her off to a wealthy merchant with a reputation to be cruel and violent towards women, Asmo felt a strange and long forgotten urge to protect her

▪the last person that had made him feel this way was Lilith and without really thinking it through, he offered to take her away with him

▪although, she declined his offer with a mournful smile, explaining how, even though she cared for Asmodeus deeply and wanted nothing more than to stay with him, she could never live with herself if she left her family behind for her own benefit and that she still had time to convince her father to drop his idea, before the merchant would come to take her with him

▪Asmo didn't want to upset her, by ignoring her wishes and taking her away by force, so he reluctantly accepted her decision, thinking he still had time to convince her to run away, but when he came by to check on her a few days later, she was nowhere to be found

▪it turned out she had committed suicide by jumping off the cliff and drowning herself, the morning after Asmodeus had last visited her

▪he always thought that his ring had been buried with her (let's just pretend she had a proper burial, even though at that time, suicide was probably considered a sin and not excepted by society. Maybe her family buried her in secret) and that's why he never found it, when in reality, her brother had taken it, to later give it to his own daughter in memory of his lost sister

▪after Asmo finishes with the story behind his ring's disappearance, MC quickly realizes that she has to be a descendant of the woman's bloodline (which is also Lilith's human bloodline, hence why both of them are immune to Asmo's powers)

▪she attempts to give the ring back to him, because, surely, that's what both the woman and Asmo would want. But he stops her and puts the necklace the ring is attached to around her neck, before explaining that he wants her to keep it, since his promise to someday return to claim it back still stands and he doesn't plan on leaving MC's side any time soon, anyway

▪if anything, MC finding her way to him after so many centuries just means their encounter was predetermined all along and he made the right choice by entrusting his ring to her ancestor all those years ago

▪(maybe he even thinks that him finding genuine love for the first time with MC was fate as well, but he'll have a lot of time to entertain this line thought in the future.)

🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂

Additional note:

Damn, I want to see a full version of this, but with life butting in every 5 seconds, I don't really have the time or energy for it. So, if there's a talented writer out there who loves this idea as much as I do and wants to turn it into an endlessly ongoing, multi-chaptered slow burn, pls (PLS!!!) do and mention me in your post, so I can read it!! I could really need this story right now.

Alright, Imma go to sleep now. Bye guys🔥

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

[utterlyinevitable]

Your Ethan in love valentines was so cute! What about Bryce celebrating Christmas?

Thank you! ngl it was my first hc ever and idk how they work.. 

I love me some Bryce 🥰

Bryce and MC (Becca) Celebrating Christmas During Second Year

This year, with everything going on, most of the gang was unlucky to have some of the holiday season off. None of them really minded, they knew it was part of the job. 

Becca’s family hasn’t really celebrated a proper Christmas since she went off to college. Now that she has a couple nephews, her extended family gets together the week before the holiday to celebrate with the babies. She spends three days back in New York to decompress before her 20-hour shifts. 

Keiki is the only one who has a problem with the gang working themselves sick. She’s only back for two weeks and wants to spend some time with her brother and his chosen family. 

Bryce bargained with his colleagues to get an early shift Christmas Eve to go pick Keiki up and then off Christmas Day to spend time with his sister. 

Keiki is so appalled at how messy Bryce let the apartment become in her absence and his total lack of decorations. Especially since when she told him Halloween was her favorite holiday he turned the one-bedroom apartment into a glorified haunted house. Now, there’s not a single nod to the winter holiday aside from the little pile of Amazon boxes next to the sideboard. 

Once they dropped Keiki’s bags off, Bryce promised they’d go to Target and pick up some decorations. 

Keiki was so mad she texted MC, yelling at her for letting Bryce forget what’s important. When MC didn’t text back after 40-minutes, Keiki then yelled at MC for being too much of a workaholic. Keiki may be young, but she understands the importance of a work-life balance. She wishes the doctor’s around her understood too. 

Bryce and Keiki end up getting a medium-sized tabletop Christmas tree with the lights installed, and a few mismatched baubles that sparked joy. They got some cotton trimming to cut out snowflakes, a little wreath for the door, and a runner with cartoon snowmen for the island. Keiki was really disappointed at the lack of sun-themed Santa Claus’ and palm tress. Bryce had to remind her they’re in the Northeast and absolutely no one here has had warm weather at Christmas. 

On their way home they ordered Chinese food. Some delicious, greasy food to get them through their late-night decorating. 

The Lahela’s had finally gotten the tree to stand up straight - Bryce may be good at putting people back together, but he can’t figure out how to put together a plastic stand and run electrical cords through it - When there was a knock at the door. 

It was Becca! At 10:30pm she had an overnight bag and a box of Danish Butter Cookies in her hands. An apology to Keiki for almost ruining her first Boston Christmas. 

Bryce was happy to see her. He didn’t expect to spend time with anyone but his sister. But now, with her throwing jabs and joking with them, his cramped apartment never felt more like home. 

MC jumped right in and joined the decorating like she always belonged here with them. 

They polished off the rest of the Chinese food while cutting out snowflakes in the cotton and coloring paper Keiki had lying around. They made their own bunting and it looked so childish they all laughed. MC nearly fell off the stool from laughter as she watched Bryce hang it up and then proceeded to rip it in half by accident. His beautiful face was so distraught. 

Bryce and Becca fell asleep on the couch half an hour into The Nightmare Before Christmas (Keiki’s choice).

Keiki debated waking them up and telling them to get a room but instead grabbed his duvet and covered them. She could see just how exhausted they were the moment she laid eyes on them. 

Keiki was the first one to wake up Christmas Day. She peeked into the living room to make sure the two were decent - lucky for her Bryce and Becca barely moved and they were still clothed, phew! 

As quietly as she could, Keiki placed the small, wrapped presents she got for her brother and friend under the tree. She also cleaned up as much of last nights mess as she could. 

She went to the fridge to see what she could whip of for breakfast. 

Even though Bryce got a bit better at cooking and other domestic things, Keiki wasn’t surprised that his fridge was nearly empty. She shook her head, wondering how he could live without her. 

She settled on toast and Cheerio’s. 

The tapping of cereal pouring into the bowl was enough to wake the sleeping doctor’s. 

After exchanging greetings and sarcastic remarks about Bryce’s terrible habits, the three sat on the couch with their bowls and put on the oldest Christmas movies they could find on TV. 

They exchanged presents midday - none of them really expecting to get anything. They were all broke and would rather have the company and memories of the day than any material possession. 

They spent the entire day in their pajamas watching movies. It was the most relaxing day any of them have had in weeks. 

When it came time to start dinner, you could see the panic on everyone’s faces. No one had prepared anything and they didn’t want to do another day of takeout and cheapen the experience. 

So MC scoured Bryce’s cabinets. 

“I’ll run down to the market. It’s gotta be open still.”  “It’s 5PM on Christmas, Bryce.”  “Ever heard of a thing called capitalism? Nothing closes anymore.”  “We’ll just use whatever you have here.”  “Good luck with that.” 

MC found half a box full of penne and linguine, a can of peas, and jar of tomato and garlic sauce. In his fridge there was milk, cheddar and feta cheeses, a loaf of bread, half an onion, and a container of leftover chicken Sienna had packed up for him a few days ago. 

After much experimentation, they ended up having a very weird looking pasta bake and buttered bread. Bryce was so worried they were going to burn the meal, he made sure to check on it every 7 minutes. To which MC yelled at him for letting the heat out: “If you keep opening the oven it’ll never cook. We’ll be having Christmas dinner on New Years.”  “Who said we’ll be ringing in the New Year together?” Bryce winked.   

Becca threw a jab back, something about taking applications for New Years kiss suitors. 

Bryce closed the distance.  “Think of this as my formal application. And he’s my resume.” 

He grabbed her hips and kissed her fiercely. They were so lost in one another that they didn’t register Keiki’s faux gags and the oven timer beeping. 

They burned the top of the weird looking lasagna. And couldn’t help but laugh as they sat at the tiny table digging into the surprisingly tasty concoction. 

It was the best Christmas Keiki, Bryce and Becca had ever had. 

[infinites-chaser]

dark night fireworks | mlqc | lucien/mc | dreams and memory

spoilers for ch.13 and somewhat inspired by ch.16

warning for drinking and vague + non-explicit sexual content

“Lucien,” you whisper, as if speaking his name aloud will somehow make it real.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. The only thing that matters is this moment. This moment a million times over. And what’s a moment in a dream if you make yourself believe it’s true?

‘oh, love, even if I wake up and it all disappears and becomes a mess

oh, love, I’ll wait for this night again’

xii.

Once, when you were young, you caught a butterfly, trapping its delicate wings between your hands. Most of your childhood memories have faded to sepia and tones of grey, but this you remember in vivid color. It comes to you now in fragments, like a painting ripped to shreds: The butterfly's wings, bright yellow blurs that tickle your palms. Your father's horror. The warm wind, his panicked scolding, and the wide blue sky.

You remember him telling you that trapped things, once let go, are never the same after. He told you catching the butterfly crushed its wings, and it would never fly straight again. You cried, you think, as you often did, and opened your hands.

You can't remember the rest. Did the butterfly emerge from your finger prison, its cocoon? Did it fly away? Did it fly straight and true?

Memory is reconstructive. If you reach for the pieces enough times, your mind will build its own answer.

But, now, the truth: the butterfly was already dead. It had been dead since you first snatched it from where it danced in the golden spring sky.

When you laid your palms flat, the butterfly's bright wings had stirred once and then fell still. You cried. To this day, you're still not sure why you don't remember this, your Schrodinger's butterfly. In your hands, it had become a lesson from your father, something with the possibility of being not quite dead. In your memory, it becomes immortal, that butterfly you remember entrapping but can never vividly picture flying free.

i.

The bar is not pink, as its name, The Peony Pavilion, might suggest. Its walls are a deep purple that fades upward to dark blue, then a black which stretches across the ceiling, uninterrupted save by tiny pinpricks of light. The floor, by contrast, is a softly glowing grey, carpeted and plush, muffling even the heaviest of footfalls of more intoxicated customers or louder, untrained personnel.

It is crowded normally, seats filled with patrons, troubled dreamers, and drunks. On busy nights, a spiraling chandelier will descend from the endless ceiling, shimmering with the colors of sunset: yellow, pink, and white. The air will still-- the frequent visitors know what’s coming, they tell their newer compatriots to be quiet, to wait.

A woman will unfold herself from a crouched position in the half-light, hair like unbound midnight, her dress a pure sparkling white. On cue, the patrons will clap and cheer, but she will gaze past them all, her eyes worlds away, caught up in a vision only she can see. She'll sweep a bow. They'll all fall silent.

The clock will strike twelve, and the lights of the chandelier will dim to a shade of purple, a twilight hue a few hours softer than the color of the walls.

The woman will open her mouth and begin to sing.

But not tonight.

Tonight, the bar’s doors are closed. Only the bartender stands behind the counter. All seats sit empty, save two.

xi.

He catches your attention from across the bar. (It’s easy. You’re the only two inside.)

One stolen glance and you're lost in his eyes again, like a moth to a dark flame. You're reminded, briefly, of the sleepless nights you once spent following him through the city, a lonely journey down moonlit alleys, into the cinema, into bars. They're nights from a time you know you can't return to, a time you, even after everything, still hold dear.

You read about the primacy effect one time in a psychology textbook, following along for a few pages over his shoulder before you stifled a yawn. He’d marked the page and closed the book, and turned to caress the top of your head with a gentle smile.

The study those pages had described surfaces in your mind now, as he raises his glass and drinks, dark eyes never leaving yours. The scientists had split their participants into two groups, and given them the same list of traits in different orders, one presenting a fictional man with his flaws first and strengths last, the other, the reverse. They'd then asked each group for their impression of the man.

Despite being given the exact same listed traits, they had opposite responses. The first, remembering most clearly his flaws, thought him a terrible person. The second saw him simply as human, and sympathized with those natural flaws.

At the time, you hadn't understood it. You couldn't think of how it related, out of the study and academia, back to everyday life. Of course now, you do. You're in his experiment. (You're in the second group, presented strengths first, flaws last.)

You can't help but continue to stare, your traitorous heart twisting with endlessly conflicting feelings at the sight of slim fingers you still remember holding, and the elegant panes of his face that you’ll never forget.

ii.

He'd explained primacy again, after you'd watched Memento, a movie he'd called one of his favorites. You don't know anymore if that was true. You don't think you know a single true thing about him. But still, you remember it. His words. The movie. The Polaroid. Don’t believe his lies.

