#cuz like........this exchanged stopped me cold when i first read it

[clotpolesonly]

Blue Lily, Lily Blue ch 15 // Mister Impossible ch 25

[nimble-stuff]

Forcibly Stripped || Donnie & Leo - Pale Room, Part II Leo didn’t think that there was enough room in his heart to hate anyone more than he hated Kendra. The EPF proved him wrong.

FANDOM: ROTTMNT Also on AO3

@badthingshappenbingo​

<< PREVIOUS || NEXT >> (((Not Tcest)))  - For the record, the context for this one is nonsexual, but that doesn’t make it any less wrong or uncomfortable. I ask that you read responsibly!

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“Igloo.”

“Cold.”

“Snow.”

“Snowman.”

“Snow Jupiter Jim.”

“It can only be one word!”

“Snow Jupiter Jim is one word if I say it real fast,” said Mikey. “Snow-Jupiter-Jim-Snow-Jupiter-Jim-Snow-Jupiter-Jim!”

“Wait, we’ve used two words before,” Raph pointed out.

“Oh, I was going easy on you guys cuz you don’t know how Word Association works,” said Leo. “It’s why you have the fewest points, Mikey.”

“We’re keeping points?!” Mikey exclaimed. He folded his arms and slumped against Raph’s side, pouting. “I don’t wanna play anymore.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Leo exclaimed. “It was just getting good, mostly because I was winning.”

“I resign.”

“Boo.”

Donnie cut between Leo, Raph, and Mikey. He’d been pacing the length of the cell for the last however long it had been. Leo was scared to keep track of time because Donnie was doing it for them in his head, aware of every agonizing second that ticked by, counting the number of seconds it took to get from one end of the cell to the other, measuring the cell’s height, width, and depth, counting his heart rate per minute. Any more seconds and he’d be crawling up the wall.

Leo was doing his best to keep his cool, but the anxiety in the air was getting sharp, and the dim light, the foul smell, and the indistinct banging from whatever was next door didn’t help. Leo focused on his breathing, trying to remember Splinter’s techniques, and failing miserably.

There was an unspoken something between him in his brothers. They knew what was coming and they knew it was going to be bad and they knew that waiting was the worst part. Leo never imagined that he would ever hope that someone would walk through the door and torture them, but here he was, thinking about how much more torturous the waiting was.

Donnie passed in front of him again, footsteps silent. Mikey’s gigantic eyes watched him and Raph settled his arm around Mikey’s shoulder, maybe drawing him a little closer, though Leo might’ve imagined it.

Leo refolded his legs under his body. It would be a nightmare trying to get any sleep on the hard ground. It had to be close to nighttime by now, so whatever torture awaited them wouldn’t come until tomorrow. His gaze shifted up and caught Raph’s.

Leo and Raph exchanged a silent conversation. Raph tilted his head towards Donnie. Do you want me to handle that?

Leo shook his head. No. His responsibility.

He stood and held an arm in front of Donnie. Donnie pushed past it roughly.

“Stop,” said Leo, trying to get in his path. Donnie pushed him out of the way a second time. “Donnie, you’re gonna wear yourself out.”

Donnie hit the end of the cell. His body bristled, like he’d been expecting it to continue. He swung around on his heel and walked in the other direction.

“Could you at least sit down?” Leo asked.

“I’m fine like this,” said Donnie. He hit the wall again. Another bristle. Another swing.

“You’re stressing us out.”

“Sounds like a skill issue.”

The wall again. Donnie growled, swung around, and paced to the other end. “I do not care for small, enclosed spaces where I am being held prisoner.”

“Yeah, join the club. Sit down already.”

Donnie’s mouth half-opened around an insult when the door opened.

Donnie had ended up far too close to the door, too close for his liking apparently, as he retreated to the back of the cell. It was an intern, a different one than the first, accompanied by two armed guards. Leo memorized their appearances, the black uniforms and body armour, the strange emblems on their clothing that said ‘EPS.’

“Good evening,” said the intern. She wore a toothy smile as insincere as the brightness in her voice. “We have determined that your garments, since they come from outside the facility, may be contaminated. We ask that you surrender your current articles and change into these.”

The intern dumped the contents of the box onto the floor: four pairs of loose, very unattractive grey shorts with elastic waistbands. Prison uniforms. Leo stared at them in shock.

Silence tensed up between them and the humans. The soldiers had their assault rifles poised, while the intern stood with her legs together and hands folded in front of her body. She looked like a Barbie doll, if a Barbie doll’s newest profession was a researcher at a prison camp.

“Incredible,” said Leo. “I thought you guys were just evil shitheads, but now you’re just being gross. You know we’re kids, right?”

The intern didn’t even flinch.

“He’s sixteen years old, and he’s the oldest.” Leo pointed at Raph. “We’re kids. You’re holding kids prisoner in this shithole and asking us to change into your shit clothes.”

“Oh?” the intern said. “Well, if you were humans, I suppose that would matter, but you’re not, so it doesn’t.”

“Where’s the other lady? The one whose name sounds like an off-brand canned pasta? I want to talk to her so I can spit in her face.”

“Dr Paccioretti has many cases she needs to oversee. Are you refusing to comply?”

“What, you want it in writing? Yeah, we’re not complying. You’re the war criminals here, not us.”

“Well, if you don’t comply, it will be done by force. We can’t have outside contaminants.”

The tension prickled up his spine. He heard Donnie inhale sharp and gasp out something inaudible, and Leo turned to see him swivel toward the wall with his hands over his ears.

It clicked.

Shit. Leo wasn’t sure why he hadn’t been thinking of it before, why he hadn’t made the connection, and, God, he really was the worst brother in the world for not thinking of it sooner, for attributing Donnie’s reaction to his usual dramatic flair rather than the intimate connection it really was. It made him sick to his stomach. It made him hate humans.

Mikey stared off into the mid-distance, gulping for air. Leo’s attention wandered from him to Raph, and he searched for guidance despite being determined to carry all the weight on his own.

“I think we should do what they want,” Raph told him.

Yeah. It was the sound decision, just not the one Leo wanted to make. He glared at the intern with all the venom he had.

“You want us to wear your prison uniforms, then get out,” said Leo. “We’re not changing in front of you.”

“If that is your preference,” said the intern. “Please put all of your present attire into this box.” She set the box on the floor. “And put everything you’re wearing into it, including those masks. Thank you for your cooperation. You have fifteen minutes to comply.”

The door locked with a loud click behind them.

Leo’s fist shook at his side. No one could say anything, no one was capable, not Donnie standing with his back to the room, not Mikey whose complexion had developed a grey undertone. Raph looked nauseous.

“Do we really gotta, Leo?” Mikey asked.

“Don’t think they’re giving us the option,” said Leo. “Look at it this way! We want to match with the other prisoners in the prison yard, right? We gotta fit in with the cool kids.”

Well, he had to lead by example. Leo changed first, and he did it quick so he didn’t have time to think about hidden cameras. The shorts were itchy, and he unwound the wrappings from his limbs and dropped them into the box. He almost forgot his mask. The masks were as much part of their identities as their shells were, but Leo measured out only a teaspoon of emotion to show when Mikey and Raph were watching.

“I look good in anything,” said Leo. He flapped the baggy shorts around. “I think if I flap hard enough, I can fly around this cell and really give those guys something to gawk at. Whaddya think, Mikey?”

Mikey snorted out a half-laugh. It got him and Raph going though, and they changed fast, dropping their masks and what remained of their belongings into the box. At least they had shorts that could fit Raph’s bulky frame, but Mikey looked far too small in hia.

Leo knew that there was going to be a fight when he saw Donnie standing still in the corner, facing the wall like a reenactment of The Blair Witch Project.

“Oh, Donnie, we’ve changed the Turtle Club’s uniform,” Leo sang. “Aren’t you turtley enough to join the Turtle Club?”

Nothing. No response. Not even a shiver, a side-eye, a glare. An icy chill tap-danced down Leo’s spine.

“C’mon, Dad can’t even tell us apart without the masks. This is probably the best chance for a prank we’ve had in a while! He’ll come storming in here in rescue mode, take one look inside, and won’t even be able to tell which of us is which!”

“I can’t do this.”

Each syllable skewered through Leo. It hurt to breathe.

“I can’t do this.” Donnie looked at him with open terror, pupils constricted into small, black dots. “Leo, I can’t do this.”

“Dee, the nice humans aren’t giving us a choice,” said Leo, fighting to keep his tone steady while conveying the urgency.

“I can’t!”

“Donnie, c’mon, you’ll pass out if you don’t breathe.”

“No, I can’t! You don’t understand—” Donnie broke eye contact, stared at his feet. “You don’t know what it’s like.”

He didn’t. Leo made no assumptions about that, but he didn’t need to know what it was like to not see the profound effect on Donnie’s whole body language. It made him want to gut every human, and he wondered, for the first time, if Splinter had been right to encourage them to stay in the sewers rather than go on moonlit adventures.

Against his will, Leo glanced down. Ever since the whole thing with Kendra had happened, Donnie had tied the wraps on his legs almost high enough to cover his entire legs, and he never spoke about it. No one did. Leo kicked himself for letting them fall back into old habits, to do what they had done last time.

It was just so easy to not talk about it. They could almost pretend it hadn’t happened, then sometimes things would happen that would crack it all open, bring out a reminder. The way Donnie shied away from hugs, evil grins that disappeared the moment Leo looked away, projects that used to take him just hours to finish now took him days, tossing and turning at night, and all the while don’t talk about it, never talk about it, it never happened, no one bring it up, no one upset Donnie. But Donnie was upset anyway, and it was just buried, just small fissures in the earth, invisible to the naked eye until there was an earthquake.

Leo hated himself for not addressing it sooner, although he’d never known how. Just that it was too late and Donnie was being traumatized all over again.

Raph watched from the side, prepared to step in, a silent yet steady pillar in their lives, the rock that held them altogether. Leo wanted to fall back and let him take control and it was so, so tempting to lash out at Donnie and demonstrate that he couldn’t do this either, but hell, he wouldn’t place the burden on Raph. Leo imagined what would happen if he let Raph do it, of Raph lying awake in bed years from now, haunted by the moment that he hurt Donnie. It would kill him, slow and torturous.

It had to be Leo. Leo would do it. Leo would shoulder the burden, though he wasn’t nearly strong enough to carry it.

Raph opened his mouth, about to intervene, and Leo’s reflexes kicked in. He spoke first.

“Raph, can you stand in front of us?” Leo asked.

For a moment, he thought Raph might fight him on it, before he blocked him and Donnie in with his sheer mass. Not much of a privacy curtain, but it would give the humans something unsatisfying to stare at.

“Mikey?” Leo said. “…Mikey!”

Mikey looked up.

“I need you to hold Donnie’s hand.”

Leo expected Donnie to bite out an insult, to insist to stop treating him like a child, but the shake in his brother’s knees was uncontrollable. Donnie reached for Mikey’s hand first, crushing his fingers.

Leo redressed Donnie as fast as he could. Mask first. Arms. Belt and gear. Shorts. He saved the leg wrappings for last. Donnie's deep, legible scars were visible even when dressed.

“Donnie, what games do you wanna play when we get out of here?” Mikey asked.

Donnie’s head jerked up.

“We haven’t played Mario Party in ages, and I know how much you stan Waluigi,” said Mikey. “I’m thinking we need a game ASAP.”

Donnie made a shuddering noise as to answer, but no words came out, just a stiff jerk that could’ve been an affirmation, could’ve been a release of nervous energy. Leo continued unwrapping until finally, finally, they were off and it was quiet and Leo had nothing that could make it better.

Leo didn’t think that there was enough room in his heart to hate anyone more than he hated Kendra. The EPF proved him wrong.

He dropped everything into the box and kicked it to the door, and scowled as the intern poked her head back in to retrieve it.

“I hope something in this goddamn place eats you alive,” said Leo.

“Oh,” said the intern. “Alright.”

When they were gone, when they were alone, Leo didn’t know what to say to Donnie. His entire expression glazed over with the telltale marks of a shutdown, the kind of full-body, full-mind switch that crippled everything that made Donnie into Donnie. When they were kids, Donnie would have moments where he ‘powered off’, as Raph had put it, when things were too loud, or too much, or too little, or too overwhelming. Leo hadn’t seen it in years. The humans had made Leo hit the hard reset button and now the button was stuck and the loud, opinionated, too-smart-for-his-own-good Donnie was gone.

Leo was about to apologize and beg for forgiveness, and Donnie grabbed to him in the heated silence instead. It wasn’t a hug, not the way his arms locked tight around his neck. It was a cling. Donnie held onto him with his eyes wide open, joints rigid. Although it was the most bodily contact Donnie had allowed in weeks, Leo was hesitant to call it a win.

Donnie held on all the way to the ground as Leo settled himself against the wall, resting Donnie’s legs over his lap so that they were in a slightly awkward sideways embrace. He resisted the urge to bury his face into Donnie’s collarbone; he still needed to keep an eye out, and Raph and Mikey were watching so carefully that he felt like a performer at the pinnacle of a difficult routine, and any misstep would earn a pained, sympathetic gasp from the audience, and he needed to play it cool, keep it together, to perform perfectly. To do everything that he needed to do to make sure that they all didn’t break down together. Someone had to keep a cool head. Someone had to keep an eye out for the opening that would help them escape. It had to be him. It had to be him. It had to be him.

“Donnie, I promise nothing is going to happen to you,” said Leo. It felt awful to lie, but he didn’t know what else to do. The worst part was that Donnie was smart enough to catch the lie, but too tangled up in his head at the moment to notice or care.

He didn’t have a plan. Not even a half-cocked one. Donnie clung onto him, and Leo held back, hands running over the subtle ridges running on his brother’s shell.

[hikari-kaitou]

Capcom's Official AA Fanclub Surveys - DGS Edition

Many Western fans may be familiar with the Turnabout 4koma comics that get posted on the official AA fanclub site that Capcom runs, thanks to some lovely fans on tumblr and elsewhere who have shared their translations. What fewer people seem to know about is the character surveys.

Back in the old days, they used to hold a survey on Capcom's official AA fansite every few months where they'd write about the seasonal activities of a handful of characters and ask fans to vote for the funniest/most pleasant/strangest/etc answer.

They stopped doing them in like... 2016? 2017? The original text is lost for good as far as I can tell. Even the wayback machine couldn't help because the content was password locked and you can't get past the password wall while remaining in the archived version.

Fortunately, I saved some of my translations of them so I thought I’d share them.

Cut for length...

"February has begun, and the DGS cast is nearing the end of their journey aboard the RFS Alacrei. Which of them acted the most strangely?"

Ryuunosuke ~ Exhausted from his intensive study session, he decided to try some katana swinging practice as a change of pace and to combat his recent lack of exercise. But because he wasn't used to handling the katana, he swung it too hard and it went flying out of his hands and got stuck in the wall right next to Sherlock, who had just entered the room. Sherlock asked him, "aren't you supposed to be studying right now, Mr. Naruhodo?" and handcuffed him to his desk.

Susato- worked on developing a curriculum for Ryuunosuke. 'If we keep going at this pace, he won't be able to learn it all in time... It'll be hard on Naruhodo-sama, but we'll have to work hard through a couple of nights together.' With that thought, she created a harsh study schedule, and almost seemed to be looking forward to it for some reason.

Sherlock- Driven by excitement over the thought of returning to England after a long absence, he went up on deck to stare at the ocean. Being February, it was very cold out there and he ended up being chilled all the way to the tips of his fingers. He returned to the ship cabins and amused himself by putting his frozen hands on Ryuunosuke, who was stuck in his room studying.

Van Zieks- Upon hearing from Vortex that there was a Japanese exchange student coming to England to study law, he smashed a Lord's Bottle. He apparently also didn't care for the fact that that Japanese student wouldn't be alone, because he proceeded to shatter his chalice, too.

Hosonaga- in order to provide a respite from studying, he provided some hot chocolate. They enjoyed a pleasant tea time, marveling over how sweet and delicious the drink was until Sherlock piped up with some unnecessary trivia: 'Actually folks, chocolate has long been used in Europe as an aphrodisiac!' Everyone promptly spat it out."

"The long winter is nearly over and spring is on it's way, putting the DGS cast members in a celebratory mood. Who found the best way of enjoying spring?"

Ryuunosuke: the Yuumei University faculty members were holding a flower viewing event, and he joined the assistance committee. He exhausted himself keeping the blankets clean so the intense shower of flower petals wouldn't pile up too high on them, delivering sake and snacks, and mediating whatever pointless fights arose. To top it all off, for some reason his compensation was only a single piece of leftover candy. Talk about a sad result!

Susato- her father and the others living in his dormitory were  holding the flower viewing event, so she got up early to prepare the bentos. But her father carelessly forgot to tell her that they wanted tea cakes, so she had to go around the house and neighborhood collecting sweets. For some reason, she ended up being able to gather caramels, biscuits, candy sticks, basically everything but tea cakes, for the tea ceremony.

Sherlock- he disguised himself as a beat officer and infiltrated Scotland Yard to have some fun. There was a real beat officer napping on his feet in the spring sunshine, and while observing him, Sherlock ended up falling asleep too. Detective Gregson gave them a good scolding when he found them, but then Sherlock revealed his true identity with a "hey, it's me, folks!" "What the blazes do you think you're doing?!" Gregson shouted, his rage growing even more, and Sherlock ended up making a run for it.

Van Zieks- went to the vineyard to oversee the production of the contents of his Lord's Bottle. As he viewed the still unopened grape blossom buds, he thought about how they would someday grow up to fill his Lord's Bottle, and ended up going around to look at each one. But the farm hands couldn't stop wondering whether the bottle itself or its owner's heel might come flying at them and were quite uneasy.

Asougi: exhausted himself running around since early morning helping with the professors' flower viewing event. When it was over, he took a break, sharing his reward candy stick [the name of the candy literally translates to 1,000 year candy] with Ryuunosuke, who had also been helping out. 

"I wonder if the candy's effect is halved if you share it with someone."

"That still gives us 500 years."

They laughed and enjoyed looking at the flowers until dark. Then they parted ways with a handshake and a "see you later, best friend."

(This one was something about celebrating New Years. For some reason I didn't save the original question)

"Ryuunosuke ~ To celebrate New Years, he planned to pound mochi with everyone at the office. He somehow managed to get his hands on some mochi rice and he and Sherlock started pounding. Iris was having such fun watching them that she steamed a whole bunch more mochi rice so they could have some to share, and he and Sherlock spent the whole evening pounding mochi like crazy.

Asougi~ Because it's New Years, he went around to a bunch of shrines. When he drew his new year's fortune, he got a "horrible luck" result. "I'm not worried about it," he claimed, and headed up to the mountains early on New Years morning and work hard on a full training course of purification by water, meditation under a waterfall and wooden sword practice. It seems that he was working really hard to clear his mind of all earthly thoughts

Sherlock- Agreed to help Ryuunosuke pound mochi. As Ryuunosuke was flipping the mochi over, he carelessly dropped his badge into the bowl and Sherlock mixed it in without noticing, so they had to crack open both the hard and soft mochi to look for it. Fortunately they found it in the 4th one they checked, but apparently Sherlock got his hands and face covered in sticky white mochi in the process.

Susato- Wore a furisode and went with her father to do the first shrine visit of the year. The shrine was incredibly crowded and they had to wait in line for a long time, but she brought the Encyclopaedia of British Law and a copy of the Strand Magazine in her sleeves to secretly read as they waited so she actually ended up enjoying the wait.

Van Zieks- Ryuunosuke cheerfully gave him some mochi as a New Year’s (which at that time was celebrated at the same time as the Chinese New Year) gift, which he accepted confusedly, wondering “...Can the Japanese not even keep track of when the New Year is?” Because Ryuunosuke referred to it as a rice cake, he tried to eat it like a regular cake without softening it with heat first. It was so hard that he couldn’t imagine how it could possibly be food, and ended up misunderstanding the Japanese even more!

"Autumn has arrived, and the weather is starting to cool off, which means that everyone is becoming more active. Which character chose the most pleasant autumn activity to keep busy with?"

Iris was making bread but her hands are small and it’s difficult for her to knead the dough, so she asked for Ryuunosuke’s help. She wanted to make enough to hand out to Gina and all the other homeless children in the East End, so she made a massive amount and Ryuunosuke was stuck kneading this massive mountain of bread dough all day. Apparently he became such a expert at kneading that he could be a baker now.

Asougi was practicing with his sword, slicing autumn-colored ginko leaves as they fell from the tree. He cut so many leaves, though, that he ended up making a big mess on the ground, the number of fallen leaves now having increased, and it took him a long time to clean it all up.    

Sherlock: Ryuunosuke told him that he was making anpan (bread filled with sweet red bean paste, the bane of my Asian-dwelling existance) and asked Sherlock to help by being in charge of getting the poppy seeds they’d need to sprinkle on top, so Sherlock went out and gathered a ton of poppy seeds. In fact, he got so many of them that no one knew what to do with them all cuz they had a huge amount of leftovers. Sherlock said, “Well, they’re only the size of poppy seeds! Surely you two can deal with them somehow! Ahahaha!” and Iris scolded him.   

(I couldn’t capture it in English, but Sherlock’s line contained a pun, and a pretty stupid one at that, so that’s part of why he got scolded)

It’s grape harvesting season, so Van Zieks commutes to the winery regularly to direct the production of the contents for his “Lord’s Bottle.” He demands perfection in everything from the selection of the grapes to the way they’re squeezed, and the winery staff is terrified by the “grim reaper’s” gaze and heel swinging (i.e. the leg thing he does in court) so they grumble as they work. 

"Hearing that there’s a holiday in the West called Halloween, the people involved with the court in Japan decided to try it out themselves. Naturally Halloween is a big deal in England as well. So, which member of the DGS cast had the best celebration?"

Team Ryuunosuke and Asougi- Asougi got Naruhodo up on his shoulders and they draped a white sheet over themselves to make a ghost costume. They went out like that, but Naruhodo had such exaggerated reactions to the fear of the people who saw them and to bumping his head on tree branches that they ended up losing their balance and falling on top of each other?!   

Sherlock Holmes- went wearing a horse’s head mask. Iris used her skills to make it a fancy horse covered in stars, but the eye holes weren’t well made and he had to wander around blindly. Because of that he tripped hard over a pile of coal! He ended up getting so dirty that the stars on his costume were covered up!

Van Zieks- took inspiration from his nickname and dressed up as the grim reaper. He covered himself up with a skeleton mask and hood figuring no one would know it was him. Unfortunately he got angry when he saw Megundal (McGilded) pass by and started throwing bottles and glasses and ended up giving himself away.

"November has arrived, and autumn is nearing its end. However, the DGS cast is still keeping busy, even on their days off. Which character chose the most interesting way to spend their late autumn day?"

Ryuunosuke- Thinking that he’d better learn more about British culture if he was going to be a defense attorney in Britain, he went down to the East End with Gina for a little observation. However, because an Asian like him stood out so much, he got mobbed by the other children. On top of it all, his arm band got stolen from him and he had to send a replacement request to Yumei University on the other side of the ocean.

Asougi- He went for a meal at La Quantas. The customer at a nearby table got a persimmon for dessert and scarfed it down, saying “Mm! This is it! This sweetness makes it worthy of being called a treasure among foods!” Asougi tried to comment on this by saying, “The customer at that table sure is enjoying his pershim--gak!” but he may or may not have accidentally bitten his tongue in the process and been unable to finish his sentence.

Iris- She accepted Ryuunosuke’s request to learn more about British culture and prepared a bagpipe and kilt costume for him. “This outfit sure is breezy,” Ryuunosuke said shyly upon trying it on. With Ryuunosuke now dressed, he, Iris, and the others from their office headed over to Gregson’s place to get him to treat them to some fish and chips.   

Sherlock- He accepted Ryuunosuke’s request to learn more about British culture and cooked up some European style curry for dinner. Thanks to the fact that his secret ingredient was a large amount of Chinese herbal medicine style spice, it caused some strange side effects and Ryuunosuke, who’d eaten it, ended up passing out and falling over.

“Another taxing trial for Ryuunosuke has finished and now it’s December. As the year draws to a close, which character acts the strangest?”

Ryuunosuke- he was recruited to help with snow removal around Yumei University and the courthouse and he enthusiastically began his task with the help of a large shovel. He got a little carried away, though, and ended up accidentally burying his umbrella, which he’d left propped up against the side of the building, in the snow he’d just finished shoveling.  He had no choice but to share Asougi’s umbrella on the way home.

Asougi- On the way home, he nods silently to Ryuunosuke’s question of whether he’d finished his travel preparations and changes the subject: “...Come to think of it, it seems that tomorrow is celebrated in the West as God’s birthday.” “I’ve heard that they eat chicken as part of the traditional celebration. Wanna try it?” Ryuunosuke asks invitingly. Asougi is strongly opposed to that particular menu item, however, and they end up going out for their usual beef stew that night instead.           

Susato- in addition to her year-end travel preparations, she also was busy with straightening up the book room in her home. She managed to get the law books in order when she suddenly stumbled upon some old issues of Strand Magazine! She hurried through the rest of her cleaning, then began flipping through the magazines she’d found, trying to decide which to take with her on her trip. She accidentally lost herself in her reading and didn’t realize it until it was already the middle of the night.

Sherlock- he was in the middle of a long ship voyage when Christmas night came. His mind on his partner in a far-off country, he made a toast alone on deck, when suddenly the crew began shooting off fireworks with a cry of “Merry Christmas!” Sherlock had to dart back and forth across the deck to prevent the fireworks from hitting him and setting off the explosive chemicals he carries with him.

Main series edition

[devildomimagines]

For shit’s and giggles, let’s have the Brothers react to a pregnant MC. She’s 5 months and showing so when they see her groaning in pain from landing badly from the portal, they notice her covering her stomach and she’s like “I could’ve hurt my baby, asshole!”. Let’s say the dad’s not in the picture but MC just wanted a kid and didn’t expect to deal with Overlords of hell while she’s gonna go through a rollercoaster of emotions and cravings. (I also wanna see em lose it when she goes into labor a couple months while they’re at one of Diavolo’s parties cuz I love chaos and just wanna see everyone but Barb panic)

Hi Anon! Thanks for your patience while I worked on this!

This was a little tough for me since I’ve never been pregnant 🤣 I hope this is some of what you were looking for!

Edit: I wrote some of this for the formerly Undateables, check it out here.

Belphegor

*Existential Crisis Ensues*

After the events of Chapter 16…. Oof.

He didn’t know but damn does that stoke his grief to be red hot and blistering once again.

When he recovers enough to pledge himself to caring for you, he builds the best nest to sleep in. 

You never have a restless night with him making sure there are enough pillows to support your stomach or under your back and blankets for whether you are hot or cold.

Going into labor: For once not sleepy. He is a demon on a mission. Once he gets you to where you need to be, he collapses for some rest and earns a bed next to yours.

Beelzebub

“Baby?” 

He was not aware, he innocently thought the weight was just because you were eating with him more.

He went to Lucifer first to get some guidance, he’s already starting to worry.

He’s very gentle with you from then on, offering a helping hand wherever you may be going. You’d have to remind him that you’re still sturdy enough to walk otherwise he would carry you everywhere.

The best at dealing with food cravings because he has them too! He even opens your eyes to weird food combinations that surprisingly work well.

Going into labor: Poor baby, and not the one coming out of you. He loses his appetite as you tell him what’s happening.

Asmodeus

“Baby!?”

He didn’t know but he’s excited!? A baby ‘you’ would be so cute!

He definitely knows all the tricks for moisturizing to minimize stretch marks, massages to relieve tension, and foot rubs for swollen feet.

Almost immediately starts buying baby clothes and planning baby photoshoots.

You do have to tell him a few times that what he’s doing is too much and you’re too tired. He respects that but he won’t stop trying.

Going into labor: I feel like Asmo would have a bullhorn ready to go yelling at people to get out of your way. It’s much more embarrassing but he’s doing his best.

Satan

You know the surprised face he makes with a hand on his chest, yeah that.

He has a vague idea about human pregnancy and labor, I can’t imagine it didn’t come up in any of his readings but he looks into it further now.

Surprisingly, he handles the mood swings the best, probably because he’s been through it with his anger. He gets it.

Satan is very thoughtful and considerate. Orders you decaf tea when you go out to his favorite coffee shop and offers to pay for any baby books if you express a need.

You absolutely change his world when you let him feel the baby kicking. That’s when it took a whole new meaning to him, this was life.

Going into labor: You probably told him your birth plan so he knows where to take you and what you need just from memory. 

Leviathan

Frozen in place until it finally registers, “What?”

Really awkward around you for the rest of the day.

Furiously does research that night, scouring the internet for as much as he can digest about humans’ pregnancy and babies. He finds some really obscure complications and issues and then he’s scared for you.

The next day he’s watching you nonstop. You ask him what’s wrong, he says nothing but continues staring.

With his Akuzon account, anything you could need he can get in less than a day, just say the word.

Going into labor: Probably running away, I’m sorry if you thought he was going to be helpful with that.

Mammon

“B-b-b-b-baby?”

Whether you two have been intimate or not, he’s still sweating and counting on his fingers to try to figure out if he’s somehow the father.

He goes to Lucifer, “Hey! Did ya know about this?” And just motions to the whole of MC.

He steals borrows a baby book from Satan and starts spouting random facts to prove he’s knowledgeable. “A woman’s uterus will expand about 500 times its original size during pregnancy.” Thanks, Mammon.

Was he attached to your hip before? Yes. Is he even more so now? Also yes.

Going into labor: Confused but he got the spirit. He definitely thought the baby was going to be born right there if you pushed it out so he’s yelling “Don’t push MC! Keep it in!”

Lucifer

The only one of the brothers that actually knew you were pregnant as it was in your file/application for the exchange program.

Still kind of offended you took that tone with him but may start to worry about you more.

He already has a soft spot for you so you could ask him for anything and he’d do or get whatever you need.

I think he would know the most about human pregnancy since he probably had to prepare in advance to present the idea to Diavolo.

If you want a special treat, definitely have him feel the kicking baby. The warmth and love on his face is 100% worth it.

Going into labor: Obviously, the most together to handle the situation but the flashes of worry and concern in his movements and reminds you that he’s not unmoved and even the Avatar of Pride can get flustered.

[will-on-the-internet]

Grow Old With Me | Spencer Reid

Summary: Spencer Reid never imagined growing old with someone, but then suddenly it happens within a blink of an eye, and it's perfect. Inspired heavily by the song Grow Old With Me by Tom Odell, and featuring Dad! Spencer.

Warnings: mentions of children, allusions to sex.

Genre: Fluff

Word Count: 1.5 k

A/N: I honestly meant to write something in my request list next, but then I listened to this song for the first time in over a year, and my brain was just like...Will you've gotta write something now. So, it's now 2.30 am, and I haven't properly edited it, but I hope you enjoy a little look into the life I think Spencer deserves. Also helps to listen to the song while you're reading.

PLEASE REBLOG FOR MORE SPENCER REID FICS!

I can feel you breathing With your hair on my skin As we lie here within The night

I'll pull the sheets When it's cold on your feet Cuz you'll fall back to sleep Every time

It all started after one night together. One night of blissful love, of heated lust and a desire to have each other so close that nothing could distract you from the moment at hand. It was in Spencer’s bed where he first said, ‘I love you', where he first took you in his arms under the covers and made it clear he had no plans to let go, and it was in his bed where the both of you slept together for the first time, a mixture of tangled limbs, strewn around blankets and the light from the moon shining against your bodies. On that night, Spencer knew, as he watched you sleep, a soft smile curling his lips, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with you. And as the night turned into morning, as the cool spring breeze drifted through the window and you stretched in his arms, Spencer could only chuckle quietly as he tucked you back under the covers, pulling the sheets over your feet and humming as you laid against his chest. This was the perfect picture of all his dreams coming true, and he knew he wouldn’t ever trade it for the world.

