#he’s lifting the rock i live under to stare at me judgementally

[bubzterr]

hmmm today i will try and make some silly edits (punished immediately for my hubris)

[sunatoru]

bottom of the deep blue. (8)

⇒ mermaid!suna x siren!reader

summary : sirens, creatures of unmatched beauty and cunning charm, they lure men in with their voices and grace, taking advantage of all the gullible fishermen and pirates. mermaids, the peacekeepers of the deep blue sea, naive and kind to a fault at times. a fated encounter between the two underwater dwellers leads to a difficult situation and a love that shouldn’t be.

warnings : character death, mentions of blood , somewhat graphic description of flesh being uhh eaten?? , mentions of torture, cruel treatment, description of mutilation, mental breakdowns, just a lot of death and fear.

genre : mermaid au, pirate au, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, betrayal

a/n : i’m so sorry it took me so long to post the final chapter, after this there’ll be a short epilogue that i’ll probably post later on in the week, and then i might take a break from writing a series (i have more planned but i wanna work on the ideas more) so i’ll probably release one shots for a bit!! pls reblog or comment or send me a message in my inbox if you enjoyed or had any criticisms 🫣🫂🫂

w/c : 2.7k

rintarou shifted awkwardly under the harsh glares of your sisters, each one of them taking their time to inspect him carefully.

“yn never talked about you, but we knew when she’d come back later than usual, a bright smile on her face— we knew it had to be because she met someone.” the eldest broke the silence.

suna swallowed back his guilt at her words, he knew you cared for him, that there was something slowly blooming between the two of you, yet that didn’t stop him. he realised his selfishness cost him the one thing he desired most, freedom wasn’t above the water surrounded by people who had no care for him.

he realised too late that freedom was with you. spending hours in your little cave, hidden away from the world and the burdens you both carried, freedom was holding your hand as the two of you sat on the rocks together watching the sunset or running through the markets.

rintarou took far too long to realise that freedom was with you.

“i’m sorry…” suna wished he could do more or say more to even the tide, but the damage had already been done, you had been ripped away from your family and the life you had grown accustomed to, albeit a life you didn’t want to live, however you were safe and your safety should have been his biggest priority.

your sisters stare at him, gaze stone cold and filled with judgement at the fidgeting merman who could only bow his head and lay a hand on his heart if only to show his sincerity for what has happened. his apology is not enough.

“you expect us to accept your foolish apology and move on? our sister is being harmed and by the time we find her, she may very well be dead. your remorse is not needed, your help is needed.” the eldest spoke to him, her tone sharp.

rintarou nodded and lifted his head up, gazing back at her. “i know where she is, i can lead us to them. if we go now we may be able to make it to them before the sun rises. these humans are weakest at night.”

“good. we will need every advantage to rip their throats out as slowly and painfully as possible.”

—

the ocean was bustling in the night, all types of creatures came out to hunt for their meal or travel the vast waters for a new place to stay. the group of sirens led by the merman sped through the currents, ignoring the fish that would scramble out of their paths.

“they should be further ahead. once we make it under the boat, remember the plan. rintarou you make your way back onto the ship, we will start the melodies as soon as you give us the signal.”

rintarou gives a short nod, and with that the group pushes forward, speed increasing as the urgency to get to the travelling boat rises. if they’re even a little late it could result in the end of your existence and if that happens, rintarou would accept any punishment your sisters had ready for him.

after a few more minutes of swimming the group sees the large paddles of the ship below the water, lying dormant as most of the crew must have finally been allowed rest. rintarou takes this as a good sign, and with a small smile he swims closer to the boat.

they all slow down once they make it to the first paddle, with quiet nods the group splits off, your sisters surrounding the boat, and rintarou swimming over to the side where the large ropes had been thrown over.

rintarou turns to your eldest sister, giving her an appreciative nod before swimming up to the surface. with a deep breath he begins the climb, at first it had been a struggle with the fact that he had to carry most of his tail weight, but the further up he got and the more he dried off, his human legs had finally formed again.

he tried keeping his grunts as quiet as possible, but climbing the rope while being hit with the strong ocean winds was something he had not been prepared for, so with a final grunt he throws himself over the edge of the boats barriers. eyes searching for a sack or long fabric he could tie around his nude waist before finding you and confronting yuuji.

much to rintarou’s luck, he found a pair of abandoned pants, most likely from a drunk crew mate. he slipped into the pants and sprinted down to where you were held the last time he was on the boat. with a speed he wasn’t used to and a strength he didn’t know he had, he threw the doors open and ran down the stairs.

his heart stuttered at the sight of your empty cage and the blood soaking the ground. his legs felt weak and with a choked gasp he fell to his knees. a hand raising to his mouth to cover the sobs that threatened to spill out.

i’m so sorry, i’m so so sorry yn.

after a few agonisingly quiet seconds, he sharply inhaled and slowly began rising again. he’d kill that bastard yuuji first, and once he’s delivered the lifeless corpse of that wicked captain to your sisters, he’d let them have their way with him, it was what he deserved after all.

rintarou turns back to the entrance, feet dragging as his hands shook with both an anger and sadness he’d never felt before. one foot after the other he climbed the stairs slowly, hands gripping the bannister as he made his ascent.

“well, you sure are desperate.” rintarou’s head snapped up at the sound of yuuji’s voice.

there, right in front of the door, stood captain yuuji. he had a twisted smirk on his face, a tone filled with cynicism and an evil glint shining within his eyes. and trapped within his arms, was you. your legs had formed and rintarou couldn’t bear to look down at them, keeping his head up he examined your shaking body, hands gripping yuuji’s arms tightly as he tightened his own grip around your throat.

you were alive. rintarou felt his body relax just the slightest bit, stifling a sigh of relief. he cleared his throat and returned his gaze back to yuuji, glaring at the man who continued to smirk down at the weak man at the bottom of the staircase.

“if i remember correctly, i said i'd kill you the next time i saw you. isn’t that right rintarou?”

gulping back his fear, rintarou holds his ground. “you’d like that wouldn’t you, yuuji? unfortunately for you, that’s not gonna happen.”

with a deep inhale, rintarou brings his fingers to his lips and let out a loud whistle, running up the rest of the stairs, he shoves yuuji aside, ripping you away from his side and dragging your shaking body to the edge of the ship, pushing your body behind his as the air begins to fill with the soft and beautiful harmony of the sirens below.

yuuji’s eyes slowly widen, hands moving to block his ears, screaming for his men to help him, his hands grip his ears tightly, nails digging into his flesh and scalp. yuuji’s legs begin to shake, he runs to the doors of the crews’ bunks, kicking the door open, screaming for his men to wake up.

the ship falls into chaos, men shouting to each other, glasses falling and breaking, kegs spilling over as the men scramble to get up at the begs and cries of their captain, who falls further and further into a breakdown.

yuuji sobs the louder the sirens’ song gets, his men go silent, the chaos stops. one by one the men line up along the sides of the boat. yuuji shakes his head, his trembling lips repeating the same begs of ‘no’ as his men slowly climb over the edges of the ship.

“no… no, no, NO! stop, please — i’m sorry, please no more!” yuuji falls to his knees, hands still gripping the sides of his head, his body is hunched over, tears and drool and snot fall over him as he rocks himself, his cries drowning out the splashes and screams of his crew.

you grip rintarou’s arm, watching the man who tormented and tortured you so harshly for days, fall into a madness you’d never witnessed before. his cries and screams were far more heartbreaking than the pleads of the dying crew mates, if he hadn’t hurt you as much as he did, you’re sure you would’ve felt more remorse.

rin purses his lips, brows drawn together as he watches the mighty captain yuuji become nothing more than a blubbering fool, crumpled on the ground shaking in fear as death looms over him. the men in the water grew silent. most, if not all of them, were dead by now.

yuuji, noticing the silence even through his breakdown, slowly lifts his head up, hands leaving his ears. his sobs grow quiet, but his body still trembles from the held back cries. “i-i’m so—sorry. please, please don’t hurt me…”

an uncomfortable silence stretches out over the ship, you push yourself closer to rintarou, cheek pressing against the muscles of his broad back. “tarou… what’s going to happen to him?” your voice was quiet, shaking as you shivered against him.

“cover your ears, yn…” rintarou gulps. eyes gazing out to the other side of the ship, where your sisters finally climb over the edge, human legs replacing their large tails, they hobble slowly over to yuuji, who slowly turns to look behind him.

he gasps, body flying backwards as he scrambles away from the women who began surrounding him. his screams return, a sound so loud and piercing that even as you press your hands closer to your ears, his wails break through the barrier. you clench your eyes shut, pressing your entire body into rintarou to block out the sound.

yuuji begs like no man ever has, screams as he’s torn apart, he pushes and shoves against the sirens who feast on the man who lost everything twice. he grips at the floorboards of his ship, wide eyes staring up at the sky, whispering and whimpering prayers to his God as he feels the teeth and nails dig further into his flesh.

before he falls into his eternal slumber, his gaze falls onto rintarou, he sees part of your shaking body, and with his last breath he utters a singular phrase, one that rintarou would never be able to utter to you. through and through, yuuji hated sirens and he’d continue to hate them wherever he ended up on the other side.

rintarou turns to you, kneeling down as his hands gripped your wrists, gently pulling them away from your head. “it’s okay, it’s over now. everything is over, you’re safe.” he tried giving you a warm smile, muster up the courage to look you in the eyes, do anything to give you the comfort you so desperately needed.

“yn…” the call from your eldest sister snapped you out of your trembling fear. glistening eyes locking onto the worried ones of your sister. your lips trembled, legs shaking from the overwhelming emotions and pain. slowly, step after step you dragged yourself over to your family, hands flying to hug your sister with your remaining strength.

you could only bring yourself to mutter apologies as your sister held you back tighter, her comforting hold and her hand which caresses the top of your head finally gets you to break. your own wails cry out among the ship, gripping onto your sister tighter than you ever had before. your other sisters gathered around the two of you, whispering words of comfort, some checking on your physical health, others petting you.

for the first time in a long time, you felt the touch of others that had no malicious intentions, the gentle touch and caress of people who loved and cared for you. you were safe and you could finally feel that safety.

“it’ll be okay, yn. we will fix everything, you are safe now.” your eldest sister mumbled into your hair as she held you closer.

you nodded against her, hands still gripped onto her like a child too afraid to leave their mother’s side, too fearful of the wonders the world may hold. you experienced the human world, and you realised that maybe humans didn’t deserve the sympathy you so easily gave them.

“don’t think we’ve forgiven you for running off with that horrid merman though. so many fish in the sea and you go for that?”

you let out a soft laugh as your sisters began berating your taste in men, rintarou’s jaw dropping as they criticised every bit about him from the other side of the ship. he self-consciously crossed his arms over his chest and slumped down, knees pulled up as he lets his head rest against the barrier supporting his back.

“i’m still here, y’know…” he muttered.

—

after being healed by the strange old human lady by the shore and being brought back to your home, you continued to stay by your sister's sides. helping them hunt the men who tried crossing the ocean.

rintarou, however, could not say his return was as welcomed, nor was he happy to be back in the mermaids’ kingdom.

being stripped of his title, rintarou bowed his head in front of the king and queen who could only glare down at the ex-knight in training. he had a hand placed on his heart, the other arm behind his back as he stayed in that position, awaiting the news of his punishment.