The movie starts centered around the main character, and it’s intensely subjective, he’d said. We see him and his world through his eyes. We learn the details of the plot along with him, even as he forgets, and by the time the movie tells us he’s not as good of a person as we’d like to remember and we finally step out of his head and question his character, it’s too late. We're back at the start. A beginning at the end, an ending at the beginning.

The movie’s a bit like those classic math puzzles, he had said, and had chuckled at your groan. We begin with two trains going in opposite directions towards each other: one from the past, in black-and-white, going forward, one, in color, from the present going back, and they meet somewhere in the grey in between, at the start of the movie. Only, we’re introduced to his positive perception of his present self first.

So we call the movie’s arguable villain hero, up until the movie’s end. Just as you would like to think of him not as Ares, as a villain, up until this dream ends.

xi.

You know you’re dreaming when you blink, and he’s gone from the shadowy corner only to reappear right next to you, your name on his lips with a smile.

“Lucien,” you whisper, as if speaking his name aloud will somehow make the moment real. As if a dream could ever become reality.

It doesn’t matter, you tell yourself. The only thing that matters is this moment. This moment a million times over. And what’s a moment in a dream if you make yourself believe it’s true?

He raises his glass to your lips, a silent invitation.

You meet those dark eyes. You drink.

(A different movie, but. You fall. He's your totem, your ever-spinning top. You wait for the kick.)

iii.

The world shifts and swirls around you. Only he stays steady, awash in a sea of sunset colors and midnight starry lights. You take his hand, your anchor, and he lets you.

Your dress is a soft purple now. Now, you say, since you think it used to be pink, and before that, white. (If the bartender would speak, she'd tell you it looks like the chandelier: dripping in crystals, iridescent, reminiscent of the fading day, the coming night.)

x.

There's an invisible glass wall between you and him. (You don't remember Ares. You don't remember why.)

You press up against it, and it shatters.

iv.

He calls your name, and you surface, dizzy, from your daze.

"Why did you come here?" He asks. His hand's hovering, almost reaching, on the verge of taking your glass away or perhaps tucking an escaped strand of hair behind your ear.

"Why do I do things? Why does anyone do anything?"

You're definitely a little drunk.

"What I do isn't meaningless just because there are things I don't remember," you say, and what you mean is things you've made me forget.

"The world doesn't just disappear when you close your eyes, does it?"

"Memento," he notes with that same gentle, enigmatic smile. "Touché."

Then, musing, quieter:

"So, you remember that night."

"I remember everything."

(You both know that's a lie.)

ix.

(a tangent.)

Once, you asked, waking from the middle of a nightmare to a starless night:

"Daddy, why do I forget so many things?"

Your father held you close without a word. (You weren't expecting an answer.)

Now, you think it suits you, being a girl cut loose in time.

v.

Your head hurts.

You'd ask the bartender for a glass of ice water, but the silent, white-clad woman's gone. In her places stands a gleaming door. Behind the door lies silver stairs.

Your temples throb again, and you think, fresh air. He takes your hand, and you let him. You pass through the doorway together.

viii.

(another tangent.)

A question without a proper answer: what does it mean to forget?

You searched it on the internet for Miracle Finder, found Wikipedia pages on the different types of memory and how your brain wires them all. Each article was long, convoluted, and a little pretentious.

(You gave up.)

Spoiler alert: neuroscientists still don't know.

You asked Lucien. He doesn't, either.

(The beginning of the hypothesis of an answer, buried in words about synapse strengthening and weakening: forgetting is just another word for loss.)

A better question, but one you'll never get a proper answer for: when your memory of someone is erased with Evol, which part of the brain is it affecting? What neural connections are lost, overwritten by the unnatural?

After all, Evol goes beyond the explainable, but it'd be wrong to say it doesn't affect those circuits at all.

A quick lesson that Lucien will never teach you: memory loss isn't like what you see in the movies.

There's many types of memory. You already know the first two: short-term and long-term. The temporary. The eroding. (outside these two-- the already lost)

(Memento's different. In it, he's lost the ability to make new long-term memories. Not quite memory loss. More like he can't feel time.)

Within the eroding are two subtypes: explicit, and implicit, or conscious and unconscious.

First, within explicit:

Semantic memory, our memory of general facts. It's how we familiarize ourselves with the world. (The sky is blue. Grass is green. The city the company headquarters are in is Loveland City.) A knock on the head to important bits involved here, and you won't remember the name of the president or how many cents add up to a dollar, but you'll still remember your childhood.

Episodic memory, the memory of our personal experiences. Many people argue this is the memory that makes you you. Say the amnesia-inducing Evol removes this. You forget an important event (a dream, a nightmare where he was Ares and you still called on him for protection, and he came, he saved you).

There, you say. Question answered. Problem solved.

But wait. The lesson's not over yet. There's still implicit. The unconscious part of your memory. (Freud's favorite.)

Implicit memory contains multitudes. (We'll just focus on a few.)

The important bits: implicit memory stores the memories necessary to learn. Procedural memory covers skills.

Then there's association, and key to association are your emotions. (You'll remember things that make you happy, make you angry, make you sad. You just won't remember why.)

Lastly, priming, also known as pattern completion. (If a puzzle was put in front of you, you'd be able to solve it, if you had before.)

Long story short, memory loss by Evol, if scientific, doesn't wipe them all out. Let's say it just wipes episodic. No more memory of the event. No more memory of the event itself. Let's say the emotions remain. Let's say you're still primed. But we digress.

(Lesson over.)

vi.

You race up the stairs, past pipes, through smoke, and burst onto the roof, giddy, flushed, his hand in yours the whole way. In the night air, your dress shimmers and darkens to a midnight blue, just a touch shy of the black of the silk of his suit.

The roof is wide open and empty, save for a delicate floating canopy of fairy lights. Beyond the rosy glow, vivid colors of fireworks shatter bright against the velvet curtain of night.

He pauses at the sight of the fireworks, the city far below, and you stagger back against him, one hand raised to the sky, laughing, drunk. Neither of you notice when the silver stairway disappears.

You loop your arms around his neck and stare up into his eyes. At first, the light doesn’t reflect off of them and you almost freeze, but he clasps a hand to the small of your back and draws you closer. When you blink up at him again, the dark of his gaze is warmed by the shine of the veil of lights.

“Where are the stars?”

“Shall I go and fetch them for you?”

Before you can respond, he leans in and catches the swell of your lips between his, dark eyes closed.

The first kiss is gentle and teasing, like his words. The second kiss is yours when he pulls back for air and you follow him. The third devours you.

His hands move in opposite directions; one floating up to cup your cheek and draw you in further with a caress, the other creeping down your back, leaving a trail of fire, aroused nerves, in its wake. It settles on the back of one of your thighs, and grips rough, possessive, hard and--

you gasp a single word between stolen breaths,

Lucien.

His name burns stronger than any alcohol on your lips, on his, it consumes you both, and you're glad of it, you're content to go up in flames. Your hands move to match his, to mark him as your own. You think this is perhaps what fireworks feel like, the moment before the end.

(You explode. It's not as pretty as a fireworks display.)

You arch your back against him and you suddenly remember the butterfly, those vivid splinters from your childhood so small they could hardly be called memories. You are not certain of much anymore but you are certain of this: You are his Schrodinger's butterfly, dancing futilely, dead in the palms of his hands.

He pulls away, panting, and you want to, but this time you do not follow. You don't move at all. Trapped things, you hear your father say, voice shaking, the butterfly long gone, once let go, are never the same after.

Your mind doesn't remember, but something in your heart does: this has happened before. He's altered your memory so many times, but you still can't remember to forget him.

(Emotional memory, and now. Priming. Some part of you sees the same pattern fall into place.)

His hand, cold against your flushed cheek moves to cover your eyes, and you know: you won't remember the ending of this, either. You don't try to stop him.

"Go back to sleep. Forget this nightmare."

His voice comes, silky smooth and soft. Sad, you want to think, though you know it can't be.

"What if I wake up, and this isn’t a dream? What if that's the nightmare?"

"Then find your way back here. I'll be waiting."

You close your eyes under his cool fingers, and wake to warm sheets.

In your dream, he's still smiling. You're sure of it.

xx.

You're waiting for someone. Someone's waiting for you. (You aren't sure which it is. You aren't sure who.)

The butterfly's wings flutter in your small child hands, light yellow heartbeats tickling your fingers. The sky is grey. A chill wind blows. Your father is silent, frozen and smiling. Gone.

You remember (or at least you tell yourself you do):

When you opened your palms, the butterfly flew straight. It flew true.

[paralumanleadmehome]

When the dark comes crashing through

a Mystic Messenger fanfic (gosh it’s been so long)

here’s the link if you wanna check it out! 

https://archiveofourown.org/works/24338587

Saeyoung wakes up with a rapidly beating heart and a body drenched in cold sweat. He sits up immediately, a hand clasped over his chest, with lungs trying to remember how to breathe. A feeling of phantom hands linger on his skin, as it itches down to his very core. He tries to blink himself awake, golden eyes hazy and unseeing without his glasses’ help.

In. Out. Hold. In. Out. Hold.

He tries to reign in the thoughts that sit at the edge of his mind, tries to ignore the panic that tries to rise in his throat, but all this he found in vain when he turns to his side and feel that she wasn’t there.

“MC?” he whispers. knowing it comes out as broken, strained, afraid. When he hears no response, he fumbles for his glasses on his bedside table and forces the lights open with an angry hand.

The space beside him is empty.

The space beside him is empty.

Saeyoung feels phantom hands on his skin, hears phantom screams in his head, and before he could think twice, he runs to his worktable, hands flying over his laptop, opening every single cctv he had inside his bunker. Luciel’s eyes dart at every screen, desperate and afraid, that he almost reaches for the gun in his locked drawer, his mind screaming “they have her, they have her, they have her and this is your fault—“ but then he catches someone moving in the kitchen. He pauses, a heavy feeling in his chest; he waits, cold sweat dripping down his back; and he is afraid, because every second wasted watching this silhouette move is another second made that could’ve saved you. He waits, desperate, hoping that the silhouette belongs to her. But it disappears at a corner that the cctv cannot reach, something that she begged Luciel to add, something that he now regrets relenting to. So now he reaches for the gun, muscles tensing and angry, and he dashes out the door, careful not to slam it so as not to make a sound.

Luciel always hated his trainings.

Hated it to it’s very core.

And he hated how he had to use it against his brother.

And he hated how he has to use it if it means to saving her.

So he walks slowly, each step calculated, his ears straining to hear.

He hears rustling in the kitchen and he moves, his mind awake and aware, his gun at the ready.

Ten steps…

seven steps…

four steps…

three…

two…

one.

He hides in the corner, body close to the ground. He turns a little, eyes zooming in to the direction of the noise, and he almost relaxes when he sees you.

Even with her back turned to him, there’s no mistaking the brown hair that he loves getting his hands tangled in, nor the lean shoulders where he loves to rest his head. There’s no mistaking the swaying movements of the hands that are preparing tea, now that he pauses to smell it, and the way it swiftly yet beautifully moves like a dance to no sound. There’s no mistaking the quiet humming that comes from the lips he loves to kiss, nor the song she always sings when she couldn’t sleep. And there’s no denying the eyes that turn to him in surprise as she spins around to reach their dining table.

“Sae—“

She doesn’t get to finish his name as he closes the gap between them, arms immediately wrapping around the one who had kept him anchored when he threads on deep water. He breathes in her scent, relishes on the way her body feels against his, and revels in the warmth that she exudes. MC doesn’t hesitate to return his embrace.

“Saeyoung, what’s wrong?” she asks in a quiet voice, very much used to his nightmares, yet always open for him to speak.

“It’s nothing,” Luciel answers back, quiet and cold and terribly afraid.

MC doesn’t comment on it, only squeezing him tighter as slim fingers go through red hair. “Would you like some tea?” she asks instead.

“Do we have Dr. Pepper?” he says, his own arms answering hers.

“It’s too early for that, Sae. Try asking again in five hours or so,” she chides him. The fingers on his hair doesn’t stop as the hand on his back began rubbing soothing circles. It’s when he feels her head lean into his shoulder that he begins to relax. “Would you like something else?”

“I want you safe,” Luciel says.

“I am safe.”

His dream touches the edge of his consciousness again and if he hugs a little tighter, MC doesn’t mention it.

"I want you well."

"I am well."

"I don't want you in any more danger because of me."

A light laugh escapes her lips.

"I've said this before and I'll say it again, whether it's a hacker or a bomb, I'll stay with you."

"But I'm dangerous," Luciel answers back, his voice almost begging her to understand as he tried to keep her close.

