#Something subtle so that she seems human at first (and second) (and third) glance

[goddess-of-graphite]

The Great Notes App Exodus: Gothic Dragons

Gotham has always been protected by a Dragon, even before it was ever Gotham.

There was a way about the land Gotham stood upon, that was all twisted magics and darkness and feral energy that never quite fit in man’s modern world. America had but one Guardian Dragon - except for Gotham, which was near a law and country unto itself.

Gotham was a sanctuary for the supernatural, but it was not kind. Those non-humans who risked its dark streets were the brave, or the foolish, or the terribly desperate. Gotham was a dark city, and it’s people adapted or were driven out.

(But should a threat ever come for her, all of Gotham would rise up in response.)

So Gotham had its own Guardian, but the Dragon guarded the world outside from Gotham’s brutality just as much as it shielded Gotham from those that would rend her apart.

But, of course, Dragons were only so many, and new blood must be brought in - human blood, as it often was, and so the trend of Dragon blood “skipping” a generation emerged.

And the bloodline of the Guardian Dragons of Gotham withered, bit by bit, because it is far easier to kill a human of dragon blood than it is to kill a Dragon of human descent.

(And Bruce Wayne has never hated this truth of the world more - because his parents had been Skipped, human, and if they had been dragons, they’d still be there with him.

But they weren’t.

It was just Bruce, a fledgling Dragon, and the butler left to care for him.)

-

Although Gotham had only ever had one Guardian Dragon, it had at one time had a whole lineage of Dragons capable of taking up the mantle. As the Dragons intermarried, however, more and more lines broke off with human kin, occasionally producing dragons.

But the Guardian Line had been reduced to one untrained hatchling. And that hatchling didn’t much care if it was a Dragon or a dragon that was Guardian of the city, just that there was someone to Guard it.

The problem is, of course, that the hatchling needs training - but he cannot get that in Gotham.

So he leaves.

He comes back ready to pull his city back from the brink, by force if (when) necessary.

Here’s the thing - Bruce is no Dragon, because for all that he is the last of the Guardian line he doesn’t adhere to the rules of that duty.

A Guardian’s duty is to the supernatural beings they protect.

Bruce has already decided that that is not enough. Human or Magical Being, if no one else will step in, then he will.

Bruce might have been the Gotham Dragon, but that didn’t mean he was the only dragon in the city.

The thing about dragon blood is that it tended to turn up dragons unexpectedly in families that had been mostly human. A dragon ancestor could have human children, and their children have human children, and then a dragon. It was a recessive trait when introduced into human bloodlines, and especially if it was paired with yet more human lines, but it also was tellingly stubborn - a human may only have a single draconian ancestor hundreds of years back, but they could still unexpectedly turn up a dragon hatchling.

It was just sheer dumb luck that a bunch of said unexpected hatchlings turned up within the span of the same generation.

[the-lunatic-archives]

The year was 1746. Deep in the Telos mountain valley, a horsedrawn carriage came to a stop outside an estate—hidden from view, but marked otherwise by its perimeter of gnarled, dead trees and barren gardens. A gaunt elderly man and his wife, seated along the path, hurriedly picked themselves up from the ground to welcome their visitor.

From out of the carriage cabin emerged a young woman, barely 21 years of age, dressed in a deep crimson dress and a feather-patterned veil. She floated down gently to the ground to meet the two. “You must be the owners of this estate,” she said. “My name is Alicia Vesperyne.”

The man bowed so deeply he threatened to topple over. “Thank you, thank you,” he repeated, “thank you a thousand times over for hearing our request.” He pushed his glasses, unseated from his nose, back into position. “We had lost hope that anyone would bother to help us.”

His disheveled wife stared blankly at Alicia. “We haven’t been able to sleep in days,” she murmured. “I’m begging you,” she said, before turning in the direction of her house. “Please, do something. We haven’t got any money...”

Alicia turned to her. “It’s alright, I’m not asking for any money. Allow me to investigate a little bit, and I’ll talk to you about compensation shortly.”

The owner and his wife exchanged an uneasy look as Alicia floated down the path and towards their estate. She noted the total, unnaturally opaque darkness visible through its windows, and how they seemed to defy the light of the low evening sun shining behind her.

Stepping through the double doors into the foyer, the darkness within began to claw away from Alicia, forming loose walls of smoke. She could sense it—the house was awash with malevolent spirits.   Closing her eyes, Alicia raised her hands upward, holding her palms out. From the tips of her fingers, a light began to coalesce, then, rays of ethereal flames shot out, licking sparkling embers to and fro as she cut through the darkness as one does a knife through butter. As she burned away the smoke, the subtle screaming of dissipating spirits rang out and light began to shine through the windows. With the entryway clear, she glanced through the surroundings. Behind her, the homeowners stared through the window at her, in amazement at what she had just done—unsurprising, for Common humans. She gave them a nod and proceeded deeper into the estate.

Alicia swept through the property, exorcising the rooms of spirits, causing the black smoke to dissipate as she went along. This proceeded rather uneventfully, until she came to a room towards the end of one upstairs hall. Small billows of smoke poured out from under the door before fading away. Something about standing here made the hairs on Alicia’s neck stand on end, but she was undeterred. She opened the door, and the darkness inside poured out, obscuring everything for Alicia in a fraction of a second. Yet, she stepped forward.

“Show yourself,” Alicia said while extending an aura from her hands in order to see in a short radius. “Are you the source of the darkness? You must leave this place.”

From the darkness, a low voice hissed, its source indeterminable. “Who even are you?” it asked. “I was here first, anyway. Get lost.”

Alicia was puzzled at the juvenile tone she was met with, but continued: “My name is Alicia. I was asked to clear the property of malicious spirits and this smoke. If you leave peacefully, never to bother this family again, I won’t have to eliminate you.”

“Eliminate ME?” answered the voice. “Why don’t I eliminate you instead?” In a split second, a spike formed from the smoke and stabbed at Alicia, before being deflected by her aura. A second, then a third, then uncountable numbers of attacks stuck out from all directions, all equally fruitless against Alicia’s light.

Alicia scowled. “Will you cut this out?” She raised her hand, fingers splayed, and flaming beams of light spread out and twisted forth, blasting away the darkness. In the space of three seconds, the smoke lifted from the room, allowing the sunset to come in through the window. As she watched the flames from her attack peter out, Alicia took stock of her surroundings. There was a bunk bed in the corner, a wardrobe with a mirror, a pair of violins, and by the door, a chest containing a child’s belongings.

The flames left over bubbled over with darkness, extinguishing them. The smoke that reemerged collected towards a single location in the center of the room, until it dissipated, leaving behind a seemingly young person wearing a suit, large copper shackles chained together, and a smiling mask. Alicia knew immediately that she was faced with a potentially very dangerous type of lingering spirit—a wraith.

“I guess you win that one,” said the wraith. “Unfortunately for you, I lack the power to leave this house. And I really don’t care about the old man that lives down the hall.” They started floating around the room, lazily spinning around and turning over, the links of their chain clinking as they tumbled. “It’s become so, so, so boring around here.”

Alicia’s gaze occasionally darted between the wraith and the fixtures of the child’s room they floated past. “You don’t happen to be related to that old man, do you?”

“Hah! No. But they had a kid that lived here. I haven’t seen them in some time. We used to play together.” The wraith floated close to Alicia. “That was fun, just now. Do you wanna stay here with me?”

“Flattered, but I cannot,” Alicia replied, “Once my business is done here, I have to continue to the next person that needs my help. It’s the only way I can gather the support of the people.”

“Oh, you are SO boring,” they said, jeering at them. The wraith disappeared in another plume of smoke. “Get out of here,” came their voice from nowhere in particular, “and tell the others to find someone more interesting to come by.”

Alicia exhaled, flatly, and left the child room.

Outside the manor, the couple waited just beyond the patio. Seeing Alicia come out from the foyer, the homeowner approached her. “Is it done? Have you exorcised the spirits?”

“Almost,” Alicia said.”You’ve got a real nasty one in the last room down the hall.”

The woman put her hand to her mouth. “You can’t mean?”

“Did you have a child that left home recently?” Alicia asked. The woman’s gaze fell, and the man turned away.

Without facing Alicia, he spoke: “Our daughter. Jesselin. Eleven or twelve years ago, she became afflicted by this… undecipherable illness. We had to send her away for treatment.” He clenched his fists. “No witch in the area would treat her without us fulfilling some ridiculous demand, and no common doctor would dare make the trip out here.”

“She would have been about your age today,” the wife said, to Alicia.

“That damned spirit,” said the husband, shaking. “It wasn’t content with taking away my daughter? Must it kill us as well?!”

The wife clasped Alicia’s hands. “What must we do to see it gone? Please, anything.”

Alicia, holding her hands, lowered her head in a small bow. “All I ask is that you throw your support behind me in my goal of becoming the Premier of Nexana, the City of Sorcerers.” She then raised her head so as to look her in the eyes. “The future I seek to build would allow for commons and witches alike to coexist as equals.”

Too stunned to respond, the homeowner and his wife watched as Alicia returned to the house.

“Wraith!” Alicia said, standing in the child room, waiting for a response. “I have a question for you!” But there was no immediate answer. Alicia huffed, before continuing. “Were you responsible for the death of their child?”

In the blink of an eye, a torrent of black wind manifested in that small room. “How dare you,” raged a voice in the winds, “How DARE you accuse me of killing my friend?!” The figure in the suit emerged from the wall of darkness, and flew straight into Alicia’s face. Shakily, they gripped the edges of their mask, an aura of black smoke spilling out from behind. “I will wring the life from you with my bare hands!”

“Calm down,” Alicia said. “I was just asking. I spoke with the couple outside, and they told me about Jesselin.”

Almost as if on cue, the swirling vortex of cloying black smoke started settling down. “Jesselin… That was their name…” The wraith lowered themselves down and stepped onto the floor.

“You didn’t have anything to do with it, did you?” Alicia said, crossing her arms. “Then what ARE you doing here?”

“I don’t know,” they replied. “I’ve been in this house for as long as I can remember. Jesselin was just… this kid that could sense me and would talk and play when nobody was around, or when her parents were asleep. But I knew even then that she was already unwell.”

“Do you know what the nature of her illness was?”

“I don’t. And I obviously couldn’t do anything about it. I suppose I would have, if I had a choice. I miss having someone nearby to spend time with.”

Alicia closed her eyes and put on a pensive face. “What binds you to this house?”

She couldn’t see their face, but Alicia could tell she was getting a cutting glare from beneath the mask… presuming there was a face underneath it, anyway. “I was killed here, of course. To exist in this house is my reason for being. It’s the only thing I know. If I leave, I simply won’t exist anymore.” They turned away. “And that’s no fun.”

“Here’s a proposal for you,” Alicia said, stretching out her hand. “Form a contract with me. Become my Akashic sponsor.”

There was a lengthy pause. “What the hell?” said the wraith. “What’s wrong with you?”

“My abilities not only permit me to exorcise spirits and generate flames, but I also can restore life to the sick and dying,” Alicia said, as she enveloped herself in a soft, but growing light. “You will gain access to my abilities, and I, access to yours. You will lose your memories, freeing you from this place. For the remainder of our lives, you will accompany me, and anyone you gain a fondness of, you will have my power to protect.” Alicia raised her hand further. “Deal?”

The wraith backed away. “You expect me to trust you? Just like that?”

Without lowering her hand, Alicia went on. “I trust you. But if you refuse, you face erasure from existence.”

“And also, why would you trust me with this? You’d put your untainted, pure witch self on the line to help out a couple of old bags?” They came closer again. “What do you even get out of it? I could break our contract and turn us both into daemons at any time. Then what?”

“I simply don’t think you will,” said Alicia. The wraith looked down at Alicia’s hand. “Before you accept,” Alicia said, “I actually don’t like that sponsors don’t get to pick their own names. Tell me what your new name should be, for after we’re bonded.”

Emerging for the last time from the old manor, Alicia stepped forward. “It’s done,” she said. It was now nighttime, and the moon shimmered dimly overhead. Alicia turned to the lanterns on the patio and used her abilities to set them alight.

The husband and wife nearly broke out into tears together. “God bless you,” he said. “So there is such a thing as a kind witch,” he continued between sobs.

“Did you kill it?” asked the wife.

Alicia shook her head, which shocked them both. “I’m taking them with me.”

“What?” asked the husband, suddenly on the brink of rage.

A black smoke started manifesting behind Alicia, coalescing again into the masked, suit-wearing spirit. “Hello!” they said.

Alicia held a hand out to indicate them. “This is Malady,” she said, “the wraith that lived in your home since long before you’d owned it. They and your daughter were friends. In fact, Malady had nothing to do with Jesselin’s condition.”

The husband only stared at them both. “How… do you expect me to believe that?” He raised a pointed finger at Malady. “Look at this… this apparition! This demon! You filled my home with a virulent poison that took my daughter from me!” He then fell to his knees.

His wife turned to him. “Dear, please calm down. Let them go. We’re free now.”

“As I said, they had nothing to do with her condition. I’m sorry. Jesselin was sick from birth, according to them.”

“It’s true,” Malady said. “I’m afraid that now, I don’t remember anything more than what I told Miss Vesperyne about the time we spent together. But every day that the young lady was bedridden, I was at her side whenever you were away.”

“Liar… monster!” he wailed. “Begone! Both of you!” The homeowner got up, opened the front door of the manor, then disappeared into the natural darkness within, slamming the door behind him. His wife sighed and wiped a tear from her eye.

“I’m so sorry, Ms. Alicia. He will need time to process all of that. I promise,” said the wife, “that we and everyone we know will back you in the elections to come.” She looked at Malady. “Please make that dream of yours happen. Maybe then…” she trailed off.

Malady floated past her. “Then people won’t have to lose whoever they care about as much,” they said, “regardless of if they’re a witch, or common, or a sponsor.”

Alicia shook the wife’s hand. Sponsor in tow, she returned to the carriage, which rolled off into the night towards Nexana.

[just-a-random-steven-au-lol]

Chapter 2: Calming the nerves

[CONTENT WARNING]

First, this is a completely separate story from the original Steven Universe or other AUs. The main character here is an entirely other one. The biggest similarities are the name and being half-human.

Second, this story will have more direct themes, including 'complicated' and not-so-subtle topics (just alcoholism this time, lol).

Third: This whole thing is heavily inspired in @ask-whitepearl-and-stevenin, made by the honorable @thechekhov. If this somehow reaches them, and they don't like it, I will delete it all.

With that said: Enjoy (or probably hate) it!

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

The night air was cold against Fionna's skin as she followed Steven through the dimly lit streets. Every instinct told her to turn back, to head home, to forget about the guy who saved her life. But she was in too deep now, and another part of her was desperate to know more about this mysterious figure.

The bar loomed ahead. A low hum of music and muffled voices spilled out into the night as they approached. As they stepped inside, the smoky atmosphere enveloped them. Patrons filled the room, laughter and chatter blending with the clinking of glasses. 

“Two shots of whiskey.” Steven said, leaning casually against the counter. The bartender raised an eyebrow at him but didn’t question the request. Fionna felt out of place amidst the rough crowd, but Steven’s presence provided a strange comfort.

“What now?” She asked, glancing around as they waited for their drinks.

“Now we drink,” He replied with a smirk, grabbing the two shots as they were placed before him. He downed one in a single motion before handing the second one to her.

“Um, I don’t drink…” She stammered, staring at the amber liquid like it was poison.

“Suit yourself. More for me.” He tossed back the second shot, leaning against the bar with a satisfied sigh. 

She looks at Steven as he drinks, feeling nervous to ask questions. “... How are you so strong? I mean, you bent those bars with your bare hands…”

Steven paused, the glass hovering near his lips as he considered her question. He set the empty shot glass down with a soft clink and turned to her, his expression shifting to one of mild amusement. “You really want to know?”

Fionna nodded, feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension. "Yeah, I mean... It's not every day you see someone do something like that."

He chuckled, a dark sound that sent a shiver down her spine. “Well, it is all because of this.” He passes his hand on his hair, moving it from his forehead, revealing a black, pointy horn-like on his forehead.

Fionna widens her eyes and backs down, surprised. “What IS that?!”

They glance at each other for a few seconds in silence until Steven sighs and rolls his eyes. “Understandable yet offensive.”

Fionna's heart raced as she stared at the “horn”, a mix of fear and fascination flooding her senses. The bar seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of them locked at this moment. "I— I didn't mean to offend you." She stammered, trying to regain her composure. "It just caught me off guard."

Steven chuckled softly. "Trust me, I get that a lot. Most people see this thing, and they think I'm some kind of monster. Well, at least it gives me power."

"Powers?" Fionna echoed, her curiosity igniting. "How?”

Steven shrugs. “No idea. Everything I know is that I was born with it, and it gives me some cool abilities.”

Fionna stared at him, her mind racing. "So, you were born with it? Like, it's some kind of... malformation?"

Steven chuckles. "Well, medicine say that. Religion say it is a curse.” He leans closer to her. “But to be honest, some jewelers confirmed it is a diamond.”

Fionna blinked, her mind struggling to process the strange revelation. "A diamond...? On your forehead?"

He smirks. “Well, actually it is inside my head. This is just, like, 20% of the whole thing. Wanna see the X-Rays?”

“... You’re joking, right?” She asked, half-hoping he would laugh it off.

He chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course not, doll.” He puts his hand into this ‘diamond’ and pulls the X-ray exams from inside it.

Fionna’s jaw dropped as she watched Steven pull out a set of X-ray films from seemingly nowhere. He spread them out on the bar, the faint light illuminating the stark outlines of skull and bone.

“Here you go.” He said nonchalantly, gesturing to the images. “As you can see, there’s a diamond right there, replacing my brain and fulfilling my skull. Kinda hard to miss.”

Fionna leaned closer, squinting at the films. “This is… unreal.” She traced the outline of the diamond with her finger, barely daring to breathe. “How is that even possible? How are you even alive? Doesn’t it hurt?”

Steven watched her with a smug expression as she examined the X-ray films. “Nah. I was born with it, so it’s just part of me, like an extra organ. Though I can’t say I’ve had the most conventional life because of it.”

Fionna straightened, her head spinning with the revelations. “So you’ve lived with this… diamond in your head your whole life? How did your parents react?”

A flicker of something darker crossed Steven's face. “... Heh... Well… I don't have parents. I won't give details, but I’ve spent my whole life in orphanages, jumping from family to family, until I got tired and escaped to live all by myself. And I’ve been doing pretty good since then.”

Fionna felt a pang of sympathy for him, realizing that beneath his bravado was a painful truth. “That sounds… really tough… But you’re not alone anymore. I want to help you, whatever that means.”

Steven laughs. “Help? Seriously? You know how the world treats people like me. You think you can just waltz in and fix everything?”

“I don’t think it’s that simple.” Fionna replied, determination creeping back into her voice. “But I want to understand you. You’ve been through so much, and I can’t just ignore that.”

He studied her for a moment, a flicker of interest sparking in his eyes. “You’re different, aren’t you? Most wouldn’t dare to get this close to me, let alone offer to help.”

“I guess I’m just stubborn,” she admitted with a shy smile. “Besides, you’re not a monster. You saved me, and that’s what matters.”

Steven let out a low, almost disbelieving chuckle, his sharp teeth visible as he leaned back against the bar, crossing his arms. "Not a monster, huh? You sure about that?" 

She nodded, her gaze steady. "Yeah. You're not. You're just... different. But that doesn't make you a bad person."

His smirk falters for a moment. He stays quiet for a few seconds and shakes his head. “You’re either incredibly brave or unbelievably naive.” He pauses, and his smirk comes back. “Well, if you insist, how do you intend to help me, doll?”

Fionna hesitated, searching for the right words. Steven's smirk was both a challenge and a mask, and she wanted to peel it back, to understand the person beneath. She took a deep breath. "I don't know exactly how yet. But maybe... maybe it starts with listening. With not running away when things get weird."

Steven raised an eyebrow, his amused expression softening slightly. "Listening, huh? Sounds simple enough. But what if listening's not enough? What if people like me need more than just kind words and sympathy?"

"Then I'll figure it out." She replied, her voice steadier now. "You don't have to do everything alone. Whatever this is, whatever you've been through, you deserve someone in your corner."

He studied her, his gaze sharp and searching. "You don’t even know me, doll. For all you know, I could be dangerous. You sure you're ready for what that might mean?"

Fionna's heart pounded, but she held his gaze. "You had the chance to hurt me and didn’t. You’ve had plenty of chances since. That says a lot more about you than some diamond in your head."

Steven chuckled, a genuine laugh this time, though tinged with disbelief. "You’re a piece of work, you know that? Most people run screaming at the sight of this thing." He said, tapping the diamond on his forehead. "But you? You just keep pushing."

"Maybe I’m stubborn. Or maybe I see something in you worth fighting for." She said, her cheeks flushing slightly at her own boldness.

Steven tilted his head, a flicker of something unspoken crossing his face. "Alright, Fionna. I’ll bite. If you want to stick around, you’re in. But don’t say I didn’t warn you. My life’s not exactly a picnic."

"Neither is mine." She said with a small smile. "But I’m not backing down."

He smirked, shaking his head. "Fine. Let’s see what you’ve got. But first, you’re buying the next round."

Fionna blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what? I didn’t even drink the first round!"

"Exactly." Steven said, standing and motioning to the bartender. "You owe me. Consider it the first step in proving you’re serious."

Fionna sighed, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at her lips. As strange as the night had turned, she felt like she was exactly where she was meant to be.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There: Chapter 9.4

Xiao was sick to his stomach.  The idea that Childe turning out to be an ally to the group disgusted him--and don't get him started on the thought of Zhongli possibly falling for that act a second time.  It would be an understatement to say that he wanted nothing to do with that harbinger ever again.  But of course he just had to deal with him for awhile longer, and it was for your sake only.  

"You mean..."  Aether was still processing Zhongli's confession alongside the yaksha.  "You tricked us?  Again?"

"You're just as bad as Childe if you lie this much!"  Paimon huffed in obvious disappointment before poofing out of the conversation.

"Forgive me for not informing you sooner; I made a grave mistake for trusting him the first time, but I will not leave you in the dark for a second."  The former archon bowed his head in a deep apology after revealing what really happened in Fontaine all those weeks ago.

"And you knew of this, Xiao?"

"He informed me in a dream while I was still unconscious."

"I-I'm still wrapping my head around this," uttered the boy.  "And now Childe is making the same move again?  What're you going to do?"

"I think it's time to make our final move."  The archon eyed the couple of Fatui agents walking past their table, careful to keep his voice lower than usual.

"As much as I want to, you can't join us.  You'd be breaking your own contract.  Isn't that a problem?"  Zhongli didn't answer, so the traveler then turned to Xiao.  "What do you want to do?"

"I..."  The yaksha averted his eyes.  I want to rescue her, he thought.  I want to, but if she's not in contact with me, she won't be affected by my karma.  Zhongli noticed the sour expression on Xiao's face and piped up.

"We do not need to decide our move right at this moment.  A situation so dire cannot be approached lightly."

"She should stay where she is," Xiao muttered under his breath after Aether and Paimon ran off to do some commissions.

..............

"Are you just gonna stare at me or what?"  

You were sitting with your back against the far wall of an unfamiliar cell while your hands were carefully placed on your lap to avoid touching the scummy floors.  On the other side of the cell bars stood what was probably the shortest of the eleven harbingers.

Scaramouche didn't answer you, electing to deepen his scowl instead.  His glare fell to the vision at your hip like he was trying to understand why the Tsaritsa refused to give him the order to confiscate it.  Your gaze followed his until the faint glinting of the vision's glass was all you could focus on.

Why didn't she take it this time?

And that wasn't the only thing that was different about your second imprisonment.  Your cell was painted in what you assumed to be anti-adeptus sigils like Xiao's cell had been.  Maybe this was to prevent you from calling for Xiao; the threat of his capture seemed to weigh heavily on your shoulders, but something about this cell felt off and you couldn't put your finger on it.  Why take this precautionary measure if she knew you wouldn't call for the yaksha for his own safety?

That question was answered a little too-quickly for your liking.  One of Scaramouche's underlings brought in what looked like a toolkit, only to reveal a plethora of presumed torture objects inside.

"Is this really appropriate for you, my Lord?  We can take over from here; you don't need to participate in an activity that would insult y--"

The harbinger shot him a dangerous look.  "I don't remember asking for your input.  Get out."

"Y-yes, sir.  Excuse me!"  The guard doubled over in an apologetic bow before scrambling out of the prison as fast as he was able to.  Then Scaramouche's glare returned to you as he reached into the bag.

....................