Grow old with me Let us share what we see And oh the best it could be Just you and I

It didn’t take you long to realise that Spencer was in this relationship for the long haul, that he was going to fight to have every moment with you, to hold you as long as he could and to give you all the love in the world until your time on earth was up. You realised when he asked you to move in with him, and for a man who didn’t like changes, or going out of his way to make his life different, you knew as he held out the small silver key, that this meant something to Spencer.

“You���you want me to move in with you? Spencer, are you sure?” He nods furiously, knowing there’s no way he’s going to regret his decision any time soon. Standing up, he walks around the couch that the two of you are sitting on, and he gestures to the empty to one of the bookshelves that are now empty, previously jam-packed with his books.

“I’m sure, Y/N. Look! I made space in the bookshelves for all your books, and I emptied out half of my wardrobe for your clothes, and…and I just thought that this could be where you call home, from now on. And I know it’s sudden and we’ve only been dating for what…two months? But I know that I don’t want to share a place with anyone else, let alone wake up to an empty bed ever again.” You were kissing him then, taking the key happily while he could only smile against your mouth.

“Of course, I’ll move in with you, Spencer Reid. There’s no one I’d rather live with. Especially if it means I get to share a bed.” He laughs openly at your words and pulls you into a hug that you swear makes your stomach flutter and heart pound even harder, especially when he kisses you right underneath your ear and keeps whispering that he loves you as if you’re going to forget any time soon.

And our hands they might age And our bodies will change But we'll still be the same As we are

We'll still sing our song When our hair ain't so blonde And our children have sung We were right

Spencer’s greatest honour in life was having the privilege to see you grow, body ever-changing as the both of you got older, his chestnut-coloured hair being flecked with streaks of grey, and your face slowly taking on lines of age that he found so very beautiful. He loved everything about you, loved how even as the two of you aged, you still loved to lay yourself over his lap while he read, or how you danced around the kitchen while you cooked. And you loved every single thing about your doctor, from the way he smiled that little smile that made his eyes squint and cheeks blush, to how he never seemed to be warm enough, wanting an endless number of blankets, sweaters or even your body to swallow him up, to keep him warm and in turn, keep him safe from all the horrors of the world.

He loved thinking back to all those years ago when he married you, when he took you as his partner for the rest of his life, and how the both of you danced until the sun came up, surrounded by those that loved you and you loved just as much. He thought you could never look more beautiful than you did on your wedding day, dressed simply for the little ceremony in Rossi’s backyard, but every morning when he sees you for the first time, in the sun that shines through the window and under fresh bed covers, he’s constantly waking up in awe, wondering how on earth he was so lucky.

But then the two of you became four, a set of twins making the little family that Spencer had always dreamed of, and suddenly Spencer thought that everything was perfect, that nothing could beat the feeling he went to bed with every night; happiness, love and perfection all around him after he puts his son and daughter to bed, pulls you into his arms and listens to your heartbeat against his chest, and he knows that he’s a lot luckier than most people, and he’s eternally grateful for that.

And the hairs they stand up And my feet start to thump Yer the feeling is dreaming Around

You'll be the one Make me hurt, make me come Make me feel like I'm real And alive

In the early stages of your relationship, every moment with you was filled with his racing heart, the fierce fear that he would embarrass himself in front of you and a love that burned so bright both of you were scared you were going to be burned. But then, as the dust settled and a familiar rhythm formed, Spencer quickly calmed down. Sure, his heart still thumped loudly in his chest, and he still wanted to make you smile and laugh with him and not at him, but he knew that everything was going to be okay.

He knew without a doubt that you made him feel alive, that he existed for more than just his brain and that you loved him endlessly when you kissed him and held him. He knew you were undoubtedly his, that you would never want anyone else, and he held tight to that truth every time the two of you fought.

You both knew the fights meant nothing, both knew that you only fought when work was becoming too much and the both of you were tired, at the ends of your tethers and feeling overwhelmed by raising a family and being there for each other. But once the pain had passed, apologies accepted and loving regret-filled kisses exchanged, and the two of you always ended up in bed together, wrapped around each other until the sun rose or your children woke, whatever came first as you grew older.

Grow old with me Let us share what we see And oh the best it could be Just you and I

Spencer Reid thought he’d never end up with someone, never had someone to grow old with him, to share a life and a house and an endless amount of mornings, evenings and time in between. He’d never believed that someone would ever love him enough to spend their life with him, to kiss him when he woke, to make him dinner after a long night, to fall asleep in his lap on the couch or even promise themselves to him. Hell, he didn’t even think he’d ever have children, or a little slice of happiness that everyone else seemed to think he deserved after all the horrors he’d experienced. But suddenly he had it, and he was never going to let go, especially right now, as you wrapped yourself around him as you watched your twins do homework at the dinner table.

“You know, I never thought this would be my life.” It was a whisper against the material of his sweater, but he heard it all the same as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“Oh yeah, what did you expect, my darling?” You smile at his question and tilt your head up to look at him, brushing some of his curls out of his eyes.

“Something boring, not something as perfect as this.” He hums in response to your statement and swoops you in for a sweet kiss that your twins groan at, complaining about seeing their parents kissing in the kitchen. But the two of you can only laugh, telling them that they’ll be doing the exact same thing when they’re older, and even as they roll their eyes and turn back to their homework, Spencer can’t stop looking down at you, so in love, so happy and so grateful to grow old with you.

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[curlynerd]

What He Wants

Happy gift posting day for @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! My gift recipient is @bipridedean! She requested a Destiel, canon-adjacent fic, so here it is! I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 2.6K Rating: G Summary: 5 times Dean said "I do" and 1 time he didn’t. Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Destiel wedding

Also read it on AO3!

1.

The first time it happens Sam is the only one to hear it. They’re alone in the bunker, surrounded by months and months of tireless research. But finally, finally, Dean thinks they’ve discovered how to get into the Empty.

Dean wants to push through the night and get a portal up and running as soon as possible. Sam insists they both go to bed, pleading with Dean that he won’t be able to concentrate on the spellwork to maintain it without at least a few hours of sleep.

Dean spends most of the night staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing through his head at a hundred miles an hour. This time tomorrow, he could have Cas back. This time tomorrow he can--Dean is almost afraid to think it, afraid that giving form to what he wants will somehow curse it and stop it from ever coming true. After all, the thing he wanted most before this was for Cas to love him back, and that didn’t exactly end rosy.

Still, as Dean finally closes his eyes, he allows himself a small, private wish. He hopes this will be the last time he falls asleep alone.

The next morning, they’re both expecting some sort of bump in the road, some rare ingredient or some missing incantation that will set them back even longer, keep Dean from seeing Cas again for God knows how long. But fortune is on their side, and Sam executes the spell flawlessly.

Dean is armed to the teeth with every weapon and protection spell they could collect on short notice. His plan for finding Cas and dragging him back home sits clearly at the front of his mind. His heart pounds in his ears, fast but steady and strong.

“You know, if this doesn’t work, you could get stuck there. I might not be able to open a new portal.” Sam looks at the pulsating mass of black that serves as the portal to the Empty. Worry is etched deeply into his forehead. “Do you really want to do this?”

Dean thinks of Cas’ face, the way he had smiled as he said he loved him. He thinks of how he was so close to having the one thing he really wanted. How Cas had wanted the same.

There’s no peace in loneliness.

Dean tightens his grip on his angel blade, his jaw set, his eyes determined. He’s ready to get his angel back. “Yeah. I do.”

2.

The second time it happens, it takes Cas by surprise. It’s been a week since Dean heroically pulled the love of his life from the Empty...and also since Dean lost all remaining courage. He choked. His unspoken response to Cas’ confession is a taut tension wire between them, keeping them inches apart, words suffocating in their tightly sealed mouths, both terrified to say anything and risk breaking something that can’t be mended.

Dean hates himself for it. It’s cowardice is what it is. It’s a lifetime of desperately fighting against the things that make him vulnerable. Against wanting things. Against believing anyone could love him. Even with Cas’ confession still crystal clear in his memories, Dean doubts.

He is deep into those self-deprecating thoughts when he finds Cas in the garage, struggling to figure out how to change a flat tire on his truck from a Youtube video.

“Cas? What’re you doing?”

Cas startles and immediately hunches his shoulders in guilt. He wasn’t expecting to be caught. “Dean.” He looks down at the lug wrench in his hand, and Dean can see the wheels spinning in his head, trying to concoct a cover story before he shrugs and gives up the truth. “I was trying to fix the truck.”

“You need to go somewhere? Cuz I can just drive you.” Dean’s heart pounds, his mouth going dry. Cas wouldn’t need to sneak around for a little errand.

Cas shakes his head and confirms Dean’s fears. “I wanted to have it ready. In case I needed to leave.”

“Leave?” Dean repeats, and his blood goes cold.

Cas deflates a little, resigned and sad. “I assume I’ll need to soon.”

“You can’t leave!” ‘Tell him!’ screams in Dean’s mind, but he can’t. He can’t. What if he’s wrong? What if Cas doesn’t love him like that? What if Cas doesn’t love him at all anymore? What if Dean screwed it up by staying silent and Cas realized he deserves to be with someone who can provide a simple answer to “I love you?” What if--

“I don’t want to,” Cas says softly. The pain is evident in his eyes as they flicker to his truck, like he expects to need to book it out of here at any moment. “But I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here after--” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he amends.

“Cas, this is your home, same as me and Sam.” Cas doesn’t look so convinced. “C’mon man, you really think we don’t want you around?” Dean leans against the side of Cas’ truck to ground himself. “Cas, I want you here.” ‘I want more than that,’ he thinks, and it would be so easy to say what he really needs to say, but he can’t. He fights viciously with his own self-esteem, ripping at it, begging it to let him say more. “Please don’t leave,” he says, small and helpless, and it’s like moving a mountain to say that much.

Cas’ expression softens into longing. His hand clenches at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out to Dean, but he smiles a soft, incredulous smile. “I can stay? You really mean it?”

Dean swallows thickly. A hundred words crowd his throat, fighting to get out, but his own fears win this round and keep them down. Instead all he can manage is a choked, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

3.

The third time it happens, it takes them both by surprise. They’d gone on a hunt, just the two of them while Sam was visiting Eileen, and everything had gone sideways. What they thought was just a troublemaking demon turned out to be an extremely powerful witch, one with more than enough experience in Enochian magic to put Cas in serious danger. And of course Cas was reckless in his desire to protect Dean, and only managed to avoid getting killed by quick thinking and, to be honest, a helluva lot of luck.

The fight left Cas injured, and Dean pissed. “What the hell were you thinking!” he scolds at the end of a cold, silent drive back to the bunker.

“I did what I needed,” Cas shoots back with a steely glare.

“No, you didn’t need to go rushing in like that!” Dean’s worry leeches out as anger, the fear of losing Cas yet again clouding his reasoning that Dean himself would have died without Cas’ quick action. “You could have gotten a lot more hurt!”

“Why does it even matter to you?” Cas yells back, and it’s the note of hysterical bitterness darkening his words that makes Dean snap and say what he’s been hiding for far too long.

“Because I love you, you stubborn ass!”

The words freeze in the air between them, sharp and strong, wedging themself right where Dean’s anger was just a moment ago.

“You...love me?” Cas asks, his voice small, his eyes big.

And like that, Dean’s fears seem so foolish. Cas loves him. Cas died because just admitting he loves him was the happiest moment of his life. Cas has already done the hardest, scariest part for him. Dean doesn’t even have to fear Cas not feeling the same.

Silently, Dean takes a single step forward. Cas is frozen on the spot, staring at him like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He takes another step, and another, until he’s close enough to reach out and tug Cas into an embrace.

“Of course,” Dean breathes. He holds Cas close, tucking his chin over his shoulder and squeezing tight, like he never wants to let go. He doesn’t ever want to let go. Cas is slower to react, but when his arms finally wind around Dean, he breathes out a soft, sobbing gasp and clings to Dean. Dean turns his head to bury his nose in Cas’ hair. “Of course I do.”

4.

The fourth time it happens, Cas doesn’t even hear it. Cas found out about a nearby crafts fair, and all it took was one particularly soulful look from those big blue eyes of his, and Dean was driving them a full hour and a half away to look at homemade pottery and local honey and overpriced tacky mesh wreaths and pretending that the entire atmosphere of the place wasn’t giving him hives.

Cas is having a blast. Dean is carrying bags and lurking in the shadiest spots he can find away from the summer heat while Cas browses. Cas is having an animated conversation about beekeeping with a honey merchant when Dean ducks into a large tent filled with the kind of flowy, bedazzled, polyester shirts he thinks of as “PTA Chic” because they also happen to have a large fan blowing.

“Lookin’ for something in particular, sugar?” The tent owner saunters over to Dean, her Southern accent thick and her top scandalously low. She’s stunningly pretty, and Dean’s eyes and smile light up out of a lifetime of habit. She responds in kind, dragging her eyes down, then back up Dean’s body. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were lookin’ for more than clothes.”

Dean chuckles and flashes her his best charming, but chagrined smile. He feels a little guilty for leading her on, and he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Oh sweetheart, if I were single, I’d gladly take you up on that offer, but I’ve already got my special someone.” Dean nods to the honey booth next door.

Her eyes trail over to where Dean gestured, and for a split second her brow furrows in confusion before she laughs just a little, more incredulous than cruel. “You really want someone like that over me?”

Dean looks over at Cas. And, yeah, Dean gets the question. He’s a grown-ass man wearing cargo shorts, carrying a canvas bag with the most obnoxious sunglasses-wearing beach ball Dean has ever seen, and his hair looks like it's been electrocuted. Dean grins, feeling a rush of fondness for his dorky, criminally unfashionable angel.

“Yeah,” he says softly, without an ounce of hesitation. There’s no one else in the world for him but Cas. “Yeah, I do.”

5.

The fifth time Dean says it, Cas is the only other person around for miles. He drags Cas out of bed bright and early one Saturday, forcing him into the car before he’s even fully finished his coffee. Cas allows it, only because he can tell Dean is positively vibrating with nervous energy. Dean brushes off all of his prying questions during the long drive until they finally arrive at a small, peaceful meadow in the middle of nowhere.

He’s packed a lunch, because ostensibly this outing is meant to be a picnic, even though Cas is suspicious on that fact alone. Dean never picnics. It doesn’t really matter though, because Dean is too nervous to even consider eating.

“So why are we really here?” Cas asks after a few minutes of nibbling at his chips. Dean’s sandwich lays untouched on the blanket.

Dean steels his nerve and takes a deep breath. “Do you know where this is?” he asks, fighting the jittery bouncing of his heartbeat to keep his voice steady.

Cas nods. “This is where I returned when Jack resurrected me.” He looks around, smiling down at the flowers surrounding the two of them. The windmill behind him creaks softly in the wind.

“And where I spread your ashes.” Dean’s fidgeting fingers find a frayed edge on the blanket, and he starts picking at it.

Cas nods again and remains silent, patiently waiting for Dean to find the rest of his words.

“And it’s…” Dean pulls a thread out of the blanket and lets it fly away in the wind. “This is where I realized I love you. I’m an idiot who didn’t even realize how much I loved you until after you were gone.”

Cas leans forward and rests his hand on Dean’s knee, warm and reassuring. Dean continues, “At the time I’d thought, ‘I can’t do this. I don’t want to live without him.’ Which was stupid because you were already dead. It didn’t matter what I wanted.”

Cas squeezes his knee. His eyes are gentle. “We’re both okay now.”

Dean’s heart warms. “Yeah. We are. But you know I...That feeling’s never gone away. You and me? I want us to be forever.” Dean reaches into his pocket. There’s no small velvet box, no shimmering diamonds, just a thick band of practical silver he found at a pawn shop. He looks down at the ring with a tender smile. “Man, never in a million years did I think I’d ever be doing this,” he marvels, and when he looks up, Cas’ eyes are wide with surprise.

“Dean?” His normally steady voice wavers.

Dean reaches for Cas’ face, his thumb gently stroking across his cheek. He holds up the ring. “What do you say, Cas? Wanna go legit about this?”

Cas’ expression is impossibly soft, eyes overflowing with love and devotion. He swallows thickly around a lump in his throat and takes the ring from Dean. He slides it onto his finger and stares at it like it’s his own personal miracle.

“You’re serious, Dean? You really want to get married?”

Dean smiles as he leans in close. Just before he kisses his new fiance, he whispers, “Of course I do.”

6.

The sun is setting, casting long shadows down the sand. The shifting winds coming from the sea carry a chill, making the little crowd gathered around them draw their jackets close and huddle together, but the smiles on their faces are nothing but warm. There’s no altar. No stage. No decorations. Just Cas and Dean, standing in front of the ocean, wearing their favorite flannels and jeans, two bright yellow black-eyed susans pinned to their shirts--stolen right out of someone’s garden on their way to the beach.

They didn’t even bother trying to put out chairs for the ceremony, not knowing how many of their friends and family would be able to make the long drive to see Dean get hitched to his angel, but in the end it’s a good thing, because damn near everyone came, and they need to crowd in close to hear them over the wind.

It’s completely and utterly perfect.

Dean grins, unable to take his eyes off Cas while Donna, the only member of his overly-emotional family he trusts not to bawl her eyes out through the ceremony, finishes the last of their vows.

“Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester to be your, well, not so lawfully wedded husband?”

There’s a twitter of laughter from the crowd. Cas smiles a sweet, crooked smile and squeezes Dean’s hand. “I do.” His voice is soft, meant for Dean’s ears only, because Dean is the only one his promise matters to.

“And do you, Dean Winchester, FBI’s Most Wanted, thrice dead criminal, and the terribly generous gentleman who will surely be covering our drinks on this celebratory evening, take Castiel to be your husband?”

Dean looks at Cas. Even in the dim light of the setting sun, his eyes are impossibly blue. His smile is so warm Dean knows he’ll never feel cold again, so long as he can see it every day. Dean beams back and proclaims loud enough for everyone on the beach to hear, “Oh hell yes!”

[ninbayphua]

八三夭 《盗墓笔记》 官方主题曲 《所信非神》 That In Which I Believe In Is Not God - ENG SUBS

So this is the first time I've actually properly translated and subtitled a song 😂 I tried to keep to the original wording as much as I could but there are few places where it's kinda vague or where the wording is just too awkward so I went with meaning or my own interpretation of the lyrics instead. 👀

List of Interpretations

1. 与宿命论个主臣 in a word for word translation would be "debating with Fate who is the master and who is the servant" which basically means they're fighting over superiority.

2. 当自己不死之身 is a really interesting one because 当 has 2 different meanings depending on which intonation is being used and this isn't always clear in songs cuz intonations get kinda murky in singing. Anyways, 'dāng' means to pretend whereas 'dàng' means to pawn. Since I interpreted this song as both from Wu Xie's and Xiao Ge's POV I decided to include both potential interpretation in my subtitling. So it can either mean "pawning my immortality" in Xiao Ge's POV or "pretending I have an immortal body" in Wu Xie's case.

Song Overview (Wu Xie's & Xiao Ge's POV):

Ok I read the song as being from BOTH Wu Xie's and Xiao Ge's POV instead of just one but that's my personal interpretation @thosch3i covered most of Wu Xie's POV and my own interpretation of the lyrics are pretty similar so I'll elaborate from there. This is how the song goes for me:

I give you a look with lost innocence of days past and gone that's tucked away in forgetfulness. (This is without question Wu Xie speaking because of the play on words - Tian Zhen)

Let the sound of raindrops gloss over the unsolved questions, let the sharpest blade be sealed away for safekeeping in this instant when life is at its most peaceful (OK, this could be either Wu Xie or Xiao Ge speaking to the other because both of them have a lot of unsolved questions: Wu Xie still doesn't know what happened to his San Shu and Xiao Ge is still looking for answers to his past. Both Xiao Ge and Wu Xie have been referred to as the sharpest blade of the Nine Gates. In Wu Xie's case, it's when he lost his innocence and became 邪帝 in the Sha Hai era. Xiao Ge was shaped to be a weapon ever since he was a baby stolen from his mother so it goes without saying he is the sharpest blade of the Nine Gates. (There's a saying that Wu Xie ended up becoming like Xiao Ge and Li Cu becoming like Wu Xie during his Tian Zhen era which I think is a pretty accurate reading but a discussion for another time.) Basically, regardless of which of them that's speaking they're telling the other to let go of all the questions tormenting them and sealing away the past and the way they've been conditioned to become a weapon for the Nine Gates and just live peacefully in Rain Village from now on - I'm assuming this is post Sha Hai.

My death, my life, it's not up to the ghosts and gods to intervene (Honestly, this can be either Wu Xie or Xiao Ge depending. Both are very stubborn and don't believe in leaving things up to fate.)

a wait of ten years, I've long since stopped smiling, stopped crying, stopped feeling pain, challenging fate to see who is superior (This could be Xiao Ge but I read it as more Wu Xie because of Qin Hao's line in Sha Hai when Hei Ye said "I still feel a bit of pain from time to time" and Wu Xie just straight up said "I've stopped feeling pain a long time ago".)

Pawning my immortality / Pretending I have an immortal body, to leave for you a gateway of life, this life was not in vain. (This is probably my favourite line of the song because is so freakin beautifully written? The reason there's an either or translation for the line I've explained above so we're just gonna do meta here. OK so in Xiao Ge's POV he went to guard the Bronze Gates in Wu Xie's stead to protect him so he could live a happy life. Essentially he is exchanging his immortality for Wu Xie's life because it was initially Wu Xie's fate to guard the Bronze Gates and he'd probably die in the process. Xiao Ge's immortality for Wu Xie having a life of happiness and innocence is worth it to him. He is using his immortality in exchange for a way for Wu Xie to live by going behind those gates. Remember that line: 用我一生换你十年天真无邪 my life in exchange for ten years of your innocence? That's basically what I think they're referring to. The reversed applies. It's Xiao Ge's responsibility to keep the Wang clan in check. Since Xiao Ge sacrificed himself so Wu Xie could live the life he wanted, Wu Xie decided to do the same for Xiao Ge by getting rid of the Wangs completely so Xiao Ge could be free to live the life he wanted when he exited the gates. Wu Xie wasn't trained like Xiao Ge nor did he have an immortal body like the Zhangs or had their self healing and magical qilin blood but he will pretend that he has all of those and take on the Wangs , wiping them out to give Xiao Ge a way out of being used by the Nine Gates again when he exits the gates, giving him a chance to live the life he wants. Even if he knows he could potentially die doing this, it's still worth it to him. Remember that line after Xiao Ge's: 只愿尽我一世无邪换你百载浅笑无忧 emptying all of my entire life's innocence in exchange for a hundred years of your easy smiles and lack of worries? That's what I think the song is referring to.)

Not even for a day in my entire life have I ever believed in ghosts or gods, but I spent ten years believing in one person. Even if the world is too cold, there is still your lingering warmth in my heart, I'll still rush into the journey, no matter how unfathomable the wasteland or perilous the path, never questioning whether it's fortune or calamity. Honestly, in my entire life, I've never believed in gods, only believed in them. (This can be both Xiao Ge and Wu Xie because the only person Xiao Ge believes in is Wu Xie - and Pang Zi. Vice versa, the only person Wu Xie believes in is Xiao Ge - and Pang Zi. None of them believe in fate or ghosts or gods but they believe in each other and only each other. Wu Xie is Xiao Ge's only connection in the world - thus the lingering warmth in my hear bit - and I'm pretty sure Xiao Ge also holds a special spot in Wu Xie's heart during the Sha Hai era when he becomes a hardened man. We see that flash of Tian Zhen softness when he's talking to Li Cu about Xiao Ge and Pang Zi. He even admits at the time that he has an obsession: to pick up Xiao Ge when he exits the Bronze Gates and take him home. Also, PingXie is constantly rushing head first into danger for one another? Even Pang Zi made a comment on this in Ultimate Note after the sword gifting ceremony that when Xiao Ge lost his memories, Wu Xie accompanies him on his journey and helps him look for his lost memories; when Wu Xie is in danger or gets into trouble in his obsessive search for answers and his San Shu, Xiao Ge comes to his rescue. Even in Reunion, Xiao Ge says he'll follow Wu Xie on his journey to Thunder City in search of answers and his San Shu. Neither of them ever question whether it is fortune or calamity that will befall them on these journeys. They'll go through hell fire and high waters for each other regardless of consequences.)

Exchanging gazes, in it are new sprouts of innocence, all old hatred tossed and tucked away in forgetfulness. (Xiao Ge talking about Wu Xie - post Sha Hai, now that Xiao Ge is back and Wu Xie isn't emo anymore, we see a bit of his Tian Zhen coming back, Xiao Ge can probably see it too. The edges aren't gone but there are now some softness growing back. There are new sprouts of innocence in Wu Xie's eyes again.)

But there are still spirits to drink together, and extra cigarettes enough to share, if there's us and the rest of our lives, then it is the greatest of good dreams. That in which I believe in is not a god. Entrusting my life and soul to you with a smile on the wretched battlefield, even the gods of death themselves must submit under the sword, the world has too many uncertainties, only this is the sole surety. But even the sharpest blade is also mere flesh and blood, I wish to give him affection and to let him rest and recuperate. (This can be either Wu Xie or Xiao Ge referring to their retired life in Rain Village that having just us - the iron triangle - as well as the rest of our lives then it's the best dream come true they could wish for. Also, Wu Xie and Xiao Ge's only belief is in each other but neither sees the other as a god. Wu Xie is unarguably human and Wu Xie sees Xiao Ge as human instead of a weapon or a god so it works both ways. Both Wu Xie and Xiao Ge are considered to be the sharpest blades of the Nine Gates with a tendency to go against fate and death. In Xiao Ge's case even death must bow its head under his sword and abide by his rule whereas in Wu Xie's case he himself is the sword so to speak and that he has defied death so many times as well as planned the death of the Wangs that in a way, death is under his control and has to do this bidding. I think it's also referring to the saying 麒麟一笑，阎王绕道；天真一笑，麒麟开道 when the qilin - a.k.a Xiao Ge - smiles even the lord of the underworld will make a detour to avoid his path; a smile of innocence - when Tian Zhen a.k.a Wu Xie smiles - the qilin clears the way. Not sure if this was in the original books or if it's just a comment made by fans online or by NPSS during interviews but it's pretty legit interpretation in my opinion. PingXie is each other's only constant in a world of uncertainties and they see the other as a human, not a god or weapon/blade to be used for the Nine Gates. I think after Sha Hai when Xiao Ge exits the Bronze Gates both are so wounded and scarred that they want to do is to give the other affection and for them to rest and recuperate from what they've suffered in those 10 years and more.)

Even a lifetime as a god, there can also be a moment, a minute of being an ordinary human. (Wu Xie referring to Xiao Ge that even though he has lived as a god for his entire life, there are still brief moments where he too can be an ordinary human. Xiao Ge is just an ordinary human, just like Wu Xie and Pang Zi.)

Anyways, sorry about the long post but that's about it I think. I'll add on if I ever think about anything in the future. Hope this post was helpful 😂

[uswnt-keeper]

Holiday Surprise

Requested by: @mari-victoria-13

Prompt: can you write lindsey x reader celebrating the holidays w readers family??

This is my SECOND TIME posting this cuz it won’t show up in tags which is very annoying. I hope it does this time. Went a little off the prompt, but that’s what you get if you leave me with little to no detail 😂. Hope you enjoy! Also if anyone knows how to make the post shorter so it says “keep reading” rather than have a whole ass paragraph on my page, please let me know. Thanks, enjoy! 💜Also this is NOT proof read, sorry...

“Finally, the adults turn to open presents,” my brother, Owen, complained standing up from his position on the couch to go search through the presents.

“Hey, you decided to have two cute kids,” I retorted as his wife laughed across from Lindsey and I.

It was Christmas of course and usually it was the cheeriest time of the year, and it still was, but this year I was nervous, very nervous. I had a plan, in fact a very elaborate one to propose to my girlfriend of 4 years, Lindsey.

Lindsey has been a shining light in my life since I met her all of those year ago. I remember being 16 when she was 18, hearing she went pro out of high school. I didn’t know it at the time, but we’d end up meeting for the first time four year later when I was 20. I got my first national team call up and we became attached at the hip. Of course, she had solid relationships with Tobin and Sonnett which 100% threw me off at first, especially because I thought Sonny and Linds were together. But after sometime, she expressed interest, and my oblivious brain didn’t read it right. I didn’t realize what was happening until I got shovel talk by the entire team, I was 21 by then, and confused as hell.

When I finally figure out what the hell they were talking about, it was clear I had no solid plan to ask Lindsey out, and so it became a game of what if’s, the whole team giving me ideas of what to do. I got so overwhelmed by the ideas and what could go wrong that when Lindsey walked in I just asked her... mostly by accident, and since that day we’ve been together.

Yeah, we’ve had some arguments and fights, like any normal relationship does, but we never go to bed angry at one another. We’ve helped each other through a lot, everything really. When my dad passed away 3 years ago, she was there, she lost the championship, I was there. Now, I want to promise her that I’ll be there forever, until death do us part and I can only hope she’ll agree.

We all stacked the presents in front of us which were ours and started to open them, collecting things of course from everyone. I got a nice watch, some jewelry, but I was most excited to see Lindsey’s reaction to the final gift.

“That’s it,” Lindsey said looking around at everyone’s wrapping paper on the floor, of course, everyone was in on this proposal except for Lindsey, I had something extravagant planned, and it would take a few days.

“No, there’s one last thing for you babe,” I said looking at her.

“Where? I don’t see it,” she looked around, unable to find it until she looked at me, holding a small box, wrapped in white and gold, “You’re sneaky, what is it?” She chuckled and I smiled.

“Open it,” I told her, she did, and found a small necklace in there, she seemed shocked, eventually finding the engraving on the back of important dates for us. When we met, our first kiss, when we both moved in together, etc.

“This is beautiful,” she said with a well of tears as she hugged me and I pecked her lips.

“There’s something else in there love,” I said, putting the necklace around her neck as she looked back in the box.

I watch on as she read it, everyone watching the exchange as I gave them a cheeky grin, “An I Owe You?” Lindsey asked and I nodded to the paper again as she started to read it, “Okay, ‘Mrs Lindsey Michelle Horan, I owe you a little trip up to the Delicate Arch’...” she looked at me with a confused face before looking at the paper again, “Oh, ‘You’re final present will be there, ready to pick up on December 31st’ New Years?” I nodded.

“Yep, I got one final thing for you, but it won’t be ready for some time,” I said, “Sorry, I really couldn’t get it in until later,” I smiled.

Obviously that was a complete lie, I had to organize everyone to be on the arch for New Years, which was hard convincing for some as it was gonna be cold. But the New Years fireworks would be perfect to help me out with this proposal, and it would be expensive, but totally worth it. Yeah, I had to get the whole team to fly out here, and Lindsey’s family who were fully on board, and get them up to the arch in time, literally just in time, for the fireworks.

It was a precarious plan, but I felt good about it.

“I have to wait for it?”

I nodded and she groaned, making the room laugh.

“I hate waiting,” she sighed and I chuckled, kissing her cheek.

“I know love, but I promise this is going to be the best present you’ve ever gotten... or at least I hope so.”

It was her time to kiss my cheek now, “I’m sure it’ll be great.”

The days passed by rather quickly, almost so quickly that I wasn’t ready when New Years rolled around. We’d spent a lot of time together, baking cookies with my family, splaying with my twin nephews, and honestly walking around Utah. A lot of that time was spent distracting Lindsey, and Im sure she got suspicious when I left her with my mom for a full day to make sure everything was in place. That was yesterday, December 30th, and that was also the day I picked up the ring.