“rintarou. not only did you break one of the most sacred rules of our kind, you visited the land of the humans, but you also had relations with a siren! this act of rebellion is disgraceful and taints the image of all mermaids and men alike. for your crimes you should be dead.”

rintarou nodded, still bowing as the king continues to criticise the man. “however,” rintarou lifts his head up ever so slightly, his gaze locking onto the king’s. “because of your… relationship, with that siren girl, you have allowed a new pact to be created between both civilisations, and for that i will not punish you with death. you will be banished from the kingdom, sent away to live out your eternity above land with the humans you so desperately wanted to be like. no longer will you be a man of this kingdom. this is as far as my mercy will go. should you be seen in the waters, we will not hesitate to execute you.”

rintarou’s lips trembled as he once again silently nodded, raising himself to his full height, he mumbled a thank you to the king, before being forcefully grabbed by the guards on both arms.

“i hope this serves as a lesson to the rest of the kingdom, if they wish to parade as humans, they will face the same punishment as this fool!”

on his way out of the castle and soon the entire kingdom, rintarou keeps his gaze down, ignoring the judgemental whispers and the harsh words thrown at him by the citizens of what was once his home.

when he made it to the gates of the kingdom, rintarou lifted his head to get one final glance of the place he’d never see again, the friends he’d never get a chance to be with, and the opportunities he could’ve had. with his final glance he notices all of his friends from training lined up by the gate, smiles of sympathy and sadness cloud their features as they say a final goodbye to their friend.

he feels his heart break. the regret of his actions finally hitting him full force as he’s finally pushed out of the gates, the large structure slamming closed to finally show that he is no longer welcome. a final goodbye is heard from his friends before he swims away to the surface, looking back at the kingdom every so often to watch it grow smaller and smaller.

rintarou finally learnt what greed could cause for a man, and for that, he could never regret anything more.

taglist: @lomlsuna @akaashiwife @plixy @on-crows-wings @1-800-s1ya @sabztov @keiji-in-a-can @tamak00 @erintaro @bertqut1 @usermins @yanihatesu @rntrsuna

[scuttling]

Head Over Feet - Chapter 3

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Spencer Reid/Female Reader (Unrequited) Word Count: 4,597 Chapters: 3/? WIP (I think 4 but you know me!) Tags: 18+, NSFW, Unrequited love, Protected sex, Oral sex, Vaginal fingering, Rough sex, Friends with benefits, Praise kink, Daddy kink Summary: Falling in love with one of your two closest friends was never something you planned; it only makes sense that falling in love with the other would also come as a complete surprise. *Inspired by/in collaboration with @ssamorganhotchner. Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Link to AO3 or read chapter 3 below! You make it to Aaron’s just a couple minutes after he does; he’s removed his jacket, shoes, and gun, and his collar is unbuttoned, tie loosened but not untied. You wrap your fingers in it the moment you see him, work open the knot, and he leans in to kiss you, guides you fully inside so he can close the door behind you.

You pull his tie off, unbutton his shirt, unclasp his belt, kissing all the while—deep, eager, breathless kisses; when you have no choice but to pull back for air, you’re both panting, fingers still working to get you out of your clothes.

“How was your day? Good?” he asks, chest heaving as he pulls your sweater over your head, and you nod, wet your lips.

“Good, yeah. Yours?” He nods too.

“Good.”

“That’s good.” You surge up for a kiss, unbutton his pants and untuck his shirt, pull it off and drop it onto the floor. His hands find your waist and he maneuvers you through the living room, toward the sofa; you pause, press a hand against it, lift your leg to unzip one boot, then the other, and kick them off and under the coffee table.

He guides you to his bedroom—you’re walking backward, and it’s almost as if he drags you, his hands holding you tightly, long legs leading the way. You trip, tip-toe your way there, know he’d never let you stumble or fall, and when you stop at the foot of the bed you reach down, pull down his zipper, push his pants to the floor. He takes your face in his hands, meets you for a hot, messy kiss, and then you pull his undershirt over his head, quickly wiggle out of your jeans.

“You are so gorgeous,” he breathes, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and pulling you in for another deep, wet kiss. He tilts his head the other way, nose against your cheek, tongue in your mouth, gripping you hard, and you moan into the kiss; you’re a little surprised at how that simple gesture, the hand on the nape of your neck, makes you feel wild and out of control. “Hmm. Do you like that?” he asks softly in your ear, squeezing his fingers, and you lick your lips, nod.

“Yeah. You can be a little rough; I like rough.” He pulls back to make eye contact, holds your gaze for a moment, and then unhooks your bra with the hand not on your neck, guides it off. Still looking into your eyes—your breath comes quick from arousal, not exertion—he slides your panties down, and then he moves both hands to your ass, lifts you up, and deposits you on the bed; you’re sitting up, but he pushes your arms so you’ll lay flat, holds you there a moment, and you moan again. Jesus.

“Can I eat your pussy?” he asks, low, leaning in to mouth at your throat, and you grip his shoulders, gasping softly when he nips at your neck.

“Fuck. Yes.” He pulls you closer to the edge of the bed, kneels on the ground, and opens your thighs with strong hands, licks over you slowly with a flat tongue. “Mmm. Oh my god.”

Broad swipes turn to targeted slips of tongue between your lips, quick flicks over your clit, and when he presses closer you run your hand fondly over his head, grip his hair roughly at the roots. He groans against your skin, sucks hard at your clit, and brings his hands up to squeeze your breasts, and you can’t help rocking up against his face, whining and moaning and begging for release.

“Please, Aaron. I want to come for you.” He looks up at you, gliding his mouth over your soaked folds, and takes back a hand, slides one finger inside you and then curls his tongue around it. “Oh, yes, please. Yes.” Another thick finger pushes in, presses up, pumps quickly, and you tense, arch off the bed, a string of whimpers falling from your lips as you come.

“So good, sweetheart,” he breathes, and he lifts you and guides you up the bed, so your head rests against the pillows. Your chest is heaving, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, and he lays on top of you, moves his mouth to yours, gets you to open it for a soft, wet kiss. “Suck my fingers, baby.” He presses them into your mouth, and you hold his hand, suck them hard and messy until he pulls them out, kisses you again. “I’m going to get a condom, I’ll be right back. Just a second.” You nod, let your head fall lazily back against the pillows, and he comes back, pushes his boxers down, and climbs over you.

“Let me?” He hands you the packet, watches you carefully tear it open, slip it over him, and you run your hands along his body, lean up for kisses until he guides you back and opens your legs wider with his knees.

The second he’s inside you, you both grab at each other, your hands on his back and one of his on your face while the other presses against the bed for support. He fucks harder, faster than the first time, and you eagerly match his pace, slide your hands down to dig your fingertips into his ass.

“Oh, fuck. Aaron,” you pant, and he brushes his fingers over your lips, then moves that hand to the bed as well, so he can press deeper. You hitch your legs up high, squeeze them against his hips, hold on to his ass as he fills you so completely it’s almost too much. “Yeah, fuck me. Oh, god.”

“Yeah, just like that. There’s my good girl.” You whimper, and he pounds his hips against yours, lowers himself down to his elbows and slips an arm behind your shoulders, holds you close like an embrace, kisses you breathless.

It doesn’t take long for you to come, not with his body pressed to yours, his mouth on yours, his cock so thick and so deep inside you; you mumble his name, Aaron and Hotch like your brain can’t keep up, and then he comes too, brings a hand to your cheek and just stares into your eyes while he frantically thrusts, then slows, then stops.

You sigh, bring your hands up, one on his wrist where he cradles your face, the other brushing through his hair; he shifts off of you, to the side, but you just hold each other for a moment, catching your breath, kissing softly.

Eventually he leaves to dispose of the condom, comes back and pulls you against his chest; you slip your legs between his, run your hand up and down his arm.

“So what did he do?” he asks after a couple of minutes, his voice a little rough, and you tilt your head to look up at him.

“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact.

“What did Reid do? To get you so worked up?” You feel a hot rush of shame, press your cheek against his chest because you can’t bear to look at him.

“He said he loves her. That he’s waiting for the right moment to tell her.” He hums, just a thoughtful sound, no judgement, and you shift up, rest a hand on his cheek so he’ll look at you. Your own idiocy aside, he needs to see you say this. “But I thought about you all day. I couldn’t get you out of my mind, and that had nothing to do with him—nothing.” He looks you over like he can’t decide if you’re just saying it, or if it’s true, and you brush your lips softly over his, put as much feeling as you can into the gentle touch.

He closes his eyes, exhales, brings you close for another series of tender kisses, then punctuates them with a press of lips to your forehead.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asks, and then he smiles softly, and you kiss him again and dangle over the edge of the bed, grab your phone out of your pocket, and cuddle close to look over some menus.

You opt for Lebanese, eat way too much baba ganoush, and lay your head on his lap and read while he watches the news. About a month later, you wake up at Aaron’s after yet another night spent in his bed—your twelfth consecutive night together at one of your apartments. You leave early, head home to shower and change, only grumbling a little about how you won’t have time to stop for coffee; when you get to the office, there’s a coffee cup with a stopper in it sitting on your desk, and you smile, pluck the stopper out and take a sip. It’s a perfect latte, still piping hot, and it makes your chest warm in a way that has nothing to do with the temperature.

“Secret admirer?” JJ asks, walking down from her office. “I saw it there when I came in but didn’t see who left it.”

“It was just Hotch,” you say, but just Hotch doesn’t really mean what it used to. He’s been your friend for a while, that’s not a secret, even though your friends with benefits thing kind of is—you don’t actively hide anything from anyone, but neither of you have felt the need to clue anyone in—but you can feel yourself becoming a little more… possessive, of him. It’s ridiculous: just because you’re sleeping with him doesn’t mean he’s yours, or that he owes you anything, you know that, but you’re more aware than ever of when someone pays a little too much attention to him.

It’s painfully obvious when you are in Charlotte later that week, working out of the FBI field office there; it’s your second day on the case, and one of the agents assisting you flirts with him in the breakroom. Openly.

“The coffee here is horrible,” she begins, standing next to him at the coffee maker as he waits for a fresh pot. You came in for a refill too, but he beat you to it, and then she showed up and squirmed her way in between you as if you weren’t literally in the middle of a conversation. “If you want, I can take you to my favorite cafe across the street. They grind the beans every half hour, so it’s always very fresh.” She’s turned toward Aaron, can’t see you, so you roll your eyes; he catches it, tries to hide a smile, but the agent thinks it’s for her. “Is that a yes, Agent Hotchner?” She lays a hand on his arm, but he clears his throat and he takes a half step back, politely and effectively removing it.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m spoken for.” The woman turns to look at you—she’s clearly unhappy about being turned down, more so since you’re standing just inches away—and you smile your polite, fake, public servant smile until she takes the hint and leaves the break room. You move closer to Aaron like you were before she arrived, your arms crossed in irritation, and he pours you a cup of coffee, hands it to you, leans in to whisper in your ear. “Play nice, kitty.”