I'm gonna kill them all.  I'm gonna kill them.  They'll all fall at my hands.

A blood trail tailed behind you as Fatui guards escorted your weakened body into the frigid throne room for the third time this week.  They threw you to the tile floor, while your vision clinked unhappily against the hard surface.  She still hadn't bothered to remove it; it was like she was taunting you with the illusion of power, and she shot you down every time you thought you'd take her by surprise.

I'm going to kill her, Xiao.

The coldness of the unwelcoming floor seemed to welcome you into your repeating nightmare while the hot blood that pooled in your mouth dripped onto the surface.  Unlike the other times you were dragged in here, Childe wasn't present.  It was a shame that the one who so badly wanted to be involved in the brawl was about to miss out.  The tapping of a fingernail against metal prompted you to push yourself up to your knees.

She'll fall at my hands.

"Bow before Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa."

You just coughed up more blood without obeying.  Twitching fingers were the remnants of Scaramouche's torture.

"The perseverance of humans truly is something to witness," the cryo archon muttered in distain.  She had run out of patience; you were nothing more than a nuisance if you refused to work with her any longer, and it was a miracle that she put up with you longer than she would with her own men.  "Very well.  You'll die here.  Any last words?"

"Y-You threatened them."

"If you wish to be heard, speak up."

"You threatened them," your voice raised loud enough for everyone to hear despite the fact that your throat was sore from the amount of screaming Scaramouche managed to get out of you.  A small groan left your lips as you forced yourself to your unsteady feet.  Blood coated your lips and chin, and soaked into your tattered shirt.  "You threatened my friends, you've threatened Xiao, and you're ultimately responsible for my Granny's death.  Your crimes against us and the people of Teyvat will never be forgiven.  What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Hm."  A hint of a wry smile was quickly overshadowed by hatred and disgust.  She had heard enough of your disrespect, and it was clear beating you into submission wasn't working.  

You caught the subtle twitch in her hand before she flicked her wrist and hurled an attack in your direction.  Defiant feet remained planted, and a counterattack almost as quick as the Tsaritsa's was thrown her way.  You didn't feel the blast of her magic reek havoc against your body, but  subconsciously heard the sound of shattering glass right before you initiated your counterattack.

The Tsaritsa waved off the guards that readied to restrain you while hiding the beginnings of fear from her face.  She'd kill you herself.  The temperature dropped lower and lower until the entire room froze over and your fingers began to go numb.  Of course, this wasn't because of your magic; you could drop the temperature below zero, but this was on a completely different scale.

"You've earned your friends' deaths as well!"  The archon raged and stood from her seat with the intent to kill you on the spot.  Shards upon shards whirled around her before shooting at your frail exhausted figure.  "Morax's yaksha will join you in death for your disobedience.  Thus is the punishment for disrespecting the will of your master!"  

"You will not harm anyone!"  

BOOM!  The palace walls shook violently as the force of a shockwave ran through them--with you at the epicenter.  A brilliant light shone from your eyes for a split second, though it made no difference in your tunnel vision of determination.  This time, you were the one to lower the temperature.  A growing layer of frost enveloped your skin in a warm embrace.  Your power was a mix of ice and stormy gales that tore through the throne room at a vicious speed, sending Fatui agents and harbingers alike running for cover as the palace became an unstable battlefield.

............

Two days before.

"What kind of a suicide mission is that?!"  Xiao growled out to the open night air with frustration, though he knew you couldn't hear nor feel his response.  "This recklessness will be the end of you!"  He took a deep breath to regain his composure and his gaze fell to his hands, which were enveloped in the fine black mist that was his accumulated karma.  He couldn't keep his thought process of protecting you from himself if you were practically asking to be killed by the cryo archon. He wouldn't let that happen no matter what risks his karma may bring.

Days of grueling torture unlike anything you've faced before haunted his ears.  He could tell that you never meant to pray to him these past several days, but somewhere in your delirious state of mind, clouded by pain, you called his name.  Not for him to come and rescue you, no.  That was a trick you weren't going to fall for and he wasn't rescuing you out of respect for your wishes.  

But hearing your cries, you sobs, was a torture method in and of itself to Xiao.

After the first three days your agony turned to resentment, then to rage.  You plotted.  You schemed.  You planned until you settled on what was probably the dumbest 'solution' to your problems.  And Xiao heard every word.

"FOOL!"  Overcome with frustration yet again, Xiao impaled the nearest tree with his polearm.  The winds whipped violently through its leaves until he let out another aggravated sigh.  He looked down to Liyue Harbor and the sunrise that began to chase away the shadows.  Yelling would result in nothing and it was immature of him to do so.  He would go to Zhongli, and summon Aether.  There was no time to waste.

............

What awaited them at Zapolyarny Palace was nothing short of stupefying.  They were met with a stampede of shaken guards that were so disorganized and distraught, they didn't even notice that intruders had broken into the palace.  The three of them exchanged knowing glances before Zhongli led the way to the throne room.  It was then that a powerful shockwave--loud enough to be a sonic boom-- nearly threw them into the wall behind them as the doors flew open.

"You will not harm anyone," muffled words reached the ears of the intruders.  "Not me, not Zhongli, not Aether, and certainly not Xiao!"

It took a moment for Xiao to process what he was looking at; the snowstorm that raged on was barely contained in the throne room, and white obscured the battle for the most part.  He didn't need a clear image of you to pick up on your words.

A new light appeared above you and this time you caught sight of it.  Six star-like objects lit up a similar color to Xiao's hair and connected to one another.  You paid no mind to it, as it disappeared as quickly as it came.  The storm grew violent, and much like your most recent confrontation with Childe, your power was harming yourself.  Icicles shredded your worn-out garments.  The wind turned so sharply that it bit into your skin.

"That shouldn't be possible," Zhongli's widened gaze lingered where those stars had appeared above your head.

"So you saw that too," Aether mumbled in bewilderment as he also stared at the same empty air.  I thought the people of Teyvat needed Stella Fortuna to unlock their constellations?  He snapped out of his daze quicker than Zhongli.  "Let's go, we need to help her!"

Xiao blocked their advance with his polearm.  "Wait."

"You think we should wait?"  Paimon hissed.  "She needs our help!"

The yaksha ignored their hesitance and kept his narrowed eyes on the blurry image of you in the distance.  Rely on me.  Call out my name.  If he was allowing himself to be vulnerable with you now, risking your safety from his karma, then it was your turn to do the same.  Call out my name, and I'll be there when you call.

"DIE!"  The Tsaritsa waved her hand through the air and summoned a glade of ice that was meant to slice you in two.

"I won't succumb so easily!"  A blast of wind erupted from your side, and it cut the ice in half before it could reach you.

Wind?  Anemo?  Zhongli sent a glance to Xiao's figure.  Could this be...

You pushed off the ground with the aid of the wind, and a flurry of snow hurled towards the Tsaritsa.  She shot shards through it, and they impaled the ceiling after clearing the fog.  You weren't there.

The archon spun around and was met with the devilish amber eyes of an adeptus and the cocky grin of her weapon of war.  This power--The wind kicked up the accumulated layers of snow from the floor and blocked her line of sight again.  A sharp pain sliced through the backs of her knees, and she crumpled to the ground.  The speed of your movements was unlike anything your friends have seen from you before.

You landed before her and relished the feeling of having a literal god kneeling at your feet.  Maybe you weren't so unlike Childe after all; if this sight made you feel that good, then one could understand the harbinger's obsession with battle.  The three friends behind you--who you had yet to notice--took note of the Childe-like expression on your face.  You summoned your iced polearm.  Or...tried to.  A quick glance to your hand confirmed it was still empty despite your attempts.  Instead, a cold breeze playfully weaved between your fingertips.  Huh?  Did I exhaust myself?  I feel fine...

"Ha...haha...Hahahaha!"  A wicked cackle sent chills down your spine, and you returned your attention to the god that was hunched before you.  "You may have picked up on my Childe's arrogance, but you wield it like a weakness."  You anticipated her next move from the growing of sheer cold, but with your current position, there was no way you'd be able to dodge it in time.  She swung her arm out to you.

The name fell from your lips without thinking.  "Xiao-!"  WHOOSH!  The blast of air knocked you onto your butt, and your vision cleared to view an unsettlingly-silent battlefield.  For several seconds, the cyclone calmed.

"Tch."  The sound of a struggle made you look up.  There was your yaksha, neck-at-neck with the cryo archon.  He held his polearm in a blocking position, and it rattled uncomfortably against the force of the ice sword that pushed against it.  The pair were staring daggers at one another.  

"Xiao!"

"Took you long enough.  Leave the killing to me.  Leave, now."

"There's no way I'm leaving you by yourself!"  You pushed yourself to your feet and ran towards them.

Xiao picked up on the sound of your footsteps, and glanced back at you for a split second.  "Get back!"  He could almost feel the grin that spread on the god's face as you got closer.  "Move!" Panicked, Xiao pushed back against the Tsaritsa before dashing through the air and pulling you with him just in time to avoid what would've been a devastating blow of the god's power.

The sharp movements made your stomach do a flip or two, but you didn't have time to puke.  The Tsaritsa levitated towards the two of you, who were now standing side-by-side with Xiao's hand placed lightly between your shoulder blades.  Your eyes met his, but you couldn't tell what he was thinking.  Instead, you nodded in encouragement just in case he wasn't on-board with you still being here with him.

The yaksha seemed to understand on some level, and nodded back before returning his eyes to the god above you.  "Now."

[readyplayerhobi]

Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 03

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, future angst, future smut

; Word Count: 7.9k

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: I hope this is okay...I’m still trying to get back into my groove of writing so I apologise if anything isn’t all that great!  Please send me asks with  what you think or leave feedback on a reblog!

Last Chapter ; Next Chapter

-

“Professor! Professor Y/L/N! Owo has turned herself into a mouse!” Turning around from where you’d been helping Alicia Morningstar with her efforts to turn a teapot into a tortoise. It was a simple enough spell and something all Third Years had to learn to master, but it was proving to be a little bit of an issue for some students.

The process of turning inanimate into animate was a little tougher than the transfiguration spells they’d learnt in previous years so you were being very generous with your time in class. What it also meant was that students would make mistakes frequently, such that done by poor Grace Owosekun, also known as Owo to her friends.

Instead of the young Ravenclaw witch, there was an adorably cute mouse sitting on her table. A high pitched squeak emerged from her as you moved closer and you had to stifle your laughter. Working with the students was exceptionally rewarding, but sometimes you did get flashbacks to your previous job. 

Thankfully, it took no effort at all for you to help poor Grace back into her human self. It was a slightly odd process to watch as it wasn’t as elegant as that of an animagus, but you were just thankful that you soon had one healthy student in her place once more.

“Are you okay?” You ask, crouching down and resting a hand on the table that she shared with her best friend, Sheyi Adeyemi. The Gryffindor was watching her with concern on her face, her brow creased as she reached out to rub Grace’s shoulder.

“I’m okay, Professor,” Grace smiles, though she seems a little off balance. “I’m sorry, I did the spell wrong. I don’t even know how I managed it.” She looks a little embarrassed, her gaze dropping from you to the wand she’d dropped on the table. 

Giving her an encouraging smile, you shake your head and try to be as reassuring as you can. “Don’t worry about it. We all make mistakes and it’s better to make mistakes here in the classroom where they can be rectified quickly and efficiently. Hopefully, you can learn from that and get it right next time; you’re an excellent witch and I believe you can do it. Try again!”

Remaining crouched next to her, Grace gives you an uncertain glance before chewing on her lip. Sheyi rubs her shoulder and gives her a thumbs-up of encouragement, causing you to give her an appreciative look of your own.

Picking up her wand, the Ravenclaw takes a deep breath to steady her nerves before trying once more. There’s a moment where nothing happens and you can practically feel her disappointment, but then the teapot quivers. It’s a subtle movement but soon evolves into a stronger tremble, the spout beginning to transform.

After around thirty-seconds, a small tortoise is laying on the desk. Sheyi claps in excitement, congratulating her friend repeatedly and you stand with a fond smile of your own. Picking up the tortoise gently, you turn it over in your hands to check for any accidental deformities. There’s none there though and you place it carefully back onto the desk.

“Well done, Grace. You did a great job. It’s important to maintain a good level of confidence when working in transfiguration. Sometimes the intent is more important than anything else.” Nodding at her, you moved back towards the front of your classroom. 

Standing at the front, you clapped your hands to get the attention of all your young students. It took a few moments for everyone to quiet down but you finally succeeded. Smiling at them all, you proceed to ask who hadn’t managed to fulfil the task you’d set out at the beginning of class. A few of them hold their hands up, sadness written all over their face and you resolve to carry on with this spell for the next lesson.

No one would move on until everyone was caught up. A glance at the clock signified that it was almost time for class to end, so you began to wrap everything up. Walking around the desks, you made quick work of turning all the tortoises back to teacups and a silent spell had them all dancing through the air to their place in the open storage cupboard. 

“Okay, everyone. We had a good class today, you all did well. If you didn’t manage to get the spell to work, don’t worry about it too much. We’re going to continue with this transfiguration next time until everyone’s done it at least five times, okay? If you have any issues with it, you’re free to come to see me out of class time for extra tutoring if needed. There’s no homework for today so make sure to use that time to catch up on anything you’ve been given from your other professors. Class dismissed.” There was a palpable ripple of excitement that ran through the students at being able to go to lunch earlier than usual.

While they all rushed out of the door, a cacophony of loud voices and rippling robes, you tidied up your desk to prepare for the class that would begin after lunch. That was Sixth Years, which thankfully meant that they were very knowledgeable about magic and were a little easier to teach than the younger students.

The more complex spells compounded that, but you found the students to be both quick and adept at learning.

Finishing up, you took a deep breath before running your hands down the front of your robes to get rid of any unfortunate creases. As you do so, your stomach rumbles and that familiar ache of hunger causes a pang to run through you. Wincing slightly, you glanced at your desk and pondered whether to just keep working.

Ideally, you could use some more time to prep for the next lesson but you’d missed breakfast this morning. Chaeyoung had introduced you to some muggle form of exercise called ‘pilates’ last night and this morning you’d had muscles aching that you didn't even know existed. An extra half an hour in bed had been called for, which meant the necessary sacrifice of breakfast.

But you knew that you couldn’t miss lunch as well. The pure hunger you’d feel by the time dinner came around would be highly unpleasant. Sighing deeply, you decide that you could forego the planning to get some food. 

Heading towards the door, you open it and are surprised to see Hoseok standing there. He’s about to knock, which means his hand is dangerously close to your chest. For a moment, the two of you stare at said hand with wide eyes. A fleeting thought in the back of your mind wonders what it’d feel like on you, his fingers long and almost dainty in their beauty.

It disappears quickly when Hoseok retracts it immediately, fumbling as he tries to stuff it into his robes. Glancing to his face, you have to work to hide the smile as you note the rose tint to his high cheekbones. All the while, he’s muttering apologies to you and taking a large step back to give you space.

“Hobi! What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the Great Hall already?” There’s a few seconds pause where Hoseok simply stares at you, his expression so sweet and innocent that you’re suddenly reminded of teenage Hoseok once more. It makes you grin brightly, letting out a gentle chuckle as you gesture for him to move backwards.

Exiting your classroom, you begin to walk alongside him through the extravagant halls that make up Hogwarts. Multiple paintings with long gone witches and wizards watch you both walk past, a few slipping from frame to frame to keep pace. Hoseok clears his throat a little awkwardly, causing you to frown at him as you take in his stiff posture and the way he’s balling his hands behind his back.

“You didn’t come to breakfast so...I wanted to make sure that you ate lunch at least. If you didn’t turn up or agree to come, then I was going to go get something and bring it back for you,” Pausing momentarily, he studiously keeps his face away from your curious look. “You shouldn’t forgo meals, it’s not healthy.”

Raising a brow, you muse to yourself how sweet he was being. Jisoo would be proud of his brotherly instincts remaining strong and how determined he was to make sure you were okay. 

“Yes, Professor Jung. I’ll make sure not to miss any meals in the future,” You completely miss the way he flinches at your use of his formal title. “I only missed breakfast because Chaeyoung decided to engage in some mild form of torture with some muggle exercise last night. I’m not entirely sure if I want to continue it on, though I am almost relishing the ache in my muscles now. Is that wrong?” 

Humming lightly, you tap your lips as the two of you reach the doors of the Great Hall. Entering quickly, you explain the pilates exercise that Chaeyoung was a fan of to him as the two of you walked towards the head table. A few professors were already seated, eating and chatting with their neighbour, while the House tables were around three-quarters full.

Not all the students would eat lunch at this time as some of the older students had free periods that allowed them to eat a little later. On top of that, there were lunchtime clubs that focused on varying hobbies and interests that would serve their lunches to those participating.

Chaeyoung was one of those professors who wasn’t present today but you knew that she was supervising a field trip visit to the Ministry with some Fourth Year students. Instead, Seokjin sat in her place and gave you an expectant look as you sat down. As usual, Hoseok sat next to you and began to pick the food he wanted while you took your plate.

“Morning, Seokjin. Or afternoon rather. How are you today? Classes going well?” Reaching past Hoseok, you took a delicious looking cheese and bean toastie from a stack, the bread crispy and toasted to perfection while a long string of melted cheese stretches enticingly. It wasn’t really what you’d consider a lunch food, more breakfast food in your opinion.

Given that you hadn’t eaten breakfast though, you felt that you were allowed to indulge. Alongside the toastie, now cooling on your plate so it didn’t burn your mouth, you asked Hoseok to pass you some of the bacon that was teasing your nose. He did so without complaint; giving you a larger than normal pile until you were raising your brow at him.

“You need to make up for breakfast.” Was all he said before he began to tuck into his lunch of creamy leek and potato soup with freshly made bread. The smell of it dances over to you slowly and you peer a little closer, noting the specks of black pepper dotting the surface alongside a few more spices and herbs that you couldn’t figure out immediately.

To your surprise, Hoseok tears off a piece of bread and dips it into the soup before holding it up to your mouth. Eyes widening, you give him a silent question to which he responds by just lifting it once with a smile. The taste of the soup complements the bread perfectly and you hum in delight, doing a little wriggle in your seat as you chew it happily.

“That’s good! I might have some too.” You murmur, reaching out to scoop some soup into a small bowl as well.

“Be careful you don’t make yourself sick or end up too full. Miyeon has asked me to invite you to dinner tonight. It’s nothing fancy, just an Irish stew with homemade dumplings. Though I like to spice it up sometimes to make things interesting,” Seokjin leans closer as he winks, nudging you with his elbow as he lets out that distinctive laugh. “I want to finally introduce you to my family!”

Clapping your hands in excitement, you try to respond to him only he’d asked at the exact moment that you’d bitten into your toastie. Which means you have molten hot cheese and beans filling your mouth, causing you to do a strange dance as you waved at your mouth in an attempt to try and cool it down.

Snorting loudly, Seokjin helps and begins to waft his hands before you as well. After a few moments of suffering a burnt mouth, you finally swallowed it and gave him an appreciative smile.

“Wow, that was hot. Sorry, I think I just spat on you or something,” Reaching out, you wiped awkwardly at the spit that had hit his robes. “But yes, I’d love to come for dinner. Thank you for inviting me, I appreciate it. You’ve talked so much about Miyeon that I feel like I already know her pretty well but I can’t wait to meet her.”

He gives you a huge smile that makes his eyes light up, the happiness in them palpable and it makes excitement buzz through your veins. Hogwarts was finally beginning to feel more like home for you and you were glad to be making friends with your fellow professors.

“Fantastic. If you meet me outside the entrance hall around an hour after your last class then I can apparate you to my house. It’s easier if I do that for you as you’ve never been there and I have some work to catch up on after class. Is that okay?” Seokjin tilts his head, taking a long drink of fresh pumpkin juice with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Sounds like a plan.”

-

Glancing at the clock that was situated at the back of the classroom, you sigh deeply before returning your gaze to the two stacks of essays before you. Each sheet of parchment contained the musings of your Second Year students on the topic that you’d assigned to them the week before. 

It had all been one big stack just under an hour ago when you’d dropped it onto the top of your desk once the last student had left your classroom. Now there were two; one which consisted of those you had carefully marked and the other those waiting for your attention. Thankfully, the completed stack was much larger than the other and you knew that you’d be able to finish it off before you went to bed tonight.

For now, though, you placed your quill down and linked your fingers together before stretching with a groan. A few vertebrae popped in your spine, the sensation causing you to wince though there was no pain. Getting old sucked and it felt like every day you woke up with some part of your body aching that hadn’t before.

Sighing deeply, you slumped into your seat and rubbed at your eyes tiredly. In an ideal world, you’d take yourself off to bed for a good nap before waking up for dinner. Not something you indulged in often but you were certainly feeling the repercussions of the pilates from last night.

You had plans though so you couldn’t go curl up into your bed. Yawning loudly, you stood and carefully put the completed essays away into your cabinet. The unmarked ones remained on the desk, waiting for you to come back to them tonight.

Heading into your quarters, you tugged off the robes that signified you as a teacher before pulling on some clothing that was more suitable for a casual dinner. A pair of dark denim jeans, a much-loved favourite clothing item from a muggle store you liked to browse back in London, and a warm knit sweater with black and white stripes made up your outfit.

Slipping your feet into some dark brown boots, you complimented the whole look with a knee-length black peacoat. Jisoo had recently gotten into crocheting and she’d send you a matching hat and scarf that she’d made, the blue, purple and silver colours blending beautifully. You thought Seokjin might appreciate it, particularly how much they reminded you of space. It was his speciality after all.

Pursing your lips, you wondered whether you should take a gift or not. You’d always thought it polite to take something when someone had invited you to eat at their house. Seokjin and Miyeon were going to be spending their free time to make you something to eat, it made sense for you to reciprocate their effort however you could.

Opening the cabinet next to your bed, you eyed the bottles contemplatively. You could take some wine, but what would suit stew best? Was red good? 

Shrugging, you took the bottle of red Bordeaux that Jisoo had forced you to bring when you’d first moved here. It wasn’t your favourite but you knew that Jisoo was a big fan of it. Both she and her brother were wine connoisseurs it would seem, given how often you’d seen Hoseok enjoying a flute of wine at dinner.

Nodding your head, you lifted it and quickly left your quarters, heading through the empty classroom and locking the door behind you. You’d never really understood the point of locking anything at Hogwarts as all students learnt the alohomora spell anyway. It was just asking for everything to be opened.

You told yourself it was the thought that counts as you hurried along, your boots tapping against the floor in a pleasant noise that made you smile. As much as you loved Hogwarts, loved being back here and living here full time, you did still miss the freedom of being outside the castle walls. Sometimes it could feel a little stifling to live where you worked.

Seokjin stood outside the entrance hall, his robes still in place while he pushed his hands deep into his pockets. His breath came out in small puffs, visible in the cold air and you instantly got an image of those infamous dragons that breathed fire. Surely every child liked to pretend they were a dragon, witch or muggle, right?

“Hi,” You let him know you’re here, giving him a bright smile when he looks at you with wide eyes. “Sorry, I’m a little late. Got caught up marking. I swear, no one told me that teaching was going to extend into my free time.”

He laughs, letting out a snort in pure amusement as he gestures for you to follow him down the path. You couldn’t apparate inside the boundaries of Hogwarts, so the two of you needed to walk a little further away.

“Just wait until it’s exam time. You’ll regret ever becoming a teacher. But then you get to see them when they get their results and it’s rewarding. So you forget that you want to die sometimes and start it all again next year! Trust me, you’ll experience the same pattern every time. Thankfully though, I have Miyeon who is always willing to lend me a shoulder to cry on.” Gesturing wildly with his hand, he lets out a dramatic sigh before twirling said hand to rest on his forehead.

Now you’re the one snorting with laughter, feeling the stress of your working day leaving your body slowly. It felt good to relax with someone outside of Hogwarts, filling the hole of not being able to see Jisoo as often pretty well. Even though the two of you talked as often as possible, using the magic mirror that you’d bought years ago.

It functioned much like a muggle mobile phone or those fancy webcams that they had, allowing you both to see each other through the mirror screen and talk to each other. They’d improved a lot in quality over the years; the wizarding world trying to catch up to the increasing globalisation that the muggle world used. 

The ridiculously fast speed with which muggles seemed to innovate had proven a constant source of fascination amongst the wizarding world. Alongside that though, was the worry that your community was going to be exposed quicker than ever given how slow it was to adapt to those changes. So there were plenty of entrepreneurs out there who were working hard to convert many muggle inventions into magic friendly inventions.