"And you're also so much more," she says. "You are kind, and sweet, and loving. You are smart and talented. For the life of all that is good, you are a terrible cook. And you have an unhealthy obsession with Honey Buddha Chips and Dr. Pepper. You are a prankster and one day Yoosung is going to kick you out of his house for it. You are a cat abuser and although I understand Jumin for keeping you out, I know. you mean no harm. You are helpful and good and even though it doesn't help Zen's narcissism, I know it helps his fame. And even if you stress Jaehee to the bone, I know that you'd fly in and save her from work again when she needs it. I know you. And you being dangerous is just another part of you. And that's okay."

And if his eyes start to feel a little wet, or MC's shoulder suddenly feels damp, none of them comments on it as they stay frozen in that moment of peace. And they stay like that, just standing close together, anchoring one another, in the dead of the night with only MC's quiet humming to fill in the silence.

“I’m safe,” MC repeats again, as soft as a whisper yet as strong as promise. “And I have you. And you have me. And we are as safe as we can be.”

“Yeah,” he says, “yeah.” And he pushes down that little thought that still nags at his brain, still angry and smashing and just a little bit terrified that all of this is just a dream, or a nightmare, or a reality that will be ripped away from him - that he is a danger, not only to RFA or to himself, but even to MC. He tries to ignore all of those thought and latch on the words that MC tells him. Because this is MC and MC never lies.

And when MC pulls away a little, he fights the urge to stop her.

“Would you like to talk about it?” she asks, hands reaching out to cup his face. He leans in to her touch immediately, his fear softening at the sight of her kind yet confident eyes.

He knows he will never get rid of that fear, knows that he’ll always wake up to nightmares that threaten to take her away, and knows that one day his nightmares could be real. But for now, in the quiet of their bunker’s kitchen, with her hands on his cheeks and his hand on hers, with his lips at the inside of her palm, a soft kiss making it’s way to her skin, he allows himself to be vulnerable, to be weak, to be human.

And Saeyoung smiles.

“I would love a Dr. Pepper please.”

-------

Okay. So. Tumblr removed the italics and I’m honestly too lazy to correct it BUT if you’d like to read this on ao3 with the proper format and notes and all, here is the link!!

[clansayeed]

Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ― Chapter 24: The Identity

PAIRING: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Nadya Al Jamil) RATING: Mature

⥼ MASTERLIST ⥽

⥼ Bound by Destiny II, part 1 ⥽

While struggling with nightmares of lives she’s never lived, a shadow from the past looming over her city, and the proposed idea that her life may just be a little bit too weird to handle alone, Nadya makes sure to tell herself that everything is perfect just the way it is. If only. When the self-proclaimed King of Vampires (and Maker of her sometimes-girlfriend and always-boss, can’t forget that little tidbit) Gaius Augustine returns intent on claiming Manhattan as the throne that was promised, she and her friends find themselves forced into the task of saving the world. But with millennia-old vampires and an Order of hunters on their heels as well as allies hiding catastrophic secrets at their backs… it won’t be an easy task. Too bad destiny didn’t exactly ask for her input.

Bound by Destiny II and the rest of the Oblivion Bound series is an ongoing dramatic retelling project of the Bloodbound series and spin-off, Nightbound. Find out more [HERE].

TAG LIST: @googlesentmehere, @cess02

*Let me know if you would like to be added to the Destiny II tag list!

⥼ Chapter Summary ⥽

While saying a final farewell to the City of Shadows, Serafine's emotional turmoil leads her to reveal the final clue of a puzzle one hundred years in the making. It's time for Cadence to finally learn the truth... no matter the consequences.

[READ IT ON AO3]

They should start the next leg of their journey as soon as possible. But by the time Nadya and Adrian leave the awful wreckage of Gaius’ old room behind and find the others, she doesn’t think her body can physically manage another step.

Of course — throwing me over Jax’s shoulder would probably make the trip back to the surface more than a little faster, the reasonable part of her thinks; but reason is too tired to argue over the extremely prideful (and correct), but that will happen over my dead body.

They’ll stay just long enough to rest and recover; that’s the agreement. Long enough for Adrian to piece himself back together. Long enough for Nadya to find the remnants of herself among the straggling memories taking advantage of her exhaustion. And—though she won’t admit it aloud—long enough for Serafine to get a chance at a proper goodbye to everything she once loved… and all that she had to leave behind.

“It’s really beautiful down here… scary vampire hunter skeletons aside.” After all, everything beautiful in Nadya’s life comes with just a sprinkle of scary these days.

Serafine stands in the middle of the ballroom; surrounded by hollow shells of armor and the ashes of everyone she once cared about but still impossibly beautiful. Like all those years ago when they were breathing their last, the Knights decided to crawl out of that very spot. Like they knew she would return to see it one last time and made a path for her; a morbid procession.

One floor above them Adrian rests to regain his strength and heal his punctured palms. She had left Lily, Jax, and Cadence to their card game down in the kitchens to go find Serafine. Not that she has any idea why, exactly… Nadya just… felt like it was something she needed to do.

They are completely alone here.

Maybe that’s why Serafine feels the freedom to wistfully reminisce. “This is nothing more than a tattered husk of the splendor these halls once held.” She cranes her head up to the soot-stained ceiling and the iron-and-glass chandelier still miraculously overhead. “With no daylight to hinder us, the City of Shadow was never anything less than alive. In more than just the King’s Manor.”

She gestures towards one of the double-door entrances to the dancing hall. In the distance Nadya swears she can see walls of actual bone and skulls not unlike the catacombs so far above their heads. “There to the Northernmost caverns, lies a labyrinth once called the largest in the world. Endless puzzles and clues all come together to create a maze only solved by the exceedingly cunning or the desperately bored.”

“Which were you?”

That earns Nadya a bemused little smile. “A little bit of both. In the early decades, before the City grew, I devoted all my time and energies into her foundation. A good thirty years had passed before I went back up to the surface. Surprising even then how much the world could change in such a short time.”

“I wouldn’t call thirty years short…” But Nadya wasn’t here to debate finite things to an infinite woman. So she lets it go.

“So what about when it did grow? What was it like?”

“C’est manifique…” the lace-trimmed edges of Serafine’s sleeves billow slightly as she twirls with all the grace of a lifelong dancer, “I dare not speak it aloud for fear I would not do it justice. Parties lasting weeks, academic debates that stretched across years. After lifetimes cowering in barns, sleeping amid mass graves for fear of discovery; praying to the First that the sunrise would be once again met by sunset, and that it would not be our last… the freedom that came from demanding a home from a world that had forsaken us was… I have no words.”

Nadya believes that. Why else would she be crying so freely; laughing so tragically?

“But none of it held a candle to the night the City fell.” Serafine continues unbidden this time. Too lost in her own memories to even withdraw as Nadya awkwardly fumbles on the tips of her toes around the Knights’ remains; coming ever-closer.

“You said you were having a… a party, right?”

“To use such a crass word —”

“— that’s the word you used, though —”

“— only for lack of a better one. We risked everything for it, Nadya; everything. Secreted trips to the surface for finery and the things only the nobility could afford, but never appreciate. Not as we would. It was to be my crowning glory. The culmination of decades of devotion’s labor.”

Her words, poetic in their beauty, are only enhanced by the emotion with which she speaks them. Clasped hands clutched to her chest; like the very memory of it will be enough to defy the laws of nature and make her heart beat again. But with them comes a dawning understanding for Nadya — one that bridges the chasm between fond recollection and the tears that cling to the bottoms of her cheeks.

“The party that night… it was yours.”

The way the vampiress’ face falls makes Nadya’s heart break all the more. “It was my confession of undying love, you see. To Paris, to the City; to everyone who had found a home here as I did.”

“I’m… so sorry.” Because what else is there for her to say? What else is there for anyone to say when the tragedy of it happened such a long time ago but it’s only now that Serafine is given the chance to face it? It’s just not fair.

Empathy shines through warm honeyed eyes; no trace of the woman desperate for answers she had met in the library. Grief does funny things to people, though, so she won’t give Serafine anything less than her understanding for that. How cruel would she be if she did?

A smile tugs at the corners of Serafine’s lips. And it’s impossible to have a woman that pretty looking at you like that without feeling fifty shades of self-conscious. “What,” Nadya ducks her head, bashful; tucks her hair behind her ears, “what did I say?”

“Nothing worth such a shy face on such a lovely young lady.” She ghosts her fingertips feather-light under Nadya’s chin to bring her back away from their shoes. “I was just thinking of how Kamilah looked at the presentation.”

Nadya’s eyes widen. “Kamilah was there?” And Serafine nods.

“Indeed. As if I would host such an important event without finding opportunity to placate the King himself… and his Queen alongside.”

“Yeah… that makes sense.” She doesn’t have to like it, but it does either way. The thought sweeps Nadya’s eyes across the charred remains of upended tables and armor plates splattered with blood the color of rust. She doesn’t even know what she’s looking for — a ghost of a memory of her, maybe. Trying to follow the path her long sweeping dress must have trailed as she danced.

Another memory and Serafine’s laughter bubbles out yet again. “Oh how livid she was that I did not take her for the first waltz. She had made me promise, you know, earlier that evening, that I would. But I was the hostess… I had obligations.

“Still, there’s something to be said for holding up her end of our little deal. She wore the masque I gifted her all night.”

The mask.

Even if Serafine had decided to launch into a detailed description of the thing; Nadya wouldn’t need it. She knows exactly what it looked like; like one long strand of gossamer steel warped and needled together to frame her face in all its beauty. Any other mask would be made to hide someone away, but Kamilah’s was crafted so no one would ever question who it belonged to — or the importance of her.

But the vision of the Kamilah in the library was brief; it fades, she fades, into smoke on the air.

And all at once Nadya realizes that’s the second mask she’s seen since they came down here.

Eyes glassy and focused somewhere on the far wall, the smile starts to slide from Serafine’s face. Nadya has to squint her eyes to hope for even a glimpse in the darkness… but if her glasses aren’t failing her she’d swear the woman can’t look away from a large broadsword embedded high up in the stone wall.

High for someone like Nadya, anyway. Not for someone a few heads taller.

“Serafine?”

She doesn’t answer. She knows what she’s said — that she can’t take it back. Can’t risk saying anything more.

“Serafine.” This time Nadya isn’t asking.

The part of Nadya that knows what it felt like to see Rome fall without hesitation already knows the answer. She still finds herself asking it. No matter how pointless it is.

“Serafine… was Cadence h—”

“Speak of the devil and he shall appear!”

Lily’s laugh, loud and boisterous, hacks through the tension between them like a rusty machete. Startles Nadya enough that she’s stumbling back, hand clutching her chest feeling her heart race for reasons she’s still a little foggy on. When she looks up, Serafine is largely unfazed; but instead of the sword in the (stone) wall, she’s whirled around to the intrusive sight that practically frolics through the farthest set of doors.

Ask Jax what he’s doing and he’ll have a thousand different excuses, all of them covering up the fact that he’s pretty much holding Adrian up with his shoulder. Cadence flanks Adrian’s other side, flicking a cautious glance their way every other moment or so like he’s ready and waiting in case the other vampire isn’t as recovered as he’s apparently led them to believe.

That leaves Lily taking up the front; leading them on like a punk Robin Hood and her Band of Merry Vamps. She spins on the heel of her boot as the ceiling arches up and vaults around the ballroom, neck craning all the way back until she’s very near falling over.

She doesn’t — thankfully. But she does mistake Nadya and Serafine’s startled reactions to their arrival as part of an ongoing joke.

“No but seriously, Nadi’, Cade was just telling us about some booze he taste-tested for Garrus, back down in New Orleans? Go on, tell it dude, tell it!” She smacks the back of her hand against Cadence’s chest in open encouragement. Unfortunately judging by the sheer embarrassment on his face it’s anything but.

“I told you twice now; without context it’s just a story that ends in me streaking all the way into the Mississippi.”

“That’s what makes the story!”

He rolls his eyes at her, then offers Nadya an apologetic smile. “I’m assuming I don’t have to excuse her behavior? Though I think she’s just as excited to get out and up top as the rest of us a—”

“What’s going on?”

Jax’s question, gruff and clipped, cuts through any shred of amusement left hanging. Narrowed eyes flit back and forth between Nadya and Serafine and if his reaction alone wasn’t enough to dial the discomfort up to eleven the way Adrian shifts to stand up a little straighter definitely does the trick.

“Did something happen?”

The vampiress opens her mouth and closes it just as quickly. Nadya can practically feel her biting her tongue. All traces of her wide-eyed dreams and heartfelt memories gone like they, too, were all an act.