His words send heat throughout your body, and when he pulls back you just stare at him for a second. If you weren’t so exposed, you’d put down the coffee, grab him by his tie, and kiss him until you’re both stupid, but there are agents walking back and forth past the windows, the open door, so all you can do is look at him. You make it count, make sure to tell him with your eyes that you cannot wait to get him to get him naked; it must be effective, because he wets his lips, flicks his gaze over your body. It’s only when someone clears their throat in the doorway that you look away from each other, and even then it takes a moment.

“Hey you two,” Emily says, hands on the doorframe. “We’ve got a witness that just came forward, Morgan’s going to take him into interrogation now. You probably want to come see this.” Naturally, the witness only further complicates your investigation; you’re all glad your killer takes his time choosing a new victim, because it buys you a little more time, and you have a solid profile by the next morning. You split up to canvass the neighborhoods, to go door to door asking if anyone knows a man who fits your profile—you’re partnered with Spencer, who seems more anxious than usual, and that’s kind of saying something.

“Are you doing alright?” you ask him as you walk up to a red brick house, knock on the front door. He presses his lips together, nods, hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I’m good. Are you?” You look over at him, raise an eyebrow, and he rocks a little on his heels. “You’ve cancelled the last couple of movie nights; we haven’t spoken much.” You knock on the door again, but there’s still no answer.

“I’ve been busy; you’ve been busy too, you know how it is.” You gesture to the next house, pull out your phone to jot down this house number so you don’t forget it and head down the sidewalk. “How are things with Chelsea?” He hums noncommittally, and you shove him lightly with your shoulder. “Come on, it’s okay. I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want to know.” It hasn’t been exactly easy, the last month—hearing how close the two of them have grown, how he told her he loves her and she said it back, how he has a drawer at her apartment—but it’s been easier. (Aaron doesn’t have a drawer at yours, you think absently, hasn’t asked for one, but you figure that’s by design; it’s a good reminder of what your relationship is, and isn’t.)

“They’re good. She gets a little frustrated when I’m gone for a while, when I have to cancel plans.”

“Most people are like that; they don’t live the life, so they don’t really get it. That’s normal,” you assure him. You’re a little surprised that it comes so easily, just like it would have before your big confession. He takes the lead this time, opens the screen door of a light blue bungalow and knocks three times.

“Is that how your… boyfriend is?” You bring your hand up to your face like a visor, peer in through the small windows on either side of the door, avoid eye contact.

“He understands,” is all you say. It’s too complicated to try to explain your relationship with Aaron, and you’re both comfortable with how it is now, not exactly secret but not exactly public; you don’t want to jeopardize it any way. “And she might, too, eventually. Just give it time.” You pull back, smile softly. “Looks like no one’s home. Why did we decide to canvass at one o’clock on a Wednesday?” Spencer shrugs.

“Because Hotch said.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m going to text that dummy; you drive.” You hand him the keys, slide into your seat and buckle up, then tug your phone out of your pocket.

Canvassing was a bust—no one’s home. Whose bright idea was that again?

Excuse me? You grin, look out the window so Spencer won’t see it.

I think you may be getting past your prime. Time for a younger man to take your place?

You better watch your mouth, baby.

Or what, daddy?

You send it before you even realize what you said; it just sort of came out. The next several minutes pass by agonizingly slowly, and you’re about to send a panicked text, either backtracking or trying to play it off as a joke, when he replies.

You’ll just have to wait and see. Come back to the office. I’ll give you new instructions.

On the way.

Good girl. You almost whimper. He knows how those words affect you—torrential downpour in your panties—and he knows you’re in the car with Spencer. He’s playing a very naughty game, one you desperately want to participate in. You start to type...

“What did he say?” ...and then you drop your phone on your foot, turn to Spencer with a questioning frown.

“Hmm?”

“What did Hotch say? When you told him we didn’t have any luck.” You reach down to pick up your phone, and your seat belt tightens, restricting your movement. You huff, sit back in your seat.

“Uh. He said to head back to the office and he’d figure out something for us to do.” Spencer nods, and you blow out a breath, lean your head against the headrest and close your eyes.

Thankfully, the ride back to the office is short, and the two of you head for the room the team is set up in. Aaron stands when you enter, gives you a brief once over, and then rattles off new details the other groups have learned, gives you new assignments. Spencer leaves to meet up with JJ and Derek, but you hang back when Aaron softly says your name.

“Your text,” he begins carefully, and you take a deep breath. “What you called me. Is it okay if we continue that?”

“Yeah, it’s okay with me; more than. Is it okay with you?” He nods, moves a little closer; he glances up, like he’s looking toward the door behind you, then slides his hand to cover the back of your neck, squeezes it.

“It’s okay with me; more than. Be careful,” he murmurs, and then he releases you and you swallow hard, get back to your assignments.

The unsub is tracked, cornered, captured by nightfall, and you fly home despite the late hour. Everyone grumbles on the flight, about wanting to sleep in their own beds, or take a hot shower with better water pressure, but all you can think of is taking off Aaron’s clothes, maybe getting on your knees for him.

When you get back to the parking garage, you head for your car, but Aaron stops you with a hand on your arm. “Just come with me,” he says—he’s not asking, and you’re not about to argue. If anyone finds it strange that you leave with him, they don’t mention it, don’t even throw you a second glance.

You try to behave on the drive back to your place, but it’s so difficult. You squeeze his thighs when he comes to a stop at traffic lights, loosen his tie, run your fingers through his hair; he is just as turned on as you are, which is saying something, considering you’ve been nearly constantly horny since he called you kitty yesterday. He parks in your designated spot, turns off the car, and you release your seat belt, all but pounce on him. You push your hand past the open collar of his shirt, kiss his throat, curl your tongue around his ear, and he puts his hands on your face, kisses your mouth hard, then pulls you back.

“Inside; I need to fuck you.”

Yeah, you’re not going to argue with that either.

You get out of the car, try to help him with your bags, though he won’t let you; you fumble with the keys in the locks, you’re that turned on, but once you get upstairs, get the door to your apartment open, you’re both desperate again, pulling each other’s clothing off, kissing rough and deep. Shoes, socks, pants, and underwear are the first things to go, quickly removed, leaving you in a t-shirt and bra; you take Aaron’s dress shirt off, get him down to just the undershirt, but when you work your hands up his body he kisses you breathless, takes a step back.

“Stay there, right there; just like that,” he rasps, and you don’t move, just wait for him to walk to your bedroom, grab a condom, stand in front of you again. He says nothing, just looks you over, your heaving chest, wide eyes, spit slicked lips, and he rolls the condom on, walks you back against the wall; you gasp when you’re pressed against it, and he leans in, kisses your neck, nips at your jaw.

You moan softly, tip your head so he can reach more of your throat; one of his big hands comes down to rest on your pussy, rubbing easily, and then he pushes two fingers inside like it’s nothing. You’re already ready, so ready, and you wrap a hand around the back of his head, scratch over his scalp, whimper while he pumps his fingers a few more times before withdrawing them.

He wipes his fingers on his shirt, gets his hands under your thighs, and boosts you up, back against the wall, legs on either side of his waist. “Aaron, fuck,” you gasp, pushing up his shirt and wrapping your arms around his back, and he presses inside you, leans in for a messy, eager kiss and groans against your mouth.

“Hold on tight, kitten; I’m going to be rough,” he pants, lips hovering over yours, and you grip him, digging in with your nails. They aren’t long, or very sharp, but he loves when they scrape down his back as he fucks you into the mattress; you can’t imagine this will be any different. “That’s it; just let me use you, okay?”

“Okay, daddy,” you breathe, and he starts thrusting, pinning you up against the wall. You can feel his muscles flex beneath your hands, and he kisses and bites at your throat as his hips pump against yours; it’s almost overwhelming, and you’d close your eyes if he didn’t look so incredibly sexy, determined, slamming his cock into you, banging your body against the wall. “Oh, fuck.”

“Take it all like a good girl, like daddy’s good girl,” he says, eyes on yours, and he lifts one of your legs, swings it over his forearm so you’re spread further, so he can pound deeper inside you. All you can do is clutch him, try your best to bounce into his thrusts, and moan, and when he comes you move a hand to his hair, grab it roughly, grind down against him. “Oh, that’s it. God.” He tips his head back, exhales long and slow, and you lick your lips, keep moving until he tells you to stop.

He sets you on your feet, pulls out carefully and throws the condom in the trash, then crowds you up against the wall, wraps his hand around the back of your neck, kisses you deep and dirty and messy, lots of tongue and the occasional rough press of his teeth against your bottom lip. He pulls back, looks down at you, squeezes your neck, and you whimper.

“Daddy?”

“What is it?” You squirm a little; there’s no way he forgot, didn’t realize you didn’t get off. He’s always been very attentive, very good at making sure you’re satisfied. You wet your lips.

“I want to come.” He hums, takes his other hand and rubs it over your pussy, and you buck forward, whimper again.

“Can you think of a better way to ask for that, baby?” You move your hands over his back again, beneath his shirt, look up at him with soft, sensitive eyes.

“Can I please come, please?” It takes a moment, but he nods, moves his fingers to your clit and rubs them quickly, so quickly it’s dizzying. You moan, cling to him, and he leans close, presses his forehead to yours, looks down at you while he takes you apart with just his fingertips. “Oh, yes. Oh, fuck.”

“You like that, kitten? Then come for me.” You want to, so badly, you murmur it into the space between your mouths; when you finally climax, you whine, hold on to him, nearly go weak in the knees, and he lifts you up again and carries you to the bedroom, lays you gently back on the bed.

He moves toward you, and you curl yourself around him, hold him close; you wind up on your sides, one of your legs between his and the other slung over his waist, and he murmurs praise into your ear, pretty and perfect and so sweet and good. You pull his shirt over his head, and he removes yours, your bra, and you just lay there and hold each other, kiss, content.

Kissing turns to nibbling your throat again, and you wrap an arm around his shoulders, press a hand against his chest, moan softly while he mouths at your sensitive skin. Your hips move, you can’t help it, and then he’s hard against you, and you all but beg him to push inside.

“We’re good, I’m good,” you breathe, because you didn’t think to grab a condom and you don’t want to separate now, not when the moment is so thick and heavy and sultry, when you are well and truly wrapped up in each other. “I’m haven’t had sex with anyone else; have you?”

“No, it's just you. It’s just you.” He weaves a hand into your hair, pulls you closer for deep, slow kisses, and presses into you; his free hand resets on your hip, splays across it, broad and warm, and you rock together, kissing and panting, your hands moving over skin, clinging desperately to each other in a way that is so different but just as passionate as before.

“Aaron.” He pulls back, looks at you, squeezes your thigh, and says your name; he repeats it while you come, and you repeat his as he kisses your throat, hugs you close, and eventually spills inside you.

“You’re so incredible,” he says with a soft kiss, and you pull him closer, hug him tightly with your whole body, kiss his hair.

“You’re perfect. Addicting,” you say with a soft laugh, and he smiles, catches your mouth in a kiss.

You don’t want to separate any more than you did before, but you have to use the bathroom, and you could both use some water, so you get cleaned up together and then you stay in the bathroom while he heads for the kitchen. You throw on your robe, meet him out there, drink the better part of his glass of water; a knock on the door startles you both, and he walks over to where his clothes lay on the floor, pulls on his boxers.