“Don’t tell me that. You need to ease me into this crap, not just tell me of the chaos that’s awaiting me.” Now it’s your turn to be dramatic, letting out a deep groan and stamping your feet. It has the desired effect of making Seokjin smile.

“You just complained to me that no one warned you...so…” Raising a brow, he looked at you with a smirk as you let out a sigh, shoulders deflating.

“True.”

Reaching the border, Seokjin turned to you and held out his arm like a Victorian gentleman. As he did so, he did a half-bow towards you with mischief in his eyes. You were positive that Miyeon must be a great woman to have caught this handsome and funny man.

“Shall we depart?” Nodding, you looped your arm through his and waited for the familiar sense of apparition. It wasn’t something that you particularly enjoyed but you’d done it so many times that you were used to it.

When it finished, you were no longer standing outside the gates of Hogwarts but a small house bordered with a delicate white, wooden fence. A look around shows a few more houses like Seokjin’s, all with gardens that probably were beautiful when they bloomed with full flowers in spring and summer. 

His home looked cosy; the frames painted a cheerful yellow that should look strange but seemed to suit the bright orange door. It should look gaudy and awful, yet it felt like a home filled with love and laughter. Smiling at it, you noted the overflowing grass of the lawn that surrounded both sides of the gravel path that led to the door.

“It’s a wildflower lawn. In the warmer months, it has lots of different flowers and we always end up with so many different insects and animals foraging.” He says as you wave your hand through the tall stalks. It makes you wish that you could see it then, so you just resolved to weasel an invite during those months too.

“This house is so...cheerful. I love it!” You coo, reaching out to run your fingers along the wooden door. The paint feels smooth and hard beneath your fingertips and what looks like an antique knocker gives you a curious look. Peering closer at it, you note it’s in the shape of a heart with big eyes, causing you to look at Seokjin with a raised brow.

“Jihyo picked it. You don’t say no to her big eyes.” He said simply, referencing his oldest daughter. Pursing your lips, you nodded with a solemn look. Even though you didn’t have young kids, you knew that it was better to just give in sometimes.

Opening the door, Seokjin lets you enter first while he calls out to his wife and kids. The two of you take off your coats and shoes while he puts away your scarf and hat carefully. As you do so, there’s a loud ruckus from upstairs and you look up in time to see two small bodies run down the hallway.

The little girl you guess is Jihyo, her black hair separated into cute little pigtails while her cute face is split into an adorable smile of pure joy at seeing her dad. As she jumps into Seokjin’s open arms, chattering away loudly and lifting her stuffed dragon toy, you note the slightly more unstable toddler waddling to you.

She’s a lot smaller than her big sister and you recall Seokjin saying that she’d only started walking half a year ago or something. Crouching down, you smile at her in what you hope is a friendly way, reaching out and taking her tiny hands. She grasps them tightly, coming to a wobbly stop before you and looking at you with eyes so reminiscent of her dad’s.

“Hi, you must be Sooah,” Gently shaking her hands up and down, you can’t help but laugh at her shriek of delight. “You’re so pretty! Your daddy says you’re very smart too.” 

Looking up at Seokjin, you note him watching you both with a soft smile on his face. His kids are a constant source of joy and pride for him, something you’d come to know after the months of getting to know him. From the looks of how excited his daughters were to see him, you knew the feelings were probably reciprocated as well.

“Y/N, hi! It’s so nice to meet you.” Standing, you watch as a beautiful woman with long, dark hair picks up Sooah in a smooth motion. With practised ease, she shifted the toddler into a comfortable position before leaning up to accept Seokjin’s quick kiss. 

The two of them together looked like the perfect family, causing you to bite your teeth as a warm feeling bloomed in your chest. That would hopefully be you and whoever you fell in love with one day. If you could have half the happiness Seokjin had, you’d be a happy girl.

“Miyeon, Seokjin’s told me so much about you. Thank you for inviting me tonight, I’ve been looking forward to it since lunch,” You gush, grabbing the bag that you’d brought with you and holding it out to her. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to bring anything but I felt rude not so, I’ve brought some wine that I think would go well?” 

Letting Sooah down, she carefully watches as the little girl toddled back into what you presume is the living room. Once sure she’s okay, she pulls the bottle out of the bag and examines the label closely. 

“Ooh, this will work wonderfully. Thank you, you didn’t have to do this though. We’re just glad for your company. Honestly! I’ve been bugging Seokjin for weeks now to invite you. Meeting his colleagues is always fun and I’m sure that I drove him up the wall wanting to meet you. He’s talked so favourably about you.” With that, she looks at her husband and you laugh at how red his ears have gotten.

It hasn’t gone unnoticed by Jihyo, you place her small hands on his cheeks and squeezes while giggling. She looks adorable doing it, causing you to press your hands to your chest as you coo at her. As if she knows you think she’s the sweetest thing that you’ve ever seen, Jihyo gives you a smile that’s full of mischief. 

Seokjin’s daughter.

“Okay, can daddy please sit down? Let’s go play with Sooah!” He distracts his daughter quickly, shuffling through to the living room and disappearing through the door. Standing in the hallway with Miyeon, you give her an awkward look and feel thankful when she invites you towards the kitchen.

“Come, come. He always likes to play with the girls for a little bit when he gets home. Stress relief for him and also time for them to be with their dad without my interference. Let’s go open this bottle and have a chat. The stew’s been cooking for a few hours now and Seokjin will make the dumplings in an hour or so. It won’t be too long, I promise!” Her voice is bubbly and immediately puts you at ease.

“That’s sweet. A nice way for him to relax. I wish I could do that. I just usually end up falling asleep once I’m back in my quarters after dinner. Not a huge amount to do once I’ve done my work but I’ve certainly done a lot of reading lately. I’ve got lots of books if you want to borrow some.” That gets a laugh from Miyeon as she pulls out two glasses from a cupboard above the counter.

Their kitchen is just as warm and cosy as the outside of their house. It’s not very big, but you think it’s perfectly sized for everything they would need. The oven hums quietly as it cooks the stew, the glass front letting you see the large pot situated inside.

“Let me know what you’ve got and I’ll think. I have two whole bookcases in the living room that you can look through if you’d like. Getting to read a chapter each night before bed is something I indulge in now that Sooah is old enough to sleep in her bed.” Carefully pouring out wine into the glasses, she gestures for you to sit at the table and the two of you begin to chat away.

You’re pleased to discover that Miyeon is just as nice and friendly as she’d initially seemed and you both discover that you have a lot of interests that cross. It’s probably half an hour later when you’re both interrupted by the sound of someone knocking on the door. Miyeon doesn’t seem to be surprised at it, instead getting a bright smile on her face as she stands and moves back out to the hallway.

Frowning slightly, you follow her and pause when you hear a familiar voice respond to Seokjin. Eyes widening, you turn the corner and take in the appearance of Hoseok. He’s unwrapping the familiar Hufflepuff scarf from around his neck and is greeting Miyeon with that beautiful smile and a big hug.

“Mimi! Looking pretty as ever,” He compliments, winking at her before chuckling when Seokjin pushes him. “And where are my two favourite little girls?” 

Almost immediately, Jihyo comes running out and almost throws herself against Hoseok’s legs. Her arms wrap around them tightly and you can’t stop the smile that forms when you spot Sooah wobbling towards him as well. He makes soft sounds of support to her, holding his hand out to encourage her forwards before scooping her up into his arms.

“Uncle Seok!” Jihyo says, her voice high pitched as she tugs at his trousers insistently. “Come play dolls!” 

“Not right now, sweetheart. I will in a few minutes, okay?” He runs his hand over her head and you’re struck by the sheer familiarity of him with Seokjin’s family. You knew that they all knew each other; after so many years at Hogwarts, it would be impossible for them not to be friends. But this was a whole other level of closeness.

Upon seeing the confusion in your face, Seokjin winces and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry, I forgot to mention. I felt bad about inviting you when Hoseok was right there like I was leaving him out or something. So I invited him as well. He’s a close friend of our family overall so I thought it would be nice to blend all our friendships!”

Hoseok looks up and spots you, giving you that warm and friendly smile that makes your stomach bubble. It disappears almost instantly though as a small crease etches itself into his forehead, his gaze moving from you to Seokjin. You can almost feel the uncertainty flowing from him, causing you to give him a little wave to ease his nerves.

“Hey, you should have dropped by before we left. We could have all travelled together.” Moving closer to the group, you try to make sure that Hoseok knows you’re not annoyed or anything by his presence. And you’re not. If anything, you’re quite pleased to see him. It makes you feel a little less nervous about just being on your own with Seokjin and Miyeon, even if they’re lovely.

There’s no getting around how awkward it feels to be the third wheel in a situation.

For a moment, he simply eyes you to try and see if you’re lying. Sooah is trying to distract his attention away and you have to try hard not to coo at how good he looks with kids. You should’ve known he would though; he was great with his students and had spoken previously of his love of working with younger children as well.

“Honestly. I think someone wants your attention right now though,” Gesturing to the little girl in his arms, you smirk slightly. “I think the guys should go back to entertaining the kids. Miyeon, would you like me to help make the dumplings instead of Seokjin making them?” Hoseok’s brow rose slightly but he didn’t question it, nor did Seokjin protest.

Miyeon nodded in response, letting her hand run through Sooah’s soft hair affectionately before following you back to the kitchen. You’ve never been the best cook in the world but you knew enough to not embarrass yourself as the two of you created the savoury dumplings.

Finishing up, Miyeon carefully took the pot of stew out of the oven and placed it on the side. The aroma that left it once she took the lid away made your stomach rumble in hunger and you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of contentment. That was probably the best thing you’d smelled in a long time and you couldn’t wait for a home-cooked meal.

Not that the food at Hogwarts wasn’t home-cooked, but there was something a little more special about having a meal made by family or friends. Carefully, you placed the dumplings into the stew, letting them sit along the top to cook until dinner was ready. As soon as the pot was back in the oven, you both sat back at the table and continued on your conversation. 

It’s only ten minutes or so before Miyeon begins to prepare dinner for the girls. A glance at the clock lets you know that it’s already after six in the evening and they wanted to get the kids in bed before everyone had their dinner. Normally, they would all eat dinner together but tonight was more for the adults.

Helping her, you set the table following her instructions while she plates up some stew for the girls to eat and lets it cool a little. A cup of water for each gets placed on the table and soon enough, the kitchen is filled with shrieks and the sound of children eating loudly. Both girls enjoy their meals and eat them all with no complaints, causing you to compliment Miyeon on her good parenting.

As they eat, Miyeon pushes you to go talk to Seokjin and Hoseok who are both chatting away in the living room. The fire in the hearth is blazing away happily, warming the room and giving it that aroma that only a real fire could give. At your arrival, they both greeted you and all three of you began to discuss your work. It was inevitable that it happened and you’d rather do it now before boring Miyeon with it over dinner.

Maybe only half an hour passes before Seokjin disappears to help put his daughters to bed. It leaves Hoseok and you alone in the living room, the wine already making you feel a little looser and calmer. The sofa was incredibly comfortable and you had to blink a few times, yawning as you felt unbelievably relaxed.

“Careful or you’ll miss dinner.” Hoseok teases you, his voice deep and pleasing. Smiling, you shuffle a little further up the cushion before stretching with a groan. Looking back over at him, your brow rises as you take in his own slumped figure.

“Careful, or you’ll miss dinner.” You parrot back to him, grinning as he rolls his eyes playfully. It’s surprising to you how comfortable you feel in his presence now when he’d been almost a stranger only a few months ago. Even Jisoo was surprised by how well the two of you were getting on now, commenting that Hoseok was mentioning you far more in conversation than she’d expected.

And vice versa for you.

“I’m so hungry,” He whines, laying his hands on his stomach and rubbing at it with a petulant pout. “It smells so good.”

“Well, it’s almost done. So you won’t need to wait much longer. I’m sure your poor, starving stomach will be able to cope.” Giving him an exaggerated look, you reach forward to poke at his stomach playfully and enjoy the quiet giggle he gives. He’s ticklish, given how he tries to wriggle away from your touch.

You’d investigate that further but you didn’t want him making too much and ruining the Kim’s attempts at getting their daughters to sleep. So you just filed that information away for further use, positive you’d get to use it at some point.

“You’re going to be at breakfast tomorrow, right?” His question is quiet, his eyes focused on the dancing flames of the fire that crackled and popped occasionally. Glancing to him out of the corner of your eye, you smirk.

“Why? Going to miss me if I’m not there?” 

“I just don’t want you missing meals. Breakfast is the most important mea-” Cutting him off before he can finish, you hold up a hand and laugh loudly. His eyes narrow at the sound and his pretty lips threaten to pout once more.

“I’ve heard that more than enough in my life. Don’t worry, I’ll be there. As you can see, there’s no pilates tonight. If I miss breakfast then it’s probably because I’ll be too lethargic from dinner tonight. Feel free to bang on my door if I’m not there to wake me up but I will probably be very grumpy.” That gets a reluctant smile from him, the dimples in his cheeks more prominent.

“Noted. On another note, are you going home for Christmas or staying?” Staring at him, you chew on your lip as you consider his question. Your plans were near enough set in stone but you always had the option to change them at the last minute.

“I’ll probably be staying. I mean, I might go back for a day or so but I don’t have anywhere to live down there and I don’t want to deal with the hassle of my parents,” You’d never really gotten along with your parents and tried to avoid them if you could. “Might visit Jisoo a few times but for the most part, I’ll be staying at Hogwarts. Are you staying?”

He nodded his head slowly, linking his fingers together across his belly and sighing. 

“Yep. I can’t leave because we still have students who stay during the holidays and as the Head of Hufflepuff then I need to be there for anyone who needs me. It’s usually pretty quiet though so it’s nothing to worry about.” You smile at the warmth in his voice and the concern for his students.

He truly was a great professor and an even better Head of House.

“Maybe you could come with me to visit Jisoo or something. I’d only be going for a few hours and I’m sure she’d love to see you again.” There’s an odd look on Hoseok’s face as he stares at you, causing you to frown in question at him. But he’s saved from answering by the arrival of Seokjin and Miyeon once more.

“Come on, my second children! Delicious dinner awaits!” Seokjin says loudly, gesturing wildly with his arms and causing Miyeon to scowl before gently slapping his stomach. He almost instantly makes an exaggerated sound and you’re reminded of Hoseok only minutes earlier.

“Finallyyyyy.” Hoseok exhales, standing upright and hurrying into the kitchen. You watch him with wide eyes and look at the couple in the doorway with raised brows, causing Miyeon to snort with amusement.

“Hoseok loves Seokjin’s stew. Another reason he got invited tonight. Anyway, come on. You’re about to experience the best stew you’ve ever had in your life.” Taking your arm, she pulls you towards the kitchen as Seokjin follows behind you, a proud look on his face.

“I’m glad that my brilliance is appreciated in this house. The house-elves at Hogwarts should learn my recipe and let everyone be blessed by the wonders of my food.” The sound that leaves you is very strange, almost like a snort, a cough and a laugh all at once. It’s exacerbated by Hoseok’s sharp, and very dry, response.

“It’s not that good, Seokjin. Calm down.”

“Sacrilege.”

-

Seokjin and his wife watched as the two Hogwarts professors walked down the gravel path to the gate. They were talking quietly to each other, their words too low to hear and their dark robes made them almost blend into the night. It was only from the soft lighting from inside the cottage, giving a warm glow to the lawn of wildflowers Miyeon carefully cared for, that allowed them to see the outline of the witch and wizard.

Once they had passed through the gate, closing it politely behind themselves as they went, there was a moment where they simply gestured goodbye. Seokjin grinned broadly and waved back, watching as their bodies disappeared as they apparated back to Hogwarts. 

“He is so in love with her,” Miyeon muses, her lips curved up into that pretty smile that had enraptured Seokjin so long ago. “And she has no idea, does she?”

Shaking his head in response, he gently encourages her back inside before closing the door. It was far too cold outside and he didn’t want the warmth of their home seeping out unnecessarily. A creak from upstairs makes him pause, eyeing the stairwell with narrowed eyes for a few moments before deciding it was nothing.

The house was old and prone to making odd noises at all times of the day, but he’d also realised that kids liked to do the exact opposite of what their parents wanted. Which meant he wasn’t entirely sure if Jihyo had woken up and was quietly playing to herself.

Though she was also four-years-old and if he’d learnt anything about his beloved daughter; it was that she was just as loud as he was. Seokjin had never been as proud. He was glad that she was starting to entertain herself and no longer required their attention all the time.

Following his wife into the living room, he smiled fondly as she flopped onto the sofa. Miyeon took the pink, orange and white hand-crocheted blanket that was draped alongside the back and wrapped it around herself, opening her arms to encompass him as well when he finally sat.

“She hasn’t got the foggiest. Which makes it even funnier to watch him flirt with her because she just doesn’t realise. I think everyone has realised at work as we all try to engineer them being together or around each other for things. Still isn’t clicking for her, bless.” Seokjin snorts in amusement, kissing Miyeon’s hair affectionately when she pats his stomach.

While Hoseok had come for the food, he wasn’t entirely sure if the younger man hadn’t come mainly because you’d be there. His feelings were very obvious to anyone with eyes and a brain, which was obviously why he’d invited you to the dinner tonight so loudly. An opportunity for Hoseok to meet with you in a social situation outside of Hogwarts.

And from the way you’d both been laughing and talking animatedly all evening, it had worked very well. It was clear the two of you had known each other for a very long time given the number of inside jokes that had been thrown around casually alongside old memories that you shared. The two of you seemed to be very natural together and Seokjin couldn’t help but hope something a little more romantic might happen.

“Don’t be mean! Hoseok’s sweet and I feel so sorry for him. Imagine fancying someone for years in school when you’re all gawky and...teenage, only to meet them again when you’re both older and more attractive. I hope she realises soon, they have such good chemistry together.” Miyeon muses quietly, resting her head on his shoulder and sighing tiredly.

“They do, which is why it’s fun to tease them. He gets flustered because he knows that I know and she just doesn’t pay attention.” That might sound a little mean but Seokjin was trying to help them. Sometimes people just needed a little push and he was more than happy to do that.

“I’m not surprised, though. I mean, think about it from her point of view. He’s her best friend’s little brother, not exactly someone you think about romantically. Especially in school of all places, she probably viewed him either like a little brother or just a pure nuisance. Imagine how confused she feels now, seeing him as this attractive man who is very dateable. I wouldn’t know what to do with that situation either.” Humming, Seokjin considers his wife’s thoughts carefully before nodding.

“I can see that. Must be a little awkward. Maybe she’s not sure what to do...or if she even has permission. She’s got her best friend to think about too.” The reaction he gets is a sleepy moan of acknowledgement, causing him to grin before carefully moving his arm to wrap around her shoulders.

“I’d hope his sister would want her brother and best friend to be happy, even if they find that with each other. But who knows. Either way...he’s been on a mission to change her mind.” He let himself recall all the little ‘dates’ that Hoseok had taken Y/N on, without the actual title of a date. The unicorn date, the Great Lake date where he’d taught her about the creatures that lived beneath in, the multiple Hogsmeade dates that she still thought were just two friends going out. 

Of course, Hoseok hadn’t pointed out the difference to her. The Hufflepuff Head was content to let her think it was all friendly, and he’d always made it clear that others could come along too but it was an unsaid rule amongst the faculty that no one would say yes.

Seokjin hoped, for his friend’s sake, that she would eventually realise. It was just a good thing that Hoseok embodied the traits of Hufflepuff; limitless patience, unending determination and incredibly loyal. That thought makes him laugh gently, causing Miyeon to shift and look at him lazily.

“I just realise...we always say that Hufflepuff’s are loyal, right? Well, Hoseok has been loyal to her for years. Even if there was that gap where they didn’t see each other for a few years...as soon as she comes back, his affections are right there once more.” Stroking his wife’s arm soothingly, he kisses her head once more as the romance of the whole situation hits him.

“That’s...that’s so sweet. I think she’ll come around soon. It’s obvious she likes him too. They just need something to push them a little more and make her realise that it’s okay to go for him.” Pursing his lip, Seokjin considers her words for a moment. She was right, which she always was.

Glancing over to the kitchen, the calendar on the wall just visible to him through the doorway, he did some quick maths in his head. The Winter Solstice Ball was fast approaching and if he remembered right, he knew the perfect spell to help things along for his lovesick friend.

[paperpocalypse]

crackers and jam.

50 Cliché Tropes and Prompts: 41. Overhearing they have feelings for you.

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 1,703 words

Warnings: Swearing

Some time back, not long after he got stranded in the post-apocalyptic world and perhaps a year and a half before running into you, Five’s only companion was Delores.

It had been a meeting of chance (as everything is) in the middle of a destroyed department store. She had been looking at him. And maybe that’s why he was so drawn in – that stare; it was a lifeless stare, yeah, but it was not by any means a dead stare like the ones he had met too many times before. No life had been lost to create that stare. She was smiling, too.

Five had lifted her carefully out of the chunks of concrete, greeting her because there was no one else. For the first few weeks, he just placed her at the corner of her store and visited every once in a while, then took to occasionally toting her around the City when he needed to talk. He liked to pretend that she answered back – sometimes. After a few months, he named her Delores.

Then he met you.

Unlike Delores, you were human. Breathing. Alive, somehow. And you had thoughts and feelings that weren’t always connected to his and – and it was weird. It was home.

You didn’t question his friendship with Delores. Five had seen the half-burned stuffed frog in your wagon, so you wouldn’t have had anything to hold over him anyway. He knew that you knew that he still went to the department store in the middle of the night. And, shit, deep down Five also knew that Delores was, in the end, just a hunk of plastic with eyes. But after a year and a half of having nobody else, she had become something of a comfort. And a confidant. Burdening you with his issues was not an option, so when things became a little shittier than usual, he would slip out from underneath his blanket, make sure you weren’t having a nightmare, and head downtown to voice his thoughts aloud.

Over time, though, he learned that you were willing to listen. You listened, and you were always kind about it even if you didn’t always understand. His nightly visits decreased. And it was okay for a while.

But then Five began to struggle with a new issue – one that was a little different than the usual mess of stress and anxiety – and one night, he finds himself looking down at Delores again because talking to you about it is definitely off the table.

Unfortunately, Delores’s kindness is different from yours.

Well, here we are. Again.

“I’m just here to think,” he snaps, combing a grubby hand through his tangled mess of hair. The lantern beside him glows weakly as he plops down onto a slab of concrete. “Mind your business.”

Your business is everyone’s business here, Five. And to put my own two cents in, I think that you’re scared of your own feelings.

Blood travels to Five’s cheeks, unwarranted, as he narrows his eyes at Delores. “For the last time, that’s not what this is about. It’s – Jesus Christ, I’m gonna get over it. This isn’t a life-or-death issue.”

Then why have you been ranting about it like it is?

“I’m not.”

Ha! Rich.

He grits his teeth. She stares back at him, unperturbed. Bastard.

You know, maybe you’ll feel better if you say it out loud. Air it out. Test to see if it’s real.

“I’m not doing that.”

Do it.

No.

Say it.

No.

For god’s sake, Number Five, take a goddamn look at yourself –

“Fine!” Five hisses, though it feels more like an explosion. He throws his hands up. “I like [Y/n], alright? We’re the last people on this goddamn planet and I like them, and I shouldn’t care this much but I do. Happy?”

Delores pauses. Five looks away.

Very.

Ugh.

Did it feel real?

He clicks his tongue, crossing his arms, and doesn’t answer. The smile on Delores’s face seems a little smug, and it makes him want to hurl. He shouldn’t have said it out loud. Relieve some of the pressure and everything starts to boil over …

Breathing in deeply, Five forces his shoulders to relax. He bids a soft goodbye to Delores, then heads back to camp.

—

A week later, Five’s visit comes back to bite him in the worst way possible.

You’ve been having a hard time starting the fire for tonight, so he finishes splitting the evening rations to help you out with the bow drill. As he does so, you watch in silence, both of you waiting patiently for the smoke and dust.

“Do you think we have enough wood?” you eventually ask.  

“It’s enough,” he murmurs, only half paying attention. After a while, a few chalky wisps of smoke begin to rise from the charring wood. He leans in to blow the ember carefully once it forms, then puts it into the tinder and coaxes out a flame. “Get the kindling?”

You oblige, and within a few minutes, a healthy fire starts to dance atop the wood, scorching his face and fingers with heat. Five stares intently at the oranges and yellows for a moment, lips pressed together, intrigued in a tired sort of way. Warmth. Then he backs off and grabs a portion of crumbled up crackers, handing it to you.

You spread the cloth over your knees. “Now all we need is some jam.”

“What kind?”