Just like she had been acting back in the atrium.

Lily rubs her temples with a groan. “I swear to god — can’t things go right for, like, twenty-four hours? What fucked up this time?”

“I…”

The moment is waning fast — and taking Nadya’s confidence with it. One whole minute ago she had been so certain of something so important but now—now she wonders, now she considers all the possibilities. Coincidence? Poor word choice?

Something — anything — other than Serafine having some big bad secret that would wreck everything.

But the look on Cadence’s face… not now, not confused like the rest of them. But back at the Shadow Den; full of desperation. Or struggling to keep hold of his sanity in Katherine’s arms; fearful and small. And all Nadya can think about is how she would feel if someone she knew kept the truth from her. For no good reason at all.

“Cadence?”

He jerks to attention, not bothering to hide his surprise. “Yes Nadya?”

“I think…” swear on her life it looks like Serafine mouths “please, no” out of the corner of her eye, “I think you were here when the Knights stormed the City. I think I had that—that vision of you wearing a mask because you were here, in the ballroom; at Serafine’s party.

“I think Serafine knows who you really are.”

The tension ripples out around them. Thick enough to slice into neat little squares and stack up like bricks. She almost wishes she could; can’t shake the sinking feeling that some kind of guard or protection would be helpful right about now.

They move in synchronized silence. Cadence raises his chin; strong jaw taut in a show of confidence the wavering sea of confusion in his eyes betrays. Serafine does the opposite; casts her head away from him, from Nadya, from all of them in a manner almost ashamed.

No, not ashamed, not personally. This close and with all those walls she worked so hard to build up in such a short time starting to crumble at the foundations Nadya can feel the strength of it growing with every passing second.

She’s… ashamed of Nadya. Somehow.

“Serafine, is there truth to that?” Adrian speaks out of turn; shattering the fragile quiet. It’s not his time to speak, something whispers at the shell of Nadya’s ear, he knows what he is.

Like the ballroom itself waits on bated breath for Cadence to act; to do something, say something — anything that will pull the world around them back into orbit. It’s the only way they’ll survive.

But he doesn’t. To be fair Serafine doesn’t either; though it’s obvious even to someone as blind as Nadya without her glasses that she’s refusing to speak. And doesn’t that just say it all.

“Why won’t you look at him?”

The vampiress whips around, hair lashing at her face like a dark hailstorm. Eyes on Nadya definitely meant to instill fear and definitely halfway to getting the job done. Too bad Nadya’s a nervous talker. “I didn’t notice it at first… but besides the apartment and the atrium you don’t look at him. Why?”

“There’s still time to stop asking questions.”

“What’ll happen if I don’t?”

“Terrible — terrible things.”

And at the end of her not-so-thinly veiled threat, Adrian finds his limit.

“Tell me I’m not hearing this —” he’s already been through so much; the pleading in his voice one step shy of desperate, “— tell me I didn’t just hear you threaten Nadya.”

“It wasn’t a threat.”

“Sure sounded like it to me,” Lily mutters.

“It was a warning.”

Then she laughs. Bitter, rueful; familiar in a way Nadya’s still a little too unmoored by literally everything happening to place properly. She proves Nadya wrong by pushing the hair out of her face with a flat palm to meet Cadence with a level stare nothing short of venomous.

“Which one of us shall have the honor, then?”

Cadence’s lips purse, but he still says nothing. If his intention is to rile her up it’s definitely working… and then some.

“For a man with a reputation built on actions over words, you were always a mite chatty. I find it hard to believe centuries of old habits are so easily restrained.”

It was a revelation Nadya couldn’t have held in even if she tried; even if her life was on the line. But now, standing here, feeling the building rage in Serafine’s curling accent — she would give that same life to take it back. Because there’s no way this ends with a rousing debate and firm handshake.

And because… because maybe if she’d just kept her damn mouth shut they could have avoided this, here; and everything still yet to come.

Serafine steps back. Here’s a power in her space. All Nadya can think of is a cobra rearing back to flare its hood.

“Si c'est le jeu auquel vous souhaitez jouer, qu'il en soit ainsi… Monsieur D’or.”

Nadya’s struggling here, sans subtitles as she is, but she knows just enough about fancy perfumes to catch the name.

Mister Gold? What is this, a fairy tale spinoff series?

They all watch — a captive audience — as Serafine throws Cadence a malicious sneer. “Were I naive enough to call this coincidence, I would be better off for it. But we have been at this dance for too long, you and I. But you played your part well; well enough to fool even the Bloodkeeper. Your Benevolent God must be so proud.

“At first I thought you were playing the worst sort of game. Some ruse you thought to be clever — wearing the facade of a decent man when you and I know you are everything but. I hoped to bide my time here, to dissect your intentions from afar. You are not the only one who can play pretend.”

She bites the inside of her cheek hard enough to bleed; staining crimson along the seam of her lips. “But this… this is too much, even for you. You’ve never been one to let your depravities fall under a different name. No… you are too proud for that. You know it, as I know it. As I know you. The real you — the monster hidden under golden hair and gilded lies. How else was I to track you for as long as I did; to ensure I would get the vengeance I was owed?”

She pauses and waits for an answer. Something prideful of her own nature in the gleam of her eyes but the longer she waits the faster it fades. Cadence refuses to take her bait.

“Fine. Just tell me. Tell me how you did it.”

“How I did what?” asks Cadence warily. Nadya can’t understand why he isn’t rebutting these accusations. Why he isn’t as distraught as he had been in front of Valdas, or as angry as he had been in front of Isseya? She’s not exactly making light conversation.

Pleading ignorance only enrages her more. “How did you survive? I barely escaped that damned trench with my life! Hours I spent in the darkness, turning over every man dead and dying, and I could not find you. You died. You were turned to ash!”

He fixes her with a hard stare and a chin raised in defiance.

“Obviously not.”

His short answers are just enough to keep pushing her. Maybe that’s what he wants, Nadya thinks; after all — the more she talks the more she accuses; the more she fills in the missing pieces of the puzzle.

And only Serafine knows what it will look like when it is completed. For now.

Serafine wavers; his confidence (no matter how projected or pretend) forces her to step back once, twice until she stumbles over the rusted forgotten half of a crossbow.

Cadence only takes pity on her because he needs her to keep going.

“I woke up in a military hospital in New Orleans, Louisiana in 1918. I don’t know how or why I ended up there. I had no memory, no tags… no home. But very much alive. Whatever method you used to try and end my life, if that is truly what happened, didn’t stick.”

Maybe it didn’t stick, but there was definitely damage done. And Nadya sees it now clear as day.

Before she’s even half a step forward Lily’s hand grasps for her wrist; a familiar shackle. Nadya eases herself free without looking back. Can’t shake the feeling that if she looks away everything will shatter and be so much worse.

“Serafine…” She stands between them; powerful creatures fast enough to move no matter where she stands, strong enough to snap her like a twig for getting in their way. How the heck is it I always end up somewhere here-adjacent?

“How did you try to kill him?” But all that gets her is a dazed flutter of Serafine’s dark lashes; not an answer. So Nadya pushes.

“Did you try and kill him psychically?”

The answer rests there, written across her face plain as day.

“He needed to suffer; as I suffered, as we all suffered because of his selfish acts.”

Nadya nods slowly. “You made him remember your pain.”

Serafine bares gritted teeth at them. Nadya catches the hint of her fangs in the dim candlelight and fights against the shivers trying to roll down her spine.

“Non,” she protests, “I forced him to know it — to feel it for the first time! It was justice that he should die knowing the pain he brought down on his own kind!”

Another piece. “But something stopped you from finishing the job.”

There’s so much pain hovering in the air around them. Pain of the memories still echoing through her mind. Pain from Serafine in waves on a roiling sea. Pain from Cadence as he looks down at Nadya with an uncomfortable uncertainty. “How do you…?”

“She wanted you to remember. Instead, whatever happened… it —”

With closed eyes Cadence bows his head; he understands now.

“It made me forget.”

Maybe it would have been kinder never to know. But what’s done is done.

Lily clears her throat, hand half-raised. “Did I miss something before intermission or… am I the only one with zero clue on what’s happening right now?”

“Seven hundred years is a long time to live, isn’t it.”

Serafine drags herself back into focus. Out of the pain of the past to the here and now. To where Jax may not be accusing her with words, but his intentions scream a whole other story.

She nods once. “Longer than most of you could even begin to fathom.”

“‘Most of us?’” His eyebrows raise slightly. He shifts Adrian into a better angle against his side. “That’s rather specific of you.”

“There was once a time when the wrong words meant a swift death in halls such as these.”

“So why do I have a feeling you’re choosing the right ones?”

There’s a shift in her; the barest movement of her body and more the way her soul moves under her skin. One little shift and that’s all it takes for Nadya to see this version of Serafine for the third time. Three times too many, if anyone cares to ask.

Because the glower she faces at Jax is nothing less than every kind of anger — and then some. “What would you know? Dwelling in the gutters, hiding from your own kind. At least we had the dignity to hide from our enemies rather than make enemies of ourselves.”

‘Serafine…’ Adrian’s lips curl around her name but there’s no sound. No, sound would mean he has something to say, and he doesn’t. What is there to say at a sight like this?

But to everyone’s surprise Jax stands his ground. “But that’s not entirely true, is it?”

Nadya swallows the heart-sized lump in her throat. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean is that I did quite a bit of reading down here. My intention was to try and get as much background on this Order as possible. I’m not exactly the type to sit around and twiddle my thumbs up my ass, if you’ve noticed.

“Now don’t get me wrong — I hate Gaius as much as the next guy. But he did his due diligence when it came to war. I found a ledger. Page after page filled with detailed logs of recon. missions meant to track the movement of the Knights—or the Order, I don’t care—that all ended the same way. Randomly they made about as much sense as everything going on right here and now. But put them together and they started to look less like random hunts and more like a pursuit.”

Jax jerks his head aside to Cadence; his head still cast downward. “I’ve been good since we got here; not a gamble to pin me to. But I’d go all in and bet those pursuits, most of ‘em leading up to a couple of months before your big event, were all about finding one really dumb sonuvabitch.”

“The Dawnslayer…” Nadya whispers — quickly slapping her hand over her mouth like that will suck the words back in. But it won’t. It doesn’t.

“All of this —” Serafine steps back with arms spread wide and open; as though looking out to the death scattered around them will somehow detract from her fresh tears, “— was ruined! My City, my home, a careless casualty in a selfish war of pride and egos! He invited them here. Led them to our very gates! All for the thrill of battle and the glory it would bring him!

“And—ha—wouldn’t you believe it — he miscalculated the enemy’s numbers. Hundreds of Knights descended on us, more than I had ever seen together! Fledglings I had taken under my wing — friends I had known for hundreds of years — they were all ripped from me in a deluge of fire and wrath!

“I watched them burn, Adrian!” Bright red eyes blurry with tears, the emotions in her throat so thick she’s on the cusp of choking and that only makes Serafine scream all the louder. “They did not NEED to die! We lost everything! Our home! Our heritage! Our kingdom and city! Our blood seeped so far into the fucking ground and we never—never—recovered from it!

“He deserved to feel their pain — my pain! He deserved to suffer consequences for his actions!”

Adrian steadies himself with a shaky breath. Gently he eases away from Jax, holds still for fear of collapsing, but if one of them has to be strong… of course he’ll offer himself up.

“Killing him wouldn’t have done that, Serafine,” and Nadya almost chokes hearing that; knowing the different tune he’d been singing not long enough ago — seeing her Adrian again, “I know in the moment, maybe… it may have seemed like the answer. But —”

“Killing him wasn’t his punishment.” Her conviction throws him off kilter only briefly; that’s more than enough.

“I don’t understand…”

“I do.”

Even Serafine looks at Cadence in shock. There’s a newfound peace in his voice and acceptance clear in his eyes. Strides slow and measured, he passes Nadya right on by and closes the gap between himself and Serafine. She flinches when he gets too close; not unlike a wounded animal.

Palm turned up, he brushes away the long streaks of tears on her right cheek. “Men like that… there’s always a part of them that wants to die, I think. Their lives don’t really mean much to them. So you find what does; you find what they care about. And you hurt that instead. Right, Mademoiselle?”

At first she doesn’t answer. Instead she waits, and waits, and waits for the inevitable trap to bear down on her. When none comes… all she manages is a nod.

“That was the easy part. You already knew what he cared about. Just like you already knew exactly how to hurt them so deeply, so intensely they would never recover. You took him from them, right? Because it was only fair… and because you knew they would be too broken to continue on.”