“Who could that be this late?” he asks, and you shrug; you certainly weren’t expecting anyone at this hour, and definitely not with Aaron here. You walk toward the door, look out the peephole, take a deep breath and turn back to face him.

“It’s Spencer.”

“I’ll go in the bedroom,” he says, and you frown, but nod, give him one more kiss before he goes. You unlock the door and swing it open slightly, take in Spencer’s disheveled appearance, his teary eyes.

“Hey, what’s going on? It’s late.” He sighs, runs a hand through his hair.

“Chelsea broke up with me. We were supposed to go to a gallery opening for her friend tonight, and I missed it because we got back so late. She was upset, and we both said things, and she broke it off.” He moves forward, and you take a step back, which brings you both inside the apartment. He swallows, leans in and wraps his arms around you. “I didn’t know where else to go.” Taglist 🤍: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner @hotforhotchner11 @itsmytimetoodream @unicornprancing

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

One Night🌙10

Warnings: noncon sexual acts, angry Andy, hormones

This is dark!Andy Barber and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: One night changes your entire life.

for @kittykatlow​‘s 200 Follower Celebration

Note: Another update? Who is this bitch actually trying?

Hope you enjoy it. Thank you. Love you guys!

Please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The bus chugged down the city streets as you sat closer to the back. You stared out the window and watched the grey sky of Nelson hanging overhead, a cloudy backdrop to the smoking city. 

You sighed every now and then, trying to forget the beeping and when it stopped. You still felt Andy’s hand on your back and the suffocating silence of the drive home. The burden of the dead woman on your shoulders.

It was as if it had been years since you saw the slightly crooked pole that held the bright sign. The bus stop was as desolate as ever, the dirty bench marked with spray paint and the shelter glass cracked. You set off around the corner past the house. Each was familiar but not comforting.

Your hips hurt from the stiff ride and you rubbed your stomach. You wore one of Andy’s hoodies under your open jacket, the zipper of the latter no longer meeting. You stopped in front of your parents’ house. You hadn’t asked permission; not from your mother, your father, or Andy. There was no courtesy phone call so you hesitated, afraid you might be sent away.

It was noon. Your father would be in the garage. He always had some project going. That was his work. He was cheaper than any other mechanic in the city, he just did it all from home. He could recycle parts from the junkyard and charge half price. They usually did better than the newer parts sent away for down at the Jiffy.

You walked up the driveway, the garage door was only halfway open, the bite of the late autumn, rather the early winter, mingled with the warmth flowing under the metal. You tapped on it with your knuckles, “dad?” you called.

You stepped back as his oily hands gripped the bottom and he hauled it up entirely. He tilted his head at you but couldn’t hide his smile. He looked at your stomach and you dropped your hand. He drew you to him before you could react. He hugged you tight and rocked you.

“Your mother’s gonna be mad you didn’t call before you came,” he let go of you and looked you over again.

“Mad that I’m even here,” you remarked.

“No, she might act like it but…” he waved you into the garage and rolled over the little stool he sat on when he was working. He helped you sit and put his wrench on the plywood table against the wall, “she missed you. We both did.” he wiped his hands on his jeans, “you could have called us. You know how she is. She feels before she thinks.”

“She kicked me out,” you felt precarious on the little rolling stool, “you let her.”

“So why’d you come back?” he asked.

You hung your head and hugged your stomach, “well, I’m having your granddaughter. I didn’t want you to find out from anyone but me.”

“It’s a girl?” he grinned.

“Sorry, wish I could give you a boy to get all filthy in this place,” you shrugged.

“You never minded getting your hands dirty,” he neared and grasped your shoulder.

“Yeah, guess it doesn’t matter too much, she’ll be as curious as any kid,” you said.

You were quiet as you looked around. Your dad’s rolling chest of tools was dented and rusted, the same one he’d had your whole life. The place hadn’t changed, only the car sitting in it.

“That’s not the only reason you’re here,” he said. Your father was a simple man but he wasn’t dumb.

You frowned and felt a prick in your eyes. The hormones, you told yourself, they were getting to you.

“I need you guys,” you said quietly, “is that so bad?”

“I missed you, you’re mom did too, she’s just stubborn. Think that’s where you get it,” he turned his hand over and held it out to you, “but she won’t turn you away.”

“You sure?”

“I won’t let her. Not this time,” he bent and took your hand, “now come on.”

You let him help you to your feet and he led you through the side door into the house. You heard your mother’s old Patsy Cline CD droning from the box speakers on the shelf as she muttered to herself. 

Your dad kicked the dirty off his boots and you slipped your own off. You followed him and peeked over his shoulder as he went to the living room. Your mother was wiping down the framed picture from your high school graduation.

“I got a surprise for you,” he announced as he stepped aside and beckoned you in alongside him, “and she’s got a surprise for you.”

Your mother turned and froze. Her lips formed a straight line and her eyes pierced you. She didn’t say anything as he stared at you then tossed the dusting cloth onto the table beside the lamp. She looked down at your feet.

“You remembered to take your shoes off,” she said.

Your lips parted and your chest gripped. She was still mad.

“You remembered us,” she swept over to you so quickly, you flinched. She hugged you and her middle met yours. She let go and looked down at your stomach. Her eyes were sad but not angry, “I’m…” she lifted her head and met your gaze, “I’m not good at saying it but I’m sorry.”

You watched her for a minute. She was still her mother as nasty as she’d been. You could see her regret and it coupled with your own. It didn’t fix everything but for her, it was a lot.

“I’m sorry too,” you breathed, “it was… me being stupid started all of this. I just didn’t know what to do.”

“You gotta tell her,” your dad intoned.

You glanced at him then back to your mom. You gulped, “we found out yesterday, it’s a girl.”

“We? And where is… he?” your mother bristled.

“Working,” you said.

“We went to the diner, they said you quit. The café too,” your mom batted away lashes, “please, sit.” She touched your stomach, “you’re so big.”

“Five months, I think,” you said as you let her take you to the old floral sofa, “and the doctor recommended I take it easy so I had to… leave.”

“Oh? Is something wrong with the baby?” she picked up her cloth again and resumed her dusting. Your father quietly excused himself.

“No, just me,” you leaned against the arm, “but they said my blood pressure is getting better, just have to check it now and again.”

“And that man? The least I can say is at least he’s taking responsibility, even if he is married,” your mom hung the picture back on the nail.

“It was a mistake,” you said, “but you know, I think it’s taught me a lot. Not that it was worth it.”

“I don’t mean to rag on you, but… it’s just not how it should be,” she went to the television stand and focused on the edges.

“You think I don’t know that. Mom, I didn’t come here to argue my morality. I came here…” you paused as you felt your phone buzz. You slid it from your jacket pocket and checked the ID; Andy. You ignored it and dropped it back inside, “I just wanted to see if you had any interest in your granddaughter.”

She spun back and her face wrinkled with sadness. She twisted the cloth and retreated to the rocking chair and sat. She chewed her lip and looked at the floor. When she looked at you again, her brows crinkled.

“I’m trying,” she said, “but what you did, I don’t know if I can’t get over that. That man, everyone knows him, and when it comes out, with his wife still in a coma, you don’t think about what that does to us.”

“Well,” your throat constricted and you held back the hot tears bubbling behind your eyes, “she’s not anymore.”

“What?”

“She… she passed last night,” you sniffed, “and I’ll admit that I came here as much for me as you. I just needed… needed to get away. Just for a little.”

Your phone went off again and you grunted as you pulled it out and swiped away the second call from Andy. You kept the phone in your hand and rested it against your thigh.

“I just need time,” your mom leaned back heavily.

“Well, it’s quickly running out,” you replied, “she’s gonna be here soon enough.”

“I know,” she said grimly, “I know.”

There was another silence and your phone twitched. You turned it over and checked the message on the screen; ‘why don’t you invite your parents for dinner if you’re not gonna answer me?’ You let the phone slip between your legs and slowly raised your eyes. How did he know?

“I can go, if it’s too much,” you said, “I didn’t expect to get past the front door, honestly.”

“It’s not-- you’re still my daughter,” she uttered, “and even if it’s not the best situation, you got my granddaughter too.”

Your phone began to shake between your legs and you huffed, “sorry,” you stood with effort as you snatched the phone up, “just a second.”

You went into the dining room and answered. You hissed into the phone, “what do you want, Andy?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were going there?” he asked sharply.

“How do you even know? You following me?” you kept your voice low.

“I know, that’s all,” he retorted, “it is… surprising.”

“They’re my parents,” you scowled at the tabletop as you leaned on a chair.

“Mine, too, right? Considering--”

“Andy,” you warned, “come on. Let’s cut this out--”

“Invite them for dinner. You’re right. Our kid will need her grandparents,” he interrupted, “I’ll get off early and help.”

“I don’t think--”

“Invite them,” he demanded, “and don’t take the bus back. I’ll send you the money for a cab.”

“Jesus, I can take care of myself--”

“No, you can’t, which is why you’re sleeping under my roof. And this isn’t about you, it’s about the baby,” he exhaled and you heard a squeak of metal, likely a chair, “Now I want you home by two. I’ll be there shortly after.”

He hung up before you could argue. You closed your eyes and forced down the angry bile in your chest. You shuttered and tucked the phone back in your jacket. How did he know you were there?

🌙

Your parents agreed to dinner. Your mother wasn’t subtle that she was curious to see Andy’s house. Her judgement was always her driving motivation and you were certain she could find something to hate, even in the suburban utopia. 

You took the bus out of defiance and brewed with anger as you got off just outside the cul-de-sac. You walked the single block to Andy’s and paced like an angry lioness inside.

He arrived at three, just after. Your anxiety boiled with anger and you stopped to face him as he entered. You watched him put down his briefcase and hang his long black coat. Your nostrils flared as you braced yourself for the onslaught ready to spill forth.

“So, you weren’t following me?” you challenged.

“I was working,” he said quietly, “to pay for all of this…” he pointed to the ceiling, “and that,” he pointed to your bump.

“No, Andy, you don’t get to do that every time,” you snarled, “how did you know?”

He didn’t answer and brushed by you. You followed him into the kitchen as he went to the coffee machine and pressed the buttons bluntly. You watched him from a foot away, your hand on the cold marble.

“You can’t just ignore me. How did you know I was there?”

“Because…” he grabbed a mug and filled it with water. He poured it into the machine and snapped the lid shut, “because you have my baby and I have a right to make sure you don’t take it from me.”

“That’s not an answer,” you sneered, “Andy, I have done everything you’ve wanted. I have stayed here, I have quit my jobs, I have kept this baby for you, and you… you’re what? Tracking me like a dog?” You reached into your back pocket and slammed your phone on the counter. You slid it over to him, “when did you do it?”

His jaw ticked as he put a pod into the machine and hit start. He tapped his fingers on the counter and let out a long breath through his nose. He turned to you and crossed his arms.

“After you stayed out that night. I couldn’t worry like that again. I had to know,” he said staunchly, “because I’ve had a wife go out and not come back. A child--”

“I’m not your wife and I won’t ever be. This child is all we have in common,” you rebuffed, “even after last night. What you did, that doesn’t change things.”

You nearly tripped as he marched towards you. He had you against the far wall, his hand planted on either side of your head as his anger rippled across his forehead and set his jaw square. You pressed yourself against the pure white wall and tried not to wither.