When I got home that night, I didn’t think Lindsey was too happy with me. I’d gotten home and instead of greeting them rushed upstairs to my moms room where I knew the ring would be safely hidden. I felt bad though, as I’d literally been gone all day preparing, only coming hope around 10:30pm, to a grumpy looking Lindsey and my sleeping mother on the couch.

“Hey,” I said nervously and Lindsey gave me a look as if to tell me to meet her upstairs as she walked off, I sighed, waking my mom up.

“Huh what?” My mom always woke up startled, she always had since my dad died.

“You fell asleep,” I said, “Come on I think its bed time.”

“Where’s Lindsey?”

“Upstairs waiting for me so she can be angry I was gone all day,” I said with a small smile, my mom looked at me concerned, but so waved it off, “She’ll be happy when she get my present tomorrow.”

My mother smiled, “I’m so excited for it Y/N, you’re gonna do great,” She smiled and kissed my cheek as I helped her up. We walked upstairs together in silence, turning off the lights as we went, and I waved her goodbye when she went to her room and I went to mine.

When I walked in the bedroom, Lindsey was there, on the bed, looking at me with a stern face, looking down to her phone when I caught her eyes.

“Hey baby,” I said a little nervous, “You want to brush your teeth with me?”

“I already got ready for bed,” she replied, looking to her phone for a distraction and I sighed, going to get ready on my own.

When I did finally finish getting ready, it was already almost 11, and I slipped into bed next to Lindsey as she had turned away from me, I didn’t like the feeling, we’d always talked about our issues before bed.

“Linds.”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry,” I sighed, softly placing my hand on her shoulder, she turned over and I couldn’t help but smile as her drowsy looking face, “I had to go out.”

“And leave me all day?” She pouted, “You’re mom is lovely, don’t get me wrong, I just missed you,” she sighed, turning fully to cuddle into my chest as we got comfortable, I wrapped my arms around her.

“If it’s any consolation, I did it because I needed to make sure your present for tomorrow was perfect, it has to be.”

She opened her eyes to look at me with her icy blues, “That’s what this is all about?” She had a slight smirk on her face and I nodded.

“Trust me, it has to be great.”

“Whatever you say,” she said, “I’m sorry for being mad, I really did just miss you.”

I chuckled, “I missed you too,” I said, a long pause after that before I said, “I could spent the rest of my life with you... like this.”

I could feel her smile against my chest, “I could too.”

And with that, we fell asleep.

timeskip

The next morning had anxiety written all over it, I was nervous and scattered, but pulled myself together in the morning. We laid in of course until around 10, everyone getting out of the house before we got up as planned.

My mother would take the ring up to the mountain so I wouldn’t be caught with it. I got up first, leaving Lindsey to sleep a little longer, I went downstairs and made breakfast, avocado toast, eggs, coffee, her favorite.

“Whats all this?” I looked up to find Lindsey, already gotten ready for the day, standing at the bottom of the stairs, “Where is everyone?”

“Part of the gift,” I said, as she sat down at the dining table, “They all wanted to go shopping apparently and I didn’t want to get you up.”

“Thanks baby,” she said, pecking my lips before we did go to our food.

After breakfast Lindsey cleaned up while I got ready. When I came downstairs, I was excited to start dragging Lindsey into the day, almost overly excited.

“You ready?” I asked.

“For what?” She laughed as she looked up from her phone, her dazzling smile and cute laugh almost making me pass out completely.

“You really are so beautiful you know,” I said dopy, as she stood up, I pulled her into a tight hug, and she pulled back, scattering kisses on my face that made me laugh.

“Stop, it tickles!” I giggled and she laughed again as we embraced, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she said head on my shoulder, “So... what are we doing today? This is the ist I’ve seen you plan for anything.”

“I know,” I laughed, “All you have to do is follow,” I smiled.

“Oh god,” she laughed, “Is this gonna be a mess?”

“I hope not,” I smiled, pulling her to the front door, “Now come on, let’s go!”

Our first stop was the ice rink at the mall, I hated ice skating, but Lindsey was a Colorado native who adored these winter sports. I didn’t want to rent the whole rink because I felt like that’d give the proposal away, and anyway, it was a good excuse to get to the next activity when it got crowded.

We skated for at least an hour and a half, and I never got use to it, fumbling and falling over my own feet as Lindsey skated right by, laughing as she watched me absolutely bomb.

“Okay, as much as I love skating, I love you more and cannot watch you face plant on the ice anymore,” she laughed as she hoisted me up from the ground.

“Thank god,” I mumbled as we got off the ice, thanking the front desk before leaving.

“What next muestro,” she asked and I chuckled.

“You’ll see,” I replied.

Our next stop was the Red Butte Garden, a beautiful garden with many types of evergreens and flowers, mostly inside greenhouses due to the cold weather. But it was beautiful, and after buying some hot chocolate, we were able to spent hours in there looking around. I found ways to sneak around a bit, going to the bathroom at one point just to check everyone was almost in place.

Lindsey and I spent hours in that garden, something she just adored. After that we went to go get churros before heading home to watch a movie or two before we’d head to the mountain trail.

By the time the second movie was over, I stood up, “One last thing babe.”

“It’s almost midnight, what else could you possibly have?” She asked with a laugh.

“I know your tired, but I need you to get on some really warm clothes and then put this blindfold on.

“A blindfold?” She asked as I tossed it at her, “That’s a little weird,” she smirked and I rolled my eyes.

“We’re going out Linds, don’t get any ideas, trust me okay.”

She sighed, “I’m tired, but now I’m interested, I’ll bite.”

“Okay, it’s literally a two minute walk, just trust me okay,” I said.

“I’ve been doing that up to this point so I might as well,” she laughed and I kissed her cheek, holding her hand as I guided her up the mountain, it was perfect, 10 to 12.

I was so happy to see the whole team on the mountain, both Lindsey’s family and mine standing there too in coats and warm clothing.

“You warm enough babe?” I asked as we got to the top, me waving at everyone with a huge smile, this was successful as far as I was concerned.

“Yeah, can I take it off now?” She asked.

“Yeah go ahead,” I said, and she did, of course she was facing the arch looming out to the moonlight.

“Wow,” she said breathlessly, “This is beautiful,” she said.

“Turn around,” I said next to her.

“Hmmm?” She asked confused.

“Look behind you,” I whispered, she did, gasping.

“OH MY GOD,” she yelled and everyone laughed.

She kissed my lips before running around to greet everyone, we managed to get around everyone until Ashlyn stood on a rock to count us down to midnight. We all had champagne in our hands, ready for the new year.

I stood there with Lindsey, my mother passing behind my back and dripping the ring in my back pocket. We looked out from the arch towards the night sky.

“3...2...1... HAPPY NEW YEAR!” We yelled, I pulled Lindsey in for a kiss, the fireworks sparking just at the right moment and as we pulled apart she smiled, I leaned in close.

“Look at the fireworks,” I said, backing up behind her and finally being able to do what I’d planned for weeks.

“Will,” she read with the first boom, cameras clicking and recording, “You,” she read next, still not getting it until the last boom, “marry me.”

“Linds,” I said and she spun around, eyes wide as she clasped her hand over her mouth in shock, “Lindsey Michelle Horan. Ive been with you for four years and in that time I’ve realized that I want to be with you for the rest of my life, through thick and thin, good times and bad. I want to watch us grow, I want to be with you and only you. And so now I’m asking, if you, Lindsey, will marry me?”

I looked at her waiting, and through tears and a gasps she managed to respond, “Yes,” she replied, coming over as I slipped the ring on her finger, standing up and wrapping her in a hug, pushing our lips together amongst the wolf whistles and cheers.

“This was the present?” She asked wiping tears away and I nodded, “I love you.”

“Love you too,” I smiled, tearing up myself.

“And you were all in on this?!” She yelled at them, gaining laughs from them as they nodded.

“Nice holiday surprise then huh?” I asked.

“The best,” she smiled.

[slightlycrunchy]

the color you bleed is me

A fic written for the Dead Dove exchange over at @thewitcherbog. My recipient is @jaskiersvalley who wanted a little mind control, so where else would I go but to Vampires? (Let’s see if this gets flagged heh)

Read on ao3 (which I recommend cuz the formatting is better)

WC: 5.8k // Rated E // Warnings: blood and gore, sexual violence, explicit sexual content, dub-con, mind control, blood as lube // Tags: vampire!Jaskier, top Jaskier, happy ending, geraskier, hurt/comfort, geralt is self-sacrificing

It all begins one night across from his witcher, soft amber eyes aglow with burning flame. Jaskier stands, stretching his travel-weary muscles as he endures the cracks that run up and down his spine. They have just eaten dinner, dried meat turned into a stew flavored with a handful of herbs Jaskier had happened upon. Usually it’s a good night when sweet little surprises like this happen. Jaskier loves these evenings spent around the fire, soft companionship shared with his best friend.

Friends. 

Yes, that’s what they are.

“To bed, bard?”

Geralt’s rough tone catches him unawares and he jumps. He doesn’t dare hope that Geralt didn’t see it with the small smirk that plays at his shadowed face. 

“Afraid so, dear, long day and all. You’ve worn me out something dreadful. It’s a shame I won’t have the energy for anything else”, Jaskier teases, the back of his hand held to his forehead in an affected swoon. Geralt simply rolls his eyes, far too used to Jaskier’s antics to be provoked any longer.

“Yes, what a shame. A good wank would have put you out hard enough I would be spared your snoring.”

Jaskier chokes on a laugh. He’s still not quite used to Geralt’s good-natured teasing. “Yes, well, perhaps there’s energy for that. Maybe you could do the same and spare me yours?”

“I sleep like the dead.”

“Un-dead more like it.”

Geralt’s shoulders shake with suppressed laughter and with a wave of his hand, he dismisses Jaskier. Turning away, Jaskier finally settles into his own bedroll. It’s a cold night, autumn’s grasp only becoming stronger each day, and yet Jaskier feels unbearably warm, his cheeks and chest alight with an inner fire.

Friends. Yes. 

The teasing, the ribbing, the fights that melt into small squabbles that are gotten over quickly. Gone are the days of getting on each others’ last nerve and Jaskier fighting for scraps of Geralt’s attention. 

Friends.

As the night closes in and Jaskier’s thoughts go in familiar circles, he feels sleep coming for him strong and fast. Gods, is he exhausted. It really is a shame that he doesn’t have the energy to take himself in hand.

This is the last thought he is allowed before sleep takes him.

 -------------------

“Jaskier!”

He’s jolted into waking, his heart racing so hard it hurts his chest.

“G-Geralt—?”

“Melitele’s tits, Jaskier hurry the fuck up,” Geralt growls from somewhere above. Jaskier’s eyes have not yet adjusted to the bright light around him, sunlight pouring down on him sharply—

Oh no. Not again.

He’s up as quickly as he can manage, bedroll hastily packed and boots put on the wrong feet. He needs to take a piss but will hold it for now, not wanting to worsen the look he can imagine lies starkly across the witcher’s face as he waits for him, ready to go with all of their things packed.

He’s done it again. For the third day in a row, Jaskier has slept through their usual dawn waking. Two decades of travelling off and on with Geralt should guarantee Jaskier’s body knows what to do and when. The sun warming his skin has always been his signal to wake, just like it is Geralt’s. Even when the witcher would leave him for the long winters, it took weeks for Jaskier’s body to recognize that it did not actually have to wake with the sun in his rooms in Oxenfurt.

He doesn’t understand what’s happening. 

“I’m sorry, Geralt, I don’t know what’s come over me,” Jaskier says, breathless as he comes to the witcher’s side, arms full of the bag he clumsily tries to throw over his shoulder. His limbs shake a bit with the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so awake. 

“Hmm.”

Jaskier looks up, his first time really seeing Geralt this morning, shocked that the look he had imagined—pure, unadulterated irritation—is not there at all. There’s a furrow to Geralt’s brow as his eyes shamelessly roam Jaskier’s body. It makes Jaskier’s cheeks hot.

“Sorry. Again.”

As Geralt turns and they begin their way out of the woods, Jaskier rubs at his jaw absently where it aches. Why did Geralt look at him like that? And why isn’t he angry?

Jaskier doesn’t stop wondering for the rest of the day.

 ----------------------

Something is wrong with Jaskier.

Amber eyes roam over the sleeping body that lies close to the fire, small shivers still running up and down the blanketed lump. Jaskier has slept through dinner, and this isn’t the first time.

Geralt tears his eyes away from the man before him, looking up to the stars that shine bright and clear above them. The weather is pleasant, though cold. A human would perhaps be feeling its bite by now, but not to the degree that Jaskier seems to. Geralt has taken to holding the bard close the past few days just so his teeth will stop chattering; the man sleeps so deeply that Geralt is sure he doesn’t even notice. 

The hare Geralt caught sits heavy in his stomach, Jaskier’s portion eaten as well, as Geralt knows by now he won’t be able to wake the other man. His sleep patterns have become worrisome if he’s being honest. Jaskier is nearly impossible to wake of a morning, and more often than not he doesn’t eat before he goes to bed in the evenings. Tonight, the sun hadn’t even fallen beneath the treeline before Jaskier had rolled out his bed and folded onto it like a man who hadn’t rested in days.

And yet they don’t talk about it.

Jaskier’s appetite has waned, even midday breaks taken only for sips of water and a rest for his feet. Geralt has had to shake him awake twice, head rolling onto his chest against a tree. Jaskier seems to be able to fall into sleep anywhere, at any time. This level of exhaustion can’t be healthy.

Jaskier says nothing.

Geralt has watched his skin turn sallow and hands begin to shake, and even as Geralt shoots him knowing looks, begging the bard to say something, Jaskier looks away with a look like shame blanketing his face. Why would he be ashamed? If he’s growing sick, there’s nothing for Jaskier to feel shame over; he can’t help it.

With a sigh, Geralt thinks of Jaskier’s age. His fortieth birthday is coming up, literally within the week. Two decades Geralt has spent with this man, at first an annoyance but now someone Geralt would call his closest friend.

Friends. 

Geralt wonders at that word. So innocent and small, and yet it holds the meaning of joy in his life. Jaskier brings so much joy into his life. 

Geralt startles, half rising from the log he sits on when a shuddering sigh escapes the lump across the flames from him. Geralt waits a moment, but then Jaskier settles and the tension bleeds from his limbs. Forty years old is middle-aged for a human, a time when their bodies begin to struggle and slow. For the gods’ sakes, many don’t even make it this far. Sickness ravages too many too young, and Jaskier has always been bafflingly healthy.

But not anymore, it seems.

With a heaviness set upon his shoulders, Geralt rises and makes his way to Jaskier’s side, placing his own bedroll close. Something pricks at his mind that he doesn’t want to name as he bundles Jaskier into his arms. Geralt hears his labored breathing slow, Jaskier’s muscles relaxing into Geralt’s chest as he holds him closer and Geralt ignores the twist in his gut.

Not for the first time, Geralt wishes he had the means to know what the future holds, where they will end. He doesn’t know what he will do if he loses his closest friend.

 ----------------------------------

Jaskier can’t eat. His stomach twists and curls uncomfortably nearly every waking moment, and even the thought of food has him nearly retching. His jaw aches, a sensation that has crept up on him with every waking morning and no matter how much he massages the skin there, nothing assuages his discomfort. He knows Geralt is aware something is wrong, but the witcher never brings it up, and for that Jaskier is thankful.

He doesn’t want to acknowledge whatever this is. But he’s finding it harder to ignore.

The tipping point comes the day before he is due to turn forty, some vague and distant part of Jaskier’s mind regaling him of birthdays spent in Oxenfurt, memories drenched in too much wine and debauchery. There have been other, softer years spent with Geralt on such a day; times when Geralt has gifted him something thoughtful and sweet—useful, more often than not. If he’s honest, those are his favorite years. As he gets older, nights full of revelry are wanted far less, time with those he loves needed far more.

And Jaskier loves Geralt, by Melitele’s mercy he does.

The sky sprinkles a light drizzle all around them, grey and pressing down with a haze in the air that tugs at Jaskier’s lungs with an insistent pull. A town rises up before them out of the mist, inconsequential, looking no different than the last four they've passed through in the past two weeks. However, Jaskier thinks every town would look the same to him at this point.

His breathing is labored as he follows Roach blindly, her body taking up a dark corner of his vision even as he stares down at his own feet. It’s all he can do to keep walking; place one foot in front of the other, the pressure at his soles grounding and slightly hypnotic as he does so. He’s so unaware that he walks into her backside as she’s stopped at some point, his shoulder bouncing off with an embarrassing squeak as he’s shocked out of his daze.

“Jaskier, we’re here.”

Geralt’s voice sounds distant even as Jaskier attempts to look up at him. The back of his neck aches something awful and he can’t quite force himself to make eye contact, his gaze shifting off somewhere over Geralt’s left shoulder. Even so, Jaskier gives a wan smile. “Where exactly is ‘here’, witcher?”

“A place I know...with people I know,” Geralt answers, his voice soft and...concerned. Jaskier’s expression shutters; he doesn’t want Geralt’s pity, he’s fine, this is all fine. He ignores how his knees shake beneath him—

“You’re not fine, bard,” a feminine voice cuts through the fog.

Immediately Jaskier is at attention, more aware than he’s felt in days. He looks to Geralt’s face, a feeling of betrayal and something else that’s hot and nearly overwhelming bubbling up in his chest. He hasn’t seen her in months, and Jaskier has been grateful for it, especially since his feelings for Geralt have changed as of late, tumbling firmly into non-platonic territories. She is a threat, an enemy come to take what is his—

He startles. Where has that thought come from?

“Yennefer? Why is she here Geralt, what are you doing?” His heart rate is rising and with it comes a new wave of dizziness. He sways, Geralt bracing him firmly beneath his elbow. Geralt’s face is pinched in discomfort.

“You’re...you’re not well, Jask. It wasn’t originally my plan to seek her out, but I heard rumors of a sorceress this way and…” he trails off.

“And you look like shit, bard. Stop being so stubborn as to not accept help from someone who can do something about it.”

It’s as if it comes from nowhere really, like he’s turned a corner and it’s just there, crouched and ready to pounce on him when he’s least expecting it. Fury; hot, possessive, overwhelming fury. He is equal parts surprised and satisfied when he hisses, the sound feeling wrong coming from his mouth. Gods, his mouth aches; he wants to tear her to shreds.

“Jaskier?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier won’t look at him, eyes boring holes into the mage before him who takes a moment to look surprised before her eyes harden into steel. His head pounds.

She nearly sneers when she says, “I know what the fuck you are.”

Jaskier hardly has a moment to register her words before his legs give out and everything goes deeply, horribly, black.

 ---------------------------------

Jaskier is sleeping deeply, looking worse than ever, upon a bed inside the humble cottage Yennefer has set herself up in. The lack of wealth that usually surrounds the mage in her favored homesteads is shocking, though Geralt has more pressing matters to mind.

“What’s wrong with him, Yen?” He tries to keep the desperation out of his voice. 

She doesn’t look at him, busy bustling around in the small kitchen, gathering up herbs and water into a bowl that she heats with her magic. She places sprigs of rosemary and sage within it and immediately Geralt’s senses are overwhelmed with the earthy softness as she wrings out a cloth and fits it neatly upon Jaskier’s forehead, all with clinical ease. Jaskier has begun to sweat, his skin clammy with it. He pants harshly, and Geralt feels an urgency more than ever. 

“Tell me, Yen.”

She looks at him askance, placing the bowl upon a table that rests at the bedside. “You’re not going to like it, witcher. Things are going to change.”

“When one lives as long as I have, change is inevitable.”

Yennefer looks at the bard, and Geralt isn’t sure if he imagines her gaze to be full of pity. “Not like this, Geralt.”

Geralt feels his patience snap, “Damn it all, Yen! Tell me!”

“Don’t you yell at me, witcher,” she says dangerously, even as she finally stops before him, arms folded over her chest in defiance. “Now shut up.”

She’s silent for a moment and the anxiety that Geralt has easily pushed down with action and outward movement now comes toppling over him. Is Jaskier dying? The air in the room is foreboding, so much so that he can hardly breathe with it. He watches as she hardens her expression, her eyes darkening. He clenches his fists.

“He’s turning, Geralt.”

Of all the things she could have said, this was not what he expected. “Turning? Turning to what, Yen?”

“Turning into what, you mean. He’s a vampire, Geralt. How have you not noticed? I assume he hasn’t been eating, been sleeping more—he’s probably in quite a bit of pain as his body goes through the changes. I can see his teeth from here, how have you missed it?”

The teeth? Immediately Geralt is at Jaskier’s side, raising one pale lip to look at the canines there. His throat tightens at the sight; they match his own, now. He knows they will only grow sharper. Suddenly the thought overtakes him, stealing his breath, ��His fortieth is tomorrow Yen...tomorrow.”

“Is it? What a shame.”

“Have some compassion, for Melitele’s sake,” he says without heat, but his mind is roaming elsewhere. 

He thinks back to the bestiary, of all that he knows of higher vampires. How does Jaskier not know what he is? For surely he doesn’t know, he would have told Geralt...wouldn’t he? There isn’t much known about the species, many witchers having been destroyed too swiftly to report any characteristics in the flesh. Though, they know a little: vampires come of age much later than humans, at forty to be exact. They hold the ability to thrall and speak to the beasts of the field, lack reflection or shadow and can blend in with humans almost seamlessly. They don’t require human blood, but many give into their desires and take it anyway—except on one day of their life.

The day they turn.

“He’s starving, Geralt—he’ll need his fill of blood tomorrow to survive the change, so what will you do? You hunt monsters like him. You can’t possibly condone even your precious bard taking a human life to save his own? What will the world come to—”

“Quit mocking him, Yen,” Geralt spits, his mind in a whirlwind.

Jaskier’s body has been slowly transitioning over the past two weeks and Geralt hates himself for not noticing, though there’s no way he could have. Without realizing it, Geralt has begun petting Jaskier’s chestnut hair, his sweat slicking it back bit by bit. With gentle hands, Geralt lowers them to the hem of Jaskier’s tunic, slowly lifting it up just to Jaskier’s chest.

Geralt sighs heavily. He’s lost weight—more than Geralt would have thought. His stomach lies sunken in slightly and the edges of his soft chest have turned sharp, ribs protruding by a small measure. His body has been wasting away and something in Geralt howls at this. It’s his job to protect Jaskier, to make sure he’s safe—how can he protect him from this?

“So what are you going to do witcher? You could wait until tomorrow to slay him or…” Geralt looks up at her, his eyes wide in surprise, “you could do it now, while he sleeps. Put him out of his misery before he even knows of the monster he has become.”

“Jaskier is no monster,” he growls, something in him jumping forth with teeth bared. He turns away from her, to look at the man below him who didn’t choose this for himself but is forced into it regardless—

Not unlike Geralt himself had once been.

Witchers are hated all over the continent, though they do thankless, dirty work that keeps the people safe in their beds, and yet he didn’t have a choice in the matter. In those early days, Geralt had wished he didn’t survive the trials, hadn’t lived to become this. ‘Monster’ they call him. He used to believe it...until Jaskier came along.

Jaskier was never daunted by his looks or gruff demeanor. Jaskier always saw deeper down, into who Geralt actually is...and now, Geralt will do the same.

“I will help him.”

He sees the way Yennefer flinches even from the corner of his eye, unwilling to look away from Jaskier’s face. The bard’s brows have knit together in discomfort now, and Geralt gently smoothes the ache away with his thumb. 

“Are you insane, Geralt? He’ll kill you!”

“That may be true, but…” He doesn’t know what it is, or why, but something in Geralt’s mind says that Jaskier won’t. He doesn’t dare trust it, but it’s there all the same. “That would be alright.”

“It will hurt Geralt, he’ll want the thrill of the hunt, he’ll tear you to shreds.” He hears the concern in her voice. It’s not as surprising as he would expect. “I— Please don’t, Geralt.”

Geralt rises from the edge of the bed, and makes his way over to where Yennefer stands, her fingers fidgeting with each other in her discomfort. Geralt feels his expression soften. 

“Is there any other way, Yen?”

She is silent. Her gaze skitters to the floor. “No. Either he dies without feeding, or I suppose you end him—which it seems you won’t do,” she says accusingly.

“I won’t.”

“Then do what you will, witcher.” She sounds resigned even as she turns away with a dismissive wave, sauntering off into some other portion of the house down a long hallway to his right. 

Geralt’s stomach twists at the thought that this may be the last time he sees her, speaks with her, and they’ve ended on such a sour note. “Thank you, Yennefer...for everything.” He says this softly, but somehow he knows she has heard him. 

With a final look down the now empty hall, Geralt turns, his eyes settling across the exhausted body before him. In three strides he’s beside Jaskier now, and takes his hand within his own. Jaskier’s skin is cold. 

“Let’s go, Jask.”

And as he slips into the night, a vague direction planned within his mind, strangely Geralt finds he feels nothing but peace. 

 --------------------------

He’s so unbearably hot. 

It’s as if his skin has molted, revealing something fresh and new and entirely too weak like a newborn's flesh and he aches with it.

It’s difficult to open his eyes, the slit between his lashes hard won and he closes them immediately in the end, the air around him bright with flickering warmth. 

“Jaskier? Jask.”

He knows that voice though it feels far away, muted beneath his pain and the tightness of his own body. He clenches his jaw, teeth and gums radiating with discomfort as he realizes he’s lying down, his back on something firm yet soft. He feels fingers run through his hair.

“Sleep. You’ll wake when it’s time.”

He doesn’t understand what that means and yet...he knows it to be true.

And so Jaskier sleeps.

 ---------------------------------

The next time he wakes, Jaskier knows he is not the same.

His body thrums, residual pain receding into something else, something that sings in his veins and calls to him from beyond. It’s instinctual, and his eyes shoot open with the hunger that would be foolish to call bodily alone. 

He can smell him now. A man. Smoky and sweet—salt and musk. His mouth waters uncontrollably.

Elongated nails, sharp at their points, dig into fabric that lies soaked with sweat beneath him. His chest is bare, but the breeches around his legs remain and immediately he knows this will not do. With a strength that feels nothing but right, Jaskier is quick to rip them away along with his braies, leaving his skin unencumbered in the night air. His cock hangs heavy between his legs and his back arches with the feel of the fire-warmed air caressing his balls that already tighten with need.

It’s nearly overwhelming, the amount of sensation he feels. He feels empty, his jaw aching and fingers itching to slash and claw, to draw blood that he can lick away, filling his body with nourishment and energy—

He needs to feed. He needs it desperately.

He looks around, taking in the room. It appears to be a cave, carved into the side of a mountain, the drop off at the mouth of the entrance steep and dark, but he can easily see out into the night with his enhanced vision. Somehow, this doesn’t phase him at all, and as his eyes scan the walls, the ceiling, across the fire to his right and through the flames, he sees him.

Geralt.

If pressed, Jaskier would be unable to explain the exhilaration that runs through him at the sight. It feels wrong when he smiles, his teeth taking up too much of his mouth but he does it all the same; he can’t help it. Seeing Geralt makes him so happy.

“Jask...how are you feeling?”

The words sound off to his ears, but even so he understands them. Answering the question however, is not his priority at the moment. 

With limbs that feel shaky for only a moment before they strengthen, Jaskier rises, his member bobbing and full with every step he takes towards the man on the other side of the fire. Geralt’s eyes glow, and Jaskier can see the cords of muscle in his neck tighten with anticipation. The witcher is nervous...interesting. 

Once Jaskier sees it, he can’t seem to look anywhere else. Geralt’s pulse pounds beneath the thin, white skin above his collarbone, and Jaskier feels himself swoon at the sight. Two quick strides have him close enough to touch and he doesn’t hesitate to bury his nose within the crook of Geralt’s neck, taking in the scent of the man, his nose picking up things he knows he never has before. Jaskier’s skin tingles with the proximity and suddenly his urges snap into place; this is his friend, this is his love, this man is his.

“Jask, do you know who you are? Who I am? Do you...do you know what’s happening?”

Geralt’s voice cracks as Jaskier licks the column of his throat, from the dip in his clavicle to the point of his chin. Geralt tastes like sweat and anxiety, and Jaskier can’t get enough.

Strong hands hold Geralt at the nape and lower him down to the rough ground, the points of Jaskier’s nails digging into Geralt’s scalp just enough to draw blood. As he straddles Geralt’s hips, Jaskier’s eyes find Geralt’s own wide with trepidation and slowly Jaskier takes the hand away, bringing it to his mouth and placing the bloodied fingers onto his tongue.

His vision goes white with the pleasure that runs through him.

At once, it’s like he’s woken for the first time. He needs this, he has to take, has to feed—

His fangs sink home into the vein at Geralt’s neck, and warmth blooms upon his tongue, heavy and aromatic as the thick glide of the witcher’s life essence slides down his throat.

Geralt’s body tenses and he swallows a cry as Jaskier suckles his skin, his teeth penetrating deeper as he begins to rock his body against the man held captive beneath him. The sensation is new and yet so familiar, right in a way that nothing has ever been as he uses Geralt’s body to satisfy his own. There’s a voice in his head, telling him to hunt, claim, mate, breed, as he takes and takes what he wants from Geralt.

“J-Jask—” Geralt stutters, but Jaskier cuts him off with a low growl. Geralt’s body is as taut as a bowstring beneath him and something in that sings wrong in Jaskier’s head, like a chord struck wrong in the song at his fingertips. 

He will do something about it.

He doesn’t know how he becomes aware of the ability, but he does all the same, activating something within himself like a switch he can turn on at will to draw himself even closer to his victim, to his meal, to his lover—

He invades Geralt’s mind.

Words do not exist here, but instead, it is feeling. Jaskier wills the body beneath him to soften and sate, relax into the curves and points of Jaskier’s body and Geralt complies without fight. Where his hands had been clenched into fists and his breathing labored, now there is nothing but tranquility, a body giving itself over to be used as it will.

Jaskier can hardly stand it.

His teeth rip from Geralt’s body, but the connection remains as Jaskier decides there is certainly too much clothing between them. With a few swift movements, Geralt is bare beneath him, and Jaskier can’t feast his eyes on enough skin. With a hunger he can’t name he decides he must see it all, as if he has been waiting for years, though time does not exist here. Right now there is nothing more than this cave and this desire and this hot, burning need. He flips Geralt over.

Scars, endless upon creamy canvas—and Jaskier knows he must add his own. It’s almost as if he is watching from above as he sees his own claws rake over Geralt’s back, drawing lines of crimson in long patterns. His tongue is quick to follow, sucking the flowing rivers out of deep trenches. Each drink goes straight to his cock and soon enough, Jaskier can’t take it anymore, his teeth sinking back into the vein that bleeds sluggishly from Geralt’s neck.

Time passes and the man below him grows colder, in increments. Still Jaskier is not satisfied. Something claws at him from within, older than the new song that plays in his head on loop, something from before, something important. After ignoring it for as long as he can, it breaks through, however.

Don’t kill him!

The thought feels wrong to his animalistic desire but it stops him all the same. He rises, his fangs leaving skin only for his tongue to lap at the wounds, sealing them as quickly as he can. Geralt’s skin has taken on a grey tint, and this does something strange to his gut.

Fear. He feels fear.

He is ours, but you cannot end him, not like this!

And yet he knows he cannot stop, his body is not ready, has not been fed, has not been filled.

Suddenly another idea overtakes him.

Geralt lies still, his breathing slow and steady even as his heart beats thready and weak. Pity lies somewhere beneath Jaskier’s skin but he ignores it, dragging his fingers through the beads of sweat and blood that leak steadily from Geralt’s wounds, two fingers drenched with it as he looks down to where he is straddled, over the rounded peaks of Geralt’s arse. His hands find themselves beneath the witcher’s hips, guiding them up until Jaskier can easily see the sweet, pink, puckered hole of Geralt before him, and without preamble, he slides two crimson fingers within.