Cadence pries off his glasses with his free hand and holds the frames with delicate care. With closed eyes he leans forward — down to her. Serafine sucks in a breath, feels the pressure of his palm cupping her face, and trembles when their foreheads meet.

“After all…” Seconds, minutes, maybe even years pass until, finally, his eyes open just barely. Enough to seek her out through lowered lashes and hold her gaze. To keep her there, practically cradled in his arms. Even as his hand slides down and presses an impossible weight against her throat.

“There is no Trinity without three.”

[ikementally-deficient]

Advanced Entomology - Chapter 4: Aposematism and Mullerian Mimicry

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice/Love and Producer

Rating: Carolina Reaper (See Masterlist for rating descriptions)

Warnings: dubious/uninformed consent, see masterpost A/N

Due to the nature of the questionable consent in this fic, if you enjoy this story enough to reblog it, please reblog the masterpost rather than individual chapters.

Author’s Note: There is no sex in this chapter. It's weird, I know, but Lucien had other ideas. I promise the next two are extra smutty.

This is where we get really spoilery, specifically for chapter 14 of the game. The italicized text of MC's dream that begins the chapter is taken verbatim from her premonitory dream of that chapter, and more of it gets described. This is also the point at which we begin to depart from canon.

‘Endogenous morphine’ is more colloquially known as ‘endorphins’, but Lucien loves his five dollar words.

***********************************************

I stand in an open field.

The sky is low. No wind. no clouds.

Someone’s calling my name.

I look around and see a hazy figure in the distance.

I chase after the figure, but it only gets farther away.

Its colour gets lighter, as if haloed with water, starting to disappear around the edges.

Suddenly a great fog swallows everything.

All I see now is an icy grey.

She’s shivering.

The sound of chattering teeth is what breaks Lucien’s concentration. He puts the document down on his desk and crosses to the open bedroom door. It’s quite temperate in the apartment; there’s no reason for her to be cold.

She is huddled in the middle of the bed, face twisted with fear and something else he can’t identify. The bedclothes have been kicked to the footboard, and her hands and feet twitch.

Ah, a dream. Lucien has touched her dreams before; mostly they’re unremarkable, incoherent fragments of the day jumbled with the kind of free association the subconscious excels at. This looks different. After watching her in his bed for so many nights, he knows she isn’t prone to nightmares in the normal course of things. He can feel his evol responding to her proximity. He’s never had the opportunity to watch hers in action, and the temptation to observe and gather data is too strong to ignore. He kneels by the bed and curls his hand into hers --

The hallway of the Loveland TV Tower.

The black rose, arrogance and leather and danger.

Shattering glass.

Billowing smoke.

She’s running down a hallway filled with mist.

A flash of blonde hair and a hand leading her up endless rounds of stairs that crumble and fall even as her feet leave them.

Golden eyes that take her will away.

The red switch.

The fall.

Lucien frees himself from her dream with a snap, his heart hammering in his chest. He recognises the players in the vision. Artemis. Helios . His hands crush divots into the edge of the mattress and his jaw clenches. What’s happening? Why can’t he breathe?

It takes a minute for Lucien to identify the emotion rising within him. To identify that it is an emotion, not some physiological response to the Queen’s evol. Slowly, carefully, he takes one shuddering breath, and then another, steadying himself, listening to his heartbeat return to normal, waiting for his pulse to stop thumping in his temples. Gradually, the rage ebbs, until he’s once again able to think clearly. He tugs the blankets back over her and leaves the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He returns to his desk. Dispassionately, he reviews the vision.

How she knows Helios, he doesn’t know, and tables the question to address at another time. Her presence at the TV Tower and her encounter with Artemis indicate that she’s discovered the electromagnetic broadcasts he’s so painstakingly initiated. The fact that she’s with Helios and not Lucien -- something happens between them.

Lucien knows that as long as the Queen trusts him, he’ll be by her side until she awakens fully. If he’s not there, either he’s dead or exposed as Ares. He props his elbows on the desk and rubs his temples, logically arriving at the conclusion that his intuition leapt to while he knelt at her side.

Black Swan is going to get impatient. Zeus is going to interfere. Months of planning, of strategy, of excruciatingly careful manipulation will be wasted in an instant and instead she’ll plunge headlong into danger, without her full powers, without his protection, without any idea what she’s getting into.

Like she always does.

Lucien leans back, steepling his fingers before him. Zeus has never understood the need for the exactitude Ares insists on, or why the strategy has taken so long to implement. The man is incapable of the proper perspective, and if allowed to, he will ruin everything. If allowed to, he will steal her from Lucien, and destroy any chance of seeing the Queen spread her wings.

He cannot lose her.

The rage rises again, red and hot, but this time Lucien is prepared, ready to harness it. He stands, casting one glance at the bedroom door before taking a step that begins in his apartment, and ends in a spacious hall shrouded in a gloomy, deathly-still darkness.

The masked man seated therein showed no surprise at Lucien’s sudden appearance.

“Ares. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Lucien chooses to skip the pleasantries. “Zeus, call off your dogs.”

The mask shows nothing, but Zeus’ head tilts slightly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“The game has hardly begun, and you’re already getting too impatient.” Lucien strides towards him. “Don’t interfere. This is a delicate process --”

“Black Swan does not have time to sit around while you enjoy the Queen’s favours, Ares.” Zeus cuts him off. “I suspect the process would be far less delicate if you were enjoying it less.”

In the blink of an eye, Lucien sorts through impulses and options. Kill Zeus. Lunge at him. Throttle him. Roar in possessive fury. Hiss at him, seething poisonous words. Put him to sleep. Fill his mind with terrors. Drag him through folded space to the ends of the earth. Leave him in the middle of the ocean.

Lucien does none of these things. His face stays smooth, nearly as expressionless as Zeus’ mask. When at last he speaks, it’s in a calm, almost amused tone.

“Zeus. I see the problem here. You’re not a scientist. I realise now that I failed to truly explain to the rest of the Olympians how awakening must be achieved.” He crosses his arms in his favourite ‘harmless professor’ pose and taps one finger on his chin. “Or perhaps I failed to properly impress upon you all the magnitude of the Queen’s fully awakened power.”

The mask shows nothing, but Zeus dips his chin slightly. “Elaborate.”

“You see, Zeus, the Queen is the only one who can traverse the Black Cabin freely. She is the only one who can truly use the Panopticon.”

“Yes, we know that.” Zeus’ voice was gruff. “That’s the whole point of this exercise.”

Lucien raises his eyebrows, radiating innocent surprise. “Did it never occur to you to wonder about the wisdom of handing that power to someone who isn’t fully committed to us?”

Zeus waits silently.

“If the Queen has any reason -- any reason at all -- to mistrust us, fear us, or otherwise work against our goals, awakening her is suicide.” He paces past Zeus, staring out the huge windows to the vast city below. “I call the process delicate because it is. Conditioning someone to trust, implicitly and unquestioningly, is time-consuming.” He glances over his shoulder. “Particularly when, as you know, we’re not actually trustworthy.”

Zeus makes a non-committal sound.

Lucien returns his attention to the cityscape. “By ‘enjoying the Queen’s favours’, as you so euphemistically phrase it, I am speeding up the process, not delaying it. Sexual gratification, in addition to the expected intensification of the emotional bond, assists the conditioning process by the release of oxytocin, prolactin, and endogenous morphine. Every encounter she has with me chemically reinforces that bond. Every encounter trains her to obey me, to surrender to my wishes instead of her own.” Eyes hooded, Lucien places one hand against the window, letting the sensation of cool glass ground him. “Besides, if you wish to be precise --”

“Which you always do,” mutters his audience.

“-- then although she is enjoying my favours, I have not yet enjoyed hers, nor do I plan to any time soon.” Lucien turns back to face Zeus, his smile a cold slash in his pale face. “I am a scientist, Zeus, overseeing a project with a defined goal, not a hormonal teenager lost in the pleasures of the flesh.”

Zeus drums his fingers on the arm of his chair in contemplation. Lucien waits, summoning all his patience.

“How long?”

Lucien folds his hands behind his back in satisfaction. “Not long now. We are very close.”

“How close?” Zeus is insistent. If Lucien were a less controlled man, he would sigh. As it stands, his hands tighten on each other before he answers.

“A few more months, perhaps. This type of indoctrination is not an exact science.” His mouth twists in distaste at admitting to this, but it is a fact.

“Very well.” Zeus may be overbearing and impatient, but he isn’t stupid. “But keep us informed, Ares. You’re in charge of this project, but your reluctance to provide status updates gains you no support with the rest of the Olympians.”

Bureaucrat, Lucien thinks venomously. “Of course,” He answers, before taking the step that finishes back in his apartment.

He stands in the middle of the living room, listening. The bedroom door is still closed. Good. She’s still asleep. She doesn’t know that he’s been and gone.

Now that the immediate crisis is past, Lucien has time to reflect. His jaw is still tense with anger. He heads to the kitchen, thinking to make himself some tea. The ritual of selecting the blend, filling the infuser, and setting the kettle to the correct temperature for the delicate leaves brings him some calm. It’s been many years since he’s felt anything this strongly, this hotly. He isn’t sure what’s prompted it.

As the kettle heats, he examines his unfamiliar emotions. Lucien prides himself on logic and pragmatism. Physically, he knows he’s unimposing, but Ares is the god of war, not combat. He is skilled in strategy and tactics. He plays the long game, dealing with setbacks and taking advantage of opportunities as they arise. He realises, in retrospect, just how close he was to losing control in Zeus’ office. He had been ready to attack the man with his bare hands.

Why?

Zeus has always been shortsighted, and Ares has always found him irritating, but until now it’s been in a remote, cold way, easily dismissed like the buzzing of an insect on the other side of a screen. Today is different; today the rationality of Ares had deserted him, replaced by an impulsive rage against -- What? Lucien can not find a logical cause for the bloodthirsty wrath that had consumed him. Even now, he can feel the banked coals of his anger heating his mind, evaporating any sense of prudence.

Is it Zeus’ insinuations about his loyalty? Is it the man’s belief that someone else might do the job better or faster? His breath comes faster as the kettle steams. Is it the thought of someone else standing by her side when she comes into her own?

The beep of the kettle coming to temperature startles him, and he very nearly flings the appliance across the small kitchen before coming back to reality. Gathering his wits, he slowly fills the china teapot and shuts his eyes against the sweet scent of the tea. He loads the pot and two cups onto a tray and carries it to the bedroom, flicking off lights as he goes. His night vision is exceedingly clear, and he doesn’t want to startle her awake.

He hears her breathing change as he sets the tray down on the nightstand. By the time her eyes open, two full cups of tea are waiting.

“Lucien?” Her voice is raspy with sleep. She reaches out blindly from her huddle, and he catches her hand and brings it to his lips.

“I’m here,” he murmurs to her fingertips. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She traces his mouth lightly before retrieving her hand to rub at her eyes. “I had another one of those dreams. The premonitions.” Her own mouth is drawn and tense.

It takes every ounce of control he has not to blurt out ‘I know’. Instead he nudges her further into the bed and climbs in beside her. “Do you want to tell me about it?” He puts his arm around her shoulders and cuddles her close, letting her legs swing across his lap and her forehead rest in the crook of his neck. She stays there quietly for a minute before speaking, and when she does her voice betrays her in a dry croak. Lucien chuckles and hands her one of the tea cups.

“Drink this first. It’ll help wake up your voice.”

He knows that in keeping with his plan, now would be another opportunity to seduce her; he should be soothing away her tension and fear with his hands and tongue and the accessories stored carefully in the wooden case under the bed. She’s vulnerable and upset and it provides yet another crack in her armour for him to force open.

She sips her tea and fidgets against him as she swallows. All thoughts of his plan evaporate in her warm breath against his chest when she sighs before speaking.

Haltingly, she describes the dream, matching the details he saw in her sleep. She does provide one piece of information he was missing: Kiro. Helios is Kiro Chow. Tears of stress and fatigue roll down her face as she speaks. She doesn’t seem to be aware of them, and Lucien doesn’t comment or wipe them away. He does pull the comforter over them both, and take the tea cup from her hands when her voice starts to go fuzzy and lethargic. He ignores the urge to put her to sleep with his power, instead simply holding her close and warm against him.

He’s still sitting there when the sun peeks in through the blinds, his own tea undrunk and long since cold. She slumbers on, one hand caught in his shirt, long even breaths ruffling the ends of her hair. Lucien has, in the hours since she fell asleep, realised two things.

One: Zeus was right. Not in the details, maybe, but certainly in implication.

Two: It doesn’t matter.