“I did that for you,” he breathed, “I’ve done everything for you. Don’t act like you’re the only one doing shit.”

“Andy, get away--”

“No,” he punched the wall and you gasped, “my wife is gone. Jacob is gone! This is all I have; you, my daughter…that’s everything and I will be damned if I’m going to let you take any of it away from me.”

“You’re scaring me,” you wisped, “Andy, please--”

“No, you shut up and you listen. This is the last time we have this conversation. Your parents are coming and you’re going to be good. You’re going to wear something nice, you’re going to cook something good, and you’re going to smile. You don’t let them see you crack, not once.”

“You can’t--”

“Enough!” he hit the wall again and you heard it crumple under the force, “if you don’t, they won’t be around. Ever. Do you understand me?” you gaped up at him and trembled, you shook your head in disbelief. He leaned in and spoke softly to you, “Understand that I will make sure you and no one else ever sees them again.”

“You… wouldn’t…”

“I could. I will. You’re fucking bitch of a mom deserves it,” he hissed, “so, honey,” he growled the second word, “what’s it gonna be?”

Your lip quivered and you searched his face. The rage had his blue eyes alight and his breath rasped out like animalistic snarls. You thought of Laurie, of how blank he’d been when they stopped the machines. And that smile, after. What was that?

“I’ll… be good,” you murmured, “I will.”

His lips twitched and he shoved himself away from you. He stomped over to the fridge and took out the light cream. He added it to his mug of fresh coffee and stirred. You stood straight shakily and looked up at the hole beside your head.

“Well,” he said, “better figure out what you’re making for dinner. Our guests won’t be long.”

[yazthebookish]

Favorite Gwyn moments in ACOSF:

Gwyn immediately calling out Nesta on the sudden change in her attitude because she does not want to be pitied: “I’ve been here for nearly two years, but I haven’t become so disconnected from others that I can’t tell when someone remembers why I am here and alters their behavior.” Gwyn’s mouth flattened to a line. “I don’t need to be coddled. Only spoken to like a person.”

Gwyn not being intimidated by Nesta one bit: “I doubt you’ll enjoy the way I speak to most people,” Nesta said. Gwyn snorted. “Try me.” Nesta looked at her from under lowered brows again. “Get out of my sight.” Gwyn grinned, a broad, bright thing that showed most of her teeth and made her eyes sparkle in a way Nesta knew her own never had. “Oh, you’re good.” Gwyn turned back to the stacks. “Really good.” She vanished into the gloom.

Gwyn getting excited about helping Nesta and doing her research on the trove: Gwyn waved a hand. “Finding objects to help our court protect the world is rather exciting. About as exciting as I’m willing to get these days, but it shall be an adventure.”

Gwyn leaving the library to train for the first time: “I forgot how it feels to have the full sun upon my head.” She peered up again. “Forgive me if I spend some time gawking at the sky.”

Gwyn getting excited when she found out Cassian knew the Valkyries personally: “You knew the Valkyries personally?” Gwyn let out a high-pitched noise that was nothing but pure excitement. Azriel, on the other side of the ring with the rest of the priestesses, half-turned at the sound, brows high.

Gwyn mocking Cassian, the general of the Illyrian army: “Time,” Cassian declared, and the three of them collapsed onto the dirt. He laughed again. “Pathetic.” “You try it,” Gwyn panted, lying prone on the earth. “I don’t think even you could survive that.” “Thanks to the passages you sent me last night, I was here at dawn doing the exercises myself,” he said.

Gwyn's understanding and acceptance of Nesta when Nesta opened up to her and saw no judgement on her face: “....I will be glad to have you.” Until Gwyn learned how horrible she’d been. “No,” Gwyn said, apparently reading the thought on her face. She grabbed Nesta’s hand. “You … I understand.” Nesta heard Gwyn’s own heart begin thundering. “I understand,” Gwyn repeated, “what it is to … fail the people who mean the most. To live in fear of people finding out. I dread you and Emerie learning my history. I know that once you do, you’ll never look at me the same again.” Gwyn squeezed Nesta’s hand.

Gwyn writing down their story, the rebirth of the Valkyries as a gift to her friends: The back of her throat ached; her eyes stung. “We’re in a book.” Gwyn’s fingers slid into hers, squeezing tight. Nesta looked up to find her holding Emerie’s free hand as well. Gwyn smiled again, her eyes bright. “Our stories are worth telling.”

Gwyn bonding with the House: Gwyn whispered to the room, “What’s your favorite book?” One thumped on the table beside Emerie’s cake, and Gwyn squawked in surprise. But then rubbed her hands together. “Oh, this is delightful.” “That smile means trouble,” Emerie said. Gwyn’s grin just widened.

Bringing in the friendship bracelets for her friends and sharing a memory of her and Catrin: “My sister and I used to braid bracelets and put these little charms on them full of wishes for each other.” -- “Now,” Gwyn said when they were halfway through, “we make wishes for each other.”

Gwyn about to cut the ribbon: Gwyn stared the ribbon down like an enemy on a battlefield. It rippled in the wind, dancing away, its motions unpredictable as any foe. “Do it for the miniature pegasus,” Emerie said. Cassian had no idea what it meant, but Gwyn’s lips twitched upward. -- Gwyn whispered, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.” Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. “Nothing can break me.”

Gwyn asking for a prize and challenging Azriel: Gwyn asked Az, her teal eyes bright, “What do we get if we finish the course?” Az’s shadows danced around him. “Since there’s no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn’t bother to get a prize.” Boos sounded. Gwyn lifted her chin in challenge. “We look forward to proving you wrong.”

Gwyn's sass around Azriel: Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,” she tossed over a shoulder. Az stared after her, brows high with amusement. When he turned back, Nesta grinned. “You have no idea what you just started,” she said. Az angled his head, hazel eyes narrowing as Gwyn reached the archway. “Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?” Nesta winked and clapped the shadowsinger on the shoulder. “You’re the new ribbon, Az.”

Gwyn winning and confidently walking up to Azriel to claim her prize: And when Gwyn reached the finish line, bloody and panting and grinning so wildly her teal eyes glowed like a sunlit sea, she only extended her battered hand to Azriel. “Well?”

Gwyn braving to step outside and go to Emerie's house for Nesta's sake: Emerie was the one to say to Gwyn, “I can’t believe you left the library.” Gwyn stroked Nesta’s head. “Some things are more important than fear.” She cleared her throat. “But please don’t remind me too much. I’m so nervous I really might vomit.”

Gwyn spying and outsmarting the Illyrian males during the Blood Rite: She smiled crookedly at Nesta. “I kept to the trees the first two nights, watching the beasts, and I spotted that horrible male and his companions this morning. Saw they’d found my nightgown and displayed it, and I knew they were hunting for you. I thought I’d take them out before they could find you.” “You led the beast right to them.” “I learned where the beasts sleep during the day,” Gwyn said. “And that they get very angry when awoken.”

Gwyn's determination: “I have. And I am tired of it.” She surveyed the blood-soaked leather along her thigh. “I don’t want to take the safe road.” She pointed to the mountain, to the slender path upward. “I want to take that road.” Her voice thickened. “I want to take the road that no one dares travel, and I want to travel it with you two. No matter what may befall us. Not as Illyrians, not for their titles, but as something new. To prove to them, to everyone, that something new and different might triumph over their rules and restrictions.”

Gwyn's bravery: “I have been broken once before,” Gwyn said, her voice clear. “I survived it. And I will not be broken again—not even by this mountain.”

Gwyn's willingness to win against all odds and to prove to everyone that something new can be as powerful as old rules: “So we climb Ramiel. We take the Breaking. We win to prove to everyone that something new can be as powerful and unbreakable as the old rules. That something no one has ever seen before, not entirely Valkyrie nor entirely Illyrian, can win the Blood Rite.”

Gwyn would rather face the danger with Nesta than leave her alone to face the Illyrian males: Gwyn screamed, “IT IS NOT THE ONLY WAY!” And then she was sobbing. “I will not abandon you to them. They will kill you.” “You need to go,” Nesta said, even as her hands began shaking. “Now.” “No,” Gwyn wept. “No, I won’t. I’ll face it with you.” Something deep in Nesta’s chest cracked. Cracked open completely, and what lay within bloomed, full and bright and pure. She wrapped her arms around Gwyn. Let her friend sob into her chest. “I’ll face it with you,” Gwyn whispered, over and over again. “Promise me we’ll face it together.”

Gwyn taking pride in being a Valkyrie despite becoming a Carynthian, highest rank for an Illyrian warrior: Gwyn laughed hoarsely. “The Illyrians are going to be furious about our winning, you know. Especially because I have no intention of being called Carynthian. I’m content with being a Valkyrie.”

Gwyn teasing and seeing through Azriel: Gwyn's teal eyes flashed with alarm. “No! I mean, I don't mind sharing the ring. I just . . . I know you like to be alone.” Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. “Is that why you came up here?” Sort of. “I forgot something,” he reminded her. “At two in the morning?” Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he'd spied a moment before. So he offered he a crooked smile. “I can't sleep without my favorite dagger.” “A comfort to every growing child.”

Revisiting some of those scenes made my heart burst with so much love for her💓 one of the best things about ACOSF is Gwyn's presence!

[static-fanatic-1]

Chrollo +PT Part 2 is finally out! I also figured it a name for the son, Akura. Enjoy! 7.7k words and it almost didn’t fit in the post RIP.