A soft hum escapes your throat. You contemplate unhurriedly, dabbing up some stray crumbs with a finger. “Blackberry,” you reply after a few moments. “Or strawberry. The kind that’s sort of chunky.”

It’s been a long time since he’s tasted either of those things. The simple thought of whole crackers spread with fresh jam, sweet and dark and sticky, is a luxury in and of itself. Five tries not to think about it too much, munching on his third fragment of stale cracker. It makes his mouth dry. “Hm,” he says, picking up the canteen for a few drops of water.

The fire pops. A few sparks fly out into the air and die just as quickly. You finish your supper and wipe your mouth, stretching your legs out in front of you as you sigh.

Five tilts his head at you. “What?”

“What?” you parrot back, though he sees the way your fingers fidget.

“You have something to say.”

Your facial expression shifts just the smallest bit. “How can you tell?”

(Simple – because he knows you. He knows your ticks; knows how you tick. He knows your smiles and all the subtle ways that your voice rises and falls. He’s memorized you because he fears forgetting, and it’s a problem.)

“Kind of hard not to,” Five replies.

“Oh.” You chew the inside of your cheek, still seeming unsure. “Well, um … I just wanted to talk to you about something. And please don’t be mad.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Um. A couple nights ago, I had a bad dream.”

“I know.”

“Not the one you woke me up from. A different one,” you mutter. “The night after we found the pillows.”

“Oh,” Five says.

“Yeah.” You look down at your hands. They’re dusty and rough, littered with small scars from climbing and falling and holding. “I … um, that night, I woke up and you weren’t there. And I sort of panicked, and went looking –”

The blood drains from Five’s face.

“I went looking for you, and I found you. Talking to her.” You glance at him for a split second. “About me.”

Oh, fuck.

Five stares at you as you fiddle with the scrap of cloth on your lap. You know. You weren’t supposed to know. You weren’t supposed to ever know, and now you do.

“Five?” Your voice is curious and small.

His voice is raspy. “How much did you hear?”

“Almost everything.” You grab the cuff of his coat sleeve as he attempts to stand up. “I’m sorry for eavesdropping. I really didn’t mean to, but –”

“It’s not your fault. Look, I don’t want to talk about it,” he replies tersely. “We need more firewood, anyway.”

“We have enough,” you say, though you relinquish your hold when he tugs a little harder away from you. You sound hurt. “Five, it’s okay to feel like that.”

“It’s not. It makes things more complicated.”

“How?” Standing up, your brow furrows. “I like you too, Five. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

His chest tightens. “That just makes it worse.”

“I like you,” you repeat. Your hand moves down to take his gently. “A lot. And it’s okay.”

(Did it feel real?)

Five meets your gaze solidly despite not quite wishing to, a familiar sense of guilt washing over him when you squeeze his hand.

Sometimes, he wishes he hadn’t met you. Then he would’ve gotten what he deserved for his recklessness – nothing – with nothing to concern himself with other than equations and survival and time. That, he’s fairly sure, would have been easier to manage. He hadn’t been taught to care for someone else. Not like this, at least.

But you. You. Five swallows the lump in his throat.

“I might have to leave you behind,” he murmurs, more hoarsely than he’d like to admit. The words burn like ice on the roof of his mouth. “One day.”

You don’t reply for a few seconds.

Then, for some inexplicable reason, you step a little closer. “But not tonight," you say. "Right?”

For shit’s sake, you’re so optimistic. Five chuckles dryly, hand still engulfed in yours, blinking away the vague stinging in his eyes. “Of course not.”

“Then I forgive you. If you feel like you need it.” With a mild exhale, you smile at him. Your eyes are glossy. “So can we sit back down? I like doing that.”

He quietly agrees.

So you bring him back down to sit before the fire, closer to him than before. No more words are left to be said. A heavy silence settles in their place, neither good nor bad, and almost comfortable. For the first time in a long time, Five tries not to think.

You lean against his shoulder. He welcomes it.

[glowingbadger]

You may have a little Lorenz Prompt as promised. As a treat. Here goes~

Lorenz taking thorough notes to surprise his s/o (is it the blog owner? the reader? some random character? It doesn't matter~!) with the most lovely, romantic date imaginable based around everything they like. He wouldn't put in this much effort to TRULY impress someone, but you're worth every step and more.

Enjoy where this takes your thoughts~!

(and pls don't eat it, Tumblr)

Y'know what, I've had a shitty day and I just finished writing some darker content- so I am going to ~indulge~. Normally I try to make my Reader character as broadly relatable as possible, but today we're going with MY preferences and interests because I WANT A NICE DATE WITH LORENZ GODDAMNIT

Lorenz (FE3H) x GN Reader - perfect date

Fluff - SFW

Today simply has to be flawless- the Gloucester heir will not accept any less. Not when it comes to you. Of course, Lorenz holds himself to high standards in all things, but the thought of providing anything less than perfection for you is one that pains him to even consider. Especially now that he'd finally gotten the courage- or, rather, found the right and proper time to ask you to spend the day with him.

You approach him at the Monastery gates not long after noon that day, and find your pace slowing as you eye him before he's noticed you. Without his usual elegant set of armor, you can appreciate the way constant marching and training has toned his slender frame- and appreciate it, you most certainly do. Though he soon turns to face you, and your eyes dart back up from a rather ignoble place to meet his instead.

"You're as radiant as ever, I see," he says with a warm smile. He offers you an arm and you take it, replying with a grin,

"You've already got me for the day, Lorenz, there's no need for flattery."

"'Flattery' implies a measure of falsehood," he says with confidence, leading you towards town, "and I could never bring myself to lie to one so lovely."

As your time together proceeds, you can't help but feel that, some way, somehow, Lorenz has some kind of psychic insight into your preferences. Everywhere you turn, whatever your heart could desire is immediately available and set before you with hardly any negotiation at play. At the first flower stall you find, Lorenz takes a moment to exchange words with the owner while you admire the sprawling array of colorful blooms; and by the time he's returned, he's holding a woven crown of delicate little white flowers. With an admiring smile, he carefully places it on your head, a hand trailing down a lock of your hair as he pulls away to observe you.

With a shy grin, you perform an exaggerated curtsy, prompting Lorenz to laugh fondly and take you by the hand. He twirls you slowly under his arm, watching you all the while, then says,

"They suit you every bit as wonderfully as I'd thought."

"They're my favorites," you reply.

"I know- erm, that is- I know of a superb bakery down the block this way," Lorenz seems a bit red in the face, but you chalk that up to nerves.

He's not wrong though- this bakery is something else. The selection and quality of ingredients is on an entirely new level compared to the Monastery's dining hall, and you find yourself overwhelmed even reading down the list of items posted to the wall. By your third pass over the full range of options, the words are starting to dance in your eyes- but a warm touch at your arm shakes your focus. Lorenz leans close to be heard over the rapidly growing crowd at the bakery's counter,

"Might I make a recommendation?" you nod, and he goes on, "I happen to have it on good authority that there's an item not included on this menu that you may like. It incorporates three different treatments of Brigid cocoa, if that is of any interest to you."

Your eyes light up and you can practically feel the rich sweetness across your tongue already.

"That sounds incredible," you reply, enraptured by the very thought. When you start to ask how he'd heard of such a thing, Lorenz has already turned to speak to the worker taking orders, and your words drown among the crowd of customers. The speed at which he acquires this mythical pastry only fills your mind with more questions. How did he manage to purchase an off-menu item so quickly? Wouldn't the cost of something requiring those many luxurious imported ingredients be astronomical?

But then, Lorenz returns to your side and guides you out of the crowded shop, and the sight of the delectable chocolatey treat in his hands dashes all other thoughts from your mind. He hands it to you wrapped in a handkerchief, and you can't help but immediately plunge in for a bite.

"Mmmm-!" you wear an expression of pure bliss as your mouth fills with sweet, savory chocolate, "Oh- Lorenz, it's so good!"

When you glance up at him, he's watching you with a strangely heavy expression. Once more, his fair complexion is painted a light red. You tilt your head curiously, and he seems to resurface from whatever thoughts had taken him for the moment.

"Here- you should try some," you break off a piece and hold it up to him.

"Are- are you certain? I had intended for you to enjoy it to your heart's content," he stammers out, evidently still a bit flushed.

"I want you to get to have some too. Please?" You hate to resort to puppy eyes with him, but it's hard to argue with the results. He leans forward and accepts the piece of pastry from your hand. You don't shy away from him in the slightest, and so a brief brush of his lower lip along the tip of your finger simply can't be avoided. Lorenz does his best to move past this without acknowledgement, and you two enjoy your treat together as you take in the bustle of the town around you.

The day continues in kind, with Lorenz apparently having painstakingly arranged every element of this date from start to finish. At a local seller of antiques and luxury goods, he secures permission to view and explore rare and dazzling paintings from around the world. Here, he's rather uncharacteristically reserved. Wandering the storage area like your own personal art museum, he watches you with evident warmth as you exclaim at the rich and varied pigments, the innovative expressions of human form, and so on.

After this, he brings you to a tavern at the far end of town, where he's reserved the second floor exclusively for you two to enjoy a quiet, intimate meal together. By this point, you've finally gotten around to considering just how much gold must have gone into this singular date.

"Lorenz," you say cautiously, "are you sure it's okay to go through all of this and spend so much just for-"

He raises a hand to cut you off, then replies,

"I assure you that it is," he takes your hand in his, holding it warmly from across your private table, "wealth has no value that we ourselves do not assign to it, and I have chosen to spend it on your pleasure. I can think of no greater use for a bit of coin."

The rest of the early evening is filled with pleasant chat and the occasional subtle sweet-talk. As you discuss everything you've seen and experienced that day, Lorenz engages you with surprisingly astute comments and observations. He's always at his best when he feels permitted to simply talk with you, as one person to another, free of the pressures and expectations of his birthright that he shoulders without a thought.

The sun is steadily lowering behind the hills and walls of the surrounding town by the time you make your way back together. As you walk hand in hand watching the Monastery gates rise ahead of you, Lorenz clears his throat abruptly and says,

"If I may steal you away for just a little while longer, there was... actually someone I thought you'd like to meet."

"Oh? What an honor," you say with a smile, "Do I get any hints?"

Lorenz gives a good-natured chuckle and says,

"Only that I think you'll get along splendidly."

And of all places throughout Garreg Mach's grounds, you begin to recognize that he is leading you towards the stables. You've met Lorenz's horse before- a lovely mare with a calm and agreeable temperment. If not her, then...

"Eloise?" Lorenz calls out in a gentle voice, "Eloise, come say hello- Ellie? Come now, don't tell me you've chosen tonight to become bashful..." at his call, a svelte black cat with delicate little white paws comes trotting out to meet you. Your heart positively aches and melts at the sight of her eagerly approaching Lorenz with clear comfort and familiarity.

"Lorenz, you... have a cat?" You say with obvious disbelief.

"She's one of the Monastery's strays, to be clear," he says, "She helps with the mice in the stables. Evidently, she had become quite fond of my preferred horse- and so eventually became fond of me as well."

Fond seems an understatement- she very clearly adores him. With a chorus of happy little mews, she circles his legs and rubs against him until he crouches down to offer her his hand. As he does, a shred of parchment flutters from his pocket onto the ground. Eloise targets it like a seasoned warrior and pounces at it with gusto. With a laugh, you kneel down to retrieve whatever this paper she's captured might be.

"Now Eloise, none of that- you must behave genteel-like with guests."

As he firmly lectures the cat, you glance at the paper in your hand. Nearly every inch of it is covered in an elegant, curling script that you imagine must belong to Lorenz. It looks like a... list of some kind. As your eyes scan down the page, you begin to recognize a pattern. Your favorite flowers, favorite desserts, favorite types of books and places around town- plus, to the side, the word "cats?" underlined several times. For a moment, you simply cover your mouth to hold in a snort of laughter. Then, you come to kneel beside Lorenz as he's failing to convince his feline friend to stop swatting at his hair.

"So- you've been taking very thorough notes lately." you say, nudging his arm playfully. He turns to face you with an immediate look of panic. Lavender eyes widen and glance down to the parchment in your hand, then back to you. He visibly deflates and says,

"Goddess- you must find me such a fool-"

You press your lips firmly to his before he can say another word. With a soft noise of surprise, his eyes flutter shut and he leans into your kiss. His lips are wonderfully soft, and the subtle scent of his cologne surrounds your senses as you tilt your head to seal your lips to his more firmly. You're not certain how long you remain like this, but only the dull ache of kneeling on the dirt and the incessant sound of Eloise bapping her paw against the paper in your hand bring you back to your surroundings. When you part from him, you brush aside the silky curtain of his hair to run your hand along his face, and say,

"I had a wonderful time today, Lorenz- and it means the world to me that you put so much thought into this. But next time, you don't have to study so hard, okay?"

For a moment, he seems speechless. Then, he gives a shy chuckle.

"You have bested me yet again, it would seem. How can I ever hope to become a man worthy of you when you are ever more lovely with each passing day?"

Eloise gives an insistent chirp and rubs once more against his leg, evidently tired of distractions from the attention she feels she's owed. Your smile widens, and you scratch her ear fondly.

"I think there's at least two of us who like you just as you are, Lorenz."

[suganovakawa]

𝐒𝐀𝐔𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄 .

PAIRINGS : tooru oikawa x fem! reader , slight hajime iwaizumi x fem! reader

GENRE : angst , romance

WARNINGS : cursing , car accident , recovery from amnesia

SYNOPSIS : tooru doesn’t understand how special you are to him until he comes close to losing you forever . as he struggles to comes to grips with his feelings and balance it with his future , you still have to recover from your own injuries , but without your memories to assist you .

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 < [ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐄 ] > 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐄𝐍

he knows what could happen if you remember. he’ll do anything to prevent that.

word count : 1.6k

saudade masterlist .

SAUDADE

( 𝐧 . ) a nostalgic longing to be near again to something or someone that is distant , or that has been loved and then lost ; “ the love that remains ”

⠀whatever iwaizumi was thinking, he certainly had no logic. honestly, he probably would've been better off just not telling you a thing about oikawa. after all, he should've known from the start it's in human nature to want to push past restrictions forced upon them. and as much as it pained him, he knew he had messed up bad, his anger getting the best of his common sense and regretting it a day later.

⠀he knew you were curious about your boyfriend.

⠀rather, the boyfriend you didn't even know you had.

⠀from the very beginning, hajime could see it in your eyes - the natural attraction your body held as you and oikawa first exchanged short glances towards each other in class. volleyball had taught him to be quite the observer, and you made no effort in being subtle. unfortunately for iwa, oikawa noticed your innocent curiosity as well.

⠀he was afraid to ask you more about what you remember. it was different from the first day you had woken up from your coma, you were completely out of it so your muddled brain couldn't have remembered nor recollected much. now that you were spending regular time at school, just like normal, your memories might have just resurfaced sporadically. as far as hajime knew, you remembered everything, just pretending like you're still suffering from memory loss.

⠀but he knew you weren't like that. you wouldn't do that to him.

⠀you two weren't best friends before the accident, basically just friendly acquaintances who shared the same pain in trying to make the aoba johsai volleyball captain learn how to stop and take a damn breather. you had made it quite obvious in the past that you were an admirer of oikawa's, much to hajime's dismay - but he suppressed such feelings, in fear he'd be seen as too selfish.

⠀and he paid the price by seeing you happy in oikawa's arms.

⠀maybe iwaizumi was biased, but tooru really was more on the shitty side when it came to being a boyfriend. he had asked his peer countless times why he had accepted your feelings when he knew he didn't have time for a relationship; and every single time, hajime would get the exact same answer:

⠀"she made me happy at the winter tournaments, i'm only returning the sentiments."

⠀does causing your car accident count as making you happy?

⠀seeing how determined tooru was to get close to you again, pissed hajime off. what was there to be pissed off about, though? if this was a game, iwaizumi was winning. oikawa lost everything, from his reputation to his girlfriend. hajime was on his way to making you happier than tooru ever could. there was no competition here - he had this hook, line, and sinker.

⠀at least, he should have it in the sinker.

⠀a part of him knew, deep down, he was always default to second place. even without your memories, you still had your conscience, that internal voice in the back of your head that still held its senses. and if your conscience was stupid enough to adore oikawa even after everything he's done to you, how could the ace possibly fight against it? you could've died. and it would've been oikawa's harsh words as the true perpetrator.

⠀he wanted to prove a point to himself, you, and oikawa. that he was worth it. that you shouldn't have to waste your time with a scumbag who took your adoration and admiration for granted. the entire team knew that tooru wasn't the type to put anything over volleyball, and he displayed that when it came to your guys' relationship. while the captain was deserving of any praise he received that was volleyball related, hajime knew that it was unfair for you to be neglected because he spends so much time and energy on it.

⠀"hajime? are you listening to me?"

⠀he turned his head towards you, your words shaking him out of his daze. he blinked a couple of times and sat up, turning his head so his attention was fully on you. "sorry, y/n. a bit tired today. what do you need?"

⠀"huh? i don't need anything." you shook your head. "i was telling you that makki and mattsun were inviting me to go out with them today, just out to eat so they can also fill me in on random things, and to talk a little more. i said yes because they seem nice enough, and you seem to trust them, so i didn't have a reason to say no. i just wanted to tell you because i'm not going to be walking home, so you don't need to take me today."

⠀hajime's heart dropped to the abyss in his stomach.

⠀you were going to what?

⠀he knew exactly what those two were planning on telling you, and he was not having any of it. panic bubbled and almost erupted out in the open, but he saved himself with a deep breath and a plastic smile, nodding his head slowly. "right, i trust them... yeah. you have fun with that." you appeared happy with what he said, giving him a quick hug before walking off. he waited for you to turn the corner before walking off on his own, his jaw clenched and his destination set.

⠀"iwaizumi, where's - " hanamaki was grabbed by the tie as the brunet glared at his former teammate, his eyes anything but nice. "what are you doing? let me go. i'm supposed to be meeting - "

⠀"i know what you're fucking doing," he spat, his grip around makki's uniform only tightening. "this isn't just some random meeting. y/n asked you for this meet up, didn't she? she wants to know stuff, and figured you two would willingly comply." he laughed, more of a mocking volume. "and what do you know, she was right."

⠀"iwaizumi, let me go." the male with pink hued hair snapped more sternly the second time around; hajime hesitated for a few moments before reluctantly releasing his grip on his fellow third year, who pressed his lips together as he fixed his uniform hastily. "you got us," he muttered, his eyes finding iwa's. "she came to us during lunch and kept asking us. you were already on your way back to the table so we simply told her we'd tell her after school. that's all."

⠀"that's all, my fucking ass." pointing an index finger in takahiro's face, hajime shook his head. "you better not tell her about oikawa. she's much better off without that piece of shit in her life."

⠀"but she has a right to know."

⠀iwaizumi's face paled, taking a step back as makki crossed his arms. holy shit, he was serious. he and makki were going to tell you everything. "she's a big girl, iwaizumi. she wants to remember her life before the car accident. i can't imagine what she's going through, having her memories blacked out like that. i know if i was her, i'd want to know every single detail." makki's eyes narrowed. "including the memories that could hurt me."

⠀hajime's hands clenched into fists as he shook his head again in protest, sticking his foot out to prevent the other from walking forward. "over my dead body will i let you do that. the last thing she needs is a reminder of the nightmare he put her through. you won't tell her a fucking word about it."

⠀"or are you just scared you'll lose her to oikawa again?"

⠀just that question was a punch to the stomach as hanamaki observed iwaizumi's reaction. a corner of his lips protruded upwards as he stared at the other male in the hallway, the truth so horribly obvious. "doesn't take an idiot to see how set you are in making y/n fall for you. using her amnesia to your advantage to brainwash her into forgetting oikawa and becoming her new boyfriend... i was on your side at first, iwa. now? you're being just as shitty as he is."

⠀"don't you fucking compare me to him. i'm not like him, and i will never treat her like shit."

⠀"maybe not like shit, but she's certainly more like a prize than an actual person in your eyes."

⠀takahiro watched the frustration boil to hajime's face, taking a deep breath and walking around him before he could be stopped again. "if you excuse me, you made me late. i'm sure y/n will - " he grunted as a sharp pain grabbed hold of his wrist, his eyes widening slightly as hajime seethed at him, jaw clenched and face glowing angrily.

⠀"i said, you're not telling her anything."

⠀"who's going to stop me?"

⠀iwaizumi's smile was anything but pleasant as he pointing towards the school entrance. "mattsun and y/n are waiting for us, right? we shouldn't leave them waiting for too long."

⠀makki's breath hitched in his throat at the realization and cursed to himself quietly, shaking his head as he had no choice but to pull hajime along with him. "your logic is fucked up. y/n is nothing but a trophy for you to show off."

⠀"y/n means more to me than what you could ever hope to understand. keep walking, bastard."

⠀"hajime? what are you doing here?" your face revealed genuine surprise as he had appeared right beside hanamaki, releasing his iron grip on his wrist before exiting aoba johsai. "i thought you were walking home?"

⠀he could see the silent exchange of glances going on between the other two, and he could tell by matsukawa's quiet but exasperated sigh that he understood what was going on. iwaizumi pretended to not notice, however, as he moved to stand next to you. he saw the confusion flickering within your irises, how they were averted towards the ground instead of looking at him. if only he could tell you how important you were to him and why he was acting this way for your own good, maybe you'd understand his side better.

⠀"i figured since i was hungry, i'd join you guys. after all, we all trust each other enough to discuss anything, right?"

a / n : second post today! promised it would come out soon 🥳 ALSO, THANK YOU SM FOR 900 FOLLOWERS !!! it truly means the world to me that you all decide to stick around my profile, i promise i’ll do the best i can to provide content worthy of your attention 🥺❤️

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[damienthepious]

[a small gentle shout] happee lizz kis tues

could stay right here

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Rilla, Sir Damien (but only asleep)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Early Relationship, Sleep, Literal Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, (yes two in a row. SUE ME.), Kissing, Singing, Banter

Summary: He isn't used to sharing a bed, just yet.

Notes: this was. supposed to be like... six hundred words, maybe? (sigh). enjoyy????? I hope? I don't know why i'm suddenly obsessed with Early Relationship One-Shots, but!!! apparently I am??? Heck. Title from the song Cement and Sunshine by Morningsiders!

~

Arum jerks awake as the bed shifts, a flash of panic gripping his lungs and squeezing-

Attack, he thinks, and then, won't let anyone hurt them. How- who-

Amaryllis.

She makes some small noise, presses her hands against his collarbone on either side, firm and sturdy, and he manages to suck in a breath that does not feel so strangled.

"Sorry," she says, her voice a breathy whisper by his ear as her hands keep him anchored, her thumbs rubbing soothing arcs against his scales. "Sorry, sorry- didn't mean to-"

Arum remembers. Remembers Damien curled against his left arms. He remains an unbothered, unconscious weight as Arum becomes aware of him again, and he remembers Amaryllis waving them off to bed before returning to her pile of five or six books and her recorder, an unmoveable fountain of determination, remembers awkwardly managing to ask- to ask that she join them, when she at last reached a stopping point, remembers her small, fond, knowing smile-

"It- it's- it's alright," he manages in a hiss, lifting one of his hands to curl around her wrist. "I'm alright. I-"

She leans back in the dark, beginning to draw away, and the panic moves, squeezing his heart instead. He grips her wrist more tightly, still careful of his claws despite his muddled awareness.

"Wait," he whispers, and the only reason he does not lean up to follow her is because he refuses to risk waking Damien beside him. "Don't- don't leave, I-"

She stills, and though he knows it is too dark for her vision she looks towards his voice, blinking against the black. She rests her weight on him again, her palms warm on his chest.

"I'm not leaving," she says, very gently. "It's alright, I promise. Let me just grab the blanket, that's all."

Arum has the sense that he should bristle at that, at her gentleness, her comforting tone, but his heart hasn't slowed yet, and his relief is too large to deny. He makes a noise, hopefully enough of an affirmative for her to interpret, and then he releases her wrist so she can lean back and gather the sheets from where he and Damien must have kicked them in their sleep.

She tugs them up over her shoulder and settles against his side with a small sigh, arranging the cloth to cover him as well, and then she leaves one hand over his heart, brushing slowly up and down.

He tries to slow himself down, to settle, to match his breaths to the motion of her hand, and after a few heartbeats it starts to come more easily.

"I'm sorry," Amaryllis says again, her voice a careful whisper. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

His chest rumbles quietly, a helpless almost-growl, and then he cautiously curls his arm around her, pulling her just the littlest bit closer. "I didn't mean to surprise you," he echoes, low and uncertain. "Jolting awake like that."

"You aren't used to this," she says. "It's okay."