[julia-highstorms]

The Third Park (Damien x OC (Ellie)) - Part 4

Summary: Damien takes Ellie on a night out drinking at his fave pub, Archer and Hopps... And of course it calls for the Nazario Chug!

Note: (most) characters belong to Pixelberry Studios. Damien is 100% human in here and Male!MC (Allen). Damien’s fc (Santiago Cabrera) gifs by @flynnomalleys and Ellie’s fc (Ni Ni) by @thanhpls. Link to previous parts

Pairing: Damien x OC (Ellie)

Rating: PG-13 (language/alcohol)

Tagging: @flynnomalleys @boneandfur @damienazariostan @client327 @never-ending-choices @dangerous-capri15 @goirishsunshine @walkerismychoice @laniquelove @parkerattano @bluediamondsapphire @wa-reva @her-imperial-hangman-s @endlesswoods @confessionsofabrokegirl @odetomars @suckmydestielobsessedassbutt @clarissafics @kennaxval @thequeenchoices If you would like to be tagged, tell me!

Word count: 3400

As he said, Damien worked the rest of the Monday and Tuesday too, until it was almost time to go meet with Eleanor. Although he tried to act normal, he would be lying if he said that he wasn't excited about it. It felt like years since he had been out on a proper date…

Wait. Was it a date?

No, they were just going to get a few drinks and chit chat.

...Hell, it sounded like a date.

Fuck.

Oh, whatever.

God, why was he feeling so nervous?

Since he lived close to Allen's apartment, he walked all the way there. He was approaching his friend's building when he saw a lone figure standing in front of it. When Eleanor saw him, she walked towards him, meeting him halfway.

"Good night." - she greeted him with a smile that made his heart leap a little.

"Good night. Uh… You look nice. Red really is your color." - she was wearing a simple red sweater and jeans, but she looked elegant anyway.

"Thank you. You don't look bad yourself. It's nice to see you sober for a change." - she chuckled as Damien rolled his eyes.

"Shall we?" - he offered her his elbow, which she accepted, an eyebrow raised.

"Charming. So, where are we going?"

"There's this nearby pub, Archer and Hopps. They serve great food there, besides drinks."

"Good, because I'm starving. Alright, lead the way!"

Chandeliers hanged from the ceiling, and there were classy leather booths lined across the room. As they entered the pub, the bartender called for Damien from behind the bar.

"Back already, Nazario? What are you moping about this time?" - but then, his eyes laid on the woman laughing next to Damien. - "Oh, this is new. It's been a while since you've come here accompanied." - Damien growled, wanting to disappear. The only other person who he brought there was Allen, more than two years ago. - "Nice to meet you, I'm Flynn."

"Eleanor, but you can call me Ellie." - she greeted him back. - "You didn't tell me you were a regular here, Damien." - she turned to him, squeezing his arm playfully, making the bartender laugh.

Damien's faced turned a shade pinker as he cleared his throat and asked for a drink:

"I would like a beer and a burger." - Flynn and Eleanor chuckled with his embarrassment. - "You?" - he asked her.

"Me too."

"Alright." - Flynn gave Damien their beers. - "Two burgers coming up. You two make yourselves comfortable."

Although it was a Tuesday night, the place was lively and packed, so they decided to sit in the stools by the bar counter, side by side.

"So you came here after Allen's and Nadia's weddings? To mope around?" - Damien sighed loudly. He knew she wouldn't let him get away from it.

"Yeah..." - he took a sip of his beer, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

When he put the bottle down, her hand squeezed his softly.

"Hey, I'm sorry. I'm being nosey again."

He let out a low sigh.

"No, it's okay. I should have gotten over it by now. Besides, I was pretty aware that things wouldn't work between me and him." - she nodded, letting him take it all out of his chest. - "And I did say that I would understand if he wanted to be just friends. But it's easier said than done. Hell, I've always said that emotions shouldn't get the better of us, and yet, look where I am… Still moping around, two years later."

Ellie kept holding his hand, her thumb massaging his knuckles. Nadia had told her that Damien had feelings towards Allen, but she didn't know that they were that strong. And that was why he looked so miserable during the wedding. She felt sorry for him.

She decided to change the subject. It was her own little mission to make Damien not think about Allen that night.

“So, you're a private investigator." - she said, drinking her own beer. He nodded. - "So this means that you’re paid to peep in other people’s lives? I don’t know if this is a dream job or an actual nightmare."

“You seem too much interested on my job.” - he arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

"Well, you're the first detective that I met and I'm a big fan of Agatha Christie." - she shrugged. - "But you don’t seem like a guy who cares much about what other people do or don’t, to be honest.” “And this is why I am so good at it.” - he answered and she saw a small grin tugging on the corner of his lips. That was a good sign. “Cocky. Alright, can you tell me which was your most interesting case?"

"Well… I was asked to take a look after a foreign royal who was having a forbidden affair with a 'commoner'—"

"Oh my God. Are you talking about King Liam of Cordonia?!" - Ellie beamed on her seat.

"I can't confirm you this. You know, private investigator conduct and everything." - she let out a frustrated sigh, making him chuckle. - "Why? Big fan of the royalty?"

"Are you kidding me?! I followed everything! Since they announced that there was an American suitor running for King Liam's hand during that social season! Then the leaked photos of Lady Riley and the other nobleman! Ugh, I can't wait for the royal wedding!" - Damien laughed with her excitement. She was cute. "Anyway, enough about my work. What about you? Did your boss send you new work to do? Or did she finally leave you alone?"

"I wish! My boss is always sending me more work to do. But I told her that I'll check everything on Monday, when I go back from my vacation. I've been too focused on my work for the last couple of years. I deserve a break."

"Bold move. But you're right."

"I know." - they clinked their beers as Flynn approached them with their food.

They'd been at Archer and Hopps for almost two hours. The burgers were long gone and there were a few empty drinks in front of them, both feeling a little lighter and happier. Their laughter filled the place.

“I still can’t believe they’re both married to robots!“ - Eleanor laughed hysterically as if that was the joke of the century. - “Oh my God." - she looked at Damien with wide eyes. - "Is the sex that good?”

“Don’t look at me. I have no idea how it is and I’m not planning on finding that out.” - but she kept murmuring to herself:

“...Must be it. I mean, Nadia is more traditional when it comes about love and sex and she had been let down countless of times by douchebags before. So I kind of understand why she fell so fast and hard for Steve, her 'Perfect Match', since he was entirely and exclusively designed for her. Allen, on the other hand, I've always kind of knew that he's more adventurous... I know what he meant when he said that he did some experiments during college involving handcuffs... but I’ve never thought he was that open, you know? To the point to marry a robot. And that he was so kinky.” - suddenly, her eyes laid on the man next to her again. - “What if the robots.... vibrate down there? They must have some kind of, I don’t know, an erotical device there!” - Damien couldn't hold back a laugh with her wonder.

“Are you curious now? Do you want to try it?”

“Hell no.” - she grabbed her beer and turned it down.

“Why not? Maybe you should be more open-minded. Like your cousins.”

“Please. I’ve watched enough movies to know that robots and humans are not a good thing to be together. Besides, I’m just into humans.”

“Oh yeah?” - Damien didn’t notice that he scooped closer to her. She nodded, her brown eyes darker, a side smile on her lips. - “What kind of human?”

“I don't know..." - she shrugged. - "I like to let my options open.”

“And are you seeing any human at the moment?”

Wow. Real subtle, Damien.

“No. I’ve been super single for almost two years now. Just random hookups with strangers at bars...” - she shrugged again. - “The last ‘relationship’ that I had was with this girl named Eva. We’ve been dating for a few months when I found out that she was taking my money without my consent. Of course I broke up with her. And before her I dated this dude who cheated on me with my neighbor. One day I was going to work and he walked out of the door from the other side of the hall. Jerk. And he tried to tell me that she was her cousin! But my neighbor heard it and then we both broke up with him at the same time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“That’s okay, it was a long time ago, anyway.” - Ellie shrugged. - “What about you? Seeing someone?”

He let out a low chuckle.

“I wish. But I had my fair share of bad relationships, too."

"Oh yeah, Nadia told me about an ex-girlfriend of yours, this Interpol agent that helped you all take down Eros... Alana, right?”

"Dammit, Nadia. What else did she tell you?"

"Everything, I believe. Allen invited Alana to the wedding but she didn’t came...”

“Thank God.”

“I know she’s your ex... but why? You didn’t want to see her again? Allen respected her, even after that ‘betrayal’.”

“Allen is more forgiving than me. I guess you’re aware of that.”

She nodded, letting out a sigh.

“What a shame. I was looking forward to meet her. She sounded interesting. And gorgeous. Nadia showed me a picture of her. You were a very good looking couple. Can I meet her someday?”

“If you think I’ll introduce you to her, then you must be dreaming. Alana is dangerous.”

“I’m a grown up woman, 'D'." - she called him the nickname Nadia gave him. - "I know how to take care of myself.”

“Okay, if you happen to meet her, don’t come crying to me after she breaks your little heart, 'Ellie'.”

She giggled, leaning closer to him, her eyes longing on his.

“Hey...” - her breath was hot against his skin. - “help me.” - before Damien could know what was happening, he felt Eleanor's hand on one of his forearms to steady herself as she stood up from her seat. - “Wait for me. I need to freshen up.” - and she wobbled towards the toilet.

Eleanor was back after a few minutes, and Damien wondered if she brushing her body against his was by accident or not, when she went back to the stool next to him. “Okay, I’m back! Where were we?”

"Hey you two. Having fun?" - Flynn approached them, pouring two shots of dark rum for each of them.

"Oh my God..." - Damien muttered, knowing what was about to happen.

"What is this?" - Eleanor asked, curious about the deck of cards the bartender put on the counter, next to their drinks.

"I introduce you the Nazario Chug. Damien will tell you how it works." - the man grinned and slipped away.

"Nazario Chug? You have a game named after you?" - she asked, trying to not laugh at his face.

"Why? Feeling intimidated that I'll win?" - Eleanor concluded that Damien was already fully under the influence of the alcohol, based on his stupidly charming cocky grin.

"Hell no! Bring it on!" - she shouted, rubbing her hands against each other, excitedly. Damien chuckled and explained her how the game worked:

"You take the top card. Black means dare, red means truth. If you fail or want to dodge your task, you drink according to the number on the card. Ready?" - Eleanor flipped the first card. Seven of Hearts. - "Truth. When you went all the way to my house to ask me for Allen's password... Was it just an excuse to see me?" - she chuckled.

“Well, I actually needed that password. But… I won't lie that I liked to see you again. I wanted to get to know you better.” - she said, her eyes glancing on his lips.

"Me too." - they leaned closer, drawn to each other. They kept staring at each other for a minute, before Ellie pulled out and drank a shot (even though she had already played her turn):

"Hey, it's your turn, D." - she bumped her shoulder against his, playfully.

He flipped the next top card.

"Truth again." "Alright. So, is this a date? Or what?"

"I don't know. What do you think it is?" - he answered, with a smirk.

"Hey, it's not me who has to answer this question, it's you, Mr. Nazario. Or you answer it or you take four shots now."

"Well, I'll say that this is a date, then. What do you think about it?"

"If you say so..." - she chuckled, flipping another card.

"Nine of Clubs, and black means Dare. Finally." - he said with a satisfying and devilish grin.

"Oh no!" - Ellie shouted, laughing loudly. - "Alright, shoot."

"I dare you to go to the restroom and come out again and pretend you're so drunk that you end up bumping on the first person that you meet."

"What? This is stupid. What if this person get mad at me and I end up in trouble? Why would you want this?"

"Don't worry about it, if someone wish to start a fight, I'll be there to intervene. Now go. Unless you're a coward..."

Those were the right words, because Ellie simply stood up (after taking a shot for encouragement) and marched to the restroom. Damien watched her walking out of it a few seconds later, wobbling around.

She bumped hard on a man leaning against a wall nearby. She pretended to almost fall, but he grabbed her quickly, steadying her again.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry!" - she shouted a little too loud, so Damien could hear it. He held a laugh back. She clearly was forcing it. - "Are you okay?!"

"I'm good. What about you?" - the dark haired man on a leather jacket answered her. - “My name’s Jax, by the way.” - he answered with a grin. A grin full of second intentions to Damien’s opinion.

“I'm good too, Jax.” - clearly Ellie appreciated the man right in front of her, since she started playing with her own hair and leaned closer to him. - “Thank you for saving me...” - Damien walked towards them in a few hurried paces. He tried to be both gentle and firm when he put his hand on her shoulder.

“Ellie.” - he said, his eyes locked on the man in front of him.