| Part 1 | 

~~~

"Eat lead Uvo."

"Already checked off the bucket list (y/n/n)."

God, you hated that nickname. "Don't test me." You growled, glaring back at your little boy with a silent message; 'You're in such deep shit once this is over'. You could see him physically gulp, and it only cemented the fact that despite being a pissy teenager, he was still the same, scared little boy you had taken in after the massacre. You almost teared up.

"Kurapika! Watch the road!" The woman yelped.

The blond swerved off the road, almost knocking you off and onto the dusty path beneath the car. "Kurapika," you began, "watch the road, I'll take care of anyone following us."

You could tell Uvogin wanted to say something, so you quickly dipped out of the passenger window and climbed onto the top of the car. The people in the second car stared at you through the windshield with pure fear in their eyes. You laughed to yourself, they must think you are a Phantom Troupe member. If only they knew.

You stood tall on top of the car roof, spine straight, shoulders back, chin up, you were ready for them to attack. You were ready to fight your old friends. You launched yourself off the roof and onto the second car, landing with your heavy boots and denting the car just as you did before, a little less damage though.

They were chasing you, you could see their forms driving a car with a new found vigor they lacked before. Machi was in front, her pink hair you used to love seemingly a bit darker, like it was drenched in so much blood it stained it darker. You locked eyes with her, and you could see the micro expression of her face. Brows lifting, eyes widening, she couldn't believe it was you. But it was, and you were preparing to take them down.

You flexed your fingers and soaked in the feeling of your terracotta gauntlets, preparing to tear down the entire canyon, but you stopped. A large blanket wrapping around the car they were packed in, though it did little to stop them. You saw them leave before it covered them, it seemed Nobunaga didn't make it in time. You chuckled at that.

Owl, the beast who worked for Jason's father, stood snuggly in front of the Troupe. He and the rest were as good as dead, this you knew, so you took the opportunity and shot out the lion heads on your gauntlets. They snapped as they flew through the crisp night sky and latched onto the sides of the canyon walls. With strength many didn't posses, you pulled harshly onto the chains and pulled down the stone walls. Stone, pieces larger than the car you stood on top of, came crumbling down to the floor, dust flying in the air. Your path was blocked, and hopefully the beasts would distract them long enough for Kurapika and his gang to gain enough distance.

You took a moment to look up, the beautiful night sky full of stars and constellations you couldn't find in the city. The shinning stars reminded you of a time where sitting around a trash fire with the pre-Troupe was normal. It used to be kind, open, and free. Nothing but a blanket of stars above you to lull you to sleep.

And your village, oh how you missed being able to see the night sky as clear as day, untainted by ash and blazing fires. The children playing in the fields and catching fireflies as they tripped on rocks they failed to see. Laughter, warmth, and a sense of homeliness you haven't had in years. You missed it, you craved it, you wanted nothing more than to go back and change something that could have prevented the Kurta massacre.

Your (e/c) orbs soaked in the light of the stars while your hair whipped against your face. As much as you wanted to sit down and cry, letting all the pent up frustration and hatred out, you couldn't show weakness. Not even to the all seeing stars above, or the gentle wind, and especially not to the enemies that will tear you apart.

A ringing knocked you out of your memories, taking you back into a cruel reality you didn't want to partake in. "Yes?" You answered, phone close to your ear as you took one last look at the shinning stars.

It was Jason, his sweet voice filled with worry. "We sent Owl and the rest of the Beasts. What happened?"

You hummed in thought. "A few men caught one of the Troupe members, the most physically powerful. We are on our way back to York New, I would prepare a safe place to store him, if the poison from his body is taken, we are screwed."

"Is he one of the ones you could take down?"

"No, we got lucky. We have to be cautious about this one." You turned back to York New, the shinning city moving closer and closer. "About the Beasts... they are probably all dead by now. The man we are bringing in killed four of them I think, the rest are slowing down about five other members, they don't stand a chance."

"Shit," he breathed through the phone, distant mumbling being heard but nothing being deciphered, "what do you think will happen now?"

"I'm not sure, but the Troupe won't let one of their own be taken like this. They'll be back I'm sure."

"Okay, I trust your judgement. Take care." Jason hung up before you could say anything more.

You hoped nothing bad would happen to him. He was a nice guy.

Soon enough you finally decided to sit down on the roof of the car, the city skyscrapers finally looming above and warning you of the upcoming confrontation you will have to partake in. Uvogin would be a difficult one to deal with, he tended to boast with his headstrong attitude and you were worried about him escaping. And Kurapika... what were you going to do with the boy?

You sighed, the car quickly coming to a stop. Finally, the people under your butt, rushed from inside the car and stared you down. "Who-Who are you?!" Questioned one panicked man, his skin a sun kissed brown and eyes as rich as chocolate.

"A friend." You hopped off the car and in front of the small group. "I am a friend of Kurapika, don't worry, I'm not a Troupe member."

They all seemed to relax a bit, but stayed wary of your strength. Being next to you they could tell you were way beyond their league.

Kurapika emerged from the car and readied himself to contain the one-man-army. One man, with gray hair and markings along his cheeks, scurried over and held the blond back. "Wait, we need to get a room."

"A friend of mine already has one for us, you are to contact your boss and inform him of the situation at hand." You mentioned. "This, surprisingly enough, is the place."

"How can we trust you?" He exclaimed, turning and leaning forward in your face. "You could be one of them! Waiting to kill us!"

"Everybody, please calm down-" began the woman standing beside Kurapika.

"My employer is the son of one of the Ten Dons, Jason Nargal. I contacted him about the situation and I've been staying in touch. Frankly I'm not in the mood to argue with someone of the likes of you, so please, shut your damn mouth before I loose what's left of my temper." You snapped, moving closer to size the man in front of you.

He shrunk back, eyes wide with a fear he has never felt before. "Very well." He turned his attention to Kurapika and the other girl with heavy breathing. "Let's hurry."

~~~

You sat down, your eyes staring at the wall as your mind drifted off. You were worried, pissed, scared, and so much more. Footsteps brought you back to reality, your (e/c) eyes taking in the grey haired man from before. He glanced back before quickly looking away. "You aren't going to interrogate the Troupe member?" He asked.

"No, I have no reason to talk to him, at least not in front of any of you."

He hummed and moved to the desk, taking the phone into his hand and making a call. Time passed before Kurapika and the others emerged from the vaulted room, and your fury returned.

Kurapika could feel it.

"Kurapika, I would like to talk to you. Privately."

He glared at you, his dark eyes gleaming slightly under his contacts, like charcoal in a slow-roasting flame. Was he challenging you? Silently threatening you to let him finish the war he began?

Maybe, but that didn't matter to you. All you wanted was to talk to him about the situation. And the newfound plan you guys would have to make.

Maybe he sensed the lack of hostility you bore. It must have been as he nodded slowly and followed you out into the white hallways. "(Y/n)," he began with caution, "I won't stop. I'm going to finish what I started and you can't do anything about it."

You bit your lip and whipped around, smacking him across his face. "I know that! But warn me next time! I had to leave Akura all alone in a hotel room because you were the only person I could trust! You were reckless when engaging close to so many Troupe members! You could have died if they caught you!" You paused for some breath. "You could have killed everyone!"

Tears began streaming down your cheeks, you hands rubbing your face to help relieve the stress. It didn't help as much as you would have liked it to. "You left Akura alone." You repeated with defeat in your voice. "If they find out where he is... they'll take him from me. I-I can't let-let them take both of you from me."

Finally all the pent up feelings burst through your eyes, fat tears streaming silently down your cheeks. "I ju-just can't. I wouldn't be able-able to live with myself if...."

Kurapika stood frozen, all this new information hitting him at the same time as your cries for help made it all the more confusing. "(Y/n)... it'll be okay." He held you up by your shoulders, leaning down to stare into your tears eyes. "Akura will be okay, you'll be okay, I'll be okay. You and I will take down the Phantom Troupe and we won't have to worry about them anymore."

He stopped for a moment to think about your words. They seemed exact, different than just someone hunting for their eyes. What did you mean by your son would be taken away from you if they knew where he was? Wait, how did you know the name of the Troupe member? And how did he know an old nickname you used to have? "(Y/n). What are you not telling me?"

There was a deafening silence between the two bodies, but enough was said. "Kurapika-"

"Don't lie to me. You know something I don't." A pregnant pause was apparent. "Answer me (y/n), I don't have time to watch you cry."

You looked up, staring into violent eyes gleaming a beautiful blood red. "I'm sorry." You wailed, pulling yourself back into the wall with your hands covering your face. "I'm sorry I never wanted this to happen. I wanted you to run away from this, to have a family, to be happy! I never wanted you to fight my mistakes. I never meant for this to happen.

"I promised myself I would take care of them, I promised myself I would give you the best life you could hope for. I-I promised myself... and-and I failed." You shook your head with your hands hiding your shame, your voice cracking with messy sobs. "I'm sorry for bringing you into this, Kurapika. This wasn't meant to happen...."

He took a step back, you were crying—no—sobbing. Hiccups and sniffles wracked from your hidden face. This has never happened before. You never cried, not even once. He only saw one tear and that was when you found him at the burnt down village.

You were not sad, you were beyond devastated.

"(Y-y/n)... d-don't cry. Just tell me what you know. How did you know his name? How did he know you?"

"I knew them, I met them when I left the village. I would visit. I-I taught them nen because they were struggling out there. I didn't mean for them to attack us, but they did and I tried to stop them, but I was pregnant and-and I killed one. I ran because there was too many. I was selfish, I-I should have fought. I was scared and...." Your strained voice trailed off into a distant whimper.

Kurapika stared at your shriveled form, a look of betrayal etched onto his brows. "You won't stop me. I'm going to kill every single one of them for what they've done and you are going to watch." He stopped his retreat, turning his head to give you one last glance. "I'll take care of everything."

"Kurapika, it's not worth it. Please just leave this to me, let me fix my mistakes! Take Akura and go somewhere safe! Please!"

"Why should I?! You've kept so much from me! You knew them?! You trained them!?! Why should I listen to you— do what you want me to?!"

"They want me! They'll take Akura and kill you! If you're in their way you'll die! I don't want that to happen! Please! Take Akura and get out of here! Let me take care of this so you guys can be safe and happy!

"Let me fix my mistakes... please!"

Kurapika whipped around. "Why would they be after you? Akura?"

You dropped your head in shame, but straightened your back. It was time to regain your lost composure, you couldn't let anyone else see you like this. "The spider is flexible. They-they have a head and legs. Each one can be easily replaced, that is how they work. Their current leader, the spider's head, is-is Akura's father. We-we got along, and-and one thing lead to another and... well, Akura was brought into the world. I tried to hide him, but with him being alone it wouldn't be difficult for them to find him. God, I don't know what I would do if they got their hands on him."

You pathetically gave an airy laugh at your memories. When you gave birth it was loud, like static in your ears, painful, though you barely remember it. Then you heard the beautiful sound of a babies cries. You were beyond happy when you heard his first cries, and it seemed as if all of your problems drifted away for a moment.

But like everything in your life it was short lived, and when you stared up at Kurapika you forced yourself to gather the remaining pieces of your strength and move forward. That is what you had to do, again and again.

"I'm sorry Kurapika, I've failed everyone."

The blond stared at you with bloody eyes, it was your fault? Everything that happened was your fault?! You were supposed to be a guardian, someone to protect the clan, yet you killed everyone?!

"Yeah, you did." He spat, his back now facing you.

"Wait! Kurapika! I-I don't care what happens me! Just please—please take care of Akura!" Your voice was demanding, the first time it had been since you broke down. "He doesn't deserve the life he has, neither do you, please, if anything happens to me, take care of him."

He didn't answer, instead he turned away and marched back to Uvogin's cell.

You prepared yourself for being in front of the wolves, but a ringing from your phone stopped you. "Hello?"

"(Y/n), father wants you to come back, be a body guard since the beasts—are you okay? You seem to be breathing heavily?"

"Don't worry, I'm fine. Just a bit frustrated." You have a long sigh and straightened your back. "Everything seems to be on lockdown over here, they have men coming over in a few minutes. Where do you want me to meet you?"

"Is the Blue Sapphire Hotel good? I can have someone pick you up?"

"No, no, that's not necessary. I'll be there soon."

"Alright, I'll wait in the lobby for you. See you soon."

He hung up and left you to your own devices. You finished fixing yourself up and sauntered over to the last person here, the man with markings under his eyes. "I'm leaving," you started, "my employer wants me to guard them now that the beasts are dead. You'll be fine here right?"

He looked up and nodded. "I'm waiting for another call."

"Alright, call me when they take him and what they look like... just in case." You made sure he understood with another nod before you made your way out of the hotel.

Your dress was slightly dirty, and your feet still bare. You probably looked strange, a woman with disheveled hair, missing shoes, and a dirty formal dress. You received many stares, some because of your intimidating stature, or your exposed cleavage, and some because of your appearance. So you ignored them and kept your head high.