Geralt is still warm here, and as Jaskier works him open, fast from the start with rough strokes, his teeth sink into the curve of his cheeks, small bites drawing more blood from pale skin.

Two fingers is all Jaskier has patience for.

His cock throbs, nearly purple in its fullness as he lines up with the now red rim of Geralt, and without so much as another breath, sinks home to the hilt.

Jaskier can feel within himself the way Geralt shudders though his body is kept still from the thrall that wraps itself entirely around his mind. Geralt’s body only gives—lets itself be taken by Jaskier and all at once he knows this is what he needed. His stomach, his veins full from Geralt’s nourishment, and his cock wrapped up in the witcher’s warmth as his insides batter against the length of him. The slide is sweet and Jaskier pants with pleasure, running through him like sparks set to ignite into a blazing, uncontrollable fire. His claws find purchase in Geralt’s hips, digging deep into muscle and grinding into bone. Jaskier nearly cries out with the deliciousness of it all.

This is what he has craved, every corner of his being suspended in want for years on end, coming to a glorious conclusion, a poetic end as Jaskier gives in to his every want. He plows forward, in and out of Geralt’s hole as he begins to weaken the hold on the witcher’s mind; he wants Geralt to feel this, wants Geralt to know that he is owned, held up only by the strength of Jaskier’s hands—

“Ah!”

The sound is one of pain, and yet it only drives Jaskier on further.

“Jaskier, stop— Stop...”

Geralt fights weakly, still drained of energy from the blood loss, and this of all things is what pulls Jaskier over the edge.

He spills his seed into Geralt, warmth spreading around him as he keens into the night air, a chill settling beneath his skin with a dizzying immediacy. Slowly, it’s as if his body returns to him, the harried internal screams of more, more quieting to a dull hum. He is sated...full. He can’t remember feeling like this in a very long time. He shudders through the residual tremors of his orgasm, dripping the last of his spend into Geralt’s body with a sense of relish. This is wonderful. This is heaven.

“...Jas?”

With the lightness blooming in his chest, Jaskier had nearly forgotten his witcher. With an exhausted smile on his face Jaskier finally looks down, taking in the sight before him.

Geralt is covered in blood.

And with such a sight, something within him stops.

“...Geralt?”

Somehow he had known what he had been doing and yet...the consequences of such had been shelved, buried six-feet deep, flung over his shoulder to be thought of later. His skin is pink and flushed and Geralt’s is crimson and grey-toned. The air rushes out of his lungs in one unhappy push.

“Geralt…”

He tries to be gentle as he removes himself, his limp cock bouncing against his own inner thigh as he flips Geralt over gently and with newly shaking hands, “Oh gods, Geralt—Geralt I’m so sorry, what have I done—”

“Jask…” Geralt’s voice is thin and weak, his eyes barely open even as a small smile appears on his face, and immediately Jaskier wants to slap him for it. “It’s alright...it’s alright. I’m alive, you didn’t,” —he takes a breath— “I’m alright.”

Jaskier looks around frantically, taking in the pools of blood on them both and pales, “You could still die!”

“No. I won’t. Come here.” He gestures to himself, uncaring of his nudity nor Jaskier’s even as Jaskier blushes deeply, regardless of what they have just done. 

Jaskier recoils in disgust, “No, no don’t let me touch you, I’m a monster, a freak—” he cuts off abruptly, his eyes going wide, glossy as his gaze is lost in the distance. “You have to kill me.”

Grunts of pain are heard as Geralt tries to sit upright, only to realize it’s a losing battle; he doesn’t have the strength. Still his voice is fierce when he says, “No.”

“Yes, witcher...yes…”

And suddenly Jaskier can hardly breathe for the sorrow that swallows his entire heart whole.

Geralt finally knows how Jaskier feels and yet it comes at the highest cost. Not only did he hurt his friend, the man he loves—but this will be the end. Jaskier lists to the side, catching himself on cold stone with a clammy palm. He shivers in the night air, the sweat on his skin cooling rapidly. He doesn’t much care.

“No, Jaskier, I will not.”

“And why not?” Jaskier cries, tears slipping from his eyes as he whips his head towards Geralt and stares him down, defiant. “That’s what you’re made for—to kill things like me!” Finally, he breaks down into tears, burying his head into hands still smeared with Geralt’s blood. He’s disgusted with himself. If only Geralt would just do it already, he would welcome it—

Arms come around him, warm, even if they lack the temperature Jaskier knows they normally house. His breath stutters in his chest.

“Don’t you see, Jask? Can you really not?”

Slowly, blue eyes search for golden, blazing in the molten light. They are always so beautiful, Jaskier thinks. It will be a pity to know them no more. But Geralt just looks back, his expression soft...fond.

“Can’t you see I’d do anything for you?”

As Jaskier’s face crumples, and Geralt holds him through his echoing sobs, a low timbre tells of how Geralt knew—with Yennefer’s help of course—what would happen...and came anyway.

Jaskier shakes his head in exasperation as Geralt finishes, his voice shaky as he says, “You stupid, stupid witcher. You couldn’t have known it would be alright.”

“I don’t take unnecessary risks.”

“You did tonight.”

But Geralt did it all for him, and he won’t soon forget it.

“Besides, bard, this is the only night you will even show vampiric traits, if you so wish. So stop being so dramatic. You can live your life as you always have.”

Jaskier looks up, eyes tear bright and hopeful. “As I...always have?”

Geralt hums, nodding.

“With me.”

[futurewriter2000]

Hearless - pt. 11

A/N: I know I’m late to post this but I’ve been so exhausted from my morning shifts. I genuenly hate morning shifts because I am not a morning person and days pass so quickly. One minute I’m asleep, the next I’m awake at work. Anyways, this is a bit “normal” part- it’s like an intro to a good ass part. Hope you like it. 

*Legilimency is the act of magically navigating through the many layers of a person's mind and correctly interpreting one's findings. A person who practises this art is known as a Legilimens. *

XX

You couldn’t decide which shirt to put on for breakfast. If you came down in a T-shirt, then they will ask questions but wearing a sweater in summer isn’t the brightest cover up to come up with. 

“I can just say I’m cold... or something...” you mumbled to yourself as you tugged the sleeves down your hands and bit your lower lip. 

‘I just won’t tell them.’ you told yourself. ‘Just remember what he said to you. Mum and dad already know, so they won’t be a problem but James? He can be such a prick when it comes to my private things.’

---

You walked down the stairs and found Sirius chewing his sandwich toast as he kept reading on the newspapers. “Morning.” he said as he chewed, keeping his eyes on the paper. 

“Morning, Sirius.” you smiled, walking into the kitchen and grabbing yourself a cup to make some coffee. 

It was a simple process every morning; boil water, add sugar, add coffee, pour into the cup, add milk. - And when you have done all of those things, you smiled to yourself at the scent of the wonderful home-made coffee and sat behind the table.

You looked up and saw him staring with one of his eyebrows quirked up. “What?”

“Are you in a sweater?” 

“And here comes yet another marvelous observation, Sherlock Holmes.” you leaned forward, teasing as he rolled back his eyes far back to his head. “Oh yummy.” you reached for his other half of sandwich as he slapped your hand away.

“AH-OI!” he looked at you, all considering serious. “Excuse me, get your own sandwich, lady.”

“Lady?” you scoffed with a laugh. “You owe me, prick. You ate my donuts last time!” you reached again but he took a hold of your wrist and narrowed his eyes at you. “You. Owe. Me.” you narrowed your eyes as well, challenging him into a silent battle of the glares. 

He looked away and let go off your wrist. “Fine.” he threw your wrist away and you gave him a triumphant smirk as your hand reached for the sandwich. “I would have given it to you if you asked nicely, though.” he shrugged, taking another bite.

“Since when do we do nice, Sirius?” you smiled, taking in the bit as he laughed.

“That is awfully sad but true.” he said, letting his smile fade as he swallowed the last peace of food in his mouth. He brushed off his palms and leaned back- then back forward to lean on his elbows as he fumbled with his thumbs. He looked at you.... concern this time. “You should have used my sweater to hide the scars, (y/n). The one I gave you that night with the frog sock. It’s nicely thin, breathable for your skin.” he stood up and grabbed his plate to the sink, grabbing a sponge and opening the water. 

You sat there, stopped to chew and continue to eat. That last bite was hard to swallow when somebody like Sirius told you something like this. You turned your head over your shoulder and looked at him with wide eyes, almost wanting to scream what had happened to you. 

Odd.. this feeling of wanting to confide into somebody about all the things you told yourself you would never in life confide to anybody. 

You stood up and grabbed your coffee mug to the sink, leaning on the counter next to him. 

He stopped washing the dishes, his heartbeat raising as he slowly looked up at you. You crossed your arms over your chest and let your hand travel to his cheek. Your thumb brushed across his cheek as his eyes sent you a flash of desire. 

He blinked a few times, to bring himself back from your touch, shaking his head and scrubbing the plate. “Uh... your boyfriend came over a few nights ago. He gave James a letter to give it to you.” 

You let your hand fall back to your chest, hugging your arms. “Yeah.” you smiled, walking back to the table. “I got it.” you pulled your heels on the edge of your chair and hugged them both. “He was going back to France. Said he would be back after graduation- the last summer before he packs up his things and moves there.” you trailed off, staring at the morning sun. 

“Moves there?” Sirius came back to the table, wiping off his hands with his cloth. 

“Yeah. He decided to live in France, since he was in school most of his life.”

“And you?” he asked, leaning on the chair and staring  at you with intense blazing eyes. 

“What about me?” you gave him a soft smile.

“Will you move in with him?” 

“No.” you laughed. “He wanted me to but I told him we already broke up, so it was useless going back together and moving across the world to France. I don’t even know the language, though I do know some words.” you let out a soft giggle that made Sirius stiffen up. 

He shook himself off jealousy. “You two broke up?” he sat back down. 

“Yeah. That “first date”- was me telling him we kissed and he was so pissed at me from cheating on him that he broke up with me before storming away.” 

“Why would you tell him?” 

You shot your head to him in wonder. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“I mean, the two of you would still be together. I wouldn’t tell.”

“I didn’t want to be together with somebody when I kissed you, Sirius.” you furrowed your eyebrows at him as he continued to stare with no expression. “Relationship is about trust and loyalty... and truth. I told him because he deserved to know.”

“But it was just a kiss.” 

You let out a soft laugh, standing up and walking to the sink. You grabbed a glass from the cabinet and turned on the pipe. “It wasn’t just a kiss to me.” you mumbled, knowing fair well he had heard you clearer than ever. 

Your whole chest was burning from the fire your heart caused. It was painfully quiet and it was that same pain that made your eyes focus on the cold water flowing from the pipe.

“I’M COMING IN SO IF YOU TWO ARE SNOGGING PLEASE STOP!” James shouted as he covered his eyes with his hands and walked blindly into the kitchen and peeping through his fingers to see if it was safely innocent for his eyes. “Oh, thank God. Morning.”

“Really, James.” you smiled, walking past him to sit back to the table. 

“Might as well make the two of you suffer for that.” he grabbed himself a cup and a teapot, bringing it to the table. “Why are you wearing a sweater? It’s boiling here.”

“Cuz I enjoy sweaters. It’s Britain, James. It’ll get cold sooner or later.” you hugged yourself and continued to watch him sit down and take a sip of his tea. “Plus, mum and dad went on some errands. Said they’d be back soon.” 

“Yeah, I know. Dad left me a note on the desk- oh that reminds me.” he turned to Sirius. “He also said we’d have to go get something into town tonight before five. Said it’s urgent and well, who else to trust with urgent things then his eldest son.” James puffed out his chest and winked. 

“Pompous brother?” you rolled your eyes as he continued to play his child-like smile on his lips.

“That I am not afraid to admit.”

“Good thing-”

“Blimey!” your father apparated into the room with a few bags in his hands and looked up at his three children.”Morning, you three.” he said as he trotted to the kitchen and placed down some of the bags. “Your dear old mother will never let me come home in less than two bags.” he started to unpack the groceries.

“Hey dad, you’re early.” you said as your father looked over his shoulder and smiled at you.

“I know. Got things done earlier. Your mother, however, ran into that- what’s her name again- Mina?” 

“Nina?”

“Yes, her. Her mother and obviously they hopped their way into the tea land.”

“I bet they’re talking about sexy men from Cuba.” James started to tease, making both of you and Sirius laugh. “Nina’s mum is probably telling mum about the man who would be perfect for her.”

“Oh, James, my dear boy.” he walked back to him, tapping his shoulder. “If you ever want that new broom of yours, you’ll be smart enough to shut your mouth.” 

“Gee dad. It’s only jokes.” James lifted his hands in defeat and sent Sirius a wink. 

“This is for you, deary. Just like you said.” your father trotted to you and placed down two large books. “These two were the most recommended.”

“Thanks dad, you took the books and opened the first one.”

Sirius and James exchanged glances, both furrowing their eyebrows like two identical set of twins. “What is this?”

“Books.”

“Bravo, Sherlock.”  Sirius looked at you, giving you an amusing smile before you sent him a smile of your own. He reached for one book in your hands and tore it away as James grabbed the second one and started flipping through it. 

“Legilimency”” Sirius felt more confused then ever.

“Dreams interpretation?”  James was right behind him.

“Haven’t you told them yet?” your father said from the kitchen.

“Told us what?” James asked.

“I had the weirdest dreams last night.” you rubbed your eyes and looked at both of them. “Like there was Remus in them-”

“Oh, Pads, watch out-” James started to tease meanwhile both you and Sirius rolled your eyes in sync.

“Shut up, James.” you cut in. “It was so odd though- like I was a deer and I had a mouse on my head- like a massive fat mouse.” you started to show with your hands the size of your hands as Sirius and James started to process your words, growing more nervous than ever. “And then there was a big black dog in front of me- really ugly looking.”

“Excuse me?!” Sirius exclaimed, widening his eyes before feeling a slap of James’ hand on top of his mouth. He sent James a glare and James gave him back an apologetic look. 

You drew your eyebrows together and gave them a suspicious look. They were acting odder than usual. “Anyhow...” you trailed off, trying to go back to your dreams. “That dog turned into you-” you gestured to Sirius, giving him a teasing smile. “Which explains the ugliness.”

“And then I’m the rude one- really James? You call me the rudest out of here?” Sirius gave James another glare as James laughed nervously. 

“And you looked at me and said if we throw Worm into the lake and let him change in mid air so he can do a canon ball... or something???” you laughed, burying your head into your palms and looking back up at their crooked smiles. 

“Hahahaha!” James forced a laugh. “Worm... Why would- why would- uh, we- uh call a rat worm? Hahahha!” 

“I think... she said mouse, James.” Sirius corrected him.

“MOUSE! Yeah... mouse... that. Not rat... mouse on a stag...”

“I said deer.”

“Well they’re both the same thing..” James started to get a bit offended. 

“Then if I would be a deer, I’d be a doe, not a stag.”

James pursed his lips together and breathed hard through the nose. “Alright... doe then. It still doesn’t explain the books.”

“Doesn’t it though?” you stood up to get the books from both of their grasp, which was lot easier despite they were...well, James and Sirius.  “I’m looking for a meaning.”

“The dog might be an omen?” your father sat beside you, wiping his hands with a cloth. “Like a ghost, perhaps. I mean, don’t you call Sirius Padfoot, James?” he looked at James as James and Sirius looked at each other with wide eyes. “ In Lancashire they call the black dog many things. From Grim to Padfoot and since Sirius was the one who turned into-”

“WOW DAD!” James boomed throughout the room, clapping his hands and standing up. “That’s a great history lecture but me and Paddy here will go to get ourselves ready for that...uh.... urgent thing you gave us.” he sent both of you finger guns and pulled Sirius to his feet. “Let’s go... Sirius.” he pushed him forward, out of the room, up the stairs and into their room. He locked the door behind him.

James turned to Sirius, who was running his hands through his hair nervously. James waved his hands at him, as if he was screaming at Sirius but in reality only came out in loud whispers. “HOW DOES SHE-”

“DID YOU TELL HER?”

“OF COURSE I DID NOT TELL HER! DID YOU TELL HER?!”

“NO I DID NOT TELL HER!”

“You sure?!”

“Why would I tell her!?!”

“I don’t know, maybe because you fancy her!”

“Prongs, will you stop mentioning that! I didn’t tell her!”

“Then who did-”

“It’s your memory, Prongs! You told her!”

“...” James stood there quiet, like a linden statue, staring at his best friend as his brain tried to process it. His eyes went wide and his mouth fell open. “OH MY GOD-” he started to punch Sirius from the realiasation. “WHAT IF IT’S A TWIN THING! OH MY- DO YOU THINK WE’RE TELEPATHIC!”

“James...”

“MATE! Mate.. mate..” James smiled broadly at his best friend. “How cool would it be if we are actually those twins that can telepathically communicate-”

“James...”

James slapped his hand on his mouth. “Oh- what if she’s listening to me right now.”

“JAMES!” Sirius took James’ shoulders and shook him. “Calm down, for crying out loud. You’re not telepathic. I think she is- sort of.” he shrugged as James kept watching him. “I think she’s a Legilimen.”

[breathing-and-writing]

Bugs Need To Be Warm During Winter

Happy Holidays @voiidfriend, I’m your back-up @mlsecretsanta! I’m sorry it took so long, but I hope you enjoy your gift!

Read on Ao3

January, the start of the new year, a month of new beginnings. The new year always brought the opportunity for setting resolutions and trying new things, but unfortunately for some students, it also meant the start of a new semester. Coming back to class in the middle of winter was not only hard for them but also concerning for a certain kwami, who knew that his other half had a hard time during the colder months, especially if she was alone.

The little god peeked his head out of his chosen’s bag to look at the classroom. He had probably never seen the class this bored before, the lack of energy from having to start school again so blatantly evident, he had to hold back the urge to cackle. The most important thing was that everyone was either looking directly at the board or trying really hard not to fall asleep, so he should be able to do what he wanted while staying undetected. Leaving the warmth of the bag he had been occupying behind, he kept under the desks as he inched towards a certain pink purse, going into it when he finally reached it.

“Plagg?” He had honestly been hoping for a more excited greeting.

“Hey, Sugar cube.” His words were accompanied by a smirk.

“You shouldn’t be here, what if someone had seen you?”

“Eh,” he made a nonchalant gesture with his hands, “you worry too much, everyone here is blind.”

“What are you doing here?” Apparently, she was going straight to the point.

“Oh, you know what I’m doing here.” He tried to appear indifferent, but he couldn’t help but gingerly avert his eyes.

“No, I don’t. Please enlighten me.” Now it was Tikki’s turn to appear smug.

“Bugs need to be warm during winter.” He said reluctantly.

“Oh, and you’re here because…?” Her eyes widened in what most would consider an innocent way, but Plagg knew better.

“Don’t make me say it.” He pleaded with a groan.

The wide blue eyes that stared back at him told him that she wanted him to say it.

“Because I don’t want you to be cold.” He grudgingly admitted.

“I’m fine.” If she hadn’t shivered at the exact same moment she replied, the other god probably would’ve believed her.

“Tikki, we’re two halves of a whole. No amount of scarves or blankets will keep you warm like me.”

She distracted herself by burrowing deeper into her scarf. “That doesn’t matter, you shouldn’t be away from Chat Noir.”

“You know it’s true. It’s not our fault they don’t know their identities yet.”

“But–”

“And you shouldn’t have to suffer because of it.” 

“Aw Plagg, you do care!”

“Whatever,” he dismissed her words, then quietly added, “you know I do.”

“I guess you being here for a little while won’t hurt anybody.”

“I knew you would listen to reason.” A grin started taking over his face.

“But as soon as the class is over you go back to Chat Noir, okay? An Akuma could attack at any moment.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He gestured for her to come closer as he opened his arms. “Now c’mere.”

┅┅┅┅┅

For the first day back at school after winter break, it sure had been a busy one. A whole day of classes mixed in with Alya explaining to her every single new update she had made to the Ladyblog and ending with the first student body meeting of the year. A meeting that lasted two hours longer than it should’ve, because half of the people hadn’t bothered to read the e-mail that had been sent a week ago, and the other half just kept disagreeing with everything proposed. It sure was enough to make a part-time superheroine long for a nap.

Marinette started making her way down the stairs towards the locker room, so she could gather her things and finally go home. She let out a dreamy sigh as she spotted her favorite fencer currently practicing in the courtyard. How did Adrien Agreste manage to be so good at everything he did?

The boy took a sudden pause in his match, lifting his mask and waving at the girl as he spotted her too. Somehow, she managed to bring her hand up to wave back, though she was more focused on keeping her blush to a minimum and not missing any steps like the last time she ended up falling down the stairs. 

The girl sighed as she finally reached the locker room, relaxing as she closed the door behind her. Remembering her kwami, she opened her purse she could address her.

“Hey, Tikki, I’m sorry the meeting took so long, it’s just–” Her voice failed her as she saw the inside of her purse.

Tikki was there alright, sleeping soundly while burrowed deep into her scarf like she was supposed to, but she wasn’t alone. Instead of using the fabric as a pillow, she was nestled in the arms of another sleeping kwami, a certain bad luck kwami that wasn’t supposed to be there.

As Marinette continued to stare, Tikki started to stir, sighing as she opened her eyes. She seemed to be in pure bliss until she looked up and their gazes met. The little god gulped as she shook her companion awake. Plagg started to complain as he stirred, but then he opened his eyes fully and realized their predicament. He wisely chose to stay quiet.

“Plagg?” The girl finally found her voice. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, you see, it’s actually quite a funny story–”

“Wait.” She cut him off abruptly.

Marinette paused to scan the room. Once she was sure they were alone, she moved to the hidden spot behind the lockers, so they would be out of sight of anyone that decided to come in.

“Okay. Okay, okay, okay.” She addressed the kwamis again. “What is going on? Why are you here? And why aren’t you with Chat Noir?”

“Relax, M.” Plagg said as he started floating up towards her eye level. “We were just taking a little nap.”

“What?!” 

“Sugar cube here needed some warmth, that’s all.”

“Do you have any idea how irresponsible and dangerous that was?!”

She looked accusingly at the kwamis, both of them now out of her purse, and started pacing to try and keep her words calm.

“What if someone had seen you? Or what if there had been an Akuma? You guys know we have to put Paris first, Chat Noir and I have always had to do that.”

She stopped at the mention of her partner, realizing yet another problem that came with their situation. If she wasn’t panicking a moment ago, she definitely was starting to now.

“Oh my god, does he know you’re here?” She whipped her head to look at Plagg, his averted gaze gave her all the answer she needed. “He doesn’t. He doesn’t! He must be panicking right now! Do you even know how to go back to him?” Her volume started rising in tandem with her panic. “Oh no, this is a complete disaster!”

“Uh, Marinette–”

“You know I’m not that type of person, but I’m the Guardian now! All of us are supposed to be working together to–”

“MARINETTE!”

The voice of her kwami managed to break through her rambling. 

“What?” She asked in exasperation.

Both kwamis stood there stiffly, nervously pointing to something behind her.

“Oh, don’t you think you’re going to be able to distract me from–” Her words died in her throat as she turned and saw what, or more precisely who, they were pointing to. Uh oh.

“Adrien! Hey!” She tried to appear casual as she shifted to try and hide the kwamis behind her body. “What are you doing here?” She failed.

Adrien seemed to break out of his trance at her words. He took a deep breath and tried to say something normal, but apparently, his filter had been left behind in the courtyard.

“Oh, you see, after class today I couldn’t find Plagg, so I thought I could ditch fencing a bit early today, so I could have time to look for him before my driver arrived, so that’s what I did and here he is, so I guess my plan worked.” Maybe he should’ve thought about what he was going to say before he opened his mouth.

“Oh, okay that makes sense.” A whole ten seconds of awkward silence went by, then his words sunk in, and she took a double-take. “Wait, what?”

“I mean, I found him, but now I’m just confused by the whole situation.” He tried to smile to convey that nothing was wrong, but it ended up looking more like a wince.

“Let me explain,” Plagg came forward as he cleared his throat, “I snuck into Mari’s bag during class, so I could help Tikki stay warm ‘cuz I care about her wellbeing or something, but we ended up falling asleep… haha.” Everyone was gaping at him, so he tried to defuse the tension by continuing his explanation. “Basically, kid… yeah, you were right about who you thought Ladybug was.”

“Plagg!” Tikki replied in outrage.

“I’m sorry Tikki, but we obviously can’t salvage this one.” He finalized with a shrug.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait a minute.” Marinette interrupted their exchange. “Does that mean you are…” She turned to look at Adrien, still in shock.

“Mhm,” he managed, “and you are…” The shocked expression left his face and was replaced by a dashing grin as he realized.

They were obnoxiously interrupted by the sound of the doors banging open and the chatter of students entering the locker room after their fencing practice. Their time was up.

“We’ll talk later tonight, okay?” He said in a gentle tone.

She only managed to nod back before he exited the room.

Once the last student left, and she was alone again, Marinette felt like she could finally breathe. She tried to process everything that had just happened calmly, in the hopes of preventing another freak-out, but then the last words Adrien had said to her registered in her mind: “We’ll talk later tonight, okay?” He had said that they were going to talk later tonight because they had patrol later tonight. Later tonight! That was very soon–too soon–how was she going to manage to put herself together in only a couple of hours?

┅┅┅┅┅

Transforming and leaving her room had been painless enough, she had even left for patrol a couple of minutes early like she always did. It was when she was almost at their meeting place that she decided she needed a moment alone, just to take a breather, it would be quick, and then she would arrive on time to patrol. Which is why she was now on a random secluded rooftop, nervously pacing its length, and taking "deep breaths" that sounded pretty similar to hyperventilating, almost half an hour past the time she was supposed to meet Chat Noir for patrol.

The knowledge that she was late just added to her internal turmoil, which she was so absorbed in that she didn’t hear a certain someone landing a couple of paces beside her. 

“You’re running a little late to patrol, aren’t you?”

She stopped on her tracks at the sound of her partner’s voice, avoiding his gaze as she started wringing her hands.

“Hmm… yeah.” She admitted in defeat. “How did you know?” She turned to look at him as she asked.

“You’re my best friend Ladybug, I know you too well.” He accompanied his words with a gentle smile.

“Yeah… you are.” She realized.

He started to slowly approach her, trying to read her current mood.

“What’s bothering that pretty little head of yours?”

“You know what it is.” She said in an apprehensive tone.

“Well, I also know there is something else besides the fact that we know each other's names now.”

“This was not supposed to happen.” Had it not been for Chat Noir’s enhanced hearing he wouldn’t have heard it.

“I… are you disappointed?” He felt an ugly weight in his stomach. “Is it because you don’t like Adrien?”

“What?!” Ladybug seemed to snap out of her trance. “No, no. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I just… I feel like I failed.” She couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes.

“You know this was an accident, right?” He tried to comfort her.

“Yes! An accident that could’ve cost us everything! What if it hadn’t been you?” Her partner stood speechless. “I’m the Guardian because I messed up, and I haven’t stopped messing up ever since!” She groaned as frustration took over her. “I’m not ready to be the Guardian and I don’t know if I’ll ever be.” She turned around to avoid looking at her partner’s face.

“Maybe you weren’t ready, but I’ve always thought that things happen for a reason. It was meant to be.”

Her eyes got misty as she replied. “It’s just… I don’t want things to change, I never wanted things to change.”

“Well, I think things should change.” He closed the distance between them as he stood directly behind her. “Change can be for the better too, you know?” His touch was soft as he gently grasped her shoulders and spun her around, forcing her to look at him. “Bugaboo, we’re a team, remember? You don’t have to go through any of this alone, and you get to make your own rules now. You’re the Guardian after all.”

“Promise?” Her voice was small as she asked.

“Yeah, promise. It’s you and me against the world.” He stood at ease again when he saw some tension leave her shoulders. “You better now?”

The ghost of a smile touched her lips. “Yeah, thanks to you.” 

“I’m glad to hear that,” his voice took a sly lilt, “because we still need to talk about the other thing.”

“The other thing?”

Adrien had practiced this part of the conversation and knew exactly what he wanted to say, but now it seemed that words started to leave his mouth without guide or permission. “Yeah, look, I know on the other side of the masks we are not the closest of friends or anything–”

Oh, that other thing. Ladybug remembered, and the shock of the earlier reveal came crashing back into her.

“–I mean, I get it, my father can be very intimidating, and I don’t really have free time so, like, it’s not your fault at all that we aren’t closer–”

Oh my god, it has been Adrien all this time! And he thinks I don’t like him!–

“–and I hope this isn’t too sudden… Is it too sudden?–”

–but if he has been in love with Ladybug all this time… that’s me!–

“–but I’d really like to be closer to you, like, on both sides of the masks. I mean, I’ve always wanted too anyways because Marinette is so amazing–”

He is so cute when he’s rambling like that… Did he just say I’m amazing?

“–so could we, like, hang out sometime? Or just talk? I know you’re always super busy too, so–”

She decided to end his suffering by bringing a single finger up to his lips, effectively ending his rambling.

“Shutupshutupshutup.” She said in a hushed tone.

Ladybug’s mood continued to lift as he looked at her with confused kitten eyes.

“As adorable as it is to see you rambling, you really don’t have to do that.”

The confusion left his face at her words and was replaced by smugness. “You think I’m adorable?”

Now it was Marinette’s turn to be flustered as she realized what she had said. After all this time, THIS is how I confess?

“Ah–I–no, I mean, yes? I mean–” A blush started taking over her cheeks. “I’ve kind of always have?”

“Bugaboo…”

“I always thought of Adrien like that,” she averted her eyes, “and that’s the only reason I spent all that time trying to convince myself that Chat Noir wasn’t,” then as an afterthought she added, “but I definitely failed at that.”

“Oh…” understanding started to sink into him, “I always thought you stayed away from Adrien because I wasn’t as cool as you.”

“No… I was just nervous around you… all the time.”

“We really just were running around in circles all the time, huh?” He said with a breathy laugh.

“Yeah, I guess we were.”

“Can I?” He was hesitant as he opened his arms for a hug.

“Yes, Kitty, you can.”

He engulfed her in a hug, both of their hearts soaring.

“So, so, so,” he pulled back slightly to look her in the eyes, “if I like you,” he continued at her nod, “and you like me,” a grin started taking over his face, “does that mean we can–”

“Hold your thought right there Chaton.”

She stood on her tiptoes, bringing their faces inches from each other. She placed her lips right next to his ear, having to hold in a laugh at how tense he got.

“You have to beat me to the Eiffel Tower first.” She whispered.

Without wasting a second, Ladybug threw out her yo-yo, taking up from the rooftop in direction to the Eiffel Tower, only turning back to laugh at Chat Noir’s indignant expression.

“Hey! That’s cheating!”

[min-sugar-7]

DAY 6: “Can I uncover my eyes now?” “No, stop being impatient.” + Humor

Read it Here on AO3:

 “Can I uncover my eyes now?” Merlin said, not two minutes after Arthur covered them. 

 Arthur rolled his eyes, but still got a jab in his stomach from Merlin. “I could hear that eye-roll,” Merlin grinned over his shoulder. 

 “Shut up. Stop being impatient, Merlin.” 

 They were outside, in the dead of the night, stumbling through the forest like lunatics. Arthur tried hard to make sure Merlin wouldn’t crash into trees, but branches are pesky little things. Merlin let out another hiss when a tree branch grazed his arm. 

 “You’re going to remove this blindfold, or I’ll burn it,” Merlin hissed, rubbing his arm. Arthur sighed, resigned. He was determined to keep the location a secret, to see Merlin’s reaction when he would realize where they were. 