“D!” - she shouted happily, throwing her arms around his shoulder. - “Come meet my new friend and savior, Jax! Jax, this is my other not so new friend, Damien!”

“Nice to meet you.” - Jax said, smiling at him.

“Likewise. We have to go now.” - he turned to her.

“Already? I thought we could have some fun with Jax here… What do you think, Jax?”

“It would be nice.” - he answered, his smile widening. Damien didn’t like the way his eyes shined.

“I’m sorry, we have to go know. We have a place to go, do you remember it, Ellie?” - Eleanor wanted to protest, but then Damien put his arm around her waist protectively, pulling her closer.

And she wanted him to do it the whole night, and he was calling her her nickname (yep, she knew it was a way to show Jax that he was closer to her than he was), and his body was so hot against hers… That she thought to herself 'okay, girl, some nights you just can't have everything. Or everyone'.

“Oh, okay. You’re right. I’m sorry, we gotta go." - she said, leaning closer to Damien's embrace. - "But maybe another night, Jax.” - she smiled mischievously at him.

“I’d like that.” - Damien definitely didn’t like the way that man looked at her. It was almost predatory. Damien pulled Eleanor away before she could say goodbye to her “new friend”.

"Alright, enough about this game tonight." - he whispered as they headed towards the pub's door.

"Why? I was starting to like it! Maybe Jax could join us..." - Ellie kept talking, teasingly.

"This is out of question."

He paid for their dinner, said goodbye to Flynn and pulled Eleanor outside the pub, his hand still on the small of her back.

“You know, jealousy is not a very attractive feature, 'Big D'. You ruined my night with that gorgeous ma—”

“Who told you?” - he asked abruptly, pulling away from her.

“What?” - Ellie immediately missed his touch. God, was she that touch deprived?

“The nickname.”

He saw a devilish grin spreading on her face.

“Nadia, of course.”

“I’ll kill her when she’s back...” - he muttered to himself. He went on a night out with Nadia and Allen and might have drunk a little too much and said that he liked to call himself “Big D” when he was younger... because of that stupid and weird fixation that boys had with their own dicks. Yes. And Nadia never let him hear the end of it. - “Anyway, it’s late. I’ll walk you home.”

They chatted all the way to Allen’s apartment, arm in arm.

“Well, that was it. Just another glimpse of a New Yorker experience: the Nazario edition.” - he said, as they stopped in front of the red bricks building.

“That was fun. Thank you for spending your time with me, D. I know you have real work to do and it’s not babysitting me. So I mean it when I say thank you.”

“It’s no problem at all. And I’d like to thank you too. For being patient with me and listening to me whining.”

“It’s okay, I was told before that I’m a great listener.” - he chuckled.

“Have people told you that you’re conceited too?”

“A couple of times, I guess.” - they shared a laugh. - “But this never stopped them from liking me.”

She dangerously approached him, with that mischievous shine on her eyes and that sly grin that he knew too well by now. Damien knew that he should turn around and go away.

Don’t get involved with another Park.

But, hell, he should have done it the day before, and here they were. Walking back from a date.

It seemed that he was unable to reasoning when Eleanor Zhou was around.

Before he knew it, he felt her lips on his cheek, bringing him back to his senses. He looked at her, and for the first time she had this coyly smile on her beautiful face. Seeing that he didn’t pulled out, Ellie closed the distance between them, cupping her hands around Damien’s face and leaned in, kissing his mouth this time.

He hesitated for a single second, before his lips kissed her back hungrily, almost desperately, as his arms pulled her close by her waist, pressing her body tightly against his. Her hands were already on his hair, pulling it possessively and excitedly, while she deepened the kiss. She let out a low groan against his lips, that made his blood boil.

“...I’ve been thinking of doing this since you cornered me on the wedding.” - he said when they needed air, his voice sounding hoarse.

“To be honest, me too. Took you long enough, D.” - she whispered back as her hands rested on his firm chest, feeling his heart beating fast and hard, like hers. - "...I better go now. Good night." - the sensation of his warmth enveloping her as he held her was nice, but she pulled out of his embrace, after a last peck.

"Aren't you going to let me in…?"

"If we were in my house… Yeah. But this is Allen's apartment. Wouldn't it be... weird?"

Fuck. She was right.

"We could go to my flat..." - she let out a loud laugh.

"You would like that, wouldn't you?"

"Well, you're a fucking tease. You think I didn’t notice that you’ve been teasing me the whole night? Touching me ‘innocently’ and flirting with a stranger right in front of me.”

“Well, if I didn’t do it, you would have never kissed me.”

...She was right again. Fuck, was he that obvious? Or was is because she could read him so well?

“You’re an evil woman, Ellie. Do you know that? Making me all worked up like this to leave me alone in the end." - she giggled again.

"Take a cold shower, Nazario." - she patted his shoulder before walking indoors and leaving him alone in the street.

[angstmongertina]

Recovery (Jihyun Kim/MC)

Part 2 of the prompts by @gerundsandcoffee. This was supposed to be fluff, and then my brain went “but NIGHTMARE HURT/COMFORT” and then I saw a piano version of V’s theme and listened to the sad version and cried so I don’t know whether it counts as fluff anymore. (Spoiler alert: It probably doesn’t.)

*lies down* I just… why do I do this to myself?

Spoilers for V’s route! Also trigger warning for possible implied torture (nothing graphic by any means but just to be safe).

AO3 Link

Recovery aka 98. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

Recovery is a process. And like any, there are good days, and bad ones.

He has never thought to tell Eunbyeol about the dreams, didn’t really think it was necessary, not anymore. Oh, they were frequent at first, leaving him sweat-soaked and breathless and, more often than not, with her name on his lips. The first night, he awoke in pitch black, wrapped in sheets that felt more stifling than comforting, and reached for his phone on instinct. He had nearly finished dialing her number before the panic subsided, the image of her, suffering from the effects of whatever poison Rika had concocted, fading from his vision, leaving him shaking and nauseous, yet lucid enough to know that she was sleeping and well, even if he could not bring himself to fall back asleep.

But over time, as he explored and fell in love with nature once again, as he learned to understand and accept himself, they lessened. By the time he returned home, returned to her, her image haunted his daydreams far more than his nightmares, and he figured that it was safe to let go.

Until now.

There is no reason for it to strike now, of all times. By now, her apartment is as familiar as his home, if not more so for her presence. They are both used to the process of preparing for bed together, their maintained separate residences for show more than for practice. It is natural for him to pull her close, heart squeezing tightly in his chest, even now, as she curls up against him, her head fitting into the crook of his neck and arm draped across his chest.

“Good night, my love,” he whispers, kissing the top of her head and he can feel her lips curling into a smile against his neck.

“Good night.” Her sleepy reply is muffled but audible and he drifts to sleep easily in her arms.

The night is calm, snug in her presence. But soon, his vision is filled with darkness, not the warm, comforting sensation when he fell asleep, but instead cold and isolating, and he blinks as bars solidify in his vision. Thick metal bars, extending from the stone ceiling into the ground, save for the door. A cell.

He’s back in Magenta, locked and awaiting “salvation.”

But it’s worse, oh so much worse, because he can hear a door opening, can hear rough movement and a rougher “Stop that!” and horrible, soft, anguished weeping that makes his insides twist. And he knows, knows without a sliver of a doubt, that it’s Rika and her.

Several figures walk by, two of them, cloaked in black, half-marching, half-dragging a third while another stops in front of his door and throws back her hood, revealing long blond hair, painfully familiar green eyes, and once-gentle lips curved into a knife-like smile. “Hello again, V. Have you decided yet?”

He throws himself towards her without thought, hardly noticing the pain as his knees impact the hard ground and the bars dig into his shoulders when he reaches out, grasping for something. Anything. “Please, Rika. Don’t hurt her. Don’t drag her into this. Just let her go.” He knows he’s begging at this point but he’s beyond caring, beyond wondering what Rika or even Eunbyeol might think of his pathetic display. His dignity is hardly a price to pay for her being safe.

But of course the only response he gets is a snarl, the beautiful bright green eyes he once adored narrowed in rage. “I see. Well then, V, you leave me no choice. Guards? Proceed.”

The words alone send a shiver down his spine and he finds himself screaming, almost before Rika is done talking. “Eunbyeol? Eunbyeol!”

His cries are still not loud enough to drown out her screams: “No! NO! Please stop! V! V, make them stop! Please, save me!”

Rika offers him one, last, almost sad look before she turns her back and walks away, prim and proper, out of reach of his frantic, grasping hands, and then all he can do is screw his eyes shut and wish he can somehow do the same to his ears, so he doesn’t have to hear her calls. “Jihyun! Jihyun!”

How much longer can it—can she—last?

“Jihyun, love, wake up! JIHYUN!”

He jerks upright, trembling and nearly hyperventilating, to Eunbyeol’s dimly lit bedroom. The small light resting on her nightstand is on, casting a gentle yellow glow over the room, slowly overpowering the damp cell in his mind’s eye. Eunbyeol herself crouches beside him by the bed, brown eyes soft with concern that only seems to grow when he reaches for her, pulling her hard, desperately, into his shaking embrace. “Eunbyeol. You’re here,” is all he can manage.

“I’m here,” she agrees, her voice gentle, soothing unlike anything he has ever heard before, and coupled with the gentle stroke of her hand across his brow, brushing away the errant strands of hair, it is enough to tear the frayed remains of his self-control.

She says nothing as he cries, his face buried into her shoulder, only holds him tighter with soft, calming sounds and a warm presence that he has never known, not like this. Not this unwavering, unconditional support that at once feels so foreign and so natural, understanding and sweet and oh so much than he deserves.

Slowly, slowly his tears calm, leaving him drained, rocking gently back and forth in her arms as she hums an unfamiliar tune in his ear. After another moment, she pulls away, though still near enough that he can see the light reflecting in her eyes, rich and warm. “Feeling better?”

He manages a grunt, neither confirmation nor denial, and she nods, pressing the cup of water she keeps at her bedside into his hands. He takes it with still shaking fingers, notes her hands curling around his to keep it steady.

“A nightmare?” From the tone of her voice, she already knows the answer, but still she waits, endlessly patient for his own confirmation.

“Yes.” His confession is a whisper, a proof of his weakness, but again, she simply nods, taking the cup out of his hands and putting it down before gently tugging him back onto their bed. He lies down obediently, watching as she disentangles the sheets that were twisted in his panicked flailing, spreading the blanket oh so tenderly over them, and lies beside him, turned so that she curls around him, arms wrapped protectively across his chest.

“I had them too,” she says softly in his ear, and he almost starts at the words, but she sighs, a soft, bittersweet sound. “The number of nights I imagined what would have happened if Ray had been any more forceful, if Rika had been a little bit more determined… It’s inevitable, given what we’ve been through. It doesn’t make you any less of a person.”

He swallows, hard, around the lump in his throat. “I… I don’t…”

“I’m well, Jihyun. And so are you. And nothing is going to happen to you. To us.” She says the words with confidence, with a surety that he doesn’t feel. “All of that is over.” The bed creaks as she sits up, leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead, and then his lips. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Eunbyeol.” The words feel right on his lips, and his body slowly relaxes, though he isn’t sure if it’s from the words or the warmth of her presence.

“I know,” she murmurs. “And no dream can change that.”

He nods, arranges himself to fall back asleep but…

“Don’t leave me.” The words, the plea, fall out of his mouth before he can think to stop them, hanging, small and pitiful, in the air between them, but she makes no move to pull away.

“I won’t,” she vows instead, an anchor in the maelstrom around him. “I’m not going anywhere, Jihyun.”

And she doesn’t.