"Used to-" he cuts off, frowning, trying to focus on not letting his rattling growl grow loud enough to wake Damien as well.

"This," she says, her palm pressing down on his scales. "This," she repeats, and then she presses her lips so, so gently to the scales at the crook of his neck.

Arum freezes for half a second, and then his body relaxes all at once, as if she has cast a spell over him with her kiss alone.

She isn't wrong, of course. It had been difficult enough for him to slip into slumber in the first place. Damien had positioned himself draped along Arum's side with a sigh and a kiss and Arum had laid utterly, exquisitely still until the poet drifted to unconsciousness, and then for what felt like rather a long time afterward. When sleep did find him, it must have been a rather fragile thing, considering how easily and violently it broke at Amaryllis' entrance.

"I... I suppose..."

"I mean, I get it. It took me a long time to get used to sharing a bed with Damien, actually," she says, her tone mild, and Arum blinks, glancing down at her musing expression.

"Why?" He frowns, unable to imagine a time- unable to imagine the pair of them at all separate, at all misaligned. They fit together so easily, without any apparent effort, enough so that at times he can hardly believe there was a time he did not know how intertwined they are.

"Because I was too used to sleeping on my own?" Her mouth curls, almost wry, as she traces nonsense shapes on his scales with the tip of her pointer finger. "I spent a long time alone in my hut, and even when I found people to fool around with I didn't usually spend the night. And I'm a really light sleeper in the first place, so it was a big change for me." She shifts slightly, readjusting the arc of his arms curled around her. "He rolled over onto me once, like, the third night we spent together, and I woke both of us up socking him in the nose."

Arum snorts, then holds his breath to keep from cackling a proper laugh. He gulps in a breath after a moment, feeling Amaryllis smiling against his shoulder, and he controls his voice carefully low as he responds. "A rather rude awakening for the poor knight, Amaryllis."

"I know," she rolls her eyes. "I felt awful about it, but- you know Damien. He apologized almost as many times as I did. Dummy."

Arum's heart does something unhelpful and twisting beneath the warmth of Amaryllis' palm, and he buries some rather embarrassing thoughts about the spun-sugar sweetness of their poet before he shakes his head.

"Completely absurd," he mumbles, and then, because he knows Amaryllis cannot see him do so, he tilts his head enough to press his snout gently to Damien's curls. Not quite a kiss by their human measures, but... he feels warmer, regardless, when Damien shifts almost imperceptibly closer at the contact.

"What I mean is..." she tilts her head, kissing his jaw this time. "It's alright. It's alright if it takes a while for you to adjust to things, or- or if you decide eventually that you'd rather not share a bed at all, for actually sleeping. That's fine too, that's an answer that's on the table."

"Don't be foolish," Arum grumbles, resisting the urge to tighten his grip. She's as close as she could possibly be, he reasons. The instinct to pull her closer regardless is nonsense. "I want- I would much rather-"

"I just want you to know that you don't have to do anything just because you feel like you should, that's all."

Arum presses his lips together, torn between gratefulness and indignation, and then he sighs. "I appreciate the... the effort towards clarity. It is not that I don't want the both of you here, beside me, though. I only... I cannot seem to... I am rather vividly aware of you. It is difficult to find rest, while my mind... lingers upon you."

"Ah," she breathes something like a laugh. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"I want you here," he says, trying to round off any ambiguity on that subject, and her breath flutters with another subtle laugh. "Clearly I managed sleep eventually. I'll do so again, I'm certain."

"Well," she says, her voice tilting breathier, richer, more warm with sleep, "if you're certain. Saints know I'm too tired to get antsy about it anyway."

With each moment, her weight settles more heavily against him, a more-than-welcome echo of the pressure of Damien's body on his other side, and he feels heavier as well as her breathing begins to slow. She'll drag him down into slumber with her, he thinks muzzily, and he can't suppress a subtle purr as her fingers continue to trace light, tingling lines on the scales above his heart.

"Just want you to be comfortable," she murmurs, and then she closes her eyes, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "You don't get enough sleep. And yeah, yeah, I'm a hypocrite, before you even say anything."

He cuts off his retort before it begins, chuckling low, and he must truly be half asleep again already, because his next words come before he can think better of them, and he is halfway through his next murmuring sentence before he realizes that he is speaking.

"I can't understand how much you both... how..."

Amaryllis waits, drawing her fingers over his scales slowly, slowly, her eyes closed, but eventually when he fails to continue she makes a humming, questioning noise against his shoulder.

Arum swallows, shoring up his nerve since he has already begun to speak- he may as well say this now, while Damien sleeps soundly in his arms and Amaryllis cannot see whatever look is on his face.

"I cannot understand... how much trust you place in me. To... to sleep like this. It feels so... you are so vulnerable, Damien out of his armor, and you- it is so hard to- to understand- to reconcile that- that vulnerability and- to settle my own mind, while you both lie helpless and sleeping beside me. I want to pr- I can't- I cannot shake my awareness of your breathing, your heartbeats, and-"

Her hand stills above his heart; he wonders dizzily if she can feel the way it beats, faster with each passing word. He feels ridiculous- of course he does, he can hardly unravel his own thoughts while they still tangle, only half drawn into his waking mind, and he cannot even say if any of this coalesces into something that makes sense.

She turns in the darkness, unseeing, aiming her face towards his own, and then she trails her hand up from his chest, up his throat until she finds his jaw, the curve of his cheek, and then she turns his face towards her own. Ridiculous, he thinks fondly, since she still, obviously, cannot see him, but then she- she angles his head, presses a kiss against his mouth, and then she tilts both of their heads until their foreheads press together.

"You... you're saying you can't fall asleep because you're worried- you're worried about us? About- making sure we're safe."

"I don't-" Arum swallows roughly, nervously, his breath clicking at the base of his throat. "I don't know. I don't know what- what worries me, truly. I know- here in the Keep I know- obviously we are safe, but-"

Amaryllis kisses him again, gentle and warm in the dark, a tender press of lips against scales until his heart slows. She tips their foreheads together again, bites her lip, exhales a long sigh, and then she smiles so, so terribly softly with her palm caressing his cheek.

"And here I was worrying that you couldn't sleep because you weren't used to being so vulnerable," she whispers, and Arum resists the urge to flare his frill in embarrassment. "You- Saints. I- fuck, I could say so many different things right now, but I feel like every single one would embarrass you. I-"

Arum clamps his mouth shut, shrugs very gently with the shoulder beneath Amaryllis, and then he risks nuzzling forward again, gratified when she graces him with another kiss. "Save it for the morning, then," he murmurs. "You can embarrass me plenty when Damien is awake to make that precious wide-eyed expression about it."

Amaryllis shakes with silent laughter against him for a moment, kisses him one more time, and then resettles at his side with a warm, contented sigh.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep again?" she whispers, her breath tickling at the crook of his neck. "I'd hate to think that I..."

"I'm certain that I'll manage, Amaryllis."

"I can... I could sing for you. If you want me to."

Arum glances towards her, a little surprised by the hesitant note in her voice, the hint of something like shyness. "You..." he pauses, swallows, thinks better of simply announcing how utterly enthralling he is by her voice in song. "That would not wake our little knight, you don't think?" he hedges instead.

"I can sing quietly," she complains, her lips drawing together into something like a pout, her nose wrinkling almost too adorably to stand. "And besides, our little knight sleeps like a fucking rock, anyway." She curls closer towards him, nuzzling her nose into his neck, beside his frill with a sleepy growl. "Do you want a lullaby or not?

"Well..." Arum trails off, taking a moment to force the breathlessness out of his own voice. "Well. If my choices while in bed with you are a song or a punch in the nose, I certainly won't complain about the former-"

She gasps, scowls in mock offense and swats at his side as he bites back the urge to chuckle, and then she settles her hand over his heart again, pressing down.

"Oh you just wait, you complete brat-"

"Are you going to sing or not, little doctor?"

"Hush," she growls, pressing her face into his neck. "Hush up and I will. Absolute brat."

Arum breathes another laugh, helpless against it, and then he settles, and after a moment her fingers start drumming a little pattern against his scales. With the rhythm of his heart, he realizes, and then a moment later she begins to sing, soft and husky and mostly breath, close against his neck.

He doesn't expect it to work, truly. She is so present, they both are, his awareness of their heat and their proximity such a vivid tether in his mind, impossible to ignore. Her song, her voice- everything about her is ethereal, stunning, gorgeous, of course, but he does not expect that even that could draw him down, pinned between their fragile resting bodies.

In the morning, though, he will not even remember the second verse.

[canyouhearthelight]

The Miys, Ch. 137

Trying to figure out Author’s notes is hard.... Sometimes I just don’t have anything pithy to say, or have too much to say and don’t know where to put it all.

Obviously I am an overthinker.

So, for the sake of everyone reading: Let’s cut to the Shoutouts!

The obvious first: @baelpenrose, @the-raven-fae, @anotherusrname, and @charlylimph-blog! I love all of you, you are the best.

Special mentions to: @zommbiebro bc I miss you and hope you’re okay. @nekohuntslight for being the OG person to message me about liking the story (yes, Bael, this is the dirty secret behind why I thought you lived in Australia when we first started talking.... shhhhhh). And alllllll the binge readers who blow up my inbox every day, Iloveyousomuchyoudon’tunderstand. Very much adore all of you, you have no idea how serious I am being right now. I need to go through and make one post just screaming all your names to the universe.

Tyche brought drinks and snacks from my kitchen before flopping on the couch in my quarters. The guys were at work, along with Antoine, but my office was closed down for the day. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?” she asked.

“Vati and Hannah have everything planned to the smallest detail,” I shrugged. “They’ve already coordinated with Xio and Evan for all the crowd control and monitoring shifts, and the murals are going up today.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m well aware of the logistics stuff. I literally handle all the staffing for the humans on the Ark, and Antoine was also part of the crowd control conversations.”

“Then why did you ask?” I laughed, grabbing a cracker and carefully stacking cheese and other toppings on it. 

Before I could get it to my mouth, she snatched it and held it out of my reach. “Because I’m asking how you feel. You’re only attending as… well, an attendee. No monitoring, no calling the shots, no working from the floor.”

She surrendered my cracker, but I found myself setting it down, appetite gone. “I’m okay - “

“Lie.” There was suddenly a finger levelled between my eyes like a gun. Just as quickly, it was lowered, and my sister was tilting her head at me. “Come on. You know you can’t lie to me - I’ve known you longer than literally anyone on this ship except yourself.”

“Fine! It’s weird!” I admitted in frustration, standing to pace and shoving my hands through my hair. “My skin is crawling with anxiety, my hands are twitching to snatch up the files and nitpick everything to the smallest detail….”

“Except they locked you out.”

“Except they locked me out, yeah. But I’m pretty sure I could get Derek to let me in, which is why I’ve made a point to tell him not to, no matter how much I ask.” Dropping my hands, I sighed. “But if I ever want to leave this position, I have to let them do this.”

She shrugged and stole my cracker, this time chewing and swallowing before she responded. “You could have kept some involvement in it, you know.”

“Pfft, yeah right. I would have taken it over, and you know that.”

“Yep.”

“Then why even ask.” I dropped back down on the couch.

“‘Cause you needed to hear yourself say it,” she explained, nonchalant as ever, snagging an olive and watching me calmly.

I sat in silence, processing it.  I hated when she outsmarted me like that, especially when she was right. “Can I at least eat first?”

She laughed and let it go, telling me how well the murals for the Festival were coming.  I hadn’t even gotten to - allowed myself - to see the designs, and the more Tyche talked about them, the more I wanted to see them.  By the time I finished my share of our snack, I decided to check out the progress.

We finally made our way to the decks where the Festival would take place, and I thought Tyche was going to die laughing at the way I gaped. The alcoves where the vendors would stage looked the same on first glance, but a closer look revealed very subtle shapes added that would give them a more savage, wild look in the right lighting. Metal sconces had been added to hold what looked like torches, but with special light emitters to simulate open flame. As we walked further, swirls of color revealed themselves slowly, first in light, curling tendrils, but slowly sharpening and taking on a more angular shape, twisting together into phantasmal images that vanished as soon as you tried to focus on them.

“It’s like walking through a garden, or a rainforest, but when I turn my head, I’m in a city.”

“Right?” she laughed as we came around the final corner. 

At this point, we were surrounded by this mural.  Just up ahead, there was a messy head of black hair tied back with a green piece of cloth. Bare feet and arms show smears of paint, and overalls covered a tank top - that, or the cloth for the hair had formerly been sleeves, I couldn’t tell.  One hand propped up on hips while the other hung down, holding a very familiar paint pen.

“Christ on a triscuit, Vati, this is incredible,”  I gasped softly.

She turned and smirked at me over her shoulder. “Not yet, but it will be when I finish.”

“I mean, all of it. The sconces…”

“Those were Hannah and Ivan.” Parvati walked over and touched one with her finger tip, stroking it gently.

Tyche made an impressed noise. “I’m only a little shocked that he had enough time.”

“The materials are on loan from the engineering departments, and we wanted them to be rather rough in the finishing. It helped. Sophia, no matter how curious you are, please do not lick the walls.”

A giggle bubbled up through my chest. “The thought never crossed my mind. I was trying to put together all the flavor profiles here. It’s… a lot.”

“Forgive me if I focused more on color than how the walls would taste. I don’t generally cook, remember.”

I stared down a swirl of pomegranate, popcorn, and gochujang. The colors - blue, pink, and yellow, respectively - worked well together, but the thought of the flavors made my stomach churn. “I solemnly swear not to lick the walls,” I promised. “How much of this are you expecting to still be up by the third night?”

“We have a team that will specifically come touch up the mural in specific places the morning before the second day.”

Tyche turned toward me and away from her study of the art. “Also, you would be surprised how much paint is on the walls. It will take a lot for Else to eat it all, once they are allowed in the area.”

“Before you ask,” Parvati cut me off. “We just asked them nicely. Well, Sam and Derek did.  They’ve become quite the ersatz diplomats to Else.” 

“Anything left?”

“Hannah is putting the final touches on the curtains for the alcoves and the seating areas. She’ll have a team installing them tonight once I finish.”

It was clever, and explained why she was only touching up part of the mural halfway between now and the closing of the event. “You two have really put your stamp on it.”

“Feel better?” She held one hand up gesturing at the entire entire project, eyebrow arched  to show me that she hadn’t been fooled for a moment.

I rubbed my neck, and glanced at her from underneath my eyelashes. “Busted, I guess.”

“That would imply that anyone had believed your charade,” she smirked.

Taking a deep breath, I looked around us again. “I honestly do. I could never have done all this. Holding on would have…”

“Kept you in a position you frankly hate,” Parvati interrupted gracefully. “It’s the same reason Sebastian went back to the Undine. He’s passionate about it, and it shows in the quality of his work.” When I gaped in insult, she held up a hand. “Not everyone can succeed through fear of failing and a determination that things be done right if they must be done at all.”

“Everyone talking about me needing to retire, like I’m old or something,” I joked, throwing my hands into the air.  “Physically, I’m only thirty-five.”

Tyche nodded to concede my point. “What about the food? I haven’t seen a menu come out yet.”

The change in topic made Parvati’s face collapse. “What? It should have gone out yesterday…” She flicked open her datapad, which flickered from the overspray that covered it. Frantically scrolling, she groaned. “This was scheduled, why didn’t it send?”

“Did you check the date?” I asked calmly. “Specifically the year.”

“Three times, it’s scheduled for tomorrow,” she insisted. “Right here: May seventeenth, twenty-forty aw fuck….”

“At least you got the decade right,” I pointed out. “You wouldn’t believe how many scheduled emails I’ve tried to automatically send out for ten or fifteen years ago.”

She nodded and seemed to get her bearings back. “So, protocol for this is… just send it right now and apologize for the late notification, don’t try to make excuses or explain?”

“Exactly. They won’t care why, they’ll just be excited the list is out.”

With a couple quick gestures, she sent the email and dismissed her datapad. “Okay, that was the last thing, then.” Turning back toward the wall she was working on before, she waved to us over her shoulder. “I’m not trying to be rude, but I really do need to finish this up. Thank you for coming to see everything… it was oddly reassuring to have both of you give us your stamp of approval before the Festival instead of making us wait until after.”

“For the record, you two have always had my stamp of approval, or I wouldn’t have tried so hard to keep my nose out of it.” I knew she couldn’t see me, but I still smiled. “We’ll catch up with you after the Food Festival.  Remember: both of you need to plan on taking the day off afterwards. I’m serious.  Have your unofficial advisors drop in and chat about everything, that’s fine. But no actual work, and I won’t let either of you see the survey results until the second day after. So rest.”

“Got it, boss lady. Have a good night!”

Tyche and I turned and headed back to my quarters. We remained silent as we took in all the preparations that had been done, waving to the handful of vendors who were bringing their supplies in already. Once we were back in normal corridors, the silence broke almost immediately.

“I think they’ve got this,” Tyche suggested nonchalantly.

“Oh, I know they do.”

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[tundrainafrica]

That Levihan fic you mentioned from Erwin's pov....I would be VERY interested in reading that if you ever decided to post it just so you know...(no pressure ofc tho <3)

Thank you for the ask anon! 

Ask and you shall receive. 

Title: Omissions

Summary:  

“Erwin first suspected that there was something going on between the squad leader and the captain during one of their strategy meetings. It was in the greetings and farewells they exchanged as fellow soldiers."

The development of Levi and Hange's relationship from Commander Erwin’s POV

Written for @levihanweek  Angstober 2020. Prompt: Greetings and Farewells

Link to cross-postings: AO3

Notes: This was originally written for  Levihanangstober 2020 for the prompt, "Greetings and Farewells" I was just generally unsatisfied with how it turned out so I decided to write "free spot" instead. Since this paled in comparison, I kinda had this idea that it was horrible. But reading it again now, it wasn't bad per se. In fact, I had fun looking back at this fic.

Thank you to the anon for that request. That got me the courage at least to reopen this file.

Erwin first suspected that there was something going on between the squad leader and the captain during one of their strategy meetings.

It was in the greetings and farewells they exchanged as fellow soldiers.

Or their lack of it at least. Erwin thought to himself as he watched the two make their way out of the office and into the hallway together.

The meetings usually ended at nine in the evening. With physical drills awaiting them early the next morning, officers usually went straight to their rooms. Although his room was more accessible to the corridor on the right, Levi always accompanied Hange as the latter exited through the left.

Erwin had discounted it the few times to survey corps business between the two, maybe training, maybe collaborations. Hange would want to test different weapons on titans or secure samples out in the field and to prevent unnecessary deaths, it was only natural she would coordinate with Levi to help secure her projects.

Erwin started to watch their dynamics more closely when he noticed that their leaving meetings together had become routine. Having spent a fair share of his younger years hanging out in bars with Nile and dating women, he was confident he could pick out a developing relationship if it bloomed right in front of him.

The pattern was there. Erwin just had to press the right buttons.

The next meeting, Erwin took note of the body language of the two as he summarized the agenda towards the end of the meeting. That was usually the point where everyone started tidying up their paperwork and sat up straight, ready to leave.

While Hange had also started to pick up her paperwork, Erwin could not help but notice that she had snuck a glance at Levi more than once.

"Levi. Stay behind."

"Sure." Levi was quick to reply, his tone as neutral as it always was.

Erwin kept his eyes trained on Hange. If he had not been purposefully observing her, he probably would not have caught it. For a second Hange had looked surprised but a little panicked at the sudden order he made.

He needed to probe more to be sure. That night, he drilled Levi for updates on his squad so as not to raise suspicion for having made him stay in the first place.

The meeting after that when Erwin ordered the same thing to Hange, Levi had briefly glanced at the brunette before looking back again at his paperwork, his expression unchanged. Levi's reaction was more subtle but Erwin had worked with the captain long enough to know that any reaction from someone as stoic as him was big news.

He drilled Hange on any developments with her research. They were already starting to plan their next expedition so it was only natural that he would want to talk to the logistics leader.

"There's this new test I wanted to try. We've already proven that titans use their sight often with hunting. I want to get more information on their hearing and maybe create a sound grenade." Hange explained.

"Have you tried collaborating with Levi?" Erwin suggested. It was an unnecessary suggestion Levi had become valuable to Hange's research already. With his fighting skills, he was easily able to secure areas outside the wall, and had prevented unnecessary deaths during her previous research activities.

"I've been working with Levi lately actually. There were so many things I wanted to try out so I have been bothering him a lot. I haven't told you about it?" Hange gave Erwin a sheepish grin.

Erwin noticed a slight blush but at that point wondered if it was just excitement and maybe slight embarrassment at failing to properly report her progress to him. "Just do what you need to do to keep your department running." He said. "If Levi is free and you need someone to accompany you, I don't mind you asking him for help."

"Yes sir." Hange looked more relaxed.

Erwin started to think that he could be wrong about a relationship blooming between them. He had seen Hange blush the same way when she enthused about titans and research. He had never seen Levi blush though and wondered if he did at all.

Hange and Levi had similar goals and may have just decided to work closely to achieve them, they were aberrant humans, their personalities at complete ends of the spectrum, coincidentally working towards similar goals. Erwin eventually realized that his experience with relationships did not cover those eccentric enough at least to join a group with mortality rates as high as that of the survey corps. He was the only one from his own group of friends among the cadets who had joined the survey corps after all. He conceded that with what he knew then, he could not assume the status of their relationship.

"Hange," Erwin started as the brunette made her way to the door. "Remember, the preservation of humanity should always be your ultimate goal of your research. You made that oath when you joined the survey corps. Don't lose sight of it."

Just in case his first suspicion was correct.

                                     Omissions

He might have been thinking too far with what he suspected. The inkling that something might still be there remained. To placate it when he could though, Erwin decided at least to try for some extra assurance.

That night he took the corridor to the left on the way back to his room. It circled the whole camp so it meant an extra ten minutes to get to his room.

Why would Hange and Levi take that extra ten minutes to their room? Unless there was some place they would want to visit after meetings.

It was easy to deduce after that train of thought that the only place worth staying in after dark was the dining hall.

He was proven right when he neared the dining hall and heard the distinct voice of one Hange Zoe. He could not make out what she was talking about as he stood outside but he could make out her voice, her tone and a distinct softness he had not heard before. Hange was generally an emotional person and she spoke to her subordinates with a unique tone that exudes both authority and gentleness.

At that moment though, talking privately to Levi, her tone was much softer and warmer. It was not the tone anyone would expect from a soldier.

"Knowing you four eyes, you'd fuck it all up…" Levi's voice seemed more relaxed.

A change in tone when talking to someone one's attracted to was evidence in itself of a possibly blooming relationship. Given their eccentric personalities though, Erwin was not satisfied.

Erwin entered the dining hall. "You too, what are you doing out so late at night?"

Before Erwin could even catch their expressions, both faces had morphed into that of complete astonishment at the sudden entrance of their commander.

"Commander Erwin…" Hange's eyes widened in surprise.

"It isn't healthy to stay up this late," he lectured as he approached the table they occupied towards the corner of the room.

"We don't sleep much anyway." Levi answered as he took a sip of tea.

"Talking about new developments?" Erwin asked, keeping his eyes focused on their expressions.

Levi's expression as usual, was unchanging.

Hange on the other hand, grinned at Erwin excitedly. "He agreed to test the sound bomb with me outside the walls. I was about to explain to him how I created it actually."

Erwin sat down on a chair next to them. "If you don't mind me here, I'd like to listen too."

If there was something going on between them, they probably would have at least looked a little disappointed to have a third wheel hanging around. Erwin surprisingly felt welcomed as Levi moved a little to the side to give Erwin leg room and Hange continued on to her tirade on her new invention.

Erwin started to see that it was in the way they talked, and the way they peppered the conversation with their personality. Hange would sometimes briefly digress from the main topic to rave about miniscule details and Levi noticeably made more vulgar jokes in between. Their shift in their tones towards each other did not change even as Erwin joined them.

As they exchanged ideas, Erwin saw that their expressions were very much consistent with their shifts in tone. Hange's eyes were somehow brighter as she enthused about her inventions and Levi somehow lost his almost perpetual sullen manner as he responded to her.

Back when he was dating, Erwin had felt self conscious about those small details when talking to Marie. He had always tried to remain stoic while with Marie to preserve the peace between him and his friend.

Those two did not seem self conscious at all to be showing this side of themselves to Erwin.

"You two talk like a married couple." Erwin commented.

They both turned to Erwin, looking genuinely surprised at his comment. A few moments later, their faces turned pink at the realization of what he just said.

At least we know they can be self conscious.