 “Just a bit longer.” Arthur guided Merlin to a clearing, a familiar one. Not much had changed since the last time they were here. The river still flowed, the long grass still tickled their ankles, and the air still felt chilly and clear. Arthur had planned this right to the smallest details. He'd tried his best to recreate the night they kissed.

 Arthur untied the knot to Merlin’s blindfold, letting it drop. Arthur saw everything, every expression that crossed his face. First, it was confusion, then realization sparked his eyes like the stars in the night sky. A brilliant smile crossed his features, giving it a manic edge. Then his eyes turned soft, dark in the moonlight. 

 Merlin met his eyes, face almost glowing in the starlight. “Prat,” Merlin muttered, drawing Arthur into a soft kiss. It’s been a month, but it still felt like the first time. Merlin’s kisses were eccentric- the softness of his lips contradicting the feel of his calloused hands framing Arthur’s face. His touch sent the same sparks, same feeling. He kissed like a man struggling for air, but sometimes they were soft and chaste and loving. 

 Arthur pulled back, resting his head against Merlin’s, relishing the warmth his body provided. “There’s more,” he muttered after a while of comfortable silence. 

 “Oh?” Merlin asked, fluttering his eyes open. Up this close, Arthur could see the faint blue of his eyes and the dim gold that freckled them. The darkness made it harder to make out anything else. 

 “Yeah,” Arthur said, “only if you have the patience to wait.”

 Merlin’s lips twitched upwards. “The one lacking patience would be you, your royal highness.” Arthur shook his head because only Merlin could make it sound like “chamber pot.”

 “None of that.” Arthur slipped his hand into Merlin’s, intertwining them. “I’ll have you know I’m plenty patient.”

 “Funny,” Merlin smirked. “If I can recall correctly, you’re the one who unceremoniously crashed his lips to mine, instead of waiting until the laws were repealed, like we agreed.” 

 Arthur shrugged his shoulders. “Would you rather I had not?”

 Merlin immediately shook his head, saying, “nuh-huh, kiss me again.” Arthur was more than happy to oblige. 

 Arthur dragged him to the picnic blankets he’d laid out this morning. Merlin raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Okay, which servant knows about us? ‘Cuz I definitely didn’t lay all this out,” Merlin said, sounding genuinely surprised. 

 “All me,” Arthur smirked, feeling proud. Merlin’s eyes widened, lips pressed in an impressed line. Arthur felt his pride soar. 

 “Impressive. Hard to believe, but impressive,” Merlin said and sat down. Arthur did the same. Arthur pulled out the fruits, bread, cheese, and tart cakes he packed from the basket. He laid it all out for Merlin to see. 

 “Are those apples and blueberry tarts? Who are you and what have you done to Arthur Pendragon?” Merlin narrowed his eyes in fake suspicion. 

 “The real Pendragon is rotting in my dungeons, Emrys. I’m here to kidnap you and make you my pet sorcerer,” Arthur lowered his voice for extra effect. Merlin gasped, his hands flying to cover his mouth.

 Merlin froze and then lowered his hands, face morphing into a thoughtful expression. “Will there be blueberry tarts?”

 “Plenty,” Arthur smirked.

 Merlin shrugged, reaching forward to grab some. “I see no problem with this, then.”

 They both stared at each other for a beat and then burst out laughing. Arthur loved moments like these. Moments where he could forget that he was King and Merlin was a powerful sorcerer, and enjoy the ridiculous company Merlin is. It was just them being completely, utterly, ridiculous. 

 “No, but seriously,” Merlin said, once they sobered up, “what do I owe this pleasure to?” 

 Arthur thought about it, “just for us. I wanted to show you something, but you have to wait.”

 Merlin smiled a soft one smile and shrugged. “As long as I’m waiting with you. What is it?”

 Arthur had to scold his heart for speeding up like that, especially when Merlin shifted over to cuddle with Arthur. His heart, obviously, did not listen. Merlin didn’t say anything about it. 

 “Well, you know that Astronomer that visited a few days ago?” Merlin nodded. He’d come with a visiting delegation from a kingdom of magic. Arthur had already made peace with the Druids. Now, he thought it was best to start with the neighboring kingdoms, too. Of course, the visiting delegation immediately recognized Merlin, and it was fun watching Merlin get all flustered and shy. 

 “He said a giant star would fall tonight, leaving a trail of ice. I wanted to watch, with you,” Arthur said and pulled Merlin closer. The night was getting colder. Merlin turned and gave a look so full of adoration, Arthur just had to kiss him again. “I don’t know how he knew, but…” Arthur trailed off, shrugging. 

 “He was a seer, remember? And he studies the sky for a living.”

 And so they waited. They teased, bantered, kissed, ate, and teased some more. They watched the sky, but Arthur spent most of it watching Merlin. Sometimes, if he turned a certain way, it looked like the stars were embedded in his eyes, twinkling and shining. Arthur loved him, so much, that it felt amazing. 

 “I’d seen this before, in Ealdor, I think.” Merlin burrowed his head on Arthur’s chest. Sometime during the night, they’d laid down on the blanket, too tired to sit up. Arthur tightened his grip around Merlin’s waist, pulling him closer. 

 “Hm?” Arthur hummed, telling Merlin to continue. Arthur buried his nose in Merlin’s messy hair, breathing in the comforting scent there. Merlin smelt like home- like the forests, crisp and fresh. Oh God, Arthur loved him.

 “I don’t remember much.” Merlin sighed. “But it was beautiful. I’m not sure if it’s the same thing.”

 “Can’t trust you to remember much, anyway. It’s a miracle you remember your own name.”

 For his efforts, Arthur got a mumbled, “shut up,” and a slap to the chest, followed by laughter. Worth it. 

 “As I was saying-” Merlin shifted, sliding his legs between Arthur’s, burrowing closer, “- it was a very big star, more like a chunk of rock or something. It left a trail of blue light behind, a long one. It was like a tail or something. It was beautiful.”

 “That sounds impossible. Rocks? In the sky?” They would fall down to the Earth. 

 “I know. But it wasn’t a star, I’m sure. It was too big.” Arthur stared dubiously because it sounded ridiculous. This led to a fairly stupid discussion (read: argument) on whether there could be rocks in the sky. Merlin thinks the Sun and Moon are rocks, while they’re obviously just big stars. Arthur said that this giant “rock” is just a hoax or something. 

 “I have faith. Maybe it’s true,” Merlin said, shivering. 

 “Cold?” Merlin nodded. Arthur went to the basket and brought out another blanket, earning a kiss from Merlin. They snuggled close, exchanging kisses and jabs.

 When the moon was halfway across the sky, Arthur gave up. It did put a damper on his mood, a big one, in fact. He wanted to show Merlin something pretty, something impossible. But it just didn’t happen.

 “Hey, stop pouting,” Merlin said, poking at Arthur’s lower lip. He wore a small smile and leaned forward to press another kiss. “It doesn’t matter-”

 “It does, though,” Arthur sighed. 

 Merlin’s eyes went all soft and adoring, his hands running through Arthur’s hair. “I’m happy, though. It’s been a while since I had this much fun,” Merlin confessed.

 Arthur had to agree. The past couple of months were hectic. He got crowned King, Merlin showed him a side of himself which Arthur never knew about, they fought, made up, almost kissed, decided they weren’t ready, and then kissed again because Arthur couldn’t wait. Then there were the countless meetings and delegations and feats. In the end, they were both worn out and tired. 

 But Arthur wanted to, perhaps, maybe, try doing something romantic. He failed, obviously, and it was disappointing. Arthur wanted to see Merlin’s brilliant smile, hear his melodious laugh, lose himself in his eyes. Arthur hated the fact that he’d gone all soft, but Merlin made it all worth it. 

 Merlin sighed, letting his head rest on Arthur’s chest. “Alright,” Merlin said, raising his head again. “I could show you what I saw in Ealdor as a kid.”

 Arthur considered it. If they wait for too long, they’d lose the night sky and won’t be able to see anything. 

 “How?” 

 Merlin smirked, wiggling his eyebrows. He raised an arm and wiggled it, “magic.”

 Arthur chuckled, impressed. “I thought you said magic was to be used judiciously, or something like that.”

 Merlin frowned, shrugging. “I think I can make an exception.” 

 Merlin rolled away from Arthur’s chest, resting beside Arthur. Arthur turned his head so that he could see Merlin. He inched his hand closer to Merlin’s because he missed the physical contact. Merlin wordlessly held Arthur’s hand and closed his eyes. 

 Merlin said something Arthur couldn’t quite understand, but when his eyes opened, they flashed a brilliant gold. It reminded Arthur of sunsets. Merlin's face twisted, eyes narrowing in concentration and effort. His grip on Arthur’s hand suddenly tightened, making Arthur jump.

 “Merlin-” Arthur began to protest because Merlin’s grip suddenly slacked. Arthur’s stomach dropped, because what if Merlin hurt himself? He always pushes himself to his extent, poking and prodding at his limits.

 Merlin turned his head to the side, his eyes tired. The corners of his lips twitched up, smiling lazily. 

 Arthur’s heart dropped. Arthur pulled him closer, cradling him in his arms. Oh God, what if Merlin really hurt himself? Arthur should have known that it was a bad idea. Dammit. 

 “Watch,” Merlin slurred. Arthur couldn’t take his eyes off Merlin. He could not; will not. It was his fault, and Merlin isn’t telling him what’s wrong- “If you miss it, I’ll never forgive you.” 

 Arthur reluctantly tore his eyes away from Merlin, clutching him closer. And, oh, oh. It was large, larger than a wishing star, but smaller than the moon. But it left a beautiful trial of white and blue, glittering like a million stars crowded in one area. It moved across the sky, and in about a couple blinks, it was gone, leaving behind a trail of white dust. 

 Not a few seconds later, a wishing star passed by. Arthur knew it was childish and stupid, but he closed his eyes and wished a wish. 

 Arthur turned his head to where Merlin was still watching the sky. Something heavy bloomed in his heart, something spectacular, magical. Arthur wondered what he had done to deserve Merlin- someone so beautiful, so magical, so, so- Merlin. 

 Arthur was shocked by the intense wave of emotions he felt. He swallowed past the lump in his throat, content to continue watching Merlin watch the night sky. Merlin turned, and soon they were staring at each other.

 Arthur is very well aware that he looks like a love-sick fool, and for once, he doesn’t care. He wants Merlin to know, to understand, just how much he cares for him, how much he loves him. 

 So he did. Under the night sky, under the stars, right after Merlin did something that seemed so impossible, Arthur pulled him closer, delighted to have him in his arms. “I love you,” he whispered, and meant it with every fiber of his being. He’s never felt so deeply for anyone. He never let himself. But Merlin, sweet, loyal, impossible, Merlin, broke through every one of his walls and carved a Merlin-shaped hole in his heart. He wouldn’t have it any other way.

 Merlin’s expression changed from droopy to delighted, smiling wide and lazy. Merlin leaned forward but couldn’t get far. But Arthur understood. He pressed his lips against Merlin’s, nipping at his bottom lip, sucking it. Merlin’s kisses got sloppier, and Arthur pulled back. 

 “I lov’ y’u to-'' Merlin began slurring, but Arthur understood. He placed a soft kiss on his forehead, heart about to burst. He tucked Merlin’s head under his chin, bringing the blanket up to Merlin’s chin. He tucked him in, weirdly comfortable sleeping on the ground, but it mostly had to do with Merlin being in his arms.

[mizumelona]

set me up | atsumu x reader

SYNOPSIS: You’re an ambitious career woman, who’s got everything…except a significant other. Your mom, sick of you showing up to family functions alone, sets you up on a series of (terrible) blind dates. You make these dates meet you at your favorite restaurant, Onigiri Miya, but for some reason the owner’s jerk of a twin brother always happens to be there exactly when things crash and burn.

NOTE: Hello? Remember me? Did ya’ll think I’d dropped this. Ahhh Sorry for being slow. I felt like I had to take my time with this chapter since it’s the last one! (In the main story. I’m still planning on having an epilogue). Thanks for being patient! I’m so excited to finally share this with you all!

MASTERLIST

PREV | THE FAMILY BRUNCH | NEXT

TAGLIST: @awkwardali6106​ @kasandrafaye​ @veggytaled​ @svtbitch​ @stinkyobeymerat​ @hollypastl​ @differentballooncollection​ @o51oc​ @sunboikyo00 @justxanotherxshipper​ @kaisemieita @rizamendoza808 @tomo-uwu​ @sugardaddykenma​ @celinafeng@ravioliplease​ @thatpersonwithissues​ @humanbobjeanpants​ @suteorra​ @jh-bee​​ @haikyuu-blondes @of-heroes-and-dreams 

~

Atsumu’s car flew down the highway toward your aunt's house.

It was a bright day. You observed the puffy clouds spread across the sky through the window of Atsumu’s truck. It was an older Tacoma model but somehow it had a fresh leathery smell. You could tell that Atsumu treated this thing like his baby. As shitty as his personality was, you couldn’t deny that Atsumu seemed like a pretty reliable guy.

You looked over at him in the driver's seat. He was sitting with his left hand on the wheel and his right arm slung over the back of your chair. He was wearing a white button-down with the sleeves pushed up tucked into some dark jeans.

The sun was catching on his hair, dancing along its golden waves as he bobbed his head to the guitar riff playing on the speakers. The first few chords of a new song started. It was that one Megan Thee Stallion song that was always on the radio lately. Huh, you never really pegged Atsumu to be into rap.

You were about to go back to staring out the window when Atsumu turned to you and drawled in unison with the speakers, “I’m that bitch~”

You made an incredulous face. He looked over at you with a smirk but didn’t stop. “Been that bitch, still that bitch~”

You burst out laughing and then decided to chime in, “Will forever be that bitch~”

Atsumu flashed a bigger smile, his face turning a little red from trying not to laugh. You had trouble keeping up between your cackles. He was nodding his head and waving his right hand along to the beat. For the next few minutes, you both vibes along with the song until it finished. Once it did Atsumu turned to you with a snicker, “You’re not half bad sweetheart”

“Of course not”, you said crossing your arms. “I am that bitch. And apparently, you are too”, you snickered.

With a sigh you looked out the window, realizing that you were getting close to your aunt's house now. Suddenly it hit you that you were really going through with this. Was it a stupid idea? Would things go terribly wrong? Would someone see through the act and call you out? Your forehead went tense as you imagined all the worst-case scenarios for what could happen.

“Oho it’s a little too late to be gettin’ cold feet”, Atsumu said, clearly reading your thoughts.

“Hnnng”, you grumbled and massaged your temples.

“And anyway”, Atsumu continued, “isn’t this what ya wanted. It’s gonna be fun. Trust me” He turned to you with a boyish grin as he said that, the kind that made your heartbeat just a little bit faster.

Jeez. This guy. It was all your idea, so why did he sound more excited about it than you were?

“Plus. You’ve got me on your side. Makin’ my teammates shine is my special skill.”, Atsumu said with a smirk. Nevermind, he definitely wasn’t cute. Just your every day egotistical asshole. And now your nerves were back. Rip.

“This isn’t volleyball!” You quipped back. “Also slow the fuck down! We’re getting close to the house!”

“Wait, what! Which house!”, Atsumu exclaimed, slamming on the breaks.

“The blue one- No! Not that blue one the other blue one!”

Atsumu pulled the truck into the driveway with a screech. You lurched forward but your seatbelt stopped you from flying into the dash. You were about to flip out at him when you noticed your jerk cousin sticking his head out of the door inspecting the truck. Right. He probably didn’t recognize Atsumu’s truck. Hehe. Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad.

You looked nervously at Atsumu, but he didn’t seem worried at all. If anything he seemed giddy.

“Ya ready?”, Atsumu said, his eyes glinting.

“Of course”, you said, giving him a sly smile.

You both opened your doors and got out of the truck. As you fixed your hair, Atsumu jogged around to your side of the car and snaked his arm around your waist. You raised your eyebrows at him. He leaned down so his lips brushed against your ear and whispered, “let’s have fun with this”

He then moved his lips from your ear to your face and planted a gentle kiss on your cheek. You felt your face flush. He smirked and whispered in your ear again. “That was pretty cute. Didn’t take you as the type get flustered easily”

Was that a challenge? You glanced at your cousin who was still gaping at the doorway and smiled. If that’s how this was going to be, game on. You wrapped your arm around Atsumu and leaned your head against his chest, as you two made your way to the entrance.

“Hey cuz!”, you called out.

“Hey”, he absentmindedly responded, staring at Atsumu. “Who…is this?”

“Oh! This is my boyfriend, Atsumu.”, you said with extra emphasis on the word boyfriend.

“Nice ta meet ya”, Atsumu held out his hand.

Your cousin still looked confused as fuck. To be fair it’d been several years since you’d last been in a relationship and even then you rarely brought your significant others to family parties. In a way, fake-or-not, bringing Atsumu today was a first.

You pulled Atsumu past your dumbstruck cousin, through your aunt’s house toward the backyard where brunch was about to start. You both paused in the doorway taking in the sight. When it came to stuff like this, your family was unapologetically extra. Flowers were arranged and the nice dishware was set out at the large table on the left side of the space where most of your family was seated chatting. Atsumu’s eyes lingered on the volleyball net that was set up on the opposite end of the yard.

You took a few steps ahead of Atsumu, making your way through the door and down the stairs into the yard when your foot slipped. “Woah there!”, Atsumu exclaimed, lunging forward and looping his arm around your waist to prevent you from toppling over the side of the little staircase and into your aunt’s flowerbed. “Jeez that was a close one sweetheart”, he told you with a grin and a chuckle.

“T-thanks”, you stuttered out, hyperaware of how the chatter in the space had suddenly died down. Your aunts and cousins exchanged sly smiles and incredulous looks at the scene in front of them. You gulped. Atsumu beamed.

“Y/n?”, your mom called out looking bewildered. She glanced from you to Atsumu then back to you. “Who is this?”

“I’m her boyfriend, Atsumu. Nice to meet ya. Hope I’m not intrudin’”, Atsumu said with a toothy grin.

“Oh no. Not at all! Come sit down!”, your mom ran up to you both and got you situated next to each other at the table.

“I told you”, one of your aunties whispered loudly to your mom. The kind of whisper that was meant to be heard.

“You told her what?”, you asked.

“That you had a boyfriend. I heard all about it from Daisuke’s mom”, she said with a satisfied shrug.

“You did?”, you said, incredulous. The aunties’ gossip was next level. How did they already hear about that?

“I heard some guy crashed your date with Daisuke to declare his love for you”, she replied in a matter-of-fact tone. Atsumu coughed and looked at you raising an eyebrow. You suppressed a snicker.

“He said what?”, Atsumu said, trying to keep up his dashing smile but his irritation was clearly showing through. You had to suppress another snicker. He was always going on about how fake your smiles were but let’s be real, he was worse. His fake smile intensified and he inconspicuously kicked you under the table, but you just returned the favor and smiled wider. Oh the beauty of gossip.

Your aunt continued, “I also heard that Daisuke was going to fight the guy so you dumped water on him” Now it was Atsumu’s turn to laugh. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. What the hell Daisuke? Talk about a two-faced snake.

“I did what?”, you exclaimed with a scoff.

“And that after you ran off together into the sunset”, your aunt concluded the story. You and Atsumu sat dumbfounded. What kind of warped tale was this? Your aunt leaned closer and asked, “You’re her secret boyfriend right?”

Atsumu thought for a second then looked at you with a devious smirk. While the rumors were wild, they weren’t exactly bad. After all, you were here to convince your family that you and Atsumu were having a sweeping romance. Why not lean into it? You smiled back him and somehow knew you were on the same wavelength. Atsumu put his arm around your shoulder and replied, “Well I guess it’s no secret anymore, but yeah it’s true. I’m absolutely crazy about her”

“And apparently, I’m a little crazy for him too”, you added. You leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on Atsumu’s cheek. As you pulled away, you noticed that despite his nonchalant smirk his cheeks were turning pink. For all his big talk, he got flustered this easily? Maybe you should tease him more often.

You reached for his hand under the table and gave it a little squeeze as the meal began. Atsumu turned to you looking a little surprised, then rubbed your palm with his thumb and squeezed your hand back.

~

“I’m gonna go make myself a drink”, you excused from yourself from the table, leaving Atsumu who was chatting animatedly with your aunties. You made your way over to the drink table and poured yourself a cup. Your asshole cousin, seemingly recovered from the shock of your entrance, walked up to the table and poured himself a drink too.

“So”, he said pausing to take a sip, “How’d you meet this guy anyways. You were definitely single at my wedding three weeks ago.”

“Why do you sound so suspicious? We just kept running into each other. It was like fate or something”, you said making a grand gesture with your cup.

Your cousin scoffed. “Hah fate? Are you kidding? There’s no way.”

“You’re real funny ain'tcha?”, Atsumu appeared wrapping you from behind in an embrace. You tensed up, surprised by his sneaky hug. Something told you this was payback for earlier.

Your cousin rolled his eyes and turned to Atsumu, “Tell the truth buddy, did she bribe you to come with her today?

“Nah she didn’t, but if I knew you were gonna be here, she might’ve had to”, Atsumu said with a menacing chuckle, “I’m kiddin’”

You snickered.

Suddenly, a volleyball flew in your direction. Before it could hit anyone, Atsumu crouched down and bumped it back in the direction it came from, where a bunch of the kids had been passing it back and forth.

“Watch it kiddos”, he shouted as he returned the ball.

“Thanks, mister”, one of the kids shouted back.

“Nice”, your cousin said with a smirk. “Do you play?”

“Yeah I do”, Atsumu said, fixing his hair.

“Hah. Same. I played for the club team back in university. Hey, do you wanna round some people up and play a little match?”, Your cousin nodded in the direction of the net.

You looked at Atsumu skeptically. No matter how you looked at it it wasn’t exactly fair for a pro-player to go up against a bunch of amateurs. Then again, Atsumu was here for the sole purpose of being petty…

“Sure. Why not?”, Atsumu accepted the offer and winked at you.

Soon Atsumu and your cousin had gathered two teams of three people on either side of the net and a small crowd of children to watch. You were watching seated from the table with your mom and a few other aunties.

“Hey lover boy, I’ll let you serve first”, your cousin shouted, tossing the ball to Atsumu. Atsumu adeptly caught the ball and deviously smiled in your direction. You held a hand over your mouth covering your smile. Your shitty cousin had no idea what he was getting into.

Atsumu stalked away from the net then stopped. You thought back to his little serve routine at his game and stifled a giggle. There was no way. He wasn’t going to do it. Not here. Not to a bunch of 8-year-olds. He turned back with a serious face and snapped his hand up into a fist. The kids looked around awkwardly.

“PFTTT”, you nearly did a spit take. LMAO did he really just try to silence a bunch of 8-year-olds. You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from full-on wheezing. Your mom gave you a concerned look, so you took a deep breath and tried to pull yourself together.

“So”, the gossiping aunty from earlier turned to you and asked, “What does your boyfriend do?”

“Oh, Atsumu?”, you smiled and watched as Atsumu leaped into the air and slammed his hand into the ball. “He’s a pro-volleyball player”. Everyone at the tables eyes went wide and swung to look the scene at the makeshift volleyball court.

Bang! The ball went flying over the net. You really shouldn’t have laughed, but after all the shit he put you through you couldn’t help the cackle that escaped your lips as you saw the incredulous look on your cousin's face as the ball came barreling in his direction. It slammed into his gut with a dull thud that had him doubled over wheezing.

“Shit man sorry about that.” Atsumu jogged up to the net and rubbed the back of his head bashfully. “I’ll tone it down next time” As he jogged back into position, Atsumu sneakily winked at you. Jeez, what an asshole…but maybe…it wasn’t so bad to have an asshole on your side. To be fair you were kind of a bitch yourself. Honestly together you made a compatible pair. A power couple... A couple huh? You didn’t mind the thought. Maybe even more than that. Maybe you liked it. Because even though today was just supposed to be fun and games maybe, just maybe…you wanted it to be real. Maybe, you liked him for real. Shit. You bit your lip.

~

“It was great ta meet ya’ll today”, Atsumu waved goodbye to your family and made his way back to his car.

Your cousin grimaced at him through the doorway. Your mom was literally glowing as she waved goodbye. As you ran up to give her a goodbye hug she whispered in your ear, “You are going to fill me in on this later. I don’t know where you found him, but don’t let him get away!”

You smiled and whispered back, “Okay” Well, you couldn’t exactly let your mom down could you? And it’s not like you wanted him to get away either. You made up your mind. There was only one thing to do now.

You and Atsumu got back into his truck and started driving away. The sun was high in the sky now.

“Phew”, you sunk into your seat.

“Tired?”, Atsumu reached over ruffling your hair. You slapped his hand away. He pulled back with a chuckle.

“Just a bit”, you said resting your cheek on your hand propped against the door. “Hey. Thanks for today. For everything”

“No problem sweetheart”, Atsumu said, still focused on the road.

“I can’t believe you tried to silence the kids though. That was fucking hilarious”, you snickered remembering the sight.

“What? It’s my ritual. Can’t serve without it”, Atsumu argued.

“Fine. fine. Also, that serve was hilarious. Thanks for that too”, you chuckled remembering that too.

“I have no idea what you're talkin’ about”, Atsumu said with a sly smile and wink.

“Riiight”, you said rolling your eyes.

“Back to your apartment sweetheart?”, Atsumu asked.

“Hm, can we actually go for a little detour?”

Atsumu raised his eyebrows, “Oh, where d’ya wanna go?”

“I dunno…anywhere?”, you weakly suggested. Atsumu tilted his head, looking even more confused. You continued, “I just don’t feel like going home just yet”

“…Okay”, he had a mischievous smile, "Then I’ll take ya to my special spot.”

“Ooo. Special spot? Wonder where it could be”, you rolled down the window letting the breeze blow through your hair.

~

“Y’know when you said you were gonna take me to your special spot somehow I thought it was going to be I dunno...cool?”, you deadpanned.

“What! This is totally cool!”, Atsumu exclaimed.

“This is the dingy back parking lot of the volleyball stadium!”, you exclaimed back, motioning to your surroundings. Yep, he’d brought you to the empty parking lot behind Sendai stadium. It was just you two in the truck and the dumpster across the lot. So romantic.

“It’s my special spot!”, Atsumu grumbled.

“…”, You didn’t know what to say to this idiot. You fell for this guy? This guy? Talk about a volleybaka.

“…it’s even more special because this is where we had our first date”, Atsumu continued grumbling.

“Date?”, you asked. Did he really think of that time as a date? Was he just messing around again? You couldn’t keep leaving things ambiguous. You snapped, “Party’s over lemon head, you can drop the act now.”

“Right…”, Atsumu sighed and scowled. Maybe that was a little harsh, but you needed to get real with him right now.

You steeled yourself and turned to him, ”Hey Atsumu. I’m done acting, so can you hear me out for real?”

“…Sure?”, Atsumu propped his cheek on his knuckles, his elbow resting on the steering wheel.

“When I first met you”, You tentatively started, “I thought you were a complete asshole”

“Well jeez thanks”, his face turned even more sour.

“As we kept running into each other”, You continued. Atsumu’s face lit up. “I was even more convinced you were an asshole”

He grimaced and looked down. “You really had me in the first half the-“

“You’re a big, fat, petty, asshole BUT I’m also a greedy, irritable bitch.”, Atsumu looked up and raised his eyebrows. You kept going, “When I’m with you I feel like I can just be my realest, nastiest self and it’ll be okay”

You sighed and smiled a genuine smile at him, “It’s like I can finally take a breath y’know. Be at ease. And because I’m not afraid of coming off as nasty, I have the space to be sweet if I want to, to be comfortable. And the more comfortable I got around you the more I realized you could be sweet and sincere too”

You turned and looked him straight in the eyes. You had to see his reaction to what you were about to say next. “I know I asked you to come today so we could mess around and be petty but”, you paused then squeezed the final words out, “but I think I like you for real”

You stared intently at him, trying to read his expression. To deduce his feelings, predict his response. What was he thinking? For a second his expression didn’t change at all, then he sighed an exasperated sigh, and a small grin spread across his lips.

“Jeez [y/n] that ain’t fair”, Atsumu raked his fingers through his hair and pouted. “You weren’t supposta beat me to it!”

“Huh?”, you paused, not knowing what to make of it. Beat him to it?

Atsumu started speaking, “I’m a jerk and I know it. I don’t care. It makes me stronger this way. Usually, people back off or scold me once they realize I’m an asshole, but you’re never afraid to play dirty.” He stopped to chuckle. “It was kinda charming. I thought that was all there was to my feelings for you: a little sexy rivalry. But lately, that changed…”

Atsumu bit his lip before continuing. “I hate losers…even if that loser is me, but with you…”, he sighed. “Did ya really expect me not to fall for ya? You, the girl who makes me feel cool even when I’m a loser” His face flushed and he smiled but he also looked like he was on the verge of tears. “I didn’t think somethin’ like that could ever happen. Do you know how crazy that feels? For everything you thought you knew about yourself to be flipped upside down like that?” He looked straight at you with determination. You couldn’t turn away. “That’s why I’m sure. I like you. I like you for real”

Atsumu smiled a vulnerable, boyish smile. It looked so different on him from his usual devious smirks. You sat with your mouth agape.

After sitting in silence for what felt like it could be an eternity you finally spoke up, “…So we both like each other”

“Guess so sweetheart”, He shrugged, some mischief creeping into his tone. Classic Atsumu. He bit his lip, seemingly deciding on something and spoke, “Hey, there’s one thing I really don’t want ya to beat me to…if you’ll let me”

He leaned over the console, cupping his hand around your cheek. His hand was warm. You shivered at the touch.

“Can I?”, he asked.

You smiled and leaned toward him, but he swiftly pulled away.

“Woah woah I said I wanted to beat you to it!”

“Atsu-“

He closed the distance between you.

[flipomatic]

Just Out of Reach

Author Note: This is my first fic for this fandom and for this ship, so I’m working on getting a feel for these characters. This fic references the events of the valentines day event and the white day area conversation between Aoi and Tsubaki.

Summary: Tsubaki just watched as the pair stopped. The woman pulled a piece of folded paper out of her bag, it looked to be an envelope of some kind, and presented it to Aoi with both hands. Even from this distance, Tsubaki could see that Aoi’s face had flushed scarlet.

So that’s what this was, a love confession.

Tsubaki’s stomach churned as Aoi reached forward and, with hands wearing the gloves Tsubaki had given her, accepted the envelope.

Word Count: 2200

___________________________________________________________

As Tsubaki stepped out of the building, the cold air pricked at her skin. Though it was late March, there were still some colder days. Today was one of those days. Tsubaki tightened her muffler around her neck, the one Aoi had given her just over a week earlier. Just remembering their exchange warmed her cheeks.

Behind her, the rest of her unit was leaving as well. They had met today to work on a new song, which they were set to start performing next week. They practiced at the club while it was closed, since their performances were on that stage. After rehearsing, they decided to go to the café to have an afternoon snack and talk about the new song.

Hiiro was dressed for the weather, with a stylish grey coat that reached her knees. It was almost too warm for such a heavy coat, but Hiiro didn’t seem to mind. Nagisa was her exact opposite, insisting that it was spring so she didn’t need a jacket. Instead, her arms were exposed by a short-sleeved t-shirt. Every time the wind blew past, she shivered slightly. She clutched her guitar tightly in her right hand since she didn’t leave it at the venue.

Aoi was balanced somewhere between them. She wore her usual open black jacket, with gloves to cope with the cold. They were the gloves Tsubaki had given her; seeing them almost made Tsubaki blush even harder.

The café was only a few blocks away, so they set off to walk together. Nagisa took the lead with a bounce in her step, likely to fight off the cold. Hiiro walked only half a step behind her, with Tsubaki and Aoi side by side in the rear. They passed a group of young women as they left the vicinity of the club.