[angstymarshmallow]

All 50 questions for Drake/MC? 😆 Sorry if it's too much for you! By the way, your stories are awesome! 👍 You were one of the first Choices writers I found (before I had an account) and I loved your stories! Keep on writing! 😊

Oh not a problem sweetie! I’m actually so happy you asked because those two are very dear to my heart. Aww thank you so much, gosh like my heart is so full right now 💕 I adore you and your poems! Likewise friend, keep writing!💕 Without further ado:1. Who is the early bird/ Who is the night owl? Drake’s up first in the morning because he enjoys morning runs; since its one of the rare moments to see the prince before the rest of Cordonia awakens from their slumber to pry him away. MC despises waking early because she’s the night owl in their relationship. She spends an unhealthy amount of time reading with her night light on or staring at Drake’s innocent expressions while he sleeps.2. Who is the big spoon/ Who is the little spoon?Drake loves being the big spoon because of how perfectly MC fits inside his arms. He rests his chin by the space in between her shoulder and likes to inhale her scent (because he secretly likes the sweet smell of strawberry body wash she uses).3. Who hogs the cover/ Who loves to cuddle?Drake hogs the covers at night, especially since he’s usually asleep first. MC doesn’t mind until it’s time to sleep and then it turns into a wrestling match with him still half asleep. They both like to cuddle even though Drake pretends it annoys him when MC moves closer. Usually, he gives a long insufferable sigh before acquiescing to her cuddling demands.4. Who wakes the other one up with kisses? Since Drake’s usually up first, he is surprisingly affectionate in the morning. He likes to trail kisses across her jaw down to her neck. Sometimes MC is so far deeply invested in sleep, she doesn’t respond. Other times, she wakes up with a laugh before pouncing on him. 5. Who usually has nightmares? MC knows Drake is troubled by nightmares because of the occasional frown she feels pressing into her shoulder while he’s asleep. Sometimes he even mutters in his sleep, and she hears Savannah slip from his lips every once in awhile. She can’t do much while he’s lost in his nightmares, so she worries and frets over him until his nightmare is over.6. Who would have really deep emotional thoughts at the middle of the night/ Who would have them in the middle of the day? They both have them during the middle of the night, when they get a chance to sneak away and watch the stars together. Sometimes they are too lost in thought and sit beside with each other in companionable silence. During the day it’s MC because Drake avoids having those kind of thoughts like the plague and MC doesn’t.7. Who sweats the small stuff? MC over analyzes a lot things. Especially when they’re alone together. She’s constantly wondering what he’s thinking when he doesn’t make any effort to talk and sometimes gauges his reactions quickly even when they’re non-verbal responses.8. Who sleeps in their underwear (or naked)/ Who sleeps in their pajamas? Drake sleeps nude on most nights because he finds it more comfortable than boxers. MC thinks it’s sexy but also finds it ridiculous because their bedroom is cold at night. (This probably explains why he likes to hog the blanket). MC sleeps in underwear.9. Who makes the coffee (or tea)? Drake finds tea soothing and is very particular about how he makes it. MC never gets it right and sometimes it ends in arguments because of how much sugar she puts in it. MC prefers coffee except when Drake makes her tea.10. Who likes sweet/ Who likes sour? MC likes a lot of bitter tasting things and Drake teases that it’s because she’s already too sweet to stomach anything more. He secretly has a sweet tooth but tells her otherwise until she catches him snooping for sweet treats.11. Who likes horror movies/ Who likes romance movies? Drake likes to criticize horror in general and is never satisfied with them. He enjoys it but he likes to point out things in the middle of it which takes away from how scary they are some of the time. He also enjoys it because MC’s cuddles up to him when she’s scared and buries her face into his shoulder whenever there’s a particularly scary scene on display. MC adores romance movies and can often quote a lot of what they say (because she’s perceptive and can usually predict where they’ll lead). Drake barely stomachs romance most of the time. He watches them to humor her, but mostly ends up criticizing every move the main characters makes and points out plot inconsistencies. Then it turns to a giant pillow fight when MC gets too frustrated at him calling the main character stupid or brainless.12. Who is smol/ Who is tol?MC is definitely smol and Drake is definitely tol. I had to google this because I had no idea what they meant LOL.13. Who is considered the scaredy cat? Drake is a giant scaredy cat. He calls himself practical and prefers not to go outside his comfort zone. MC usually pushes him to because she’s fearless and a little too brave in his eyes, whenever she commits to one of their sporadic adventures.14. Who kills the spiders? Drake kills them after  rushing in only to find MC screaming and pointing in fear at them, clutching a pillow like it’s a certified weapon on the other side of the room. He usually rolls his eyes at that point and begrudgingly kills it (on rare occasions he chases her with it).15. Who is scared of the dark? MC is afraid of the dark, it reminds her too much of horror movies and before long she starts imagining a serial killer will come up behind her at any given moment to end her life. This thought occurs a lot when Drake isn’t there distracting her with his voice, or his rough kisses or his inquisitive hands. The only time she doesn’t mind is in the presence of other people because she assumes if a serial killer does attack, she won’t be the first one to go in a group. 16. Who is scared of thunderstorms? MC is but pretends she isn’t by masking her fear and coupling it with the dark. Unless it’s thunderstorms during the day, then she cuddles up to Drake and waits for it to end. 17. Who works/ Who stays at home? MC stays at home and works on her novel. It’s supposed to sum up her whole experience during the first year of living in Cordonia (all the ups and downs of competing over the prince). It’s a work in progress but she uses the time she spends alone while Drake’s at work to write fervently about it.18. Who is a cat person/ Who is a dog person? Drake’s a cat person because they show exactly the right amount of affection he does - which is not a lot. He likes dogs too because of their loyalty to him, even when he yells at them for being silly but cats tend to gravitate to him. MC is a dog person and is usually the person their dogs go to for a belly rub. 19. Who loves to call the other one cute names? MC loves to call Drake very cutesy names, which he pointedly ignores most of the time until she calls him something proper. Like Darling, or baby. He doesn’t react to snugglepuss, or cherrytop very nicely.20. Who is dominant/ Who is submissive? Drake’s the dominant when they get into a heated argument otherwise - it depends on the circumstances.21. Who has an obsession (over anything)? Drake obsesses over anything that doesn’t go his way. He constantly tries to think of ways it could have gone better, or comes up with different scenarios that could have happened.22. Who goes all out for Valentine’s Day? Valentine’s Day brings out the romantic in Drake. It’s one of those rare moments when Drake goes all out for how much he cares about MC. He strictly does it so long as she doesn’t make a huge deal about it (which she does anyway) but he likes seeing her happy and only complains about it jokingly.23. Who asks who out on the first date? MC doesn’t care about traditional roles. She sees what she wants and takes it. It took awhile for them to admit their feelings for each other considering their extenuating circumstances. But MC is first to admit her feelings for him and the first to ask him out because she doesn’t have a lot of patience for could-bes if she hasn’t tried it yet.24. Who is the talker/ Who is the listener? Drake prefers to listen since he doesn’t like to voice his own opinions unless MC coerces it out of him. It’s just his way of dealing with things to kind of bottle them up until they unfortunately spill over. MC is one of the only people he opens up to. She knows when to push and if he’s in a particular mood, she fills the silence with nonsensical things to distract him. Sometimes she pushes hard though, and they get into another one of those heated arguments.25. Who wears the other ones clothes? MC steal Drake’s tank tops as apart of her morning routine. They’re roomy on her and too tight on him (she decides this because his muscles distract her). 26. Who likes to eat healthy/ Who loves junk food? They both adore junk food and often eats cronuts and hamburgers on date night. She’s showing him more about American culture through the junkiest of foods Cordonia can offer, and on the rare occasions they visit New York - she spoils him with it. They only grab a bite of something healthy when they are both feeling guilty.27. Who takes a long shower/ Who sings in the shower?Drake loves long showers because he has a tendency to have lot of shower thoughts. It’s not intentional, but usually he spends a lot of time thinking and uses all the hot water. MC sings in the shower to whatever song is stuck in her head at time (because usually there’s a song stuck inside her head).28. Who is the book worm? MC loves to read and spends a lot of time in the libraries when she’s alone at home. She also likes to read them at night when Drake has fallen asleep first.29. Who is the better cook? Drake makes a lot of tasty meals and saves their tastebuds considering MC can’t cook worth anything. It’s one of the reasons why she always opts for junk food because she somehow messes up following a recipe most of the time. It’s no competition.30. Who likes long walks on the beach? MC likes taking long on the beach walks while only accepts for swimming competitions. He’s usually the winner and brags about it for the rest of the night, but never mentions it on off chances when MC wins.31. Who is more affectionate? MC loves being affectionate. Whether it’s holding hands, catching him off-guard with a kiss or cuddling, she’s usually the one to initiate (unless they’ve got liquor in their system). Then Drake’s the affectionate one, his inhibitions makes him bolder and a lot more confident in making a move. He’s also more affectionate when they’ve got into a fight and tensions are high. 32. Who likes to have really long (deep) conversation? Since Drake prefers to listen, MC chats about a lot of different things to which he mostly responds to sarcastically or to poke fun at something. Drake likes having really long (deep) conversations when they talk about family.33. Who would wear “not guilty” t-shirt/ Who would wear “sin” t-shirt? Drake would wear the ‘not guilty’ shirt because MC has an adventurous spirit. Sometimes too adventurous, and lands them into trouble with Cordonian guards. She’ll wear that ‘sin’ shirt proud though and keep her chin up because she doesn’t regret a single minute of it.34. Who would wear “if lost return to…” t-shirt/ Who would wear “I am…” t-shirt? That “if lost return to…” shirt is totally MC’s; especially when they have one of their whiskey nights. Drake is almost as affected by liquor as she is but does a better job of holding it together. If they ever buy shirts like that hers would probably say “if lost return to her possessive boyfriend Drake” while Drake’s shirt would say “I am the responsible one. Not boring. Responsible.” Or something like that.35. Who goes overboard on the holidays? MC loves the holidays! (Even Cordonian holidays), she makes him apple pie every year and every year she does it wrong and he heaves it back out because he tries to be supportive of her disastrous cooking. Drake prefers not to celebrate over the holidays but MC chides him and tries to insist on being in the holiday spirit.36. Who is the social media addict? MC’s phone is somewhere near by. She likes to check her account frequently and always posts about their pets. Not to mention sneak pictures of Drake when actually smiles and when he’s not looking surly at something (these are rare moments that demands to be documented).37. Height difference or age difference? Height difference. MC’s a measly five feet five while Drake towers over her at 6 feet. They are close to the same age.38. Who likes to star gaze?They both do, it’s one of those rare moments where they get to disappear from the rest of the world even though it’s for a little while.39. Who buys cereal for the prize inside? MC does and Drake always teases her that she’s childish for it - in which she promptly sticks out her tongue and denies it. The irony is not lost on Drake.40. Who is the fun parent/ Who is the responsible parent?MC is the fun parent, often taking their kids across trips to visit her side of the family in New York and doesn’t hesitate when they ask her if they can sleep over by a friend’s. Drake is more protective of their children. He’s the strict one that says no most of the time. Sometimes, leaving their daughter in tears.41. Who cries during sad movies? MC cries during sad movies and sometimes uses Drake’s shirt for tissue if there is none available. He more or less rolls his eyes but feels more deeply about sad movies than he lets on. Especially when they’re about family struggles. He just has a far better poker face than MC.42. Who is the neat freak? Drake’s a neat freak that gains anxiety as soon as he sees anything out of place. MC is unorganized by nature so sometimes he loses his patience with her when he finds their room in disarray or anywhere else in the house for that matter. She just says she’s doing a little of redecorating until she’s forgotten where she’s placed something.43. Who wins the stuffed animals at the carnival for the other one? Drake does because he knows MC loves tiny stuffed animals to bits. Although she can manage to win on her own, she lets him because he enjoys winning something for her.44. Who is active/ Who is lazy? They’re both active and spend a lot of time through various outdoorsy activities.45. Who is more likely to get drunk? Sometimes they have drinking contests but MC usually loses because she can’t tell after the twelveth shot if Drake’s affected by it as much as she is. (He is, he just has a better poker face). She’s just better at showing how drunk she is.46. Who has the longer food order? MC likes to add little things to her order which Drake likes to point out she won’t actually finish eating but more or less leave un-touched in her rush to try everything.47. Who has the more complex coffee order? Drake has a very complicated coffee order in the rare occasions that he drinks it. If it’s not done right it puts him into a foul mood until he finds a good spot for tea instead. MC drinks the same type of coffee.48. Who loses stuff?MC loses stuff all time because she forgets where she puts them if she doesn’t get back to it fast enough. It drives Drake crazy because it usually ends up in someplace bizarre; finding her keys in their kitchen sink or her toothbrush by the garage.49. Who is the driver/ Who is the passenger? Drake likes driving because he’s a hands on kind of guy. MC likes driving as well but not as much and can use this opportunity to make Drake laugh and take pictures of him in secret for herself and sometimes her social media account.50. Who is the hopeless romantic?  They both are. Drake is just very good at hiding that about himself, unless it’s Valentine’s Day. MC is seamless with showing her romantic side in a lot of time they spend together. Whether its flirting or being honest about her feelings, or touching him with small gestures every so often - she’s open with her affection once they’ve committed to being each other’s romantic partners.

Man this was so much fun. I’m sorry if it’s a little long. This just helped me in all kinds of potential fic ideas in the future for these two. Thanks so much for the asks @catsrthebossヽ༼ຈل͜ຈ༽ﾉ  Hope you enjoyed my answers!Send me an OTP ask here