Knowing their personalities, Erwin realized he shouldn't have been surprised if they did not notice it. They did not look like the types to just jump into a relationship or even know how it usually develops in the first place.

Erwin just nodded in fake agreement as he listened to the pair scrambling for a justification for their too friendly exchanges. The latter was too busy fitting the pieces together to even make sense of it.

There was something going on between them. They just didn't know it yet.

                                      Omissions

Erwin had let that complicated relationship between the two parties continue as it did prove to come with its own results.

The researches of Hange were done efficiently with little to no unnecessary deaths in the process. While working together, the two had reported success in the invention of the flash bomb, the sound grenade and further improvements to the gun used for scouting formations.

While it did develop, Erwin started to worry. The reason he had broken up with Marie in the first place is because he also knew that love could be a distraction. At that point in time, it proved to have been an inspiration for both of them.

What would happen if they figure out their feelings for each other? If they do get together?

In his many years in the survey corps, Erwin had not seen any relationship end well since most anyone who had fallen in love within the survey corps, had their vision clouded at one point and ended up dead.

The saving grace came in the fact that both soldiers were just too dense to figure it out for themselves and had attributed the passion and exhilaration that came with being together to a passion for their jobs.

Erwin thought it better to keep it that way. For the betterment of the survey corps.

He could not risk losing his two best soldiers.

Fortunately for Erwin, within a few years, the establishment of the Special Operations Squad, Hange and Levi continued to find more reason to work together. With the survey corps constantly developing and constantly on the move though, the two never did probe further into that bond between them.

Erwin still continued to keep close tabs with them, enlisting the help of Mike.

With Hange's new resolve to capture a titan came new developments to their relationship beyond their hanging out together until the wee hours of morning.

As Hange started to push her agenda for capturing titans, she started to become more reckless. Erwin did not know at first whether that may have been from the actual excitement or a development. When Levi initially vocalized his rejection during their meetings, looking to have his squad's safety in mind, Erwin suspected the former.

One expedition, Hange rushed to the forest to chase an aberrant. Erwin had confidence in her ability to stay alive but had ordered Levi to chase after her. The latter was already on his horse when Erwin turned to him.

He wondered if he should have let Mike go instead, when they came back with a journal and Levi's sudden 180. The journal proved to be a breakthrough of a discovery and with two of his most trusted officers pushing for the agenda, he ended up approving it anyway.

How had she convinced Levi to help her capture a titan?

During the capture mission, there were no casualties so he could rest easy, knowing that they were at least still thinking straight.

Either way, the possibility of their relationship deepening continued to weigh on Erwin's mind.

In the case that they did start to suspect, would he let it happen? Or would he try to stop it?

They had become two of his closest friends over the years and as someone close to them, he felt it was his duty to at least nudge them in the right direction. His duty as commander protested this sentiment and in the end, he chose to err on the side of omission. If they did get together, he could at least convince himself that he had been busy with other things.

After the assault at Trost, Hange had busied herself with her new captured titans while Levi took custody of their newfound titan shifter Eren in the old scout headquarters.

A few days before their 57th expedition, Erwin called Moblit in for a quick report on the squad leaders movements, feigning worry over the Hange's sleeping schedule.

Moblit reported that Hange had visited the quarters a few times to experiment on Eren. Of course Hange would have been interested in the titan shifter. As the assistant reported to the commander, he did not look like he suspected anything at all.

Valid reasons at least.

The night the new captured titans were found dead, Erwin in between preparing for the 57th expedition in barracks and pondering the culprit, found Levi along the corridors of the barracks.

The scouting headquarters was at least a few hours ride away from the barracks.

"How's Eren?" Erwin asked. What are you doing here?

"Eren is in the basement of the old castle now so he wouldn't give my squad too hard of a time if he transforms."

"Tell Hange we're meeting tomorrow night in my office. I need to share something about the next expedition."

"WIll do."

As Erwin watched Levi make his way to the corridors to what he was sure was Hange's room, he could not help but note that Levi was not at all defending his effort or his motivations for visiting the barracks for the night.

Erwin felt his heart constrict and allowed himself to express some empathy for the two as soon as he got into his office. He sat on his chair, looked up at the blank ceiling of his empty office and closed his eyes.

Do you really not see it? He let out a painful sigh.

                                          Omissions

The night after the 57th expedition, having sustained multiple losses, he knew he would be facing trial at the capital. They had discussed the certainty of Annie being the female titan but by then, Erwin was considering the possibility that they could be wrong, and the survey corps could get dissolved.

After that, Hange helped an injured Levi to an empty meeting room, most likely to tend to his wounds and console the captain after he had lost his whole squad.

He did not know what happened between them in the room. Levi though, was due to accompany him to the capital. When he came out of the headquarters and into the carriage with a dinner jacket a few sizes too big for him, Erwin knew something was up.

"That's Hange's jacket."

"She lent it to me."

He did not question any further. There were far more important problems to consider than the relationship between his two soldiers. He distracted himself by furtively observing the body language of Levi. As they got closer to the capital where they were to stand trial, the captain held the dinner jacket closer to himself.

Seeking her warmth? Erwin thought. That unfunny joke was mostly for himself. Somehow he knew, that would be the last time he'd have time to think about them for a while.  

The capture of the three titan shifters and the impending coup d'etat kept Erwin busy. Too busy to even consider the possibly blooming relationship of the two.

It was only after losing his arm and ending up out of commission did he have time to think about them again.

Especially with Hange as the new commander. As he lay in bed that one night, he allowed himself a few seconds to wonder what Hange's appointment as commander could mean for their relationship. A few times since then, he had considered telling them. His inclination to keep the future commander focused won over.

With the crowning of the new queen and the operation to take back Wall Maria nearing, Erwin was sure there were soldiers who would not make it back. Hange and Levi were no exceptions.

After he had brought that reality up in their meeting and after Levi had confronted him on his own intentions to join the operation, the next few times he saw Levi, the latter was with Hange.

Erwin noticed that they had watched each other's backs as they arrived on the wall at Shiganshina. As Erwin assigned Hange and Levi's squad to the armored and colossal titan  and Levi to take care of the horses, he snuck a glance at Levi and Hange who had given each other one last look before separating. From his angle, he could only see Hange's face.

A face that made his lip quiver and his stomach drop. A face of painful surrender.

                                               Omissions

"What happened to Hange?"

When Levi asked that in the middle of the already bloody battlefield, Erwin felt his chest constrict. He scolded himself a few seconds later for having even taken up valuable mind space to consider their relationship.

Erwin looked to Levi, keeping his face expressionless. "I don't know."

She was most probably dead. No one could have survived the explosion and Erwin had felt a small twinge of guilt at having assigned Hange there in the first place.

Levi was an important piece in the battlefield though and as commander, one of his priorities was to keep Levi on his feet. If it meant lying, then so be it.

                                           Omissions

Dedicate your hearts. Death came in slow motion.

It gave him enough time to come to terms with the reality of the war and his own decisions. He himself had thrown out his humanity, his relationships and his worldly attachments for the knowledge and the freedom he had promised his father he would attain.

For a second, he considered as well the other soldiers who would be following the same path. And the one soldier who would be filling his shoes soon enough.

Hange.

And by extension, that one soldier that had been joined to her hip since day one, despite their being on different squads.

Hange and Levi had made that same salute countless times, further proving their dedication through the years they had spent working under him. He couldn’t help but think the vague relationship the two had set up for themselves had brought forth all the developments to make the take back of Wall Maria possible. It could have also been the other way around.

Nagging regret had clung to his chest despite having pushed his thoughts elsewhere.

Had he really done it on purpose? Was it a conscious decision on his end to have kept the two from even understanding the inkling of a relationship between them? The inkling of a feeling, a sense of trust that dug deeper than a close friendship?

Did you do it for the right reasons? He allowed himself a glance at Levi who was starting to cut at the titans at the wings of the beast titan. His thoughts shifted there. Would Levi have been able to manage this feat if he had known?

It was a hypothetical and Erwin was sure he would never know. As the rocks sailed towards him, Erwin set aside all regrets, all the thoughts that had left him almost tempted to turn back.

Victory for humanity. He let those words echo in his head and overpower his laments and regrets.

Victory for humanity. In the end, that’s all that matters.

[pl-panda]

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 9

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 9

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The Gala. The Wayne Gala. The Wayne New Year’s Gala. The Wayne Gala to celebrate the New Year.

“I can’t do it!” Marinette screamed. “What if I trip and fall on Mr. Wayne and then he will break his leg!? Or what if I accidentally babble something I’m not supposed to and make it a disaster!? Or what if Lila makes a mess and I get blamed for it in front of thousands of people!?” She started breathing heavily. “Or maybe I’ll just look awkward and people decide that I’m useless and Mr. Wayne decides that I should leave Damian to spare him the embarrassment?! I can…” Tikki slapped Marinette when she didn’t respond to any of her pleas.

“Marinette! Breathe.” The Kwami instructed her. 

“Sorry Tikki. I’m really nervous. I know that making the announcement today is the best option since we’re starting school soon and the news would break anyway, but it’s just so… I’m not used to all that.” 

“I know Marinette. But you must accept that your beloved lives in these circles and you must respect some of the needs. He’s changing for you, but you can’t just demand he abandon his old life.” 

“I know… I really want to make this work. He… I know I can trust him like nobody else. Even… even you… I love you, but you’re not…”

“Human?”

“Yes! I’m sorry Tikki. You’re still my partner and my best friend. Don’t tell that to Chloé though.”

“My lips are sealed.” The kwami giggled. “You’re my favorite chosen too, Marinette. You have the true creation inside you.”

“Thanks, Tikki.”

“Not get on and show them what you’re made of!” The little goddess cheered. 

“Yes! I’m going to rock! I’m great!” The girl said confidently and put on the purple mask with golden lines. 

-------

Damian waited impatiently for his beloved to come. The guests were already filling in and his father and brothers went to greet them. Tom and Sabine, dressed in their MDC original outfits, were already on the dance floor, showing everyone that they could still move even in their forties. Cass was probably somewhere with Bourgeois, stealing cookies or something. The two seemed to bond over being the third wheel and treating Sabine like their new mother. 

“Wassup Dames?” A voice startled him and Damian whirled around with a punch that stopped an inch from Jon’s nose. 

“Tt. Aren’t you supposed to be downstairs? With the guests?” He grumbled. 

“Nah. Mom and Dad are with your dad, going over the safe questions to ask your wi…” Jon didn’t get to finish that word because Damian lunged at him and covered his mouth. 

“Tt. Shut up. The last thing I need is drama caused by your big mouth.” 

*muffled sounds*

“I don’t care. Mouth shut or I’ll test the new Kryptonite dusters.”

*more muffled sounds*

“I did get them. Want me to try them out right now?” Jon shook his head. “Good. We’ve got an agreement?” A nod. “Fine.” Damian let him go.

“You’re very violent, you know that?”

“Tt. Shut up.”

“I’m just saying.” 

“I told you to…” Damian’s words died in his throat. Marinette entered the scene.

“Shall we?” She asked, handing him a sleek black mask with gold details. When light reflected from it, a very subtle purple gleam could be seen.

“It’s incredible, Habibti. Just like the rest of my suit.” He was dressed in a pure-black three-piece, a white shirt underneath, and had a black tie. He screamed style and power.

-------

All in all, the trip was not yet a disaster for Lila Rossi. Her lies were slowly taking root in the people around her. Like the clerk at the Hotel. Soon, she would have them all wrapped around her fingers. Only Maribrat and Chloé seemed to be completely immune to her charms. But that girl was too goody-two-shoes for her own good and Bourgeois was hated even before she started her work. 

There was also that exchange student, Grayson boy… Darren, Damien, something like that. She couldn’t believe she thought that guy was Damian Wayne when he first walked into her class. She went as far as stopping Alya from being mean to him. From her research, all Waynes were kind and helpful. Damian Wayne supposedly volunteered at an animal shelter. The press described him as ‘cute in a special way.’ Blasted Waynes and their no-pictures policy. The guy in her class looked a bit similar to Bruce Wayne, at least at first glance. Then, she noticed that his skin was darker (not just solar tan), his nose was a bit different too. And his eyes were green. It was the only constant with the Waynes. They all had dark hair and blue eyes.

As such, she dismissed him as unimportant and focused on her more important goals. Making a deal with Gabriel Agreste, or rather Hawkmoth, was risky. In the end, it worked out for her in many ways. She gained a foothold from which she made her small empire. And Agreste boy was nice arm candy for a while. Until he went all psycho on Maribrat that is.

Now if she found one of the Waynes, she could start working on worming her way in. Blasted masks! They appeared too good in the media not to have a big dirty secret to exploit. Blackmail wouldn’t be new for her. 

The Gala was slowly starting when all the lights turned off. Two stage flood lights focused on the stairs leading to the second floor of the manor. Two people appeared on them. First was a young man, about her age, dressed all black. He radiated money and influence and she was sure what he wore was in fact an MDC original. But he was nothing next to his companion.

Her dark-purple dress shone in the light like a thousand diamonds. It hugged her figure perfectly and while she was most likely the same age as her companion, she still looked stunning. The high collar was embroidered with a golden thread that formed intricate patterns around her slender neck. The sleeves went down to her arms where they seamlessly merged with gloves. The line was blurred by twin bracelets that each had a symbol of a bat with flowers. A nod toward the Bats of Gotham while keeping it original. From the waist down, it opened on the side, giving her the freedom to move while still keeping the near-royal appearance. With each step, it flowed slightly, revealing the golden underlining. Her legs were also covered with the same material down to ballet shoes in a deeper shade of purple finished with golden lining.

Her blue hair reached slightly beyond her shoulders and matched her eyes perfectly. All the gold and purple served to make everyone focus on her. 

Lila cursed under her breath. There was no chance anyone would notice her with someone like that parading around. Something had to be done. Lila checked her own dress. It was pretty, but when compared to that, it came plain. 

All her scheming came to the halt when the pair walked over to Bruce Wayne and got him to stop speaking with Gotham’s mayor. They knew him. A realization dawned on her. It was Damian Wayne and his date. They had to be. But his eyes… they were green. 

“No…” escaped the Liar’s lips. The woman she was talking to noticed and followed her gaze. Some part of Lila’s brain noticed she also checked her dress and was saddened. At least her reaction was not out of place. 

Bruce Wayne walked with the two back to the stairs where the stand with a microphone was prepared before the lights were turned back on. Sensing a juicy story, all the journalists and bloggers swarmed as close as possible. Some even lost their masks. 

“Can I have a moment of your attention?” The billionaire asked. His eyes swept over the crowd. “Before I start, I wanted to remind you that there is a strict no-photos policy on the gala. We’ve hired a photographer with an exclusive contract and any pictures taken not by him will be considered a breach and will be met with a lawsuit.” 

The murmurs broke all around the crowd. It was a known fact that taking unsolicited photos at Wayne Galas was forbidden. There was no need to remind anyone about it unless it was a really juicy piece. The last time Bruce Wayne took time to remind everyone about this was when Jason Todd turned out to be alive and well, only slightly amnesiac. 

“Now. First I wanted to welcome everyone to this year’s Gala. We’re closing another year and I thank everyone for showing up to celebrate with me and my family.” He raised a small glass of champagne. “In particular, I wanted to welcome a class from Paris that is participating in the year-long exchange program funded by the Thomas Wayne Education fund. I hope you enjoyed Gotham so far.” The journalists were frantically noting everything down. Either for publishing or just to put it in tabloids with some conspiracy theories. “Now, onto the main reason for the announcement. You know I’m not good at speeches.” He grinned and the crowd exploded into laughter. “Since my son just returned from Paris, I’m well aware that this news would break anyway when he returned to school. I ask you to respect their privacy and… well, at least try not to bother them. May I introduce Damian Wayne and his girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”

Everyone started to either whisper or frantically make notes and think of questions to ask. The fact that Damian Wayne, dubbed Ice Prince of Gotham, got himself a girlfriend serious enough to be introduced to everyone was already front-page news for many of them. Even just the dress she wore was front-page news. Any journalist that dabbled in celebrity fashion would recognize an MDC original by now, at least from Jagged Stone or Clara Nightingale. The two refused to even consider anything else. 

“Tt. Against my better judgment, I know that teenagers are walking gossip machines so you would all learn it the moment we entered Gotham Academy.” Damian started his speech. “As such, I want to clear any and all confusion before it can start. This,” he motioned at Marinette, “ is my girlfriend. We met in Paris and clicked immediately. I expect you to show her the same respect you show my family or I will challenge you to an honor duel.” 

Damian was not even trying to hide his distaste for journalists today. He could see that Marinette was uncomfortable with this attention even more than he was. He grew up used to attention while simultaneously being taught that newspapers were at best a propaganda tool and at worst trouble to be dealt with. Obviously, he disliked them, even more, when he became Damian Wayne. Usually, he tried to remain civil to the journalists unless they were irritating. Today, he didn’t bother. Not that they didn’t know he was a private person. A certain paparazzi with a blade going through his camera would attest to that. 

“Angel, do you want to answer their questions or should I?” He whispered.

“Um… shouldn’t you first tell them more?” 

“No. It’s better if I only answer what they want to know.” 

“Um… Maybe you start.” 

“Fine.” He turned back to the microphone. “I will be taking the first question.” He pointed at Clark who had his hand in the air. 

“Clark Kent, Daily Planet. Could you tell us more about how you met?” 

“I joined Marinette’s class for the exchange program my Father mentioned. The only free seat was next to her, so that’s where I sat. What got my attention first was her willingness to stand up to injustice and forgive those who slighted her. She was open-minded and didn’t back down even when I was… Ehm… a bit rude.” He admitted. “I managed to ask her out and she showed me the side of Paris you don’t usually see with a tour guide. We share a passion for drawing and she shared with me her favorite place in Paris. No, I won’t reveal it. After that, my respect for her only grew when she was willing to accept an apology from a girl that bullied her in the past, helping her actually change her ways. Next question?” He pointed at a different journalist. He really hoped he picked right. The masks were making it harder than he assumed. A flaw in their plan that they overlooked. 

“Vicky Vale, Gotham Gazette” The woman introduced herself and Damian resisted the urge to curse. His Father’s ex was not exactly the most favorable toward them after their breakup, even if she tried to stay professional. “What more can you tell us about the mysterious girl behind the mask? So far we know she’s from Paris and likes to draw, plus some traits.”

“May I answer this?” Mari asked Damian, thinking it was high time for her to step up and help. He nodded and stepped back so she had free access to the microphone. “Hi. I'm Marinette. Mostly, I’m just a normal girl with a normal life…” She started. What followed was quite a long introduction where she gave the press enough to satisfy them while keeping private the parts she wanted.

There were many more questions. About family, plans, dreams, etc. The young couple answered some while dismissed others as too personal and rude. Finally, after over an hour they ended the event and told those who would stay to move on with the gala while several journalists were removed. In total, ten photographic devices were confiscated and Chloé got the honors of handling everything with Tim. He was there for a technical site, she was there for intimidation. 

One of the particularly irritating paparazzi tried to argue, but then Chloé started to rant until he was cowering in the corner. Pretty much everyone around them was now glaring at him with a hateful gaze. After that, they mostly behaved. 

-------

“Well… that was exhausting. And it’s only ten pm?” Marinette and Damian were resting next to the snacks table. They were enjoying a moment of peace once the initial wave of well-wishers passed. Jason was keeping an eye on the class to make sure they were stopped from making anything worse for themselves and everyone else. So far they were too stunned to deal with it. He was pleased to see that Alix girl was finally doing something and pointing out many flaws in their reasoning. The problem was Lila disappeared in the crowd for the moment. Chloé was on the hunt though. She was a master of dealing with a rich crowd, probably surpassing even Drake. 

“Here you are!” A voice startled the couple. Marinette and Damian turned to see a group of four people. Jon was one of them. There was also a girl with blonde hair pulled into a long braid and a boy in a blue suit with medium-long black hair and blue eyes. The fourth one made Marinette’s blood run cold. Her eyes went wide and she acted before anyone caught the wind of it. A strong straight punch sent the boy looking like Adrien flying onto the ground. 

Chatter around them died in an instant. Marinette tried to lunge at him, but Jon caught her. He was probably the only one strong enough to hold her back. 

“Let me go! Don’t you see he is a criminal?!” She was doing her best to get out of his grip. Damian suddenly was holding the blade to the neck of the blonde boy. 

“You have five seconds to speak.” 

“I’m sorry, but I’m not my moronic cousin. Would you please let go of me?” He asked with a thick British accent. 

“Tt. Prove it.” Damian scoffed. 

“Ugh. I’m really tired of dealing with everyone taking me for a criminal just because I look like him. Ask my mother!” 

Indeed, a blonde woman in a gray dress was making her way through the crowd. “Felix sweetie!?” She kneeled next to him while glaring daggers at Damian and Marinette. Reluctantly, he took away the sword but didn’t put it away. Dick and Tim also arrived.

“What happened?”

“That twit attacked my Felix!” 

“Tt. He shows up and looks just like a known criminal. You should’ve really chosen something other than a black mask and a black suit.” Damian frowned. He didn’t exactly feel bad about the incident, but the press would jump on that.

“It’s alright mum. I admit I’m partially at fault. I forgot the reaction Parisians have to me right now.” He bowed his head. “Please accept my apologies.” His lower lip was bleeding.

“Um… here. Let me help you.” Marinette pulled a tissue from her pocket (of course her dress had pockets) and handed it to him. Nodding, he wiped the blood. 

“Tt. I’m still not convinced.” 

“Damian! That’s rude. I remember Felix. He was in Paris once.” Then, she mumbled under her breath. “Caused a triple akumatization.”

“I am sorry for that…” 

“Felix joined our class this year. You left the day before he came.” The blonde girl explained.

“It was all just one big misunderstanding folks. You can move on.” Dick took control of the crowd and allowed the teens some breathing space. Except that’s when the class finally decided to start speaking up. 

“Yeah right! Marinette is just a big bully! I’m in her class and she was mean to Lila from the beginning. I wouldn’t be surprised if she dated Damian Wayne just for money.” Alya had to babble. The rest of the class (minus Alix) was either nodding or giving their own confessions, real or not, and always against Marinette. 

So far the Waynes avoided any accusations about gold-digging. The one journalist that tried to pick up the subject (subtly at first) was silenced by Damian’s evil eye. Now more people murmured. And the number of people able to respond was greatly limited as Damian, Chloé, Jason, and Sabine had to be restrained from hurting people. 

To everyone’s surprise, it was Cass who jumped on the table.

“Shut…! Up!” She shouted. Or what stood for her shouting, which was only slightly louder than normal people’s speech. Still, it got everyone’s attention. “Cousin Nettie is… kind. Good. Sel… Selfless. She is my family. Not… digger.” She glared at several people that were still muttering. “Saw her… date with Damian. She did not let him pay. Not digger!” There was a dangerous edge in her voice. That was enough to shut people up. Except for the class. 

“Of course you would protect her!” Kim stared at her. “You’re probably…” He didn’t finish because Alix covered his mouth. The girl noticed that Bruce, who was restraining Jason Todd was about to let go. She wasn’t sure exactly what would happen, but she wasn’t willing to find out. 

“I think it’s time for you to leave. Where is your teacher/chaperone?” Bruce asked, also glaring at them.

“Um… Madame Bustier is…”

“Madame Cheng is right there!” Mylene pointed to where Tom was doing his best to stop his wife from grabbing the Bag and cutting the class into tiny pieces.

“I… I don’t think it would be healthy for us to go with her right now. She is very emotional right now.” Alix offered. She was trying to act like the voice of reason. Something this class lacked. 

The teacher was quickly located flirting with one of the musicians invited to the gala. She was completely unaware of what her charges did. 

“I’m sure it was just some misunderstanding. Marinette indeed started acting out a bit this year. They probably overexaggerated a bit.”

“Tt. You mean she stopped being a doormat?” Damian huffed. 

“As I said, it’s time for the kids to leave,” Bruce said in a harsh tone. 

“Oh… Okay. I’m sure Sab…” 

“Caline. You’re the one responsible for taking care of them. You’ll take them away when Mr. Wayne asks.” Tom then pointed at his wife, who he was holding a few inches above the ground to keep her from doing something stupid. 

“Um… Of course.” The teacher sighed. “Kids. Gather your things. We must leave.” 

As they were walking out, people applauded. After Alfred closed the doors behind them it was finally safe to let the more violent part of the family free. In all that mess, nobody noticed that a certain sausage-haired girl was not with them

“Now, Wayne.” The blonde started. “Want to explain why we had to learn about you having a girlfriend from a press conference?”

“Or why did Jon know her before us?” The boy added. 

“I would also appreciate hearing how my bloody cousin earned your ire,” Felix added. 