“I’m absolutely starving!” Nagisa exclaimed, rubbing her free hand dramatically against her stomach.

Hiiro chuckled, “What are you going to eat?”

“Hmm…” Nagisa turned towards her, her hand now lifted to her chin as she thought. “Pancakes sound really good right now. A huge stack of them!”

“Didn’t you have lunch?” Tsubaki chimed in, wondering for perhaps the twentieth time how Nagisa could possibly eat so much. She was even shorter than Tsubaki.

“Of course.” Nagisa replied simply. “Or I’d definitely pass out.”

Aoi laughed, a sound that always sent Tsubaki’s heart racing. “We wouldn’t want that.”

Nagisa spun around to walk backward while she talked to them, launching into a story about a time when that had happened. It was when she was younger and forgot to bring a lunch to school. Nagisa was still telling the story, which was growing more animated by the second, when an unknown voice interrupted her.

“E-excuse me.” The voice, quiet and timid, came from behind them. Tsubaki stopped to look, as did the rest of the unit. A young woman was standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Tsubaki recognized her as one of the girls they walked by a couple minutes ago. Long black hair covered part of her face, which was bright red. Her eyes were pointed down at the ground. “M-Miyake-san, do you have a minute to talk… in private?” She seemed to have trouble finding the right words.

Tsubaki wondered what this was about. She knew Aoi had a lot of fans, perhaps she wanted an autograph. That didn’t explain the clear embarrassment though. Tsubaki glanced over at Aoi, whose eyes were wide with surprise.

“I… If that’s alright with you?” Aoi looked between her unit members, stopping on Tsubaki last. Tsubaki tried to read her gaze, but wasn’t sure what she saw.

The darker part of Tsubaki’s heart, the part that growled when another girl so much as looked at Aoi, wanted to say no. She was with her unit right now, not free to talk. But no, Tsubaki knew that wasn’t right.

“We’ll wait here for you.” Tsubaki replied, trying to sound nonchalant about it. The way that Nagisa raised an eyebrow at her told her she had failed.

“Go ahead, we’re not in a hurry.” Hiiro insisted, gesturing towards the girl.

Aoi’s expression was still unreadable. “Thank you.” The side of her mouth lifted into a smile as she turned back to the girl. “After you.”

Tsubaki watched in silence as the two walked away. They went all the way down the sidewalk, where the other Rondo members wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop.

“Damn, I wanted to listen in.” Nagisa had one hand cupped around her ear.

Hiiro shook her head with a wry smile. “Aoi-kun will spot us if we move.”

Tsubaki just watched as the pair stopped. The woman pulled a piece of folded paper out of her bag, it looked to be an envelope of some kind, and presented it to Aoi with both hands. Even from this distance, Tsubaki could see that Aoi’s face had flushed scarlet.

So that’s what this was, a love confession.

Tsubaki’s stomach churned as Aoi reached forward and, with hands wearing the gloves Tsubaki had given her, accepted the envelope.

It wasn’t like Tsubaki didn’t know that Aoi was popular, or that a lot of people were interested in her. She knew all of that; she remembered the mountain of chocolate Aoi received for valentines day and the hordes of screaming fans.

That didn’t stop Tsubaki from feeling jealous, from wanting Aoi to pay attention to only her. She wanted to storm over there, tear that letter from Aoi’s grasp, and declare that she was hers.

Tsubaki wouldn’t do that, she couldn’t do that. Aoi wasn’t hers, no matter how badly she wanted her to be. She could only hope that Aoi returned her feelings, but Tsubaki was under no illusion that she did.

In the distance, Aoi opened the letter and started to read it.

Tsubaki couldn’t watch anymore. Even though she said it was alright, she couldn’t subject herself to this. She felt a surge of pain in her heart as she turned away, back in the direction they’d been walking. “Actually, I’ll pass on the café.” She said, causing both Hiiro and Nagisa to look at her instead of in the distance.

“Tsubaki?” Hiiro phrased her name as a question, asking so much without asking anything at all.

“I’ll see you around.” Tsubaki started walking away, not looking back even as Nagisa called out to her. Aoi was probably going to leave with that girl anyway, to cancel on the unit’s plans. Tsubaki told herself it was better like this.

She would go home. At home, she’d be alone. There was a pain in that, but also solace. She wouldn’t have to watch Aoi accept someone else’s love, wouldn’t have to be reminded about how she wasn’t enough.

___________________________________________________________

“I like you!” The young woman, who said her name was Nana, leaned forward and held an envelope out with both hands. “Please accept this!” There was a heart drawn on one side.

Aoi could hardly believe what was happening. First Nana had stopped her unit and asked to speak with her, now she was confessing her love. It felt surreal. Her face was hot, unbearably so; she felt like she was in shock. She had received confessions before, but she never felt ready for them.

Aoi slowly took the offered paper, opening the envelope carefully so she wouldn’t tear it. Inside was a single piece of folded paper. It contained a few paragraphs of text, which Aoi read quickly. They explained that Nana loved watching Aoi perform, heard she liked homemade food, and offered to cook for her. It finished with the confession Nana had just made.

Once she finished it, Aoi looked back up at Nana. She still looked nervous, as she had since the moment she approached the group. Both of her hands were clenched together in front of her body.

Aoi searched for the words to respond to her. She was cute, but Aoi didn’t really know her. It was great that she was a fan, but Aoi wasn’t prepared to return her feelings. There were other reasons too, Aoi thought as she looked at her gloves. The gloves Tsubaki gave her, which were a precious gift, a precious reminder.

Nana had her eyes locked on Aoi’s face, and she swallowed hard before speaking again. “Will you go out with me?” She asked an actual question now, one Aoi had to respond to.

Even though Aoi was certain in her answer, she still felt bad saying it. She didn’t like hurting others. “I’m sorry.” She offered the letter back to Nana, who immediately frowned. “I can’t return your feelings.”

Nana took the paper back gingerly, tears now welling up in the corner of her eyes. Aoi’s heart panged. “I understand…” She took a half step back and bowed forward, hiding her face. “Goodbye.” She turned quickly and walked away, back towards where her friends were likely waiting.

Aoi watched her for a few moments, before turning back to Rondo. Immediately, she noticed that something was wrong. The whole unit had been there before, but now she only saw Hiiro and Nagisa. Did Tsubaki go ahead without them?

The confession was already fading from Aoi’s mind as she hurried back to the group. “Sorry for the delay.” She said as she reached them. “Where’s Tsubaki?” She was worried, what if something bad had happened?

“She decided to go home.” Hiiro replied in a light tone that didn’t match the message.

That didn’t make sense; they were supposed to all go to the café together. “Huh? What do you mean?” Aoi furrowed her eyebrows together.

“She left, split, said farewell.” Nagisa counted off up to three on her fingers as she listed them. “Didn’t say why, probably cuz we got delayed.” She shrugged.

Aoi’s heart, which had already been in pain earlier, felt even worse now. It was her fault that Tsubaki left, that she wasn’t going to be with Rondo at the café. If they had just kept walking, then she would still be there.

“You could still catch her.” Hiiro pointed down the sidewalk, in the direction Tsubaki must’ve gone in. “She turned left two streets down.”

Yes, Aoi wanted to do just that. She quickly said, “Thanks!” and took off down the street at an accelerated walk.

“We’ll meet you there!” Nagisa’s voice echoed behind her.

As Aoi made the left turn, she recognized that she was now going towards Tsubaki’s house, which meant she really was headed towards home.

Aoi knew how to get there and what route Tsubaki would take.

Even as she walked quickly down the sidewalk, she wondered if she should turn back. It wasn’t like they couldn’t get a snack or talk about the song without Tsubaki, Aoi knew that they could. She also knew that she wanted Tsubaki to be there. It wasn’t Rondo without her, Aoi’s heart wouldn’t be complete without her.

There was a chance she’d say no, that she wouldn’t appreciate Aoi coming after her like this. That was a risk Aoi was willing to take. She’d been chasing after Tsubaki for so long; it wasn’t time to stop now.

After just a few minutes of walking, she saw a familiar sight in the distance. The muffler, the one Aoi had given to Tsubaki, was visible around her neck even at a long distance. Every time Tsubaki wore it, Aoi felt warm inside. She hoped it was keeping Tsubaki warm too.

“Tsubaki!” Aoi called out her name as she got closer, causing Tsubaki to spin around with wide eyes. She looked completely shocked to see Aoi behind her, following her. In the afternoon sunlight, she was stunning.

“Aoi?” She said in a confused tone. She took a small step towards Aoi as her eyes flicked from Aoi’s face down to her hands, and then back up.

“Please come to the café.” Aoi felt slightly out of breath, from practically jogging the last stretch. Her cheeks must’ve been flushed from exertion.

“Aren’t you busy now?” Tsubaki’s voice sounded strained, rougher than usual.

Aoi shook her head. “Just with my unit.” She said, reaching towards Tsubaki with one hand. “Please come, it wouldn’t be the same without you. I want you to be there.”

Tsubaki’s eyes widened even more, before tears welled up in the corner of them. Aoi hoped she hadn’t made a mistake, hadn’t stepped right over Tsubaki’s boundaries and was about to be rejected.

“I will.” Tsubaki wiped the corner of her eyes as she nodded.

A wave of relief rushed through Aoi’s chest. “Let’s go then.” They turned to go back the way they came, since the café was actually closer to the venue than where they were now.

Again Aoi and Tsubaki walked side by side, as they had done earlier.

Aoi stole a glance at Tsubaki as they walked, wondering what she was thinking. As she looked at the muffler around her neck, she wondered if Tsubaki knew how much she cared for her.

She wasn’t ready to take another step yet, but she hoped Tsubaki felt the same way.

[anonniemousefics]

Stars In The Darkness

Originally posted on AO3

Fandom: Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom | Kaz + Inej

Word count: 9,042

****Rating: NSFW (aged up characters)****

This is the conclusion to The Trouble With Wanting series, companion piece to Wildfire

TW for PTSD, heavy angst. An obligatory quarantine fic cuz I was in quarantine when I wrote this, lol.

KAZ

No mourners. No funerals.

Kaz Brekker leaned over the new porcelain sink in the bathroom attached to The Slat. He clutched both sides, sweat pouring from his forehead.

No mourners. No funerals.

He’d been saying the phrase so long, it had started to lose its meaning. For that he hated himself. Did anyone at all even understand what it meant? Had he ever even told anyone?

No mourners. No funerals.

Jordie had died alone, forgotten. No funeral. Not a single mourner. And he’d loved Jordie. His big brother had been his hero, his whole world, and no one else knew what the world had lost.

This alone should have crushed him. It would have. Instead, he made it his calling card. Jordie Rietveld, the original Crow. He didn’t need mourners. He didn’t need a funeral. No one did.

Because if the world hadn’t mourned Jordie, why should it mourn anyone else?

His stomach was threatening to heave again, and he white-knuckled the sink, breathing hard. Fuck. It had been years since it had been this bad. He stared at his bloodshot eyes in the mirror, demanding he get a fucking grip on himself.

No mourners. No funerals.

He thought he had been free. He’d spent well over a year on the puzzle of Inej Ghafa, and he thought that could have been enough. She loved him, she’d said so. And, gods, he loved her.

He’d been a fool to think that would be enough.

Now reality was sinking in with every toll of the plague alarm. He hadn’t banished any ghosts. He hadn’t buried any bodies. All he’d managed was to condition himself like a dumb lap dog, performing a trick so he could get a treat. And all the while, the dead had waited. And all the while, Jordie had watched.

And now Ketterdam would have its pound of flesh. Because he could blame Pekka Rollins until he was old and grey, but what had killed Jordie Rietveld had always been the plague. And there was no fighting the plague.

No mourners... No funerals…

It sounded insane now, because what the fuck was he supposed to do when the plague took Inej, too? Was he really going to stand there, stoic and unmoving, while the bodymen took her away? Was he really going to go on living, knowing her final resting place was a mass grave?

He’d been a fool. Such a damn, stupid fool.

And now he really couldn’t breathe. He was a fish out of water, his vision blurring as his throat closed around every inhale.

“Kaz!” Someone was pounding on the bathroom door. “Kaz, let me in.”

How many days until the bodies started piling up? How long did he have? Was there any way to get them out of the city? They all needed to get out. Inej, Jesper, Wylan. Anika, Pim, Rotty, Roeder. It was the only way. The only way to keep from losing everything again.

“Kaz, I will break down this door. Answer me, damnit.”

The king of Ravka owed him favors. Maybe it wasn’t too late to call them in—

INEJ

Fuck it.

Inej threw all of her weight into a massive kick, just above the bathroom doorknob. The door rattled and bowed, and the flimsy lock ripped through the doorframe as the door swung open.

Inside, Kaz staggered back from the sink, pale and perspiring. She’d never seen him looking so sloppy in her life. He hadn’t changed out of his dark sleeping trousers from the morning, but had managed to throw on a white undershirt that was now sweat-stained. And if he was startled, it lasted only a moment before he glared at the broken doorframe.

“Did you forget how to pick a lock?” he growled.

“Did you forget how to unlock a door?” Inej retorted. “I’ve been here almost an hour – how long have you been in here?”

But when she took a step towards him, he flinched back, holding a hand out to keep her away, and it was like they were nothing but street trash teenagers all over again. A knife twisted in Inej’s chest as she saw how his breathing labored, his gaze wouldn’t meet hers. For nearly a year, he’d made slow, steady progress with touch – so much so, she’d almost forgotten what his suffering looked like.

Now, it was worse than ever. He was pressing himself back against the far wall, clamping a hand over his mouth like he was trying not to be sick.

“Breathe,” she told him, calmly. “Just breathe, Kaz. We’re here, together, safe in The Slat. Breathe.”

Kaz clenched his fists at his sides and drew in a stubborn, fighting breath through his nose. Outside, the plague alarms tolled.

“Those goddamn bells,” he rasped.

“I know, they’re awful,” Inej agreed. “When you’re feeling better, I’ll climb up and dismantle them.”

He opened his eyes long enough to shoot her an irritated glance.

“They serve a crucial function, Wraith.”

“Ok. I’ll leave them alone.”

“They’re preventing the spread of disease.”

“I said I’d leave them alone! Take a breath.”

And Kaz slid his back against the wall until he came to sit on the floor, defeated and spent.

KAZ

He was equal parts relieved she was back and terrified she was here with him. When he’d told her to get as far away as she could, he’d meant it. If she could get away from the necrotic infection that was his Ketterdam, she could live, and he could live knowing at least she was safe.

And now he was angry because why couldn’t she just listen to him? What did she know about firepox? What did she know about surviving a mindless, faceless killer?

He tried to heave a deep breath, but his throat felt like it was closing in. Bloated, dead flesh crowded against his ribs, his arms, his face, dragging him deeper toward the cold, unyielding darkness. He couldn’t stop shaking.

“I went to the docks,” came Inej’s calm voice. He was aware that she’d sat on the tile floor across from him, and he wasn’t sure yet if it made it better or worse. Just that morning, he’d had her bare and in his bed, writhing in his sheets and calling his name, and now he could hardly look at her without imagining her dead.

“You went to the docks,” he echoed, trying to find the present.

“Made sure the crew could find safe lodging for the foreseeable future,” Inej went on. “They’re saying it started in West Stave. Twelve new cases since yesterday. But I think our chances are pretty slim at this point. You’ve been chained to your desk for weeks, and I only docked yesterday. And we spent the evening arguing and pouting instead of going out.”

“I don’t pout.”

“It was me. I was pouting.”

“This is helping. Keep talking.”

“Bad news is they’ve shut down all businesses, so The Crow Club’s empty.”

“Fuuuck.”

“Good news is you and I now have unlimited liquor for the duration of this quarantine. And you look like you could use some. I’ve wanted to learn to mix drinks anyway. I could make you that fruity pink thing Sturmhond got sloshed on.”

“Dirtyhands doesn’t get sloshed on fruity pink things.”

“No one needs to know.”

His throat had opened up, and Kaz drew in a long, deep, shaking breath. The darkness had stopped its impending approach, and he was suddenly exhausted. His eyelids felt swollen when he opened his eyes again and looked over at Inej. His brave, brilliant girl. She was cross-legged in front of him, still dressed for the sea: tight olive-green trousers and a loose white blouse, her hands in her fingerless gloves and her long, oil-black braid resting over one shoulder. She was beautiful and commanding and alive, and it made his heart ache.

“Can you tell me what’s going on?” she asked. Her voice was softer now; she’d exchanged her light-hearted ribbing now that Kaz was no longer a gasping mess.

Kaz rubbed at his eyes. His mind was a fog, every thought spread out in disarray. He could only say the first thing that bubbled to the surface.

“You deserve so much more than this.”

“An admirable deflection, but that’s not it.” Inej slit her eyes at him, reading him like a book. Annoying. This wasn’t something he’d considered when she’d told him to take off the armor. He’d wanted to get laid; he didn’t want a damn mind reader.

That wasn’t exactly true, though, was it? But maybe it was a necessary lie. He was too attached, and this loss would not be one he could survive.

“You’re being a fool, Wraith,” Dirtyhands rasped.

INEJ

“Am I?” Well, well, well. So, this is how it was going to be, was it? Inej knew Dirtyhands when she saw him. She could tussle with this bastard all day. Sometimes she even liked it. “How so?”

Kaz’s pale face was set in a glare; he wanted a fight. And if he hadn’t tried this before, it may have even rattled Inej.

If anyone had seen their first kisses, they might have mistaken Kaz and Inej for an old married couple. The only kind of kiss either of them could handle was merely a brief peck on the cheek or the lips, as chaste as a greeting between relatives. Their bodies wouldn’t even brush. It had to look ridiculous, but Inej told herself it was good practice. Someday, they could have something like a real kiss, she told herself. For now, this was enough.

The last night before Inej was to set sail again, they sat opposite each other on the windowsill of The Slat, propped up against the frame, while Inej coaxed crows with breadcrumbs and made sure Kaz didn’t fall out the window. He’d had a couple drinks too many with Jesper and was more than a little amusing.

“I have a secret,” he slurred. He leaned his head back against the open window frame, his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.  

“Just one?” Inej quirked an eyebrow. Kaz gave a drunken chortle.  

“Good point.” He pointed at her. “Clever, clever Wraith.”

“What’s your secret?” Inej asked, with an amused smirk. Kaz gave a sloppy nod.

“It is terrifying to me that you live on a boat,” he confessed with a slow blink. Inej frowned.

“You bought me the boat,” she said. Kaz kept nodding, wide-eyed.

“I did,” he said. “A whole damn boat. And it looks so good on you, Inej. So good.”

“Thank you.” Inej tried to hide a laugh.  

“But I spend every day trying to convince myself that you’re not drowning. It’s – it’s not fun, Inej. It’s the opposite of fun – what’s the word?”  

“There are many to choose from,” Inej shrugged. “Is this fear because of…?” She wasn’t sure how to bring up the subject. The night he’d told her about nearly drowning, of using his brother’s body to swim to shore from Reaper’s Barge, had been the first time she’d ever seen tears in his eyes. She wasn’t proud of it, but it had startled her. It had thrown the balance of her world off so harshly that she’d tracked down Pekka Rollins that very night and carved his skin until she felt the scales tip again.  

“Probably,” was all Kaz would admit, and he rested one cheek against a gloved fist.

Inej considered this while she threw crumbs to the crows. She cared for him, so very much. And any time she thought of him as that abandoned little boy in the harbor, her insides crumbled.

“You should come out on the water with me,” she told him. “Let me show you it’s not what you remember.”

“Pass,” Kaz announced, a little too loudly.

“We could start small,” Inej persisted. “Take a little skiff on the canals.”

“The canals are disgusting.” Kaz practically looked petulant, like she was forcing vegetables on him. “Do you have any idea how many drunks piss in those canals? I’ve taken a piss in those canals.”  

Inej grimaced with a groan, but she wasn’t giving up on this idea now that it had seized her.

“I’m a sea captain, Kaz,” she said. “I’ve got you. You will not fall into the canals unless I decide you’re going to fall into the canals. And I haven’t decided yet; it depends on how nice you are to me.” She gave a prim little tilt of her chin as she shot him a coy glance. He was smiling like a silly fool.

“I want to kiss you,” he declared, and even though she knew he was drunk, her face still burned.

“Maybe you should,” she dared.

And for a moment, he sat still and stiff against the window frame, and she thought he would change the subject. But then, he swung his legs back inside the room and limped to where she sat. He towered over her, leaning against the window frame as he gazed over her face, and Inej watched the darkness in his eyes, holding her breath, praying that this time it could go differently.  

Then, slowly, he lifted one gloved hand to her chin, tilting her face up just slightly. She shivered at the brush of leather, missing the warmth of his hands but conceding this for now. And it hardly mattered considering the way he looked at her, his eyes like languid pools of chocolate, melting her.

He cupped her cheek, the pad of his thumb brushing her bottom lip, and she drew in a breath. His Adam’s apple bobbed with a nervous swallow, and she hardly dared to move as he slowly bent down, the tip of his nose brushing hers for a brief moment, before he brought his lips to touch hers.

And Inej wanted to pull him closer, to taste his mouth, to know that he burned for her just as she burned for him, but instead she waited, terrified this time that she could spook him with any sudden movements. And for a moment, it seemed to work.

For a moment, his eyes slid closed. For a moment, he held her there, brushing his lips over hers, dipping in to meet her mouth completely. Thank the Saints, she thought, her eyes closing, giving in. Thank you, thank you.

But only for a moment.

Because a moment later, his whole body went rigid, and he startled the crows away when he wrenched away with a gasp. Inej had to grab the window frame to keep from falling and really destroying the evening. And Kaz staggered backwards, crushing his eyes closed tight with a hand clamped over his mouth. Inej leapt after him before he could tip backwards, as unsteady as he was with drink.  

“Don’t,” he growled, pushing her back instead as he swayed and regained his balance. “Stay back.”

And as harsh as it sounded, it was still improvement. It was more than they’d ever had before, and he wasn’t vomiting or fainting, even with a fair amount of kvas in him. The kiss, as small as it was, left Inej dazzled. She stepped back from him, holding her hands out so he knew he had his space.

But Kaz wasn’t as satisfied. Far from it. In fact, he gave a frustrated roar and then turned and put his fist through the wall.

Inej barely had time to give a startled yelp. If he hadn’t have been wearing his gloves, Kaz surely would have torn his hand to shreds. As it was, he was holding it gingerly in the other hand, and Inej couldn’t be sure if he’d broken fingers or not.  

“Why do you come back here?” Kaz shouted when he whirled back at her, his teeth bared in fury. Inej clenched her fists.

“We have a deal,” she said, coldly. It was the language Dirtyhands understood.  

Kaz scoffed as he tried to move his injured fingers.

“To what end?” he spat, and ground his teeth in pain. “How long will it take you to realize there is nothing here for you to save?”  

“If you weren’t interested in being saved, you wouldn’t have struck the deal in the first place,” Inej shot back. If he was trying to push her away to save face, she wasn’t going quietly.  

“I have nothing to offer you,” Kaz gritted. “I can’t even--” but he couldn’t look at her.

Inej held out her hands toward him, offering to take his injured fingers in hers. He hesitated, the muscle in his jaw ticking.  

“All I have ever asked of you was your honesty and your time,” Inej said. “All I’ve ever wanted was for you to try.”  

And slowly Kaz turned, shuffling his weight off his bad leg, and put his wounded hand in hers, the leather dusted in plaster. She slowly started to pull back the leather to inspect the damage, and Kaz sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth.  

“I’m very drunk,” he complained.  

“I know you are.”

“This hurts.”  

“Don’t punch walls next time.”  

His knuckles were already swollen and bruised, but nothing looked broken. Nothing ice and a good bandage couldn’t fix.  

“Mati en sheva yelu,” he slurred in Suli. This action will have no echo. And the sincere, painful look he was giving her when she looked up at him in surprise made her want to kiss him all over again. “You know—you say it,” he tried to wave off her adoration.

“I do. I didn’t know you were listening.”  

“I’m always listening, Inej. Inej.” He sighed hard, looking longing at her lips. “It’s going to hurt so much worse than this when this is over.”

Inej looked up at him in surprise.

“Why would you say that?” she frowned.

“You wanted honesty.” Kaz swayed a little on his feet. “I’m giving you honesty. Nothing survives the Barrel. Not even me. Not even you. And now look at me--” He squared his wide shoulders, taking a shuffling step closer, close enough that she could feel his body warmth, smell the tang of wine on his breath. She found herself staring up at the painful depths of his dark eyes, the ache he let her see. “No armor now,” he said, his voice low.

For a moment, Inej’s knees felt weak beneath him, but it was that smell of the red wine that brought her back.

“You’re drunk,” she reminded him. He gave a petulant frown, and maybe that was the reason she found the courage to say the rest. “And if you’re trying to blame me for some unforeseen pain that may or may not even happen, in some misguided attempt to protect yourself from actually feeling something, well, then you’re far crueler than I took you for. And I will not tolerate your cruelty, Kaz Brekker.”  

And so she knew this strategy Kaz Brekker’s demons employed. And she stared him down on the bathroom floor, daring him to go on.

“How so?” she said again.

KAZ

Jordie would have been twenty-five. Jordie never got to dream, to build a name for himself, to live comfortably. Jordie never got to have a girl, to know what it was like to be adored, to wake up next to the same face you dreamt of.

Because of the firepox.

Why did I live? Why did I live?

Kaz was pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. Jordie was there, bloated, covered in sores, his vacant eyes glassy.

“How so?”

“The ship was your ticket out,” he rasped, finally, looking up at her. “I gave you the ship. I gave you your family. You were supposed to get far away from here before this happened again. You were supposed to leave.”

“I don’t believe you.” Inej shook her head.

“What do you want from me?” his voice strained, savagely. “Is it not enough to know that I love you and want you to live? You have to keep coming around here, endangering yourself and my crew--”

“Your crew?” Inej raised an angry, skeptical eyebrow.

“Look at me.” Somewhere under the fog of paranoia and haunted memory, Kaz knew he was nearing hysterics. “You are my weakness, a liability--”

But at that, Inej shot to her feet, and the very real threat of actually losing her was enough to shut even Dirtyhands up. She stared down at him, a glare laced with ice and pain and empathy all at once.

“I know you are hurting,” she said, “and I know this isn’t the reason. I know how impossible it can feel to find the source when the pain is all-encompassing. But that gives you no right speak to me this way. We have fought too long and come too far for this.”

The wash of guilt that followed crushed his chest, and Kaz sunk into the heels of his palms once again. She asked only for honesty, came a reminder from somewhere in his frenetic thoughts. Find the source, find the source. She was turning to leave the bathroom, and the dread of not having her voice, pulling him out of the dark, was far worse than any other horror his imagination could conjure up.

“Inej,” he said in a harsh scratch. His throat felt thick. She turned at the broken bathroom door, leaning her head against the frame. Waiting. Expecting.

He had to try.

“I can’t,” he started, and there it was. The source. His mind been twisting it all around in the fog, fumbling with it like a lock in the dark, when it was simple, really. “I can’t do this again,” he said at last, his voice breaking.

“Do what again,” said Inej, though she seemed to understand. She was going to make him say it.

He swallowed hard, his throat constricting.

“I can’t,” he pushed again, “I can’t lose everything to this again. I can’t do it.”

“You are not going to lose everything, Kaz,” Inej said, firmly, and she began to cross the tile back to him again.

“I can’t lose you to this.” He dared to look at her as she sat next to him, their backs against the wall. “Any of you. Jesper. Wylan. I can’t. I have so much more to lose this time.”

“You are not going to lose us.” Inej remained adamant, but Kaz gave a bitter, crooked smile even as he felt hot tears like pinpricks in his eyes. Jordie had made similar promises once. Jordie would have liked Inej.

“You can’t promise that.” His rasp was becoming a whisper. “You can’t promise any of that.”

And to her credit, Inej didn’t try to fight. It was firepox. It wasn’t a rival gang. There was no strategy. There was only the gamble. Outlast. Outlive. That’s all you could do.

Inej set her hand on his knee. He knew she would have liked to have done more, but he was grateful she didn’t try. This was enough.

“Then for tonight,” she said, “we’ll be scared. And we’ll be sad. And then tomorrow, we’ll pick up the pistols and the knives again. We’ll fight again another day.”

We. He didn’t deserve to be a We, but he feared the loss far more. And with a deep breath to summon his courage, he put his hand over hers. He had to wait a moment to allow the shudder to pass through him, but then he gave her fingers a squeeze in agreement. When he looked over at her, her big, brown eyes were glassy with tears.

“Kaz,” she said, softly, “tell me about Jordie.”

Kaz rested his head against the bathroom wall. There was so much to say about Jordie. He could have told her about the games he made up or the jokes he liked to tell or the useless toys he bought Kaz, just to see his little brother grin. He could have told her about his dangerous optimism or his blind ambition or his stupid hubris. He wanted to tell her how riding on Jordie’s shoulders had made him feel like an invincible giant, and what good were gods or Saints or Grisha if they couldn’t even protect a boy as deserving of life as Jordie?

Instead, Kaz Rietveld broke down and wept.

INEJ  

It was a long night, the first of many long nights. Inej wasn’t sure when Kaz finally fell asleep, but she awoke first and shuffled out of the attic in Kaz’s nightshirt, down to the empty kitchen of The Slat to percolate a kettle of strong black coffee. When she brought up cups, she found him sitting on the edge of the bed, bleary-eyed and disheveled. He couldn’t have slept more than two or three hours.

She handed him a cup of coffee without a word and noticed he avoided touching her fingers when he took the mug. She understood all too well how the tide of war against the demons of memory could shift dramatically with so little warning, and she was ready to tell him so when he let out a small, defeated sigh and leaned to rest his head against her stomach.

Had anyone ever seen the Bastard of the Barrel so broken? No one would ever know, the Wraith determined. She ran her fingers through the thick, soft hair at the top of his head, avoiding his scalp, and held him there against her. He gave no protest.

“I thought I had defeated this,” he said, after a long silence.

“The past can be tricky like that,” Inej replied. The dawn was golden over the tile rooftops of Ketterdam. “It has teeth, and sometimes it demands attention.”

“Suli proverb?”

“No.” Inej sighed. “Just the story of my life.”

Kaz was silent a moment as they both sat with their demons at the door. He lifted a hand like he wanted to hold her closer, but ended up tugging absentmindedly on the rolled-up sleeve of her nightshirt instead.

“You were ready.” The self-loathing in Kaz’s voice was palpable and twisted in Inej’s gut. “Yesterday, you wanted me to--”

“Kaz.” Inej stopped him and gave the back of his head a little tug so he’d look up at her. “Are you forgetting the terms of our deal? I want you. Mind, body, and soul. Those were your exact words. This,” she brushed back his sleep-disheveled hair with tender fingers and he closed his eyes, “this is all part of the deal. Your past, your memories, your fears – they are all a part of the man I love. I wouldn’t have you without them.”

Kaz was still beneath her fingers in his hair, but after a moment, his chest rose and fell with a sigh and he gave a little nod.

With the streets outside silent and abandoned, they spent the rest of the day in bed, sometimes sleeping, sometimes talking, always a safe distance from each other. When night fell, however, Inej woke up briefly to find Kaz’s bare hand fitted to her the slope of her waist as he slept, curled on his side. She smiled to herself in the dark.

KAZ

The plague bells continued to toll every day, a regular reminder of the reaper that spread like wildfire through the streets. The first three days were near-constant torment. Inej did her best to try to distract him with card games and books. She even got desperate and showed him knife tricks that made even him feel uneasy that she was going to hurt herself.