But if you didn't ignore the stares you would have noticed the small group staring at you longer than most. Their suits and wigs might have hidden them from most people, but you would have noticed them right away. Phinks and Nobunaga turned to confront you, but Machi held them back. "Now's not the time, we'll get her after Uvo."

"Tch, fine. Isn't Shal looking into her employer?"

"Mhm." Machi hummed, continuing to their mission at hand; saving Uvogin's reckless ass.

~~~

Uvogin waited for what seemed like a god awful amount of time. Sooner or later they would get him out of this stupid prison. Hopefully sooner rather than later, his ass was beginning to hurt.

As if on que he heard movement, blood splatter, and the creaking of the heavy metal door. "Took you long enough, I'd thought you'd never make it."

Phinks entered with a grin. "Yeah, yeah, had to stop by the vending machine on our way up here."

Uvogin's grin stretched across his face as the rest of them entered and tossed away their disguises. "You wouldn't believe who I met." He chuckled.

Shizuku, with her doe like eyes wondered over to his wound, summoning her Blinky and preparing to take out the venom from his veins. But it was Nobu who spoke up. "(Y/n)." He exclaimed immediately, almost excitedly.

Uvo's grin turned into a playful pout. "Way to ruin it Nobu." 

She simply shrugged and began to remove the poison, as Nubonaga laughed.

Machi 'tsk'ed and moved over to the table's side. "You should hurry up and get out of those cuffs. We're going back to the chapel to figure out a new plan."

Uvo huffed and tore his hands from their bindings. "Fiiiiiine." He groaned, pausing when realizing her words. "A new plan?"

"Yup, Feitan tortured that Owl guy so we already have some of the treasure. Besides, (y/n) could be a problem." Phinks chimed in with a mischievous grin. "You now she's much stronger than before right? You can tell just by passing her."

"Maybe she made a new condition with her nen gauntlets?" Nobunaga chimed in. "Do you think she would do that?"

Phinks hummed. "She never liked the thought of making conditions. She probably just trained to get more powerful, that's more her style."

"Anyway, we should hurry and head out, Chrollo is waiting."

~~~

You marched into the lobby, the crystal chandelier above drenching your body in a warm, ethereal glow. The pearl earrings you wore gleamed like small balls of Fire against the light, it complemented your (h/c) hair.

Jason saw your confident form, his thin lips stretching across his face into a gentle smile. "(Y/n)! I'm glad to see you're alright!" His long legs helped him scale the lobby floor to face you. "We are on the top floor, follow me."

"Who is up there?"

"Everyone from the dinner, they have a lot of questions for you, so be prepared." He lightly chuckled, though it seemed a bit strained.

The both of you entered an elevator with a large mirror on one of the walls. You took out your phone and frowned, still nothing from that grey haired man from earlier, were the people really late? Your mind drifted back to Kurapika, your brows furrowing at his resolution about killing the Troupe.

"You look distracted." Jason commented, his voice heavy with concern.

"Sorry, I just have to make a few calls."

"Oh, with who?"

You glanced over at him with a sly grin. He blushed at it, realizing how nosy he must sound. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"It's fine, I just need to check up on a few people. My son for sure, I need to make sure he's okay."

"Y-you have a son?" His words were confused and surprised. "I-uh-I didn't know you-you had a son. Um, how old is he?" His smile was lopsided, and nervous. He hoped you didn't think he judged you off of your past relationships.

"He's six, going seven later this month. The twenty-third."

"He sounds like a nice kid, huh?"

You lightly chuckled at the thought of his intellectual nature. "Yeah, he really is a sweet kid. He's so smart too, loves puzzles more than anything. Words searches, sudoko, picture puzzles, he loves any and all of them. Loves reading too, his favorite is Father and I...."

"The father?" Jason inquired.

"Oh, he's out of the picture. He's—he wasn't a nice man."

Jason turned back to the mirror, his eyes tracing over your relaxed features. "I'm sorry to hear that. How is, uh, your son fairing?"

"Akura's his name. He never knew his father, it's just been me and a friend I see as a little brother." The elevator stopped, and it's shiny doors opened to a brightly lit hallway. "I guess we're here."

"Yup, there's plenty of rooms to make a call, but you should probably answer some of my dad's questions first. You might not believe it, but he can be quite impatient." His tone shifted to something brighter, a reflection of the whites of his eyes.

You entered the warm hallway and to the door. Before you could even touch the door knob, it swung open to reveal a cheeky grin from a familiar green eyed man. "Hey there sexy," His cheshire grin shifted to one of disgust when he glanced at his brother. "Jason."

"Jackson! Leave them alone." Exclaimed someone from behind the door. If the deep voice was an indicator, it was defiantly the dad.

"Sure thing." Jackson groaned and ran off into the giant hotel room. Well, more like a house, the place was huge!

"(Y/n), sweetheart, come in!"

Sweetheart? Did Jason's dad just call you sweetheart? You peeked behind the door and yes, it must've been the father as his smile was barely covered by his beard. He was sitting next to Manchile, in which looked extremely entertained with your expression.

"Well, come on in." The broad man giggled as he threw his arms over the back of the couch.

You glanced over to Jason, a deep blush spread across his tanned cheeks. "Sorry about that." He whispered and further apologized through his hazel eyes. "He might be going crazy."

"Well, (y/n), we have a few questions to ask if you don't mind." Manchile began. "Like what the hell happened out there?"

You fully entered the room and sat on one of the plush chairs off to the side. "There isn't much to say, by the time I got there most of the men deployed her already dead."

"How many Troupe members? You said seven right? Or was it five?"

You crossed your legs as Jason sat across from you, his green eyes shinning with curiosity. You paused and counted, there was Franklin, Uvo, Machi, Shizuku, Nobu, Phinks, and Feitan. "There were seven, one was caught, and five chased after us. After that the group I was with got away because of the beasts... and now we are here."

"Did the Troupe member say anything?"

"No, he was admit on keeping his mouth shut." You glanced down at your hands, the phone you bought earlier this week blank. Where was that call? "May I make a call?" You blurted. "It has to do with the captured Troupe member."

Jason's dad shrugged and waved his hand. "Go ahead, put it on speaker so we can listen in." You nodded and made the call. It rang. And rang. And rang. And stopped.

You looked at the number you typed, it was correct so why didn't he answer? The entire room was dead silent, so you tried again.And again. And again.

Each missed call brought a disgusting taste to your tongue. Everyone must have been able to taste it, there was a collective shaky breath between everyone in the room.

"So, what do you think happened?" Jared, Jason's younger brother, asked. "Why aren't they calling?"

You stayed silent for a moment, doing your damndest to make up an excuse, but that wouldn't do any good. "He-He's probably dead. They probably found Uvogin and saved him."

"Uvogin?"

"The Phantom Troupe member we caught." You quickly said.

Manchile sighed and fiddled with his shiny watch. "All the beasts are dead, the treasure was taken, and we lost one of our leads. This night has truly gone to shit."

The father hummed and leaned back in his chair. "We can't leave, it would make us look like cowards."

You glanced over at the two and closed your eyes for a moment to breathe. "I need to make some other calls, is there a room I can step into?"

Jason stood up this time with a nod, and motioned to a room off to the right.

"Thank you." You stepped in, shut the door, and locked it. You let out a shaky sigh, your mind running a mile a minute at the thought of Uvogin being saved. "Akura first, I need to check up of him."

The phone rang a deathly chime, but it was picked up unlike before. "Momma?"

"Hey sweetheart, how are you?"

There was a displeased hum on the other side. "I was asleep, it's almost two a.m Momma. You should be asleep too!" Your little boy seemed too excited to have been sleeping, but knowing him he followed your rules.

"I know, I know. I've just been busy with work that's all...."

Jackson listened through the white door, his head pressed firmly against the wood so he could get a good angle. He chuckled to himself, his youngest brother, Jared, leaning in with a scowl. "We shouldn't be doing this."

Jason scoffed. "We have nothing else better to do, besides we are just helping Jason get his lady. Nothing too bad."

They listened harder through the door, and through the muffled speech they could clearly hear the word sweetheart again. Jared glanced up at his older brother whose face was confronted into a suppressed laugh. Quietly they moved away, and back to the seats before Jason came back with bottles of champagnes and wines.

He almost knew by the look on their faces that his younger brothers were up to something. "What are you doing?" He whisper yelled to them, eyes sharp with suspicion.

"Your girl has a boyfriend." He said, point to the door with an evil grin. "You have never had a chance."

Jason glared at his brothers, glanced at his father, and back to his brothers. "It's rude to listen in on other people's calls!" He snapped again, pouting his lips.

"Just saying."

"It was Jason's idea." Jared quickly commented.

"Hey! You didn't stop me, you're at fault here!"

"No!"

"Boys." The dad stated, bringing them to a stop. "Calm down, it was just useless fun."

"Why am I the only responsible one here?" Jason exclaimed, grabbing a small glass and pouring himself some red wine. "I remember when you used to control these rats, dad, now you've become one of them."

"Dirty old rat to you, squirt." He snapped, petting his beard with his free hand. "Dirty old rat king is more accurate, though."

"King?" Jackson yelped. "Yeah right, you're more like a squabbling peasant, dad."

"And you're a filthy stable worker, shoveling manure and getting the shit kicked out of you by my horses!" The father straightened his back, earning an eye roll from his eldest son. "And I'm no peasant! I'm a king!"

"Then at the very least I'm a knight." Chimed Jason, finally loosing up and getting into the skit. "Fighting the mighty dragon and saving the princess."

Jackson snickered. "But the princess is already betrothed off to another it seems."

Jason stopped and glared at his brother's antics. "She doesn't-she never said she had a boyfriend. She's just talking to her son probably." He huffed and pouted, sitting on one of the love seats and crossing his right leg over the other. "She said she had a friend too, but she thinks of him as a little brother."

"She has a son?" Manchile asked, he was listening in on the conversation the entire time for shits and giggles, if he was a rat he would defiantly be an emperor, he thought.

Jason nodded and took a small sip of his blood red wine. "Yup, sounds sweet too. She really care about him. I think his name is Akura if I'm not mistaken."

"That's a cute name." Butted in the Dad, pouring himself some sparkling champagne. "Sounds almost Kurtish, don't you think Manchile?"

He hummed. "Almost? Not quiet sure, there's a lot of strange names out there."

"Guess so."

All eyes stared at the opening door, your figure drenched in the warm lighting of the room and your sleek black dress hugging your curves like a glove. You still haven't gotten your shoes back on, and instead wondered around without any protection. Maybe you just forgot about it? Maybe you simply didn't care, either way when you walked into the room it quieted down.

"Welcome back." Jackson teased. "You have a son huh? Who's the lucky guy?"

You visibly stiffened and eyed the men in the room. Did they know? No, they couldn't know. There's no way they know, right? "There-"

"Behave yourself Jackson, prying into other people's lives is rude." The father scolded. "Don't pay any mind to him, sweetheart, he never knows when to shut his trap."

"No, it's-its fine. There is no lucky guy, he's long gone by now."

The dad gave a gentle smile. "My wife died a long time ago, I know how it feels." He lightly laughed, though a deep sorrow hung heavy in the air. "I had to take care of these brats on my own for what? Fifteen years maybe?"