“Oh! Sorry.” The girl turned to Marinette. “I’m Allegra and this is Claude. You already know Jon and Felix. We’re Damian’s friends. Or the closest thing he had to such.” 

“Tt. I don’t have friends.” 

“Bro. Not cool.” Claude argued.

“Shut up. Claudius.” he huffed. 

“You wound me.” The teen gasped and put a hand on his chest. “Dami.”

Felix and Marinette watched from the sidelines how the quartet bickered. Jon tried to help Damian sort things out. 

“For what it’s worth, I am sorry,” Felix said after a moment of silence. “My cousin is a daft git.” 

“That we can agree on,” Mari said absentmindedly while trying to keep the eye on Damian. She hoped he didn’t bring the kryptonite dusters tonight. 

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

Masterlist // Next

[crystxlclear]

sudden desire

chapter ten: the endless darkness and mystery of the ocean is becoming a bit tempting to dive into right now

part eleven of sudden desire

masterlist

word count: 3.2k

warnings: angst, hospitals, illness? it’s a little but of a sad chapter tbf sorry

author’s note: this is where it gets sad and angsty i hope y’all didn’t think it would all go smoothly from here lmaoooo sorry

but coraline and marcus are soft af so i hope you enjoy them pining for each other ... again

Marcus is sure that he’s only really known love twice in his life.

The first time, it was with his first wife. His college girlfriend. The first girl he’d ever said ‘I love you’ to, and meant it. 

They’d married straight out of college; young and, maybe, a little too dumb. Not prepared for the pressures of real life, of the real world. They were still figuring themselves out, who they were meant to be and who they were meant to become. They’d grown apart as they’d grown older. They were no longer who they were. They were different, and not the same people who’d fallen in love those years ago.

The second time, it was with Teresa. At least, he thinks he was in love with her. Hell, he’d even asked her to marry him, to move across the country to start a life with him, after so little time together, after all. They’d moved so fast, tumbled headfirst into things without a second thought. He’s sure that, in that short period of time, he’d fallen in love. The heartbreak that had struck him down when she’d left him was so palpable that, sometimes, when he lies awake at night, he still feels the remnants of it rooted within him.

There had been others, before and since. Those that didn’t work out, those that weren’t and never were meant to be. A handful of awkward dates or a couple of nights at the other’s apartment. Nothing significant like his ex-wife or Teresa.

At least, not until Coraline.

He often wonders, if things had been different, if they’d met some other time, in some other place - maybe even in some other life - without their heartbreak and their baggage, if things would have been different. Would they be together and happy, living in some picture-perfect suburbia together, in each other’s arms. He guesses that he’ll never know, now. It seems silly to dwell on such an unlikely and unattainable thought.

But he likes this, falling asleep in each other’s arms, even if it’s only as friends on her part and he’s destined to feel the sting of unrequited happiness for the rest of his days. 

The next morning seems lighter. It shouldn’t - the weight of the night before, all that had happened, should still linger; and it does, just not in the way he’d expected - but his admission, into the silence and not to her, had lifted this insurmountable weight from his chest. He hadn’t even realised he’d been carrying it. Even whispered into the gauzy blanket of silence after Coraline had fallen asleep, Marcus’ profession of love had slipped out, just the right time to relieve him of his fears and maybe any more heartbreak that might latch onto him.

He wakes with her still in his arms. She’s clutching to his shirt, the dress shirt’s cotton material bunched into her first, twisted around his torso. She looks endlessly peaceful; her breathing is steady, soft and measured and even, and her face is free of the worried lines that had tugged at her eyebrows the night before. Her lips are parted, soft puffs of air brushing past, tickling against the underside of his jaw. She’s swimming in the bliss of sleep. He’s endlessly glad that at least sleep can give her a reprieve from the torment of the night before.

He knows he should leave her bed, like he does every morning. That he should make her coffee and whatever breakfast food he can find. That he should have normality ready for her when she wakes up, so things don’t seem so different when sleep slips away from her. But he just can’t bring himself to let her go.

Marcus watches her gentle expression and the rise and fall of her chest for a moment. The subtle shift of her feet and hips. He knows she’s waking up, her body rousing from her deep sleep. He brushes a hand through her hair; it’s dried as she slept, and her usually delicate waves are even more prominent thanks to the soft cotton of her pillowcase. His thumb brushes across her cheekbone.

Coraline hums and it almost startles him. “Good morning,” she whispers. She leans forward and presses her forehead against his chest. Her hand pulls around his torso and splays her fingers across the expanse of his back, pushing his chest closer into hers. “What time is it?”

Marcus’ hand flexes against Cora’s hips. “9 am.” 

“Shit, Marcus, you have work,” she gasps and pulls back, though her movements are sluggish and laboured, tethered with sleep, still. 

He smiles and drops a kiss to her forehead. His thumb taps against her hip bone. “I’ll call in sick. They’ll understand.”

He’s sure that she wants to protest, to tell him to leave, but she just doesn’t seem to have the energy. She just drops her forehead back against his sternum and sighs. She nuzzles herself closer into him and pulls at his scent, just as intoxicating as always. It weighs her limbs down. She feels her head swimming with everything - the worry and the pain and the fear - but the familiar scent of his cologne keeps her rooted to reality, and stops her from floating away. She’s glad that he’s here, holding her. She’s not sure she would want to wake up without him there. “I need coffee,” she murmurs, voice muffled by the duvet pulled snug over the pair of them, and Marcus’ shirt. She makes to move his embrace and leave the bed, but her efforts are half-hearted and she keeps herself pressed against Marcus, inside his comforting grip.

Marcus chuckles. “Just a couple more minutes,” he insists.

He can feel her grin through the material of his shirt. “You’re comfortable like this?” She runs her hand up his torso, from his stomach to his chest, and toys with the top button of his shirt, by his neck. Her thumb brushes over his collarbone; he’s pretty sure it’s unintentional, but it almost makes him shudder. He’d be embarrassed if he wasn’t used to the effect that she has on him.

He shouldn’t be. Not in what he’s wearing. But the warmth of her against his chest is too comforting for him to muster the strength to move. “Very comfortable.” 

She tilts her head back. Large green eyes peer up at him, sparkling and still laced with sadness. She’s trying her best to hide it, he can tell. “Too bad,” she whispers, “I want coffee.” She still doesn’t move. She stays rooted to his chest.

“And you’re expecting me to make it?” Marcus chuckles.

Cora giggles against him. “No- give me a moment.”

Marcus brushes a hand through Coraline’s hair - and pushes away the curls that have flopped over her face and obscure her sleep-kissed smile against him - as her phone begins to ring on the bedside table behind her. Cora groans and tightens her grip on his shift. “Who is it?”

He peers over her to glance at the display on her phone, which lights up bright with the name ‘Daniel’. He tells her and she groans again, pressing her cheek against his chest. Every time something calls her to leave the bed, she can’t help but burrow deeper into him. “Let it ring. I’ll call him back later,” she insists. The phone falls silent against the wooden table and she relaxes, until the phone starts vibrating again, and her shoulders go rigid. 

“You gonna get that one?”

She shakes her head. “He’ll give up after this call.”

But her phone carries on ringing.

After the fifth ring of the third call, Coraline uncurls herself from around Marcus. 

“Hello,” she answers, unable to sound very enthusiastic.

“Cora, thank God!” Daniel sounds out of breath on the other end of the phone. “You need to get down to the hospital right away.”

“What?” She shoots upwards in worry. “What’s happened? Is everyone okay-”

“It’s dad. It’s his lungs again.”

Panic strikes in Coraline’s chest. It’s her fault. If she hadn’t told him about her and Marcus and their plans for a baby, he’d be okay.

“I’m-” She desperately tries to catch her breath as she stumbles from the bed. Marcus calls after her but she’s fumbling blindly through the room, grabbing clothes like it’s second nature. “I’m on my way.” She drops her phone rather than hanging up and tugs on a hoodie and joggers over her pyjamas. 

“Coraline, what’s wrong?” She questions.

She shakes her head and twirls on her heels. “My dad’s in the hospital.”

...

Marcus hadn’t even bothered to get changed. He looks presentable enough in what he was wearing - despite the wrinkles in his shirt and pants - and it seemed far more important to get Coraline to the hospital than it did to make himself look as if he hadn’t just rolled out of bed.

Which he had.

He hadn’t let her drive. Coraline had been biting back tears; they were burning the back of her eyes, blurring her vision, and she was in no shape to drive. Instead, he’d just taken her keys and driven as fast as he, legally, could towards the hospital on the other side of town. She’d sat in the passenger seat, bouncing her leg, silently praying that her father would be okay. 

He’d rushed in behind her, as she raced towards the desk and breathlessly asked for his room number. And, by the time they’d reached him, she’d practically crumbled back into Marcus’ arms at the sight of him. Her father had been laying in the sterile bed, asleep, a breathing tube down his throat to help with the rise and fall of his chest. There were so many machines around him, cutting through the room with a thousand shrill beeps and chimes, she thought that he seemed more like a robot than a human being at all.

Without Marcus holding her up, Coraline was sure that her legs would have given way, and she wouldn’t be able to hold herself up any longer. 

Her mother is there, Daniel and Kimmy, too, all gathered around his bed, looking solemn and horribly pale. Celine Meyer rushes towards her daughter as her sobs begin to bubble up ugly inside her chest. “Is he going to be okay? Please tell me he’s going to be okay.” She can’t bring herself to look at him. It only makes her chest hollow to see her father like this. The bright man she adored seemed so far away. “This is my fault,” Coraline insists, “I-” Her face is in her mother’s hands, and she’s shushing her, shaking her head and brushing away her tears as they fall, with the pad of her thumb. 

“No, no, no. My darling, Coraline, no. This is not your fault,” she tells her. 

“He was upset with me. He-” 

Her mother shakes her head again. “No, he is still sick. It was only a matter of time. But he is here now, and they are going to do their best for him, I promise.”

The room is impossibly bright and claustrophobic. She can smell the disinfectant; it seems to drip from every surface, scrubbed clean and sterile, and nauseating as she thinks of her dad having to spend hours in a bed, with his laboured, wheezing breathing and broken, empty gasps. She feels like the walls are about to close in on them all, and stifle the life out of them all. 

Coraline���s eyes waver towards her father and Marcus hears a sob rip from her throat. She gasps and rushes towards her father, dropping into an empty chair beside his bed. She takes his hand and presses her forehead to the back of his hand, her shoulders shaking as she cries, muffled by the blankets and the mattress. Marcus wants to make it better - he wants to make it all better - but there’s nothing he can do to quiet her heart wrenching cries and fix the sadness of seeing her father like this.

She doesn’t deserve this. All this pain. She deserves nothing but the entire world and all the stars in the night sky. Hell, he’d give her the moon if he could.

“Thank you for being here, Marcus.” Celine presses a hand against Marcus’ shoulder and smiles through her watery eyes. “You have no idea what this means to her.”

It doesn’t feel right to answer. He just returns her smile. Now isn’t the time to take credit for being here. He’s just doing what he has to do. What’s right. To be here for Coraline, if she needs him. 

“Dad, I’m so sorry,” he hears Coraline whisper, her thumb brushing over his knuckles. She sits up in her seat to look at her father’s sleeping face. “I’m so sorry for everything. Please don’t leave me, I- I need you.”

...

Coraline hadn’t wanted to leave. Marcus doesn’t blame her, especially when she’d spent most of the day blaming herself, and had only really settled her nerves about five minutes before visiting hours were over. She’d been worried they’d force her to leave, and, then, had been even more worried when the nurse had poked her head into their room, smiled and asked them if they wanted anything to drink as they sat by his bedside. 

Marcus knew it wasn’t a good sign, that they were letting him stay. The same had happened when his grandfather had died; he’d been so ill that they’d supposed he wouldn’t make it through the night. They’d let his mother and aunt sit by his bedside the entire night, until he passed away, holding their hands, the next morning. He hopes that this won’t be the case, here. For Coraline. For Celine and Daniel, for Kimmy and the kids. He prays.

Daniel and Kimmy had finally left in the late evening; they’d left their kids with the babysitter that morning, and they were both starting to grow tired. Celine stayed beside her husband, falling asleep early in the evening as Coraline and Marcus sat in silence, watching some old sitcom rerun on the tiny hospital TV. At some point, they’d settled into the same chair. He isn’t even sure when, or how, or even why, just that Coraline was understandably exhausted and shuffling awkward and restless in her seat, trying to get comfortable. She’d established that Marcus’ lap and the warmth of his arms around her was the best place to be. Just the way she’d woken up that morning.

She’d fallen asleep a little while later, just as an early episode of Seinfeld began to play on the television. 

Marcus had tried, resting his head back against the high back of the seat, but, no matter what he did or how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to fall asleep. He’s tired - exhausted, even - but something keeps him away, a gentle urge to make sure that everything is okay. 

Instead, he focuses his attention on the TV screen, too tired and far too distracted to follow the story.

The silence seems earth-shattering. 

“Marcus.” He lifts his head at the call of his name. It’s quiet, even in the silence of the hospital room. The rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor is the only thing that shatters the emptiness of the sterile room. Marcus smiles at the sight of Coraline’s father awake. His breathing is still heavy; he can see the way his chest seems to rattle as he draws in his breath. “Is she good?” He questions, motioning to his daughter, who’s curled up, asleep, in Marcus’ lap, tucked against his chest. She sighs in her sleep.

Marcus lifts his chin from where it’s been resting against the top of her head. “About as good as she can be,” he answers, “She’s a fighter.”

Robert Meyer hums out a laugh of agreement. “That she is,” he agrees. He watches her as she sleeps peacefully. “You’ll take care of her, won’t you?” 

The question hangs in the air. He knows what it means, and he recognises the weight of it. Celine had spoken to the doctor earlier - one of those ‘can I talk to you in private?’ moments that she hadn’t found the strength to share with anyone, yet - and wandered back into the room with fresh tear stains on her cheeks. He knows what that means. He’d seen it in his own mother when he was younger.

“I think she can take care of herself,” he insists with a gentle and fond smile down at her. “But I’ll always be there for her if she needs me.”

Silence befalls the room again; monitors beeping, machines whirring, the soft clicking footsteps of people against the linoleum in the hallway, the gentle rustle of hospital-issue sheets. Marcus knows that the silence lingering between them is a result of the night before, and the tension that had stretched, brutal, across the apartment, between them like a taut rubber band. 

“Do you love her?”

It’s another question that settles upon the thick air.

He’s not entirely sure how he’s meant to answer. He could admit to Robert that he’s fallen head over heels in love with his daughter, but he’s not sure he can bring himself to say it out loud. At least, not to another person. But Coraline doesn’t know. Coraline will probably never know. And, as far as she’s concerned, the extent of his love is that fondness shared between best friends, who live their lives circling around one another, keeping each other just close enough.

“I think that Coraline is a truly extraordinary woman,” he tells him, instead. He thinks it holds enough weight to answer his question.  “I swear to you that I’m in this for the long-haul,” he adds, “I’m the one who suggested the whole baby thing.”

“You suggested this?”

“I did. Please don’t be mad at Cora, she only agreed to the idea.”

There’s another silence. Robert settles back against his pillows. He runs his hand over his jaw. “And this is what she wants?”

“Yes. I think so.” He looks down at her, where she’s settled against his chest. “I can tell that it bothers her, worrying about never being a mom.”

“And you promise you’ll take care of her?” He questions.

“Always, sir. Always.”

“Y’know, she’s still my little girl,.” he insists, “you have to understand that I just want what’s best for her.” 

“I know.” Marcus smiles. “I want that, too.”

He sighs and leans back again. He gives his sleeping daughter the same easy smile he’d given her when he walked into the apartment the night before. “Then you have my blessing. I don’t necessarily… agree with this but, if you’re sure, I’m happy for you.”

It’s a brilliant relief to hear him say it. Marcus exhales happily and smiles. “I’m sure she’ll be relieved to hear that. She cares about you more than anyone, you know?”

“Oh no-” Robert watches as Coraline shuffles against Marcus’ chest. Her hand splays across the front of his shirt and she pressed her cheek against him. “-I think I’ve been replaced.”

taglist: @wheresthewater @ah-callie @its--fandom--darling @alberta-sunrise @sara-alonso @madslorian @freeshavocadoooo

[dionnaea]

Revelations | Pieck x Reader

pairing: pieck finger x gn!reader

warnings: cursing, some yelling, ends in fluff 

wc: 1.8k

a/n: sorry that this is a couple days late! midterms wore me out, and i didn’t feel like looking at a word document for a day or two. hope you enjoy it nonetheless! let me know what you think :)

request: Hi can I request a pieck x male reader (or gender neutral if your more comfortable with that) maybe the reader is a scout that was captured after the attack and she is in charge of watching them maybe they slowly warm up to each other after reader reveals the horrors they’ve gone through with the Titans during an argument with pieck and eventually they start a relationship?  

attack on titan masterlist | general masterlist

Yes, you had met some annoying scouts during your training, but you had never met anyone as annoying as the Marleyan soldier that was sent to guard your cells. He spent most of his time either throwing schoolyard insults your way or trying to flirt with every captive. It was ridiculous, and you were getting more than tired of listening to his squeaky, borderline pre-pubescent voice flood the stone-lined hallway. His break times had turned into a safe haven of sorts for you and your comrades, but as the thirty minutes creeped by, you became more and more antsy. 

Today, however, seemed to be different as a woman walked in a little while after the regular guard left. She had walked by all of the cells, taking subtle glances inside each one, before having a seat near your end of the row. In fact, she was a mere five feet away from the bars of your current habitat, and you took the chance to study her. 

The first thing you noticed was the red band clasped securely around her left arm, denoting her Warrior status. It shone like a beacon or a warning, you couldn’t decide which. Still, why would a Warrior be sent to watch over some captured scouts? And where had the other man gone? Not that you minded his absence. The curiosity started to eat away at you, and you figured there was no harm in asking. 

“Hey,” you started. You were taken aback when you realized that she was already looking at you, like she knew exactly what you were going to say. 

“He was moved to another post,” she answered your unspoken question. “I’m here in the interim.” 

“Ah,” you responded. 

Her voice was a bit too soft for your liking; it was unbecoming of a killer, you thought with spite. You didn’t like her being here. A regular, annoying Marleyan soldier was one thing, but a Warrior? It was like a stab straight to every scout’s heart. Your chest started to feel a bit hotter as your anger towards her grew. You hadn’t been there when she delivered the boulders to the Beast Titan to decimate your comrades, but you had heard the tale, a horror story only told late at night. As if she had the right to exist in the same building, on the same continent even as the predecessors of those she had killed. 

You scoffed out loud, and the Warrior turned to face you, furrowing her eyebrows as if she were actually concerned. You glared in response. It was stupid, you thought, that she was allowed to have a face like that, the face of an angel, and still act like a devil. 

The day passed, her sitting idly by while you did your best to play a card game in your head. You tried to picture all of the cards and their suits and numbers, placing them on the imaginary table you had set up on the floor of your cell. It wasn’t going well, you kept losing, as you kept getting distracted by the feeling of the Warrior’s gaze burning into the back of your skull. It was almost as annoying as the squeaks of the original guard, and you felt a sense of pure relief as soon as she left for the night and another guard took her place. 

To your discontent, she returned the next day, too, and the next. By the third day, your blood was boiling. Even though you were always turned away from her, you could feel her eyes on you most of the time. It was pissing you off, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. 

“What the hell?!” You questioned as you whipped around, not surprised to find her dark eyes piercing into yours. Hers were wide in confusion, and that made you even more mad. “What’s so interesting about the back of my head, huh? You busy picturing what it would look like with a bullet in it or something?” It was a harsh statement, you knew, but you also believed she deserved it. 

She shook her head quickly and with so much force that her crutch started to slide from where it was balanced against her chair. She swiftly reached out to catch it, holding onto it with both hands instead of propping it back up. 

“N-no. I just…” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “I just was trying to figure out what you were doing.” 

You scowled. “What I was doing?” You repeated incredulously. “I’m wasting away in a jail cell, that’s what I’m doing!” You stood up in a flash, pressing your body against the bars and grabbing onto them until your knuckles were white. “I’m stuck here because of you, you know!” 

She shook her head again, denying your statement. “No, you’re here because you killed my people.” 

“Well, you killed mine!” You shouted back. Your voice lowered as you spoke again, grief flowing through you. “Thousands, millions even. You slaughtered them all without a thought for their families, and children, and friends. You destroyed our home without regrets, without us doing a damn thing to you, so stop complaining that we destroyed yours.” 

The woman was quiet now, her head bowed and hair covering her face. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, and that pissed you off more. You started to go off again, but she stopped you with her next words. “Tell me. Tell me what we did to you. I want to know everything.” 

When she looked up, there was an honesty and sadness in her eyes that you never would’ve expected to see. It shook you, and for a second, you saw a normal human being rather than a Warrior. Somehow that look calmed you, and you became willing to tell the stories of you and so many others, both dead and alive. 

You learned her name was Pieck, and the two of you talked for hours. You described the horrors of life under the threat of Titans, you told of the atrocities that occurred on the battlefield, you explained to her the loss and grief and overwhelming depression that came with the life every scout and citizen of Paradis was being forced to live. 

And to your stupefaction, she listened to every word quietly, nodding her head to signal that she was taking in the information. She didn’t try to sympathize or compare experiences, she just sat and let you talk, letting herself realize her own sins. Once you were silent, you could tell she understood, at least as much as an outsider could. She didn’t need to apologize for you could see in her face that she had plenty of regrets, and Pieck was well aware that an apology would mean practically nothing. It was atonement that she sought now, and Pieck figured a good place to start would be with you. 

From that day on, you grew closer with the woman. You never shared mindless conversations, but instead always talked of the past and of your experiences. You heard stories of her Warrior training and realized the brainwashing that the Eldians living on Marley had been put under from birth. A part of you was proud to see that Pieck had overcome it in a sense, happy to realize that peace was truly possible if constructive conversations could be had. It was promising, and slowly but surely, talking to Pieck became the highlight of your day, something you looked forward to as she made you forget about your lonely little cell. 

Weeks had passed, and then one night changed everything. 

You were struggling to sleep, the thin sheet you were given was not enough to protect you from the cold and the hard bed was giving you a pounding headache. The only comfort you had was the knowledge that you could see Pieck again in a few hours once the sun came up. The hallway was silent other than the occasional moments when the night watchman got up to use the restroom. He sat on the other end of the hall from you, and you were thankful that he couldn’t see into your cell from where he was stationed. 

The next time he got up, he didn’t come back for quite a while, and you started to wonder if something had happened to him. Were the scouts finally coming to rescue you? Your heart began to pound harder as you heard the door to the hall creak open and keys jingle. You cracked your eyes open to see who was here only to be met with the sight of Pieck standing outside your enclosure, fiddling with the keys before sliding one into your door’s lock. 

You sat up quickly, tossing the sheet off of you and standing to meet her against the bars. Keeping your voice as low as possible, you whispered, “Pieck! What’re you doing?”

She whispered back, pushing your door open and holding out a pile of clothes to you. “Put these on. I want to take you somewhere.” 

You obliged quickly, not questioning the possibility that you could escape somehow. Was she helping you to leave? But how would you get back to Paradis? Options were running through your head at lightspeed as you slipped on the long sleeve shirt and jacket. She guided you down the hallway after you were dressed, careful not to wake anyone or stir suspicion. You barely recognized the building as you walked through it as it had been months since you had last seen anything other than stone walls and metal bars. When Pieck pushed the backdoor open and let you wander back into nature, the breath was stolen from your lungs. 

It was cold outside, but in a different way than your cell. The air was refreshing rather than stale and the wind was pleasant, not a musty draft. You could smell the light scent of flowers in the air, and you wondered exactly where it was coming from, suddenly craving the feeling of petals on your fingertips. Pieck seemed to understand your thoughts as she led you to a small garden on the other side of the pathway. Upon seeing the dainty plants, you rushed over to them, brushing your fingers over the colors and savoring the different textures. 

As you straightened back up, Pieck took your hand gently. You felt a bit embarrassed with how dry yours were, hers as silky smooth as the petals you had just caressed, and you apologized quickly and quietly. Laughing softly, Pieck just tightened her grasp, assuring you there was nothing to worry about by how she pulled you closer. Her being this close was intoxicating, and you felt yourself melt into her, peace washing over you in waves. For some reason, all of this felt new to you, like you were starting over in the world with Pieck, and you were perfectly content to stand here beside her.

It wasn’t until later, when you were back and locked securely into your cell, that you realized you didn’t mind staying a bit longer on Marley as long as Pieck was here, too.