“Seriously, that’s enough,” he finally told her at one point. “I can’t go out and bring back a Tailor for you if you lose a finger today.”

“I am not going to lose a finger.” But she stopped anyway. He was grateful. Every moment of the day, his heart was pounding and his mind was racing while he watched for telltale signs. She’d grow tired first, then lose her appetite when the fever began to rise, and then would come the sores that would erupt all across her perfect body. It would rot her beautiful face. Sometimes, lying in bed, eyes closed, was all he could manage to do to keep himself from losing it completely.

But as the end of the first week drew near, they were both still healthy, and Kaz found he could go an hour without imagining her death. Each day grew a little more normal, and each day brought a little more freedom. He could show her card tricks and live entirely in the moment her face lit up in delighted wonder, no fear of the future. Each night, Inej would flit across the rooftops of Ketterdam to the Van Eck mansion, returning to The Slat with news that Jesper and Wylan were well and bored and sent their regards, and Kaz’s unease settled a bit more. By the second week, he could lie across from Inej at night, and his mind would fill with tender memories instead of horrors. Instead of her dying face, he thought of the sun shimmering on her golden brown skin, the harbor winds in her black hair, the rose petal-softness of her lips against his cheek.

How she convinced him to let her paddle him through the canals of Ketterdam, he’ll never know. Maybe it was partially his own fault. He was growing desperate to make progress, to hold her how he wanted to hold her, and it was becoming apparent to him that he had to confront what the waters brought up in him.

She’d stashed away her own money and bought herself a skiff, the first boat she’d purchased on her own, and her eyes dazzled when she spoke of it, and Kaz knew he wanted to see her captain it. He’d walked the decks of The Wraith with her, his heart soaring with pride as he watched her in her element. Kaz loved to see Inej happy. He loved nothing more.

But all of that couldn’t prevent him from sitting in the exact center of the skiff with his arms crossed in defense – against what? – and his body so rigid, the first harsh jostle of the skiff could snap him in two.

“You hate this,” Inej observed. She’d stopped rowing and came to sit next to him, facing the opposite direction. The canal waters were still as the skiff drifted forward. They were in a quiet part of town where the narrow streets were largely ignored. A shopkeeper swept the cobblestones in front of their shop; an old man smoked a pipe on the steps of a pub.  

“I never said that,” but Kaz didn’t look at her.  

“You didn’t have to.” Inej raised an eyebrow. “I’ll take us home.”

“No--”

“I’m glad you tried. That means a lot--”

“Inej.” He touched her wrist, his hands bare, and looked up at her face as she was about to move back to steer the boat. Her skin shone in the sunlight as the breeze swept strands of her hair across her face. Her eyes in the sunshine were like caramels. Kaz didn’t want to go back. That was the last thing he wanted.  

“I need new memories of the water,” he rasped. “That’s all.”

“Better memories,” Inej agreed, and she turned her hand, fitting her fingers through his. He closed his eyes while he took in the warmth of her palm against his, alive and perfect.  

And then it happened. His eyes still closed, he felt the soft brush of her lips against his cheek. His heart stuttered and warmed. It hadn’t felt revolting at all. It had surprised him, and he’d liked it. He’d actually liked it. He opened his eyes to her sweet smile, and he wanted more.

This was what he would always consider their first real kiss. He turned his body and wrapped one hand at her waist, holding her close. She didn’t flinch, didn’t shrink back. No, she leaned in. She wanted. He tilted his head to meet the slant of her lips and lost himself in her sweetness, with the sun bright overhead and the lazy lapping of canal water against the sides of the skiff.  

INEJ

“They’re lifting some quarantine measures,” Kaz told her over coffee one morning. Inej looked up at him, eager, as he scanned the headlines of the Ketterdam Ledger. The days had become routine in the microcosm of their world, and she desperately needed to tend to The Wraith.

“The harbors?” she asked.

“They’re not opening the harbors yet,” Kaz shook his head, then shot a glance at her, catching her frustration. “Not that that should stop us,” he said, folding up the paper.

A smile began to creep along Inej’s lips.

“Are you sure?” she questioned. In the first days of the quarantine, Kaz didn’t even want to leave the room. He’d laid rest to many demons since then, but his exhaustion was still fresh in her mind.

But the smile he gave back to her was a Dirtyhands smirk, and her stomach fluttered pleasantly.

“Figure out the quarantine guard shift change at the harbor,” he told her. “We’ll go tonight.”

The Wraith threw back the last of her coffee and made a mad dash for the rooftops, like a bat out of hell.

That night, they dressed the part. It was a little silly, Inej realized, strapping on her knives over her leggings, when this wasn’t anything like a real job. But a forbidden midnight dash into the cordoned harbor was far more entertaining than the same old card games, and Inej was mad for some excitement. As she watched Kaz suit up out of the corner of her eye, she suspected he felt much the same way. They were both ready for some semblance of normality.

They tied makeshift masks over their faces before slipping into the abandoned shadows of Ketterdam’s alleys. Kaz’s limp was more pronounced after weeks of being holed up in The Slat, and while Inej didn’t point it out, she still kept to the darkness so he didn’t have to rush. After a few blocks, his muscles loosened, and their pace quickened, and when they neared the harbor, Inej stopped them, her back against the brick wall of a building, and held out a hand for Kaz’s pocket watch. The chain clinked as he handed it to her, and she checked the time.

She pulled the mask down to her neck as she handed the watch back.

“We’re early,” she whispered up at him. “Few minutes still.”

Kaz nodded beneath his mask as he pocketed the watch. Suddenly, Inej’s heart thudded as she looked him over. It had been weeks since he’d worn one of his tailored black suits, and the thrill of seeing him looking like himselfagain overtook her.

When her eyes traveled up to his face, she saw that he’d noticed her staring, and he lifted his dark eyebrows.

“See something you like?” he asked, his rasping voice muffled behind mask. Inej pressed back a smirk.

“Cheeky bastard,” she shot back.

“You’re the one who likes cheeky bastards,” said Kaz, and took two shuffling steps closer, leaning on his crow’s head cane, so close their bodies were nearly touching.

“Just this one,” Inej replied, and gave a little tug on his mask to reveal his crooked half smile.

Inej drew in a breath as Kaz took one more step and she felt the brace of his body against her. She’d never say it, but she had ached for him all these weeks – so close to her, and yet so out of reach. To her delight, he leaned his cane against the wall and wrapped both gloved hands around her waist. She held on to his shoulders as he pressed against her, taking her lips, softly at first, and then with insistence.

Thank the Saints, Inej thought, not for the first time, and let herself melt into him.

She ran her hands up his shoulders and around his neck, crossing her wrists behind his head, and let him press her back against the wall. It was as if he was making up for lost time, and his touch drove her mad, in the best way possible. He parted her lips with his tongue, and a soft moan escaped her throat as his fingers twisted in the fabric of her vest.

“Gods, I’ve missed this,” Kaz rasped when they broke apart finally, lungs aching. His chest was heaving, breathless, as Inej dragged her fingers under the lapels of his jacket, over the hard muscle beneath, pulling him closer.

And she gasped as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to the soft bit of skin just below her ear, and she was ready to forget the world entirely when his teeth grazed her neck, his hands roaming her hips, except at the last minute, she remembered the time. While he cupped her ass, she slipped her fingers into his waistcoat pocket.

“Now,” she said, pulling back, suddenly. “We have to go now.”

“Did you just pick my pocket?” Kaz realized, a little dazed, as Inej replaced his pocket watch. But she was already soundlessly running for the docks.

The Wraith waited at Fifth Harbor, looking no worse for wear, as they scaled its sides in the dark and leapt aboard. Inej walked its decks in the moonlight, shining full beyond the tall masts. She knew that weeks in the water with no maintenance, the list of chores that needed to be taken care of had grown long. For one thing, the decks were covered in bird shit. There were sails that needed mending, hulls that needed shucked of their barnacles, cannons that needed cleaning. She at least needed to take stock of the work ahead, so she could quickly divvy up the load among her crew when the quarantine was lifted.

She could sense Kaz’s eyes on her, almost hungry since their exchange in the alley. And now that they had evaded the quarantine guards, she found she liked it. She gave him a provocative glance the next time she noticed his predatory gaze.

“You picked my pocket,” he repeated, slitting his eyes. His dark eyes in the silver moonlight made her heart skip. She turned to face him at the base of the mizzenmast.

“And whatever will you do about it, Brekker,” she challenged.

He tapped his cane against the wood of the deck three times.

“I have some ideas,” he rasped, a quirk of a smile on his lips, and Saints she wanted him to press up against her again.

It was as if he read her mind. He let his cane drop with a clatter as he took her in his arms, pressing her back against the wood of the mizzenmast, and she lifted onto her toes to hungrily take his lips with hers.

He wasn’t slow and methodical now. He was like a drowning man gasping his first breath of air. He was kissing her as much as he could, her lips, her cheeks, her throat, his hands digging into the back of her shirt, nearly lifting her off her toes. She brought her hands to either side of his face to hold him still, to kiss him deeper, to breathe in his scent like she hadn’t in weeks. Her Kaz. He wasn’t gone. He could fight his way out of any hole, no matter how black. And how she loved him for it.

One of his hands slid from her back, raking up her rib cage to cup her breast, and she gasped into his mouth as he kneaded it with his long fingers. There was warmth pooling between her legs, desire like a steady tide rising in her veins. She pressed her hips against his and found he was already hard. Her cheeks warmed. More, she needed more.

“I want you,” she gasped. She’d let go of his face, running her hands over his shoulders, as he left a train of kisses down her neck.

“You have no idea how much I want you,” he groaned. And it was all the permission she needed: she started pulling at the buttons of his waistcoat, his white shirt, tearing some, pushing her fingers through to his hot skin and muscles underneath.

He wasn’t running. He tore at her shirt, his lithe fingers dancing through buttonholes as her blouse fell open to him, and he bent his head, pulling at the center of her back, to bring his mouth to her cleavage.

“Take those damn gloves off,” she demanded, and, as he did, she threw off her shirt and the useless mask from her neck and undid the bindings that held in her breasts. Kaz’s shirt was still hanging open, his hair he’d finally worked hard to put in place now falling in his eyes, as he stepped back to her, running his bare hands up her back, over her neck, to caress her breast.

She nipped at his earlobe, raking her hands down his torso, to that fine line of hair at his beltline. And as he kissed her again and again, she undid the black leather belt. He drew back with in a sharp breath as she pushed past his wiry curls and wrapped her fingers around his hard length.

“Is this what you want?” he rasped, as she began to stroke him. He released a low breath and leaned a little harder against the mast at her back.

“I want everything,” she told him in a husky voice, and he looked at her with those half-starved black eyes, lips slightly parted, before slipping his own careful fingers into her leggings.

Her head fell back against the mast and she tightened her grip on his cock as she felt his clever lockpick fingers slid over her clit. Her breasts heaved with a deep sigh, and Kaz let out a stuttering breath when she did, his eyelids fluttering.

“Careful,” he groaned with a gasp. “I don’t know if I can – shit, Inej, really, you could end this too soon.”

“I want you to feel what you make me feel,” she breathed, slowing her strokes.

“But I don’t want this to end,” Kaz gritted out, and looped his spare hand around her wrist, pulling her hand back. And just as she was about to protest, he slid both hands beneath her leggings at her waist. He wanted her bare again, she realized, and she was desperate for release.

She helped him slid her leggings to the deck, and before she could wonder what he was going to do next, he knelt before her, one hand on either thigh. With his careful eyes watching her always, he took one of her legs over his shoulder, bringing his soft lips to kiss her folds.

His breath was hot against her, and Inej raised her arms over her head to grab the mast behind her to keep her knees from crumbling under her.

“Where did you learn this?” she gasped, her heart racing. She shivered as he ran a hand over her core and her navel, stroking her tense muscles.

“A magician never reveals his secrets,” Kaz mumbled against her cunt, and the harsh rasp of his voice sent a wave of pleasure through her.

“I have to know--” Inej could hardly finish her sentence as he stroked his tongue slowly up the strip of her pussy. She would know, but it certainly didn’t matter now. Her legs were giving out under her, and he wrapped his strong arms under her thighs as she held onto the mast, his hair, anything to ground her.

“Don’t stop,” she begged, and he certainly seemed to have no intention to. He used one thumb to caress her clit as he sucked and stroked her folds, and her whole body was alight at his touch. The tension was building low in her abdomen, and she couldn’t hardly believe this was happening right here on her own ship. She gazed down at her Kaz, his perceptive eyes trained on her, the eyes that saw her and saved her and endlessly loved her, and she brushed his hair back as she felt the wave of orgasm nearing.

The trapped girl she’d been in the Menagerie could never have dreamed this could be her life. The trapped girl in the Menagerie might have slept easier knowing this day was coming.

“Kaz,” she breathed out his name in a soft moan as she came, wave after wave of sensation rolling through her core. “Thank you,” she was whispering, again and again. “Thank you.”

She was catching her breath as he straightened himself to his feet, kissing her softly while she came down from her high. His belt buckle was still undone, and she ran her fingers around the bare skin at his waist.

“How did you learn how to do that?” she asked him as she looked up at him, dreamily. He just shook his head with that sneaking, crooked smile. Well, fine. She could get him to talk.

She looped her hands through his belt and turned him so that his back now pressed against the mast, and then dropped to her knees.

“Fuck,” she heard Kaz whisper, and she quickly undid his trousers, dropping them to his ankles.

She’d seen him naked many times before, but this was the first time she’d decided to do something about it. His length stiffened just from her proximity, and when she glanced up at him, he looked like he was hardly daring to breathe.

She slowly brought the tip to her lips. Kaz drew in a breath.

“Tell me where you learned how to do that thing with your mouth,” she whispered with a smirk.

“Oh, that’s how this is going to be?” Kaz looked confident, but she saw how he already gripped the mast behind him. She dragged her tongue up his length, and he cursed again.

“You should tell me.”

“Holy fuck, Inej.”

This was going to be fun. Inej wrapped her lips around him, and he let out a low sound she’d never heard from him before. She worked her mouth up and down his length, relishing the pleasure she brought him, how she could turn this dangerous man into a gasping mess.

His thighs were already tensing as he struggled to hold himself upright. He’d been right; this wasn’t going to last long. He’d leaned his head back against the mast, chest heaving, and once he looked like he was going to cry out something, but instead he came with a grunt and a shudder, his fingers curling in her hair. She swallowed the heat that filled her throat, watching him quake and moan as she did, and only then did she release him.

“Nina told me.” Kaz was gasping, eyelashes fluttering as Inej stood up. “I wrote Nina for advice, and she told me about the thing I could do with my mouth. Holy shit, Inej.”

“You wrote Nina?” Inej wasn’t sure if she should be horrified or laugh. “I wrote Nina.”

Kaz opened his eyes at last, looking unconcerned.

“Well, I wasn’t about to ask Jesper for advice. And Wylan’s never even seen a vagina.”

“We will never hear the end of this.”

“She’ll raise us from the dead just to talk about it again.”

Inej thought for a moment before concluding: “Worth it.”

And because they were bored of The Slat, they curled up for the night in Inej’s captain’s quarters, the full moon filling the porthole window and lighting up the night. Sometime in the night, Inej awoke, caught a glimpse of the sea from the window, and poked Kaz in the side until he woke up.

KAZ

“What is it?” he whispered.

“The sea,” she told him.

He wanted to whine. He rarely slept soundly, and had she really just woke him up to look at the damn sea?

Of course she had.

She brought him above deck and shimmied down the ropes to The Wraith’s rowboat, gesturing for him to follow. Kaz felt like he was moving through a dream, but even in dreams, he would follow his girl to the end of the world.

She took the oars of the boat and told him to lie down in the center of the little craft. Kaz gave a relinquished sigh and did as he was told, letting her row them out into the dark harbor, slipping past guards’ watch lanterns, and out into the still waters of the open sea.

He’d long past given up on worrying about Inej’s decisions. If there was a reason she wanted them out in open waters in the middle of the night, it had to be a good one. He closed his eyes and listened to the lapping of the water, willing back old memories and thinking of Inej. His sea captain. He wouldn’t fall to the waters as long as she had him.

Eventually, she stopped rowing, dropped an anchor, and came to lie beside him in the center of the boat.

“It seems like I’m supposed to understand what’s happening,” Kaz said, their shoulders next to each other.

“I wanted you to have a new memory,” Inej said. “Just be still and look around.”

And Kaz raised himself up onto his elbows to look at the sea around him. It was at that moment he understood her love of the sea.

The black sky wrapped around them as far as the eye could reach, glittering with countless stars from horizon to horizon. The surface of the water stretched out all around, a perfect mirror of the sparkling lights in the heavens. Kaz drew in a breath in wonder, suddenly without words. If there was ever magic in the world, this was it.

He looked down at Inej, her hands under her head, as she gazed up at the sky, the picture of contentment.

“Maybe now you’ll think of this, too, when you remember the firepox,” she said, as she gazed softly up at him.

He would. Oh, he would.

He bent over, cupping her cheek, and kissed her fully. His girl. His Inej. His magic. His whole heart. She turned to him on her side, wrapping her arms around his waist, pressing her breasts against his chest, unbound beneath her thin shirt. Desire coursed through him as he felt the puckered drag of her nipples across his body. His fingers slid through her loose hair, deepening the kiss, and blood rushed to his cock for the second time that night. What surprised him more was her hand dipping down, pressing against it through his trousers, as if she could coax it out.

“Again?” he wondered aloud, and kicked himself for it immediately. But Inej smiled against his lips and touched her nose to his.

“Better memories,” she whispered.

She slipped off her leggings while giving him a pointed glance at his tented trousers. It took a moment to understand her meaning. She wanted him to take them off.

He slid out of his trousers and then the rest of his clothes as Inej did the same, the cool night air brushing against her nipples and hardening them. He wanted to lose himself in them again, kiss them and taste them and –

Just as he was imagining the many things he was about to do to her breasts, Inej pushed him down again onto his back at the center of the rowboat. Slowly, she crawled on top of him, and his cock throbbed, begging, pleading.

This had to be a dream. Surely this was a dream. He only ever had dreams this good.

But the sigh she let out when their bodies connected was very real. And her tight heat sliding over his cock had never felt so good in his sleep. She guided herself down slowly, her hands on his torso, and Kaz released a shaky moan.

He’d convinced himself for years that this was impossible. The angry monster he’d been had locked every fantasy of this away. The broken boy he’d been was sure he’d never deserve this.

Here he was anyway.

Inej rocked over his length above him, taking her time, leaving slow, languid kisses on his mouth. He fitted his hand to the curve of her waist, her long hair brushing over his fingers. The desperation he’d felt on the decks of the ship had passed, and now he could float among the stars, his mind blank, giving his body wholly to the girl who loved him.

Every grim eventuality Kaz had conjured in his mind about the future seemed to dissipate there beneath the stars. He could be wrong. They would have time. They could live like this for years. There was nothing in their way. He had time. He had time.

When Inej quickened her pace, she was as slippery and wet as a minnow, and soon Kaz couldn't help writhing beneath her, arching, exulting, her name on his lips, his heart in her hands. He loved her; he’d love her til the end of time, and he said so, and he was nothing if not true to his word. And when he crumbled beneath her, he was unaware of anything but her her her, and when the wave subsided, there were stars all around her.

She kissed him again and again before lying beside him and mussing up his disheveled hair, grinning up at him with eyes that glittered in starlight.

“That was unexpected,” he panted, and looked over at her. “You’re not worried about – you know--” He gestured at her womb, fumbling for words.

“Nina told me how to prevent it, don’t worry.” Inej was breathing hard, too.

“We have got to stop talking about Nina when we’re naked. It’s getting weird.”

“Agreed.”

And though they knew they’d have to return to the ship before first light, Kaz tucked her close to his body anyway, tracing her curves with his fingertips, watching the stars above them. As he did, he thought of the future once more, only this time, he didn’t see death.

He saw an expanse as limitless as the infinite, starry horizon, as open to him as the sea.

[city-writes]

He Knows No Repose

Bakugo was a stubborn man, who prided himself on many things. He was not going to allow a cold, empty bed of all things to defeat him.

Warning(s): Aged-Up Characters; Pro-Hero Characters Pairing(s): Eijirou Kirishima/Katsuki Bakugo (KiriBaku); Izuku Midoriya/Ochako Uraraka (IzuOcha); Background/Mentioned Mirio Togata/Tamaki Amajiki (MiriTama)

Read it here on AO3!

________________________

When Kirishima had first told Bakugo of the weeklong work trip Fat Gum had asked the redhead to accompany him on, Bakugo had thought nothing of it.

Apparently, Fat Gum's agency was going to work with Ryukyu's on a mission that was going to take them out of the Kansai region into Niigata, which was in northern Honshu. With Kirishima being one of Fat Gum's official righthand sidekicks (the other being Tamaki Amajiki), it only made sense for the BMI Hero to want Kirishima by his side. By train alone the trip from Eshua to Niigata was over 6 hours, by plane it was about 3 and a half. Because of this, Fat Gum had kept the number of people teaming up with Ryukyu's agency down to the three of them, not wanting to displace too many people in his own agency. Knowing well enough that both Amajiki and Kirishima wouldn't be too keen on being separated from their respective husbands for that long a time (as well as having a not so secret soft spot for his two boys), Fat Gum had said in not so many words that if Mirio and Bakugo were willing to make the trip with them to Niigata and were willing to work on the mission representing the Fat Gum agency's name, he'd pull strings and call in favors with old friends at the agencies Mirio and Bakugo worked at to make it happen.

Mirio, who'd signed on with the Nighteye Agency under Centipeder's leadership the moment he'd gotten his quirk back, was immediately on board, much to both Tamaki and Fat Gum's pleasure. Having assumed Bakugo would feel more or less the same, Kirishima was baffled when the blonde turned down the offer.

"But... why?"

Bakugo made it a point not to look up from his paperwork on their apartment's kitchen table at the sound of Kirishima's confused voice, knowing from experience that the sharp-toothed male would be giving him a look that he could only akin to the pout of a wounded puppy. "Because," he began, scribbling away at one of the papers he was currently looking over, "even if Fat could get Mirko to agree to let me go, like hell I'm going to give Deku the chance to surpass my spot in the agency again while I'm off in Niigata for a week."

Kirishima rolled his eyes at Bakugo's words, knowing that both he and Midoriya were usually pit against each other by Mirko (all with good intentions) to help each other grow. She'd taken a liking to the both of them: Bakugo for his tough personality and his ability to speak his mind without fear of what others thought (much like Mirko herself), and Midoriya for his tenacity and pragmatism. The two of them, while having come far from where their 'friendship' had been at the beginning of their first year at U.A., still saw each other as rivals, and probably would throughout the rest of their careers as heroes. Because of this, they often went back and forth between who Mirko chose to be her right hand man.

"Come on, Katsuki!" Kirishima groaned, rolling his eyes as his lips curled into an amused smile. He moved behind his husband then, his hands gripping Bakugo's shoulders gently, though he resisted the urge to shake the other male for emphasis, not wanting to ruin Bakugo's paperwork. "How cool would it be for us to work together again?! We haven't teamed up on anything since our last year at U.A.!"

"And the longer you try to pull me away from doing all this legal bullshit for starting our own agency," Bakugo said lowly, glancing up at Kirishima from the corner of his eye as his scribbling slowed to a stop, though there was no true malice in his tone, "the longer you're gonna have to wait before we actually get to work together again." Despite his verbiage, however, Bakugo relaxed into Kirishima's touch, exhaling heavily out his nose.

Kirishima's expression softened then, giving Bakugo's shoulders a squeeze now that he wasn't working on what Kirishima now knew were papers for their agency they'd been planning on starting for a while now. They'd known since that last year at U.A. that they'd wanted to eventually run an agency together, but knew doing so right after graduation was no where near feasible or realistic, so they'd agreed to save up and work towards that together. And initially, things had been working out fine, for the most part. But two years into their savings plan, after being invited to and attending Mirio and Tamaki's wedding, Kirishima realized 3 things.

1: In watching Mirio and Tamaki exchange their vows, in being overwhelmed with emotions in the best possible way, in feeling Bakugo hook their pinkies together subtly while the blond stared straight ahead, in seeing the faintest flush tinting Bakugo's cheeks and ears, Kirishima realized: He was going to propose to Katsuki Bakugo soon. (Not that he hadn't ever planned to marry the man; he just thought he'd be able to hold off proposing until after they'd set up their agency. Apparently, he'd been wrong.)

2: While mid-conversation with Midoriya during the wedding reception, while Uraraka was chattering with Nejire near the chocolate fountain, and Bakugo had excused himself to the bathroom, Midoriya - who'd had maybe a half a glass of champagne too much and was at least a little tipsy - admitted he'd been considering popping the big question to Ochako soon. With the knowledge of Midoriya considering proposing to Uraraka, Kirishima realized: Katsuki would undoubtedly, positively hate it if 'damn Deku' had gotten engaged before him, gotten married before him.

3: Upon seeing the realization in Midoriya's eyes that he'd figured out, even in his slightly tipsy state, that Kirishima too had been considering proposing, Kirishima was very aware that a timer had just begun counting down. Bakugo and Midoriya's rivalry, while no where near as warped and twisted as it was their first year at U.A., was still very much a part of their lives in a healthy way. As Midoriya failed to suppress a tipsy, mischievously knowing smirk, Kirishima realized: He absolutely had to at least propose to Katsuki before Midoriya did to Uraraka. (He didn't expect it to be in the cards financially for he and Bakugo to both plan a wedding as well as funding a beginning agency, but he'd be damned now if he didn't propose first.)

So that fancy saving and budgeting plan that Bakugo had set up for them? Yeah, Kirishima'd absolutely had to alter his end of it a bit, and do so without drawing attention to it.

After all, he'd still wanted to surprise Katsuki. He didn't want to ruin the moment just because of Bakugo and Midoriya's rivalry.

So the down-payment on the engagement ring had ended up making a noticeable little dent in Kirishima's half of their 'this-is-going-to-our-future-agency' funds. But then there was their wedding, and... in all honesty, Kirishima wasn't exactly sure how much their wedding cost because Bakugo refused to let him in on the price of anything, and refused to let him pay for anything either, saying that the redhead had 'been an asshole and bought a fucking ring and proposed before he could, so he didn't deserve to pay for any wedding shit'. But when Kirishima's moms had both offered to help pay for the wedding, Bakugo flat out refused them from doing so. He didn't extend the same courtesy to his own parents, however, though Kirishima wasn't sure if that was because Mitsuki was too stubborn to prevent her son from doing so, or if it was Katsuki's way of getting back at his mother for playful tease, comment, or remark the woman had made throughout the entirety of his relationship with Eijirou.

Regardless, Kirishima knew the wedding still cost a pretty penny. And even if he had no clue how much Bakugo spent, he knew the blond well enough to know he'd definitely paid for more than half of everything. Bakugo's pride wouldn't allow him to split the cost even with Mitsuki. So that'd delayed their agency funding even further.

But now, 7 years after their U.A. graduation, they were so close. The papers were right there.

"You're like, super tense though!" Kirishima lamented as he rubbed his husband's shoulders, fingers kneading the taut muscle beneath them as Bakugo further relaxed into his touch, the explosion hero only half-suppressing his contented groans. "Some time away would totally do you some good!"

Bakugo lolled his head back, looking up at Kirishima unamusedly then. "Dumbass, it's a mission, not a vacation."

"Well, yeah, but--"

"I'm not going." Bakugo grunted as he straightened his head, rolling his shoulders back some. Kirishima pulled his hands away from Bakugo then, only for Bakugo to turn somewhat in his chair and grab at Kirishima's nearest wrist and pull the redhead down to his level. "I don't wanna go cuz there's no guarantee we'll be paired up the entire time, and I'd rather not waste time in a mission I'm not necessary for, especially when I have my own shit I'm dealing with here, not just our agency." He spoke flatly and curtly, the expression on his face leaving Kirishima no room to argue.

With a sigh, Kirishima deflated somewhat, knowing there was no changing Bakugo's mind. "Augh, fine." Huffing, Kirishima pouted in Bakugo's hold.

Bakugo rolled his eyes at his husband's childish reaction, before pulling him in for a simple kiss, his hand moving from Kirishima's wrist to hold the side of his face. After a couple seconds, he pulled away, though Kirishima was quick to chase after the blond's lips and pull him in for another kiss.

"You know..." Kirishima murmured against Bakugo's lips, letting one of his hands gently hold Bakugo's wrist, the other moving to cup the side of Bakugo's face, "It still wouldn't hurt for you to take a small break from all the paperwork..."

"Ei, c'mon, I--"

"I wasn't exaggerating when I said you were super tense." The hand at Bakugo's wrist slid up so that Kirishima could rest his hand over Bakugo's. He pulled his face away from the blond's, so he could turn his head inwards towards Bakugo's palm, pressing gentle kisses to it while keeping eye contact with him. "Gimme an hour, Katsuki. Lemme take the edge off."

Bakugo didn't work on anything else the rest of that evening.

_____________________________

It took only two nights into that week-long work trip Kirishima was taking for Bakugo to realize he'd fucked up.

It wasn't that he and Kirishima hadn't spent nights apart before, there'd been more than once where one of them would take a late shift or a double shift or there was some type of emergency that prevented them from falling asleep together. But when those times occurred, if there hadn't been the guarantee of at least waking up to one another, there'd at least be some sign of life from the other around their apartment, be it Kirishima leaving some pain killers and a water bottle left at the nightstand for Bakugo to wake up to for the 'emergency' nights where he was bound to overwork himself and put some strain on his arms, or be it Bakugo making a lunch bento for Kirishima because he knew the redhead would sleep in and not feel like cooking for himself when he'd finally wake up.

But two nights in, with no real interaction from Kirishima other than phone calls and texts, Bakugo was reconsidering his choice to not take Fat Gum up on that offer. Lying on his stomach, Bakugo hummed lowly as he cocked his head from side to side, cracking his neck in the process, trying to loosen up and get at least a little comfortable. His arms were folded under his pillow, and he buried his face in the cushion, groaning irritably as he stewed in his displeasure. Picking his head up after a few moments of silence, scarlet eyes glanced over to the digital clock on his nightstand, watching as the numbers flickered into half past midnight.

Fucking hell, he'd been laying in bed for a little over an hour already.

Clenching his hands open and closed repetitively in a desperate attempt to relieve some of his stress, Bakugo re-positioned himself for what felt the fiftieth time that night, laying on his side, folding his arms against his chest and facing Kirishima's side of the bed. A shiver crawled up his spine as he did so, the thick blanket the blond was using still not doing much to combat the cold of a winter night. Without thinking, one of Bakugo's arms moved, reaching over to Kirishima's side of the bed and resting against the mattress there, as if the spot was exuding Kirishima's natural warmth.

Of course, it wasn't, and the cold, empty reminder that Kirishima wasn't there - and wouldn't be there for another five days - merely pissed Bakugo off further.

His day at the agency had been uneventful for the most part, save the usual spar with Deku before they usually headed home. But apparently, Round Face, who was working under Ryukyu with Frog Girl, had either heard of or figured out about Fat Gum's offer to Amajiki and Kirishima, probably when she saw Mirio there. She ended up telling Deku about it at some point, because Deku brought it up to him after they'd initially finished sparring.

"Hah?" Bakugo glared at Deku from his spot on the bench in the agency's training room, the green-eyed male looking slightly sheepish then.

"I'm just surprised, is all." Deku said, taking a quick swig of his water bottle before continuing, "Ochako seemed pretty jealous that Ryukyu didn't give her, Tsu, and Nejire the same offer that Fat Gum gave Kirishima and Amajiki. If she had, I would have agreed to go in a heartbeat. Well, assuming Mirko would have let me go." Deku looked contemplative then as he stood there, Bakugo using his momentary silence as an opportunity to take a swig of his own water bottle. "I just can't see why you didn't go too, Kacchan."

"Don't fuckin' judge me." Bakugo grunted, rolling his eyes. "You think I woulda given you the chance to get ahead here?" A scoff escaped the blond then, placing his water bottle on the bench as his palms rested on his knees, leaning forward in Deku's direction slightly. "Besides, the Hero Association wants me to fill out all that legal shit and turn it in as soon as possible. I don't have time to run to the other side of the country on a whim just because my idiot husband might get lonely." Bakugo closed his eyes then, leaning back against the wall, exhaling. "I've got this agency, and my future agency to worry about. I don't need to lump in a third one."

At the lack of a response, Bakugo cracked open an eye, noticing Deku staring at him with a soft smile on his face. "What's with that stupid look, Deku?"

Deku chuckled then, his gaze fond as he met Bakugo's own. "I know its been a couple years since you got married, but it's still nice hearing you refer to Kirishima as your husband." Deku moved to sit next to him on the bench then, placing his water bottle on the ground by his feet. "I remember when you both started dating back at the end of our first year at U.A., you seemed to be allergic to the word 'boyfriend'." Bakugo's eyes narrowed at Deku then, lifting his hands ever so slightly and letting small, controlled explosions pop off in the center of his palms then - a wordless warning that whatever he was on about now should stop there. But Deku merely laughed and kept talking.

"I'm just glad he makes you happy, Kacchan. Even as kids, you talked about having your own agency when you were a pro-hero, so hearing you say at graduation that you and Kirishima were going to start one together?" Deku smiled gently, leaning his back against the wall as well, his gaze no longer meeting Bakugo's. "If I hadn't been convinced about how much you'd cared about him before then, I would have known then."

"Deku..." Bakugo's voice was low, coming out in almost a growl."

"You know you don't have to do all the paperwork by yourself, right?" Deku was looking up at the ceiling then, his hands clasped together, resting in his lap. "I know you, you're probably not letting Kirishima help because you don't want him stressing out over it, but you're covering it up by saying that he'd be too annoying or too confused or too disorganized to figure it all out with." Bakugo tensed at that, before forcing himself to relax, not wanting to give Deku any indication that he was right. "But that's alot of pressure on you. I haven't started planning anything towards my own agency yet because Ochako and I are trying to figure out if we wanna have a kid first..." Deku trailed off then, and Bakugo could hear the smile in his tone, not having to look at the other to know it was there. "...But I know you, and you don't want to risk getting anything wrong, any Hero Association details, any legal details, any financial details. So you're more than likely going over everything three times, at least".

With a snarl, Bakugo pushed himself up from his spot, causing Deku to blink and look toward him. "Kacchan?"

"If you still have enough energy to be over-analyzin' and spoutin' that stupid shit, you obviously were holding back on me." Looking over his shoulder with a glare, Bakugo flexed his fingers, allowing another round of small controlled explosions to pop off again for a moment. Deku's gaze met his, green eyes widening slightly as Bakugo leaned in to roughly grab at his wrist, yanking the One For All successor back towards the center of the training room.

"K-Kacchan?!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes, letting Deku go after leading him to one side of the training mat, before taking a place opposite of him and getting into a stance. "We're going again, Deku."

"But-"

"Its not like you have a wife to go home to right now," Bakugo snipped, clenching and unclenching his hands, "So come on, one more round!"

Unfortunately, 'one more round' had evolved into another hour and a half of sparring, causing Bakugo to get home especially late. By the time he'd made and eaten dinner, worked on the agency paperwork, showered, and texted Kirishima goodnight, it was already a little past 11pm, more than an hour past his usual self-imposed 10pm bedtime. That hour alone was going to be enough to resort in him not feeling well-rested in the morning and admittedly irritable throughout the next day.

So that fact that it was 12:30 in the morning, 2 and a half hours after 10pm, and he still wasn't asleep yet?

Yeah no, Bakugo was definitely not looking forward to tomorrow.

Again, Bakugo turned, now with his back towards Kirishima's spot, instead facing his own nightstand. Reaching for his phone, Bakugo swiped at the screen upon seeing a text from Kirishima, wincing slightly at the light his phone produced before reading the other male's text.

(12:18) Eijirou: Sry for txting back late, I just got back to the hotel from checking in with Niigata's police force w/ Fat!

(12:19) Eijirou: I know you're sleeping rn but gnight Katsuki! I love you <3

(12:22) Eijirou: Txt me when you wake up! I don't gotta head back up to the agency building we're working out of til noon!

(12:22) Eijirou: Maybe we can call and talk b4 you head to Mirko's! :D

Katsuki couldn't fight the tired smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips, and was tempted to text Kirishima back. After all, his last text had come in only eight minutes ago, and while he was a deep sleeper, it took Kirishima a little while to actually fall asleep, so the chances of him being awake right now were fairly good. But in re-reading those texts, Bakugo's eyes landed on 'I know you're sleeping right now', and he internally cursed at himself. As much as he wanted to reply to Kirishima, he knew his husband would be more than concerned that he was still awake and would call to check on him. That would only keep them both up longer, though, and Bakugo knew he was pushing his luck with being up this late as it was.

With a sigh, Bakugo put his phone back down on the nightstand and shifted, pulling the blanket up over his head. God, ne needed to get to sleep right the fuck now.

______________________________

Much to his chagrin, Bakugo didn't get that morning call from Kirishima.

He texted and called the redheaded dumbass but when he received no answer, he resigned himself to the conclusion that Kirishima was completely knocked out from whatever work called for in that previous day and either didn't remember to put the sound on for his phone, or was just sleeping through it. The lack of any promised communication with his husband, in addition to feeling how unrested and drained he was due to his lack of proper sleep, simply propelled the blond's mood past irritable and into aggravated.

He was prickly throughout his entire shift at Mirko's, the only ones at the agency daring enough to approach him or talk to him being Deku and Mirko herself. He was curt with civilians and officers at best during his patrol, irritated that he couldn't let off any steam against any villains or ne'er-do-wells due to the lack of them during his patrol.

The apologetic texts from Kirishima didn't help his mood any, either. Bakugo saw them after getting back from patrol, having left his personal phone in his locker at the agency, and while some form of apology was appreciated, it only soured Bakugo's mood further, the blond only being reminded that there'd be no one waiting for him at home tonight, and for the next three nights at least.

___________________________

By the fourth day of the worktrip, Kacchan was a hair trigger waiting to go off.

Midoriya recognized the little things, signs he'd known since they were kids. The repeated curling and uncurling of Kacchan's fingers, the way he'd rub his thumb against the side of his pointer finger, the speed at which he bounced his right leg when sitting down, the way he'd scratch at the back of his head, the way his breathing changed when he was trying to calm himself down (Midoriya was easily able to mentally count out the 5 seconds Kacchan would breathe in, the 2 seconds he'd hold it, and the 5 seconds he'd breathe out). He did everything he could to make sure no stress went Kacchan's way, intercepting anyone who was heading towards the blond with either news or paperwork, and staying later than usual for their post-shift spar, letting Kacchan get his frustrations out as best he could that way. He wasn't letting himself just be a punching bag for the other male though, dishing out just as much as he was given, but Kacchan was right: It wasn't like he had Ochako waiting for him at home. And honestly, even if she was, he'd still take the extra time to help Kacchan; He knew Ochako would understand.

The fifth day wasn't any better. Midoriya was greeted that early afternoon in the doorway of the agency's locker room by the sound of Kacchan's voice cursing up a storm, followed by the slam of a locker. Exhaling, Midoriya stepped in the locker room, intent on walking towards his own locker, which was next to Kacchan's. Upon turning into the row of lockers that theirs was on, Midoriya saw that the explosive hero was already half dressed in his winter hero costume, his top half unclothed, his bottom half clad in his black and green pants, metal kneepads, and black and red boots. However, he was hunched over, a hand and his forehead both pressed against his locker, his eyes closed as his chest heaved with long, slow breaths. Midoriya simply stood in place upon seeing that, not making a move towards their lockers.

From an outsider's point of view, or at the very least from the view of someone who didn't know them well enough, one would assume that Midoriya was keeping his space out of fear.

Had this been junior high, or the majority of that first year at U.A., then that would have been true. But both the young men currently in the locker room knew that Midoriya was keeping his space both out of respect, and silent support.

They both knew the blond would feel suffocated if someone were to get in his space uninvited when he was letting off steam, especially when he'd been doing so alone before being walked in on. They both knew he was prone to act before thinking when angered (well arguably, they both were), and the uninvited touch of a well meaning hand would spell disaster in more ways than one. They both knew he needed room to breathe, room to think.

Again, Midoriya could notice the way he was breathing was that 5-2-5 count, and he was thankful that the other male was leagues ahead from where he was with his anger issues as a kid, actively taking steps to soothe himself. Regardless, the air was still thick with tension, the only sound being those slow, long breaths. After a minute or so, the silence was shattered.

"I'm fine."

Kacchan didn't open his eyes, but Midoriya knew he was speaking directly to him. He was back to breathing regularly, but the fingers on the hand splayed flat against the locker curled in on themselves, and the tension in his shoulders fell slack.

"I'm fine."

Midoriya's expression remained steely, but he internally frowned at the blond's repeated words, the insistance in them, the slight crack to his voice in that second word. He said nothing in return, letting his childhood friend get out what he needed to, but couldn't help the tug he felt at his heart. Was Kirishima's absence really affecting him this much? He knew the two of them had been practically attached at the hip since U.A., knew that they helped each other grow and learn, knew they'd become so integrated in each other's lives... Midoriya's brows furrowed slightly in thought. When was the last time Kirishima and Kacchan had truly been apart for this long? His mind scoured through the past instances where something like this could have happened, and honestly? The most recent time he could come up with was probably the vacation breaks they took during their last year at U.A., but even then, there was the very likely chance that they'd met up several times over the duration of the break, seeing as they were dating back then. Regardless, their last year at U.A. was 7 years ago. If that was honestly that last time, the most recent time that they'd spent a significant of time apart? That really wasn't good for Kacchan's mental state. Not that Kacchan was codependent on Kirishima, he knew their relationship was a very healthy interdependency, a mutual give-and-take. They were each other's pillars of support, but whereas Kirishima could easily open up to others he trusted, Kacchan would close himself off to nearly everyone, save Kirishima and arguably Midoriya himself.

He wanted to say something, tried to formulate what to say as he watched Kacchan shook his head slightly, his eyes remaining closed all the while.

"I'm fine."

At this point, they both knew he was no longer talking to the bearer of One For All. At this point, they both knew he was trying to convince himself.

You're not fine. Part of Midoriya wanted to say, but he knew to refrain. He quickly began thinking: What could he do to help? Fat Gum and Ryukyu's agencies weren't coming back for another two days, assuming everything went according to plan and no complications arose, causing them to stay longer. He knew Kacchan's usual day off was coming soon, it falling under the presumed last day of the worktrip that Kirishima and Ochako were on. Would it help more, or hurt more, if Midoriya gave up one of his own upcoming off days? Sure, he would have used it to spend time with Ochako since she'd be back from the worktrip, but if it'd help Kacchan... Midoriya's eyes widened slightly then, recalling Kacchan's words from a couple days ago: 'Its not like you have a wife to go home to right now.'

Kacchan was... lonely, Midoriya realized. For the first time in practically a decade, the blond was lonely, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

Did he even realize it was loneliness? Or was he perceiving it as weakness, that he'd become 'soft' from being around Kirishima for so long?

He should have noticed sooner, should have seen that statement as the first sign. Yes, he didn't have Ochako to go home to, but just like him, Kacchan didn't have Kirishima to go home to. Yes, his house was empty, but Midoriya himself had his mother and Iida and Aoyama and Todoroki and Asui that he'd either call or text or visit before or after work when he had the chance. Kacchan's house was empty too, but Kacchan would probably die before visiting his parents in an attempt to make himself feel less lonely. He wouldn't call his friends, either. He'd bet anything that if Kacchan had heard from Mina or Kaminari or Sero, that they were the ones initiating the conversation, and that Kacchan would only text them back, if he responded to them at all.

Knowing the stress he was under from working on making his and Kirishima's agency a reality, Midoriya could only assume Kacchan was stuck in a routine of self-isolation. Wake up, eat, work, eat, sleep, repeat. Maybe get a call or text from Kirishima somewhere in between-- wait, how often did he even get that? He himself hadn't heard much from Ochako recently, they had their 'good morning!' texts and every now and then some intermittant interactions, but they hadn't talked on the phone in a couple of days. Was it the same for Kacchan? Was it worse? Maybe giving Kacchan one of his days off wasn't the best idea then. Aside from the fact that Kacchan would see it as a move of pity or maybe a move to try and get ahead in Mirko's good graces, if Kacchan was lonely, giving him a day to himself, by himself, with no one there at home wouldn't really help things much, would it? Maybe there was something else he could do, maybe--

"I can hear you overthinking from here, nerd."

Midoriya looked up to Kacchan then, the green haired male's gaze having fallen to the floor at some point without him noticing. His own fist had been brought up to his mouth, like it tended to do when he overthought and subsequently began to mutter aloud. Thank god he hadn't begun doing that, Kacchan would have probably ripped him apart.

Kacchan's eyes were still closed, but seconds after Midoriya's gaze returned to look back at him, Kacchan finally opened his eyes, turning his head slightly to look back at him.

"Don't--"

"What are you doing after work?"

Midoriya cut the blond off unintentionally, the words having just flew out of his mouth. Though when Kacchan didn't answer, didn't try repeating what he was cut off from saying, Midoriya continued. "I was wondering... if you could help me."

He watched as Kacchan blinked, before the blond pulled himself away from the locker, standing up straight now, his brows furrowed.

"...What?"

"Remember how I told you the other day that I hadn't started making any moves towards starting my own agency because Ochako and I were considering having a baby?" Midoriya watched as Kacchan's furrowed brows relaxed momentarily, only for one of them to arch in confusion, his lip curling into a slight sneer, but one that Midoriya recognized he used when feigning disinterest, masking his curiosity at something he didn't want to admit interest in. "I was wondering if you could help me get an understanding of what all I need to prepare for. Mainly in terms of finance, cuz, ya know," Midoriya chuckled awkwardly then, a hand going to rub at the back of his head, "babies aren't cheap."

A moment of silence hung between them, and eventually, Kacchan sighed, shaking his head as he moved to put on the top half of his winter hero costume. "You'd be better off just having the damn kid and then starting an agency after it starts school or some shit." His voice was soft, and he stopped speaking in order to slip his top on, resuming when he was settled. "You'll burn out if you're taking care of a brat and starting an agency at the same time. Either start the agency first or wait 'til you don't have to be watching a kid 24/7."

"Assuming we only have one." Midoriya said absentmindedly, before his brain caught up to his words and a small blush rose to his face.

Kacchan's expression morphed into one of actual disinterest, scoffing and shaking his head. "Don't fuckin' start gettin' all sappy on me. Talk to your wife about that shit." At that, Kacchan opened his locker and pulled out a stick of eyeliner, as well as his mask and headpieces, before closing it again. "Get your ass over here and start getting changed already, we have patrol in ten. I'm headed to the mirror." With that, Kacchan turned away, walking towards the back of the locker room, where a full length mirror ran from the floor to about a half a foot away from the ceiling, slipping on his mask before darkening his eyelids and the small gaps of skin between the mask and his eyes with eyeliner.

Exhaling, Midoriya moved to his own locker, beginning to change. Before he knew it, Kacchan was back at his own locker, opening it to toss the eyeliner inside, and closing it much more gently than when Midoriya heard him slamming it earlier. "I'm going to get my gauntlets." Kacchan said, beginning to walk out of the locker room. He stopped before crossing the threshold, however, a sigh leaving him.

"I'm leaving right after we're done sparring, Deku." He said softly, but still with enough gruff to his voice that would warn the average person to stay way. Midoriya turned his head then to look at Kacchan, eyes widening slightly as the other continued speaking. "So you better get any shit you need to get done for work done before I go because if you're not walking out of here the same time I am, I'm not letting you in my damn apartment."

A look of relief crossed Midoriya's features then, and he nodded, despite Kacchan's back being turned and him not being able to see it. "Right. Thanks, Kacchan."

Kacchan only scoffed, before muttering a 'yeah, whatever' and leaving the locker room.

________________________________

True to his word, Bakugo bolted for the door after showering and changing into his civilian clothes and jacket after his and Deku's post-shift spar. Whatever work related paperwork or issues Deku had needed to get through during the day were apparently taken care of because the nerd was right at Bakugo's fucking heels when he reached the front door. The two shared a look of understanding before they headed out into the winter early evening, the journey to the apartment mainly silent.

Upon shuffling inside, Bakugo kicked off his shoes by the door, giving a grunt and nod of his head for Deku to do the same. He then headed towards his bedroom, grabbing the folder that held all his financial, legal, and Hero Association paperwork for his and Kirishima's agency out of the safe in their closet, and walking back into the living room, where Deku had sat quietly on the couch, looking over his phone.

"Oi, nerd. Kitchen." Bakugo began walking to the kitchen then, Deku silently padding behind him. Placing the folder down on the kitchen table, Bakugo nudged one of the chairs with the side of his foot, moving it towards Deku. "Sit. Look over what you need to while I start cooking."

He could feel Deku's gaze on him as he turned his back to him, beginning to make his way towards the fridge to look at what to make. "You're not sitting."

"Right." Deku's voice answered, quickly followed by the sound of a chair being pulled out further, and soon after, the sound of papers being shuffled around.

"You better not mess my shit up, Deku." He called out, though his tone lacked any real bite. The warning was empty, he knew Deku was, while scatterbrained mentally, really fucking organized physically. All those Hero Analysis journals he had and such made a point of that.

For the most part, they each worked in silence, Bakugo making the two of them dinner, and Deku reading over the paperwork, asking only a couple a questions when the need arose. Things were silent as well as they ate, though Bakugo could fucking feel the wheels in Deku's brain running as he was deep in thought, presumably about what he was going to do about his future kid and agency. The blond had to even snap Deku back to attention once, the nerd having spaced out somewhat while raising his chopsticks to his mouth, having just stopped halfway and not moved for a second. Deku had apologized but Bakugo just rolled his eyes and finished eating his own food.

After they were both done, and Deku had thanked Bakugo for the meal, the two of them deliberated back and forth on the detailed aspects of agencies for a long while, and honestly? As much as he hated to admit it, he was feeling less high-strung than he had been the past couple of days.

He wasn't an idiot. He knew Deku could have looked this agency shit up on his own, at his own home. But of course he had to butt into Bakugo's personal business under the guise of needing help, when he was just doing it to help him instead. Deku probably knew he knew too.

He wouldn't thank him out loud though. Wasn't even going to thank him mentally. Nope. Take that, fucking nerd.

But when a yawn left Bakugo only a couple minutes after 10, Deku blinked, and looked at the clock. "Is it 10 already?" A sigh escaped the nerd, and he began re-organizing the agency paperwork, settling it neatly inside its folder. "I need to start heading back to my place."

Bakugo rolled his eyes then, getting up from the kitchen table and grabbing the folder, stretching out his back. "What time is your shift tomorrow?"

Deku paused, blinking as he looked at Bakugo then. "Uh, noon. Why?"

Beginning to head out of the kitchen, Bakugo looked over his shoulder. "Might as well stay here for the night since you've welcomed yourself into my damn apartment, eatin' my damn food and shit." He grumbled, looking back out of the kitchen as he instead looked down and thumbed through the papers in the folder, quickly making sure there wasn't one out of place. "Your place is on the other side of town, anyway. Just sleep in the the spare bedroom. Extra toothbrushes and shit are in the bottom cabinet under the bathroom sink. Eijirou insisted we keep several for when the other idiots stay over. Same thing with clothes in the spare bedroom's closet and dresser." With that, Bakugo began walking into the living room, crossing it so he could head into the hallway towards his and Eijirou's bedroom.

"Thanks, Kacchan."

A sigh left Bakugo then as he paused again, turning slightly to see Deku turning off the kitchen light, and heading towards the hallway as well. There was a gentle, tired smile on Deku's face, and Bakugo shook his head, huffing before muttering, "Yeah, sure." He opened the door to his and Eijirou's bedroom, stepping inside so Deku could pass him and head to the spare bedroom, though he half stepped back out, keeping his gaze away from him. "My shift's the same time as yours tomorrow. I don't give a shit if you leave before me, but like hell I'm leaving you alone in my damn apartment. So if you're not ready when I leave, that's your own fuckin' fault."

Deku chuckled, fucking chuckled, and spoke. "Gotcha. Thanks again." Bakugo heard the spare bedroom's door open then. "G'night, Kacchan."

"Whatever."

Bakugo still had some trouble falling asleep that night, still wishing Kirishima were fucking home already, but managed to fall asleep before 11, at least. And when he woke up the next morning, he felt a little better, due to getting more sleep than usual, He texted his husband before getting up, getting ready, and beginning to cook breakfast. Deku at least had the decency to not make any comments other than a 'thank you' upon seeing he'd gotten another meal out of Bakugo.

_____________________________

While still wound up, Bakugo was at least a slight bit more tolerable with others as the day went on. He was ready for it to be tomorrow though, not because it was his day off, but because Eijirou was coming home tomorrow night.

He'd managed to get in bed at least at a decent time today, even if it was 15 minutes later than he'd liked, but unfortunately, that was apparently the only decency that life had decided to grant to his sleep schedule, because now it was fucking one in the morning, and he still was awake. The air was crisp and cold, and despite the extra blanket he'd pulled out of the hallway's linen closet an hour ago out of desperation to stay fucking warm, Bakugo still could not get comfortable. To make matters worse, Kirishima's fucking pillow, which Bakugo had started clinging to after that third night in both an attempt for some extra heat and to try and replicate the feeling of the idiot sleeping next to him, barely smelled like him any more.

Bakugo scowled as he buried his face into Kirishima's pillow. How fucking pathetic was he? He was cold, he was tired, he was pissed, and he fucking missed the hell out of Kirishima.

At least tomorrow was his day off, maybe he could just sleep intermittently throughout the day to try and catch up on all the sleep he'd been missing.

Slender fingers curled into the cushion beneath them, Bakugo's body similarly curling in on itself. A faint voice in the back of his brain suggested, try jerking off, maybe that will help!, but Bakugo quickly smothered the thought, because it was too fucking cold to get out from under the covers to jerk off, and he sure as hell wasn't going to jerk off under them. Doing so in a hot shower was out of the question as well, because sure he'd be warm in the shower, but the moment the water gets turned off and he's out of the shower, the cold air would just come rushing back to him, more fiercely than before.

An irritated groan left the blond then, a shiver running down his spine as he momentarily thought about repositioning himself from laying on his left side side to his right, but deciding against it, not wanting to shift too much and let the cold seep in more than it should have whenever he moved. He was basically stuck in this position for the night.

The faint sound of his phone buzzing against the nightstand caught his attention, but Bakugo made no move to reach for it and see what the notification was, or who it was from. More likely than not, it was Kirishima, replying to the 'good night' text Bakugo had sent him as he'd gotten into bed. Scoffing, Bakugo shook his head. The damn idiot was probably just getting back to the hotel if he was receiving a text this late, and as much as he wanted to hear Kirishima's voice just talk him to sleep, he refrained from seeing what the text said and calling him. Sure, Bakugo had the day off tomorrow, but Kirishima didn't, and keeping him up later than one in the morning when he was close to ending his worktrip just because he missed the redhead would have been an asshole move.

Also it was really fucking cold, and god forbid he prolong his sleep any longer because he couldn't resist the urge to talk to Kirishima on the phone and let the cold attack him in the process of checking the damn phone.

Bakugo wasn't sure when he'd entered that weird limbo between sleep and consciousness, but he was aware of being pulled out of it when he thought he heard a small, muted 'thud!' from somewhere around him. Blinking, Bakugo looked to the clock again, it now reading 1:37, and stayed still, trying to hone in on any other noises that might have followed. He couldn't tell if it was the heater or the pipes, or if it was even from his apartment or not. It was quiet enough that it could have been from one of the neighboring apartments, but at the same time, the likelihood of someone being awake at this hour to even make noise was slim. He quieted his breathing, his gaze unfocusing as he tried to see if there were any other telltale noises that could--

At the sound of the bedroom door opening, Bakugo tensed, a scowl curling onto his lips as he immediately sat up, palms crackling with weak, tiny poofs of explosions because who the fuck was in his apartment--

"Katsuki?"

At the sound of Kirishima's tired, yet surprised voice, Bakugo blinked, eyes slowly adjusting to Kirishima's form in the doorway. Their hallway light was on, making Bakugo squint, but he watched as the redhead's arms rose in surrender, gently waving his hands from side to side. "Hey, you're good, it's all good. It's ok, Katsuki. Relax."

It was then that Bakugo realized that he hadn't ceased the small 'pop!s' in his hands, though with as cold as he was, and the chilly, arid air drying up the miniscule amount of sweat he'd barely managed to build up, those pops were no real threat. Regardless, Bakugo exhaled, his adrenaline dying away as he stopped making sorry excuses for explosions, shivering as the cold finally started to make itself known on his skin.

"Sorry," Kirishima said, turning off the hallway light, "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"You're fine." Bakugo muttered tiredly, reaching over to the nightstand to turn on a lamp so that Kirishima would be able to at least see, wincing slightly at the light it gave off. "I was already awake."

At that, Kirishima paused his movements of putting his suitcase by the dresser, instead looking to Bakugo, cocking his head to the side in concern. "You were? You're usually dead asleep right now." He moved to Bakugo's side of the bed then, a hand reaching out to cup the side of the blond's face. "You ok?"

Bakugo hated how easily he melted at Kirishima's touch, his eyes closing as he leaned into the warmth of the other male's hand. When he failed to answer the question, however, he felt Kirishima's other hand cup the other side of his face, and as he felt Kirishima's lips gently press against his forehead, Bakugo felt at peace for the first time in days. Kirishima's thumbs brushed against his cheeks and Bakugo tilted his head up as he felt Kirishima pull away from his forehead, the motion a silent demand for a proper kiss.

Kirishima easily obliged Bakugo's quiet order with a smile, pressing his lips to Katsuki's gently, slowly kissing the explosive male.

When they broke apart, Bakugo's eyes opened, looking over Kirishima's face before frowning slightly, though there was no hint of true upset behind the expression. "You're back early." It was more a statement than a question.

Nodding, Kirishima brushed one of his thumbs against Bakugo's cheek again. "Yeah, we rounded up the villains we were helping locate and detain earlier this afternoon, and Fat got me, Tamaki, and Mirio an early flight home after filling in a little paperwork. He said he'd cover the rest with Ryukyu and the others and they'd head home tomorrow-- or, uh..." His eyes glanced to the clock on the nightstand then, and he let out a small chuckle. "Err, today, technically, I guess."

In his comforted, sleep-deprived state, Bakugo could only really nod, a smirk tugging at his lips as Kirishima pressed another kiss to his forehead. He closed his eyes again, hearing Kirishima start talking again, but he couldn't fully focus on it, it mainly going in one ear and out the other, though he nodded every couple of seconds, trying to focus. At the sound of Kirishima's amused, gentle laughter Bakugo's smirk softened, and he felt yet another kiss to his forehead. Though that smile was quick to vanish when the warmth of Kirishima's presence quickly faded away. Red eyes fluttered open, and when Bakugo's line of sight was met with nothing but an empty bedroom, he blinked, his chest tightening. Was he really that fucking tired that he was hallucinating? What the actual fuck.

"Katsuki?"

Bakugo turned his head towards the sound of Kirishima's voice, the redhead having apparently made his way to their bathroom. He was standing in the doorway of it, a pair of sweatpants and boxers in hand, but his expression was a mix between amused and concerned, his gaze transfixed on Bakugo. Blinking, Bakugo felt a moment of relief because he wasn't actually hallucinating, thank fuck but quickly frowned, though out of actual displeasure this time. "What are you doing?"

A small huff of amusement left Kirishima then, and he leaned against the doorway. "I just said I was gonna take a shower after I brushed my teeth." He watched Bakugo's nose and eyebrows scruntched as he attempted to recall being told that, a chuckle leaving the sturdy hero at that. "I guess I was right to think you were falling asleep while I was talking. Go ahead and lay down, I'll be out of the shower soon enough."

Something in Katsuki seemed to snap to attention at that, because the blonde was quick to sit up straight, his scruntched expression melting back into a frown. "Just shower in the morning, get your ass in bed right now."

"Huh?" Kirishima blinked at the demand, not missing the insistance hidden in Bakugo's tone. He looked at the other male for a moment, before tired, amused laughter bubbled up from the depths of his chest. "Dude, I missed you too," Kirishima began, running the hand not holding his clothes through his hair, "but I'm too tired to do anything other than sleep tonight, Katsuki."

He watched as Bakugo took a moment to process his words, and blinked as the blond rolled his eyes. "Dumbass, I'm not saying get in bed so we can fuck, I'm saying get in bed because I'm fucking cold, and if you take a shower now, you'll be fucking cold too."

At that, Kirishima laughed again, nodding in understanding. "Alright, got it, got it. I still wanna brush my teeth though." With that, Kirishima walked into the bathroom, and Bakugo turned off the lamp, moving Kirishima's pillow back to its original spot before settling back down, watching the bathroom doorway expectantly, until Kirishima walked through the doorway, all smiles as he flung himself into bed, the action making the mattress bounce, and Bakugo along with it.

"You're lucky I'm fucking tired, or I'd kick your ass out of the bed for that." Bakugo muttered as Kirishima settled under the blankets, though as he felt Kirishima's arms wrap around him and draw him close, any bite Bakugo had was washed away, and he easily gave in to the warmth that surrounded him, his arms going to wrap around Kirishima in return.

Kirishima slowly pressed gentle kisses to Katsuki's face, enjoying how the blond completely melted against him at each one. His eyes darted to the clock then, and he winced slightly at the time it read. "What time do you have work tomorrow? Because it's about to be 2."

Bakugo's eyes were closed then, a grunt of acknowledgement leaving him at the sound of Kirishima's voice. He gave a proper response after a second though, when he felt the other's concerned gaze not leaving him. "Don't have work tomorrow. Day off."

Kirishima smiled at that, exhaling before replying. "Fat gave Tamaki and me a few days off for going with him to Niigata." He watched as Bakugo cracked an eye open at that, and he continued speaking. "So that means we both have the day off tomorrow."

"Thank fuck," Bakugo muttered, letting his eye close again, "because you're not leaving this goddamn bed until I say so."

"For sleep or for sex?" Kirishima sounded almost apologetic then, fingers running through the hair on the back of Bakugo's head. "Because I'm too tired to figure out what you mean right now."

"Both. Sleep first." Bakugo leaned into the touch, Kirishima pressing a kiss to his cheek then.

"Sounds good." A comfortable silence settled between them, Kirishima mindlessly threading his finger's through Bakugo's hair, nails faintly scratching against his scalp at random intervals. When a hum of contentment left the blond, Kirishima couldn't help the tired smile that tugged at his lips. "Hey, Katsuki?"

"Hmm?"

"I missed you."

Inhaling a slow and deep breath, Bakugo opened his eyes, looking over Kirishima's relaxed expression, before leaning in to kiss him. The kiss wasn't exactly chaste, but it was simple enough that when the two of them pulled apart, meeting each other's gaze, they both smiled, Bakugo leaning in to bury his face against Kirishima's neck.

"Missed you too, Eijirou." Kirishima felt a gentle kiss pressed against his neck, and felt his heart swell upon hearing him quietly say, "I love you."

And as Bakugo began to drift away into his first restful sleep in nearly a week, he smiled against Eijirou's skin, the last thing he heard being his husband's voice gently replying, "I love you too, Katsuki."