[ninzied]

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

for @fulloffeels.

kastle roommate au. 2.5k.

Living with Karen is one of the best, worst things he’s ever done.

He’d thought she was joking, when she first suggested it.

“Your landlord won’t stop raising your rent, and this way you’ll be closer to work.” She said it like it was a no-brainer. “Besides, you spend half your time stealing the beer at my place anyway,” and as she sipped on her drink Curtis gave Frank a look, eyebrows nearly shooting clean off his forehead.

Frank scowled at him before saying to Karen, “I appreciate that, but I wouldn’t want to, ah, disrupt your—you know—”

“Riveting social life?” Karen said archly, glancing around with a pointed expression. Even for a Thursday night, Josie’s didn’t have much going on. “Please. If anything, you’re so allergic to human contact that your social life will only make me feel better about mine.”

Frank shook his head with a laugh. “You’re really selling it now.”

“Great,” said Karen. “What does next week look like for you?”

Which is how Frank finds himself moving into Karen’s two-bedroom, 800 square foot loft, a steal by New York standards, sharing a bathroom, and making them coffee and eggs in the morning.

“Think I’m starting to get the real reason you keep me around,” he tells her, stirring in the cream and sugar just the way she likes it.

“Mm. I definitely got the better end of the deal,” she agrees, sipping, and smiling, and kissing his cheek before going about the rest of her day.

It’s fine. It’s fine.

And it’s—surprisingly easy, at first.

A lot of it is in fact not so different from what he’s already used to.

Karen’s never been fussy about how she looks in front of her guy friends, always changing into sweats first thing after getting home from work, washing her face clean of makeup, cracking open a cold can of beer. A typical evening still gets spent arguing over the merits of reality TV—or, when Karen’s bogged down by work, he’ll read through articles she’s drafted up, and talk through court cases with her.

“Are you sure you’re a former Marine?” she shakes her head at him on occasion. “Sometimes I think you must have been a criminal mastermind in a past life.”

“Yeah?” He tosses a couch cushion at her. “Next time you need my help, why don’t you go ask those two lawyer friends of yours instead.”

“They’re not as cute when they get flustered,” Karen shrugs, with a perfectly straight face as Frank scrubs a hand over the back of his head and mumbles something about getting another drink from the kitchen.

Frank doesn’t let her order takeout as much as she’s probably used to, but she doesn’t complain either, every time he cooks for them—only teasing him a little for wearing an apron, and flicking water at him when he points out the soap suds in her hair.

It’s easy. Almost too easy, how everything just falls into place, how living with Karen comes so naturally to him. Like it’s something he was always meant to do.

And then she starts seeing someone.

Frank tries not to notice the small signs.

The extra minutes she spends getting ready in the bathroom. The subtle dab of gloss on her lips, the rosy glow to her cheeks. The late evenings out. The way she’s always checking her phone, how her thoughts drift off mid-conversation with him.

She goes on a couple of dates with this guy. She doesn’t bring him home with her, at least, and she hasn’t spent the night at his place. Frank doesn’t know much about him at all. She tells him very little, and he tries not to pry—he doesn’t want to be that cliché who only knows what he has once he’s lost it.

Not that Karen was ever his to begin with.

After the third date—not that Frank is keeping track—she comes home earlier than usual. He tries not to think anything of it. It’s a weeknight, and they’re both always up before dawn for work.

Frank’s on the couch, nursing a beer as she toes off her heels and flops down beside him.

“You look nice,” he says, gaze not leaving the screen.

She sounds amused when she replies. “How can you tell? You look like your eyes haven’t left Regis Philbin’s all night.”

“You always look nice,” says Frank, the words out of his mouth before he can stop them. He clears his throat. “So, uh. How are you?”

Karen hums thoughtfully. “Now that’s the million dollar question.”

He finally glances sidelong at her. “Date not go well?”

She looks at him for a moment, and he can’t read the expression on her face. “Date went fine,” she says.

“That’s good.” He nods, then looks back at the TV. He stares at the screen without really seeing it. “That’s good.”

He takes another sip of his beer.

“Do we have any more of those?” she asks him, nudging her foot against his leg.

“Yeah. Hang on.” He hands her the remote and heads to the fridge.

The screen’s still on Regis when he gets back, handing her an open bottle.

“I don’t think this guy’s going to make it,” says Karen. The contestant is currently sweating it out over 32 thousand. He’s already used up two of his lifelines.”

“Think you’re right about that,” says Frank.

…

“So, have you kissed her yet?”

Frank goes still, his fork freezing halfway up to his mouth. “How’s that?”

“C’mon, honey. I told you. Look at him.” David’s talking about him like he’s not even there. “Does he strike you as a guy who’s been kissing anyone recently, let alone Karen?”

Frank raises a brow, lowering his fork to his plate. “You want to run that by me again?”

“Well have you?” asks David, and at Frank’s unresponsiveness he shrugs and says, “I rest my case.”

Frank spears up a small buttered potato, imagining it with David’s face for a moment. “Karen and I are just friends,” he tells them. “Living with her doesn’t change that. Besides, she’s—she’s seeing someone.”

“Since when have you let that stop you before?” David wants to know, wincing good-naturedly when Sarah cuffs him on the shoulder.

“For the last time,” she says. “It was just one kiss, we were in college, and you and I were on a break.”

David opens his mouth to argue, but Sarah’s already moved on.

“I didn’t realize Karen was seeing anyone.” Sarah wrinkles her nose. “She hasn’t mentioned it.” She looks back over at David. “Did she say something to you?”

“Of course,” says David, “because Karen and I like to gossip about our love lives with each other.”

Sarah reaches across the table and squeezes Frank’s arm sympathetically. “I’m sorry,” she says. “We just want you to be happy. Maybe if you told her how you felt—”

“It’s not like that,” says Frank.

But judging by the look the Liebermans exchange with each other, they aren’t any more convinced than Frank is on the matter.

“Well if that’s the case,” says David, with a triumphant little side-eye at his wife, “then I guess it won’t be too insensitive of me to point out that you lost our bet?”

“Unbelievable,” mutters Frank. “Remind me again why I’m friends with you two?”

…

It’s three months into their living arrangement, and three Fridays after Karen’s started falling off the face of the earth, when it happens.

He’s been out for drinks with Curt, trying not to think too hard about what Karen had been wearing when she left on her date, whether she’ll be home by the time he gets back, if this is going to be the night he doesn’t see her again until morning.

Shit. The Liebermans were right.

And if the look Curt’s giving him is anything to go by, he’s known all along, too.

“How you holding up?” he asks, even more delicately than usual.

Frank snorts, shakes his head. “Lieberman told you, didn’t he.”

“He might’ve said something,” says Curt, sounding almost apologetic about it. “Do you know anything about the guy she’s seeing? It’s not the lawyer she used to date, is it?”

“Nah.” Frank downs the rest of his beer, gesturing at the bartender for another. “I think she would’ve told me if it was.”

“Still,” says Curtis. “Doesn’t seem like her to be this secretive about it, does it?”

“No. You’re right.” Frank stares into his empty glass. The alternative, though, is—what? Does Karen know, too? All this time, and the tip-toeing around—was it all just her way to spare him and his feelings?

The last thing he wanted, when he moved in with her, was to make her feel like she had to hide any part of her life from him.

He thinks over what he wants to tell her as he’s walking home from the subway an hour later. “Karen,” he mutters under his breath. “If you want me to go, I’ll go. But if you want me to stay, I’m—I’m not gonna stand in the way of whoever it is that's making you happy.”

His chest is uncomfortably tight by the time he’s inserting the key in the lock. It only occurs to him then that she might not even be home; it’s barely nine, and it’s their fifth date at this point. If the guy she’s seeing hasn’t put the moves on her by now—

But the lights are on as he closes the door, the TV playing at low volume. There’s a cooking show that Karen doesn’t normally watch, unless he’s at home and has managed to wrangle the remote from her.

He walks further into the apartment, something lightening in his step. He pivots a corner out of the hallway, and his shoe crunches down on the unmistakable sound of glass.

He lifts his gaze, takes in the kitchen with the sense of one who’s not actually there—his vision swims, and it feels so surreal, like it’s not really his body that’s moving. Stepping over the glass. Picking up the bloodied knife on the cutting board. There’s another glass, this one intact, sitting innocently on the counter next to half a lime and a bottle of tequila.

Everything is spattered with blood.

Karen.

He swallows back bile, hands clenching into fists. She has to be okay. She has to—

“Frank? Is that you?” Karen’s voice is coming from the bathroom, and it breaks through his reverie. The knife clatters back onto the counter. He hadn’t realized he’d still been holding it.

He’s at the bathroom door in two seconds. “Where is he?” he thunders, in a voice he hardly recognizes as his own. “He hurt you? He do this to you?”

Karen stares over at him from her place by the sink. She’s holding a towel to her hand, and the basin is spotted bright red with blood. “What? Who?”

Frank’s not more than a couple inches taller than Karen, but his terror makes everything else look small, and he’s all but towering above her, gaze roaming all over to assess her for any obvious injuries.

It takes him a moment to recognize the shirt that she’s wearing.

“Sorry,” she says unnecessarily, tugging a little on the hemline. “It was the first thing I grabbed out of the laundry when I got home.” His shirt falls just short of her knees, and underneath that she’s all long, bare legs. But he doesn’t let himself stop to think about what any of this means to him, because it’s not the thing that matters right now.

“I’ll kill him,” he says. “I didn’t need to know who he was before, but now I think I need to kill him.”

“Frank,” she says slowly. “It’s okay. It was me.” She uncovers her hand and shows him a cut along the edge of her thumb. It’s long, but not terribly deep, and it looks like it’s stopped bleeding for now.

He doesn’t realize he’s reached for her until her other hand closes around his.

“But he was here.” Frank looks up, brow knitting in the middle. “I saw the other glass. I thought—”

Karen flushes. “That was supposed to be for you. Curtis texted me when you were leaving the bar, and I, um. I thought I’d—” Frank goes on staring at her, and she lets out a small sigh. “We should probably talk.”

…

He brings her tea, and a first aid kit for her hand. She props her feet up on the coffee table, leaning back into the couch and watching him quietly as he cleans around the wound and carefully bandages it up.

“Might not ever let you back into your kitchen again.” He winds some more gauze around her thumb.

“Does it look like I’m complaining?” says Karen.

He’s turned into her, knees ending up under her legs as he works, but she doesn’t move away from him, and doesn’t let go of his hand when he’s finished.

“So, don’t be upset,” she starts by telling him, and he looks up at her then, jaw tensed, bracing. “But I’ve…been meeting with an informant.”

He stares at her, not comprehending.

“You’re not—?”

Karen shakes her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t want to lie to you, Frank, but I didn’t want to worry you either.” She laughs, looking rueful. “Which I guess I managed to do just fine anyway.”

Frank swallows, and has some difficulty looking her in the eye when he says, “You always seemed like you were…you know. On your way to do something else.”

“I figured it would seem less suspicious.” She bites her lip. “And…I would really be lying if I said the thought of trying to make you jealous didn’t cross my mind.”

Frank takes a deep breath. “That obvious, huh.”

“Yeah.” But the smile she gives him is gently teasing, and then she’s the one glancing down at their hands, their fingers curled loosely together. “I’ve, um. I’ve seen the way you look at me, when you think I don’t notice.”

“I’m always lookin’ at you,” he replies, and it’s as much a confession to her as it is to himself. “You want me to stop?”

“No,” she says, softly enough that he could’ve imagined it. But he doesn’t imagine the way that she leans closer, until their foreheads are almost touching, and the way she’s looking at him couldn’t be mistaken for anything else, either. “No. I don’t.”

…

The following Friday, they’re walking into Josie’s hand in hand.

“The usual?” asks Karen, laughing as he snakes a hand around her waist, pulling her in for a quick kiss. “I’ll meet you over there.”

His friends are a combination of smug and astonished as Frank walks up to their table.

“Hey,” is all he says, and sits down.

Sarah takes a calm sip of her drink. She lasts there for about three more seconds before excusing herself and heading briskly off toward the bar where Karen is standing, beaming at Frank as she goes.

“If you’ve got something to say,” sighs Frank, “feel free to get it done with now.”

“All right,” says Curt, and then he’s turning to David, both of them grinning from ear to ear. “Looks like the next round is on you.”

[liannyeong]

Crimson (Chapter 3)

Summary: Jaebeom tours Yujin around the mansion, and the start of the wedding preparations.

Word count: 2463

Pairing: Jaebeom X OC

Warning(s): None

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16

A/N: Phew! Managed to get this done in time! And it’s a longer chapter too :D Do support my works by buying me a coffee! Follow me on Twitter for updates ~ See you next week! ^^

Jaebeom takes Yujin to the garden first. Standing a few steps away from the garden arch, pink flowers decorating the iron base. The vibrant petals contrast against the surrounding plain green hedges. Jaebeom doesn't bring her into the garden though. Instead, he briefly explains that it's more of a maze instead of an actual garden.

"What's in the middle of the maze then?" Yujin asks, looking beyond the arch. Interestingly, the sun is bright overhead, but the garden pathway is rather dark, and there seems to be a kind of fog clouding it, giving a mysterious aura.

"Oh, nothing much. Just a water fountain, that's all," Jaebeom responds, bringing her attention to the mansion instead. Yujin slightly frowns. Why does the fae seem rather dismissive?

"The mansion has an east wing and a west wing," Jaebeom gestures to the rectangular blocks that emerge from the centre of the mansion. "And there are three floors. The first floor is a common area, where the kitchen and the dining hall are located in the west wing. The east wing is where the servants' quarters are located."

"The second floor is made up of sleeping quarters for the rest of the household. That one, however," Jaebeom points out at the balcony just above the front door to the mansion, "is the ballroom. The third floor is the library in its entirety."

Next, Jaebeom brings her back inside the mansion. They step into the kitchen first, where Chan -- the one who served them earlier -- is focused on cooking a dish. There are two other faes busily moving about in the kitchen. None of them seem to be affected by their presence. Yujin catches the greenish glint in their eyes.

"Does your household employ different elemental faes?" Yujin asks when they exit the kitchen.

"Elemental faes prefer to stick to their own kind. But here, it's different. We don't follow the general notion."

"What about Jinyoung? He's your brother but he's not a Fire fae."

Jaebeom smiles ruefully.  "That's because he's my half-brother."

Yujin expects him to go on, but he doesn't. He leaves the conversation as it is. The next room over is the dining hall, but having been there during breakfast, Jaebeom skips to the servants' quarters.

"This is where the servants stay. If you need anything, you can approach them. Preferably, you should approach me though," Jaebeom murmurs the last sentence to himself but the silence in the house makes it loud and clear to Yujin's ears.

They head up the stairs, to the second floor. Jaebeom shows Yujin the ballroom, pushing open the large wooden door. It's basically empty, the daylight streaming into the room through the glass doors, casting a glow onto the marble-tiled floor. Beyond the doors is the balcony that she saw from the garden arch.

"We shall hold our wedding here," Jaebeom suddenly says, a huge grin on his face. In an instant, Yujin feels her heart drop. The tour has made her temporarily forget the reason she was brought here.

"Well, let's continue on." The fae walks out of the room, Yujin trailing behind.

He goes past the stairs and to the start of the hallway of the west wing, pausing there. "At the very end is where my room is located," Jaebeom states. "If you ever need anything, you can find me there."

Then they go up to the third floor, where the library is. The stairs form a bridge-like structure that splits into two pathways. The library appears taller than the other two floors, thanks to the roof that is shaped like a dome. It is made of entirely glass, allowing for the steady stream of sunlight. With the vast space -- a result of the merging of the two wings into one -- Yujin guesses there could be thousands of books in total: there are aisles of books, and every wall is turned into a bookshelf too!

"All the books in the library are my personal collection," Jaebeom gestures at the aisles. “But you’re more than welcome to read them.”

Yujin stares at Jaebeom, mouth gaping at him. She has always wanted to read new books but never had the chance, considering the financial situation of her family. They only have enough to sustain their survival, rarely anything more to purchase new things. Only once did her father gift her a novel that she has read multiple times throughout the years.

"Thank you, I’d like that a lot," Yujin can’t help but return a smile, genuinely grateful and happy. This seems to please the fae, for he looks at her as if she’s never smiled before.

"Well, uh--" Jaebeom clears his throat, “Come this way.”

Moving past rows of bookshelves, right at the very end, there is an arched glass window, with cushioned seats lined on the windowsill. Looking out, Yujin gets a bird's eye view of the mansion grounds, including the garden maze. She spots a fountain in the center, true to what Jaebeom said.

“It's nice, isn't it?” Jaebeom comments.

Definitely, Yujin thinks to herself.

“Well, that’s all there is in this mansion,” Jaebeom concludes. "I hope you’re more comfortable and familiar here."

“Yes, thank you for showing me around."

“Anything for you,” Jaebeom replies, eyes rather fond. "Ah yes, you’ll be fitted for your dress today, in the late afternoon. Yeri will remind you again."

“I shall leave you to yourself then,” he says, bowing politely and making his way out.

Yujin redirects her attention to the view outside. How advantageous is this, she realizes. Having a view from this angle will allow her to monitor the movements around the mansion.

She might have just arrived here and so far, no one has tried to harm her. Still, she can't get complacent. She can't let her guard down. There's a lot of things she doesn't know, questions that remain unanswered. But it's better she doesn't delve too much into it, she muses. The fae are skilled in deluding people, she reminds herself. It's better that she focuses on finding a way out of this place. She shouldn’t stay here any longer than necessary.

---

Yujin is woken by a shake on her shoulder, her eyes still heavy. She peeks an eye, the sun already casting slanted shadows through the windows. Yeri is standing next to the bed, reminding her of the dress fitting. Yujin quickly freshens herself up before following the servant lady to a guest room situated in the west wing of the mansion.

“Why couldn’t we do the fitting in my own room?” Yujin wonders aloud.

“It’s Master Im’s orders, Lady Shin,” Yeri responds as calm and dignified as usual. Then, she comes a little closer, and whispers, “Master Im doesn’t want anyone near or in your room.” She lets out a small giggle.

Yujin frowns. In an instant, the fae immediately reverts back to her composed self, as if she's done something wrong. Her sudden shift in mood has Yujin letting out a small laugh. Yeri smiles at her sheepishly.

The guestroom is as large as her room in the east wing. Seeing no one else in the room, Yujin decides to take her place at the loveseat. She’s rather thankful to have borrowed a book from the library and brought it along. She was reading it to pass time, but accidentally fell asleep until Yeri came. Basking in the silence of the room, Yujin flips open the book and continues on the page she left off.

She didn’t keep track of the time. She was nose deep into the novel when the door swings open and a commotion follows. Looking up, Yujin sees a male fae entering the room in the longest strides she has ever seen. He stands in the middle of the room, leaning his weight onto one foot. His legs are long, Yujin notices, and his cheekbones are visible beneath his slightly tanned skin. The next thing Yujin notices is the fae’s blue-colored eyes -- a sign that he is a Water fae. Yujin slowly rises to her feet.

“You must be the Shin Yujin,” the fae says with a subtle accent, looking her up and down. Perhaps elemental faes have different cultures and slightly different languages, much like human races.

“I’m Bam, your couturier,” he introduces himself. Before Yujin can even respond, he waves his hand and a mannequin appears in front of him, at the empty space between the guest bed and the loveseat. Bam steps forward, moving his right arm in a fluid motion and a measuring tape slides smoothly down his arm and into his hand. If Yujin had blinked, she might not have even noticed it.

“Measure her, please,” the male instructs and it’s like the measuring tape comes to life. Similar to water, the tape flows from the fae’s hand and slithers its way towards Yujin. It coils around her ankle, then spreads to her hip before covering her entire body like a tight-fit suit. It measures the littlest of details, leaving no skin untouched. Once done, it flows back down to the floor, creeping up to the mannequin. The mannequin morphs to be an exact replica of Yujin’s body.

“Alright, let’s see,” Bam goes. He crosses his arms, fingers underneath his chin, brows furrowed in thought. He tilts his head to the side, humming to himself. Then in the next moment, he suggests, “Perhaps a basic dress?”

Bam snaps his fingers and what appears to be snowflakes starts falling above the mannequin, to reveal a long simple dress. It is plain white, no design apart from the lace on the cap sleeves. The material hugs at the waist and tapers to her thighs, accentuating the Yujin’s curves. The tail fans out at the bottom, forming a smooth circle on the floor.

“What do you think?” the fae asks, glancing at Yujin. She doesn’t even get a chance to form her opinion, let alone open her mouth as Bam waves his hand, shaking his head. “On second thought, never mind. Let’s try another… I think… You’ll go better with an off-shoulder dress.”

Another snap and the basic dress moulds itself into an off-shoulder dress. The sleeves are long and tight to skin. There’s a dip in the middle, towards the cleavage but it’s not too low that it is racy. Around the waist is a rose gold embroidery, and the skirt flows loosely, multiple layers of light chiffon.

“What do you think?” Bam asks again, looking rather proud at his design. This time, Yujin has the time to step forward and feel the material.

The dress is beautiful, Yujin must admit, though she wonders if it suits her.

Just then, Jaebeom barges in, door slamming against the wall, his expression sour. “Bam!” he bellows.

“Oh, hello, Jaebeom,” the Water fae greets. “I think I’m just about done here--”

“How dare you make my bride wait!” Jaebeom raises his voice at the other, jabbing a finger into his chest. “Is this how you treat your clientele? Showing up late?”

Bam cowers. Yujin feels the temperature plummet. Watching the scene warily, she notices the candles around the room dimmed low, almost extinguished.

“I chose you as our couturier and yet, you treat my bride like a fool?”

“I’m sorry, Jaebeom, I had other business to attend to--”

“Excuses!” the Fire fae roars.

“Jaebeom--” Yujin intervenes, though her voice is small. Her own heart pounds in her ears. She definitely doesn’t want to be at the receiving end of Jaebeom’s wrath, but she feels the urge to defend Bam. The Water fae has his head hung low, avoiding any form of eye contact with the other fae. Yujin doesn’t know where she got the courage to move forward, such that she touches Jaebeom’s elbow. “It’s fine. It wasn’t a long wait -- not with a book to keep me company.”

Jaebeom looks over his shoulder. His anger seems to dissipate almost instantly. Out of the corner of her eye, Yujin notices the fires are back to normal. “Are you sure? I can punish him, if you’d like.”

“That won’t be ideal, would it? We need his service for our wedding,” she placates the male.

Jaebeom exhales steadily. Then he turns back to Bam, who is still looking down at his feet. Jaebeom jabs his finger into his chest once more, and spits, “You should be thankful to the mercy of my bride. Else, you’d be dead by now.”

The Fire fae faces Yujin once more, gently tapping her shoulder, a smile on his lips. His hand slides down her arm to hold her hand up between them. “If there’s anything you are displeased with, don’t hesitate to call me.” He brings up the hand higher, pressing his lips to her knuckles. Gently letting her go, Jaebeom turns on his heels and leaves the room. Yujin can’t help but notice how Bam immediately relaxes.

“Thank you for saving my life,” the couturier expresses his gratitude with a slight bow, a relieved expression on his face.

Yujin offers a kind smile. “I don’t think I did anything but you’re welcome.”

“Such amazing ability, you have,” Bam says. “I can’t believe that it’s true.”

Yujin cocks her head to the side. “What is?”

“Well,” Bam starts rather hesitantly. “Jaebeom has always been a hot-headed person, much worse than what you saw earlier. But his temper has mostly died down ever since he moved to this mansion, you see. Occasionally, he does get angry when it comes to important matters. But the fact that he was furious at me for being late and that you calmed him real quick… You really have Jaebeom wrapped around your finger.”

Yujin got reminded of Jinyoung, who said the same words. She shrugs her shoulders. “Maybe he doesn’t like truancy.”

Bam shakes his head. “I’ve known him all my life. And I’ve never seen him like this.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “You must mean a lot to him, considering that he’s protective of you.”

Yujin doubts so. There must be another reason for Jaebeom to behave in such a manner. Even if he is protective of me, it's because he needs me for something. But I wonder what...

“Ah!” Bam’s face suddenly lights up. He whips around and snaps his fingers at the mannequin. The sleeves are gone, and thin straps are added instead. Then, just slightly above the chest, a gold jewelry wraps around the mannequin. Magic flows downward, constructing a long chiffon cape that drapes all the way down, almost touching the floor.

“How do you find this?” Bam presents it to Yujin, his blue eyes gleam with pride.

“It’s-- Majestic.” Yujin finds herself amazed by the elegance it holds.

Bam grins wide. “Perfect for the bride of the Im house.”