"I'm sorry for your loss." You empathized with him, a single parent taking care of their kids is something you knew all too well. Loosing someone you loved, was also something you understood. The difference is you hated the person you loved, and you wanted to move on after you served judgement. You doubted he wanted the same thing. "It's hard taking care of a kid on your own, but three? And one of them being Jackson, I'd go insane."

He laughed, Jackson giving a playful glare. "Damn straight. He's the worst."

Jackson moved closer with a hurt expression. "Seriously? Throwing me under the bus in front of a pretty girl?"

"You're not her type!" Argued Manchile with a booming laugh. "There's no way!"

"Oh come on, I'm everyone's type!" He shuffled to your side and threw his arm over your shoulders. "More so than lover boy over there, eh?"

You couldn't help but smile, oddly enough this group of mafia men felt like family. This was always your problem, you always wanted to trust and care for people, but it always ended poorly. If you started to care for these people, you would loos them just like your past family.

But you couldn't help your nature, so you gave a small chuckle and shook your head. "No way. Defiantly not my type."

He whined and put his weight on you, surprised when you held him up like the child he was acting like. "Come on! I'm lonely and I need a girlfriend!"

Jared scoffed. "You're the one who sleeps with so many women you could be the next Genghis Kahn!"

Jackson blushed and let you go. "That sounds horrible."

"Yeah, it is." Jared finalized, sitting down and propping his gin up with his hand. "Besides, I think Jason called dibs."

Jason's face flushed a deep red when you glanced at him and his eyes flashed with embarrassment. He opened his mouth and quickly shut it.

His family laughed at him. "He's embarrassed! Poor boy has fallen hard if he can't admit it!" Cackled the father. "Interested?"

You rolled your eyes with a sly grin. "That wouldn't be wise, I have a lot of enemies you wouldn't want to deal with."

"Enemies? We're part of the mafia, the top of the mafia at that! We can make sure no one will touch you or your son." The dad mentioned, seems he's taken a real liking to you, and when you glanced at Jason, you could see a glint in his eyes. "Seriously, nothing could hurt you."

"You'd be surprised, money and guns are useless against some people."

Manchile decided to speak up. "Like that Uvogin guy? I sent out a lot of my men to take him down, and even more guns, but now they are dead. Are your enemies like him?"

The dad cocked his head to the side, his smile sinking into a slight frown. "Is the Troupe your enemies?"

You tended up, and their eyes narrowed. "I'm sorry?"

"You mentioned before that our best is nothing compared to them, and every time you talk about them there seems to be familiarity in your voice." He leaned forward on his chair, discarding his now empty glass to the side table. "You said you were hunting them down, and your son's name, sounds Kurtish to me. By any chance, are you a Kurta?"

You stayed silent, there was no way you gave him that many hints... right? Did you get so comfortable that they figured it out? Will they kill you? Use you as bait? Your son? "That doesn't matter."

"It does, it means you are probably being hunted. It means you are extremely valuable, your son too if he has your genetics. Besides, if you have information about the Troupe that no one else knows about, your value just increased immensely." He stood up and straightened his open suit jacket. "It's a hobby of mine to research and figure out the value of things, an appraiser if you will. Kurta eyes are an interesting story no doubt, gouged out by the Troupe and resold around the world." He sauntered closer, his bulky form and commanding tone making you feel so small. "What do you want me to with this information?"

"Leave it six feet under where it belongs." You gritted your teeth and took in a deep breath.

"I can arrange that for a price." He paused and you nodded for him to continue. "I want you to tell me what happened, I'm more curious than I am greedy."

You gave a small laugh and crossed your arms against your chest. Your focus shifted to another as you recounted things you wished to forget. "You wouldn't want to hear it."

The dad stared down at you and placed a heavy hand on your shoulder. When you looked into his eyes you saw a stern, yet sympathetic expression. His beard shifted, and his lips curled into a small smile. "Humor me."

You shouldn't trust them as much as you do, but you missed having friends. You missed people... so you spoke forbidden memories. "The Kurta lived on an island away from others, we are usually feared because of our eyes, so we isolated ourselves." You sat down beside Jason and leaned onto your knees. "My father was the leader of the village, and when I took my exam I passed with flying colors."

"Exam?" Jared interrupted.

"Yes, it's something us Kurta's do to get ready for the outside world. I mentioned how people fear our eyes, so the exam is a written test about other places, and a physical type exam. We would leave the village and do a simple task, if we feel strong emotions our eyes would turn red, if it happened once you would fail and have to take it again. It is for safety."

You watched him nod and continued. "I was always good at keeping myself together so when I took the position of guardian, it seemed appropriate that I could leave the village and explore the world. I trained and learned from many people before finding the Troupe... I took pity on them."

You leaned back and sighed. "I taught them nen and befriended them. Years and years of jumping around from my village and the outside world and I found myself falling for one of them."

"Wait," Manchile stopped you. "are you implying your son, Akura, is one of theirs?"

"Their leader... we got close." You let the new information sink in. "They didn't know, I was barely seven weeks pregnant at the time of the attack. My village, my family, slaughtered like lambs. I killed one and ran away. I was terrified and didn't know what else to do.

"I don't know why they did it, but it happened and I've been on the run since. Akura doesn't know, I'm lucky he's never questioned it, but I'm running out of time. If I don't start taking them down I'm worried Akura won't be safe anymore."

"Are they searching for him?" Manchile asked.

"They don't know he exists, but they are crafty."

"Where is he?" The Dad now asked, his brows furrowed in thought.

"A friend was supposed to watch him, he's one of the only people I can trust... but he left to fight the Troupe. Akura is alone in a hotel room not too far from here."

"What do you think we should do?"

"I don't know, whatever you do be careful. I'm not going to stop now either. I'm not quiet sure if you can, but assassins might be your only bet."

Jason worriedly glanced at you, looking for your gaze to share a thought. "Are you okay?" He whispered, you nodded without looking at him.

The dad stepped closer. "What kind of assassins?"

You hummed, Meteor City assassins might be the best. They have similar upbringings so maybe they can garner sympathy? Probably not, but maybe they'll stand a chance. "Assassins from Meteor City are probably your best bet but.... you might need the best of the best if you can afford it."

"You don't mean—?"

You interrupted him with a nod. "They might be strong enough to take some of them out."

Jared yelped and stood up. "Might?! They're the fucking Zoldycks! They can kill anyone!"

"Just to be safe, I genuinely think they are the only ones who stands a chance."

Jason turned back to you with a questioning look. "And you? You can't go out there and fight them! You have a son to take care of!"

Now it was your time to stand, back straight, gaze stern, a look you've dressed yourself in on the regular. "More reason for me to go. I'll meet up with my friend and join you for the next auction. I suggest you stay away from the other mafia dons, if you hire the Zoldycks you can never be too careful."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded with conviction. "Yes... and I'm joining the hunt."

~~~

Chrollo sat down on a large pile of rubble in a broken down church. The moonlight sleeping through the crumbled down ceiling illuminated his pale features and framed his coal black eyes. In his calloused and used hands laid a book that stole his undivided attention, and to his side a small candle with a flickering light.

His ears picked up distant voices, though he didn't care enough to look up. Instead he listened in as the voices neared the building.

"Uvo!" Chimed Shalnark, waving as he covered his playing cards. "How was prison?"

The large man grumbled under his breath and placed his hands on his hips, the few beer cans he had falling to the floor. "Shut it, besides I need you help finding someone."

The blond hummed in question. "Sure."

Pakunoda stopped messing with her nails and stood up. "What happened?" She asked, glancing at the group.

Phinks spoke up before the others could. "(Y/n)'s here. She must be working alongside the mafia."

Shizuku sighed loudly and sat down on a rock. "Who is (y/n) anyway?"

Nobunaga clicked his tongue with a defeated sigh. "We told you on the way here!"

"No you didn't."

"Yes, we did!"

"No you didn't!"

Franklin butted in. "It's not worth it."

Feitan explained. "(Y/n) is Chrollo's old girlfriend."

"Huh?" Exclaimed Shizuku, her doe like eyes gleaming. "You have a girlfriend Boss?"

Chrollo finally decided it was time to look up from the word filled pages of his book. He gave her a smile. "I had one, she ran after the Kurta massacre."

Phinks returned to the conversation. "If she's working with the mafia, she might be a hunter. Shal, you are a hunter right?"

"Yup!" He happily chirped, pulling out his phone and typing away. Uvogin moved over to him and mumbled a few words. Some time passed before Shal exclaimed loudly.

Chrollo glanced at his expectingly, and everyone seemed to hold their breath. "Oh! She's a hunter, and her employer is one of the sons of a don. I was curious so I decided to look into her call history, you know for science, and you wouldn't believe what I found." He paused for dramatic effect. "She made a call to someone in a hotel, not an employer, but a kid!"

"A kid?" Nobu wondered, scathing his mustache with his index finger. He paused, finally realizing what a kid would be doing with a hunter. "Boss, did you and (y/n) ever... uh... you know?"

Chrollo smiled at the thought of you, and he finally closed his book and stood from the rubble. He sauntered over to the entrance of the church, the moonlight bathing him in an ethereal glow. A few minutes passed as he stared at the moon, waiting for Shalnark to give him the location. His other plans could wait, he wanted to meet the kid on the other side of the phone. If that kid is your own, which it seemed likely, he could use it to get you back and keep you with his permanently.

"Found it! Somewhere in the Marina Hotel... the call was sent to room 443 on the fifth floor, west wing."

"Shal, Machi, Paku, I want you to come with me. We are going to collect what is mine." His dark eyes held conviction, and nothing would stop him from getting what is his.

[kireijae]

rock, paper, scissors- n.jm

summary: some cute cabin weekend fluff!

genre: best friends to lovers au, fluff, humor

warnings: swearing, mention of throw up

words: 2,496

a/n: i’ve read quite a few like cabin weekend fics and so i thought i’d write my own! also i definitely don’t think hyuck would act like this irl i just needed some crack energy in this thing.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You huffed as you opened the creaky wooden door to the cabin. The air inside was slightly musty and all the windows and curtains were closed upon first glance.

You dragged yours and Haechan’s luggage (he’d won one of the rounds of rock paper scissors in the car ride over) into the cabin, setting it down on the first surface you found.

You turned around to find a very pale looking Haechan who was standing in the doorway, “You look like shit.”

“I breathed,” Haechan whined and pathetically stomped his foot on the ground, “But to be honest I do feel horrible.”

“Yeah, it’s from the fucking milk you drank,” came Jaemin’s voice from the doorway behind Haechan, “I told you not to drink the random milk you found in my car.”

“I lost rock, paper, scissors! I had to do it!”

“You suggested it, though,” you quipped, opening the curtains in the living room, “I told you it was a bad idea. And now you’re going to be sick the rest of the trip.”

“You sound like my mom,” Haechan retorted, lying down on the old brown couch, face squished against the leather.

“Yeah, I feel like her too,” you said, brows furrowing as you looked out the window, “Guys I think that storm is gonna be worse than they said...”

“Hm?” Jaemin made his way behind you to look out the window as well. The clouds were dark and sagging on the horizon and the wind seemed to be picking up fast.

“I’ll tell the others not to come unless we say so, they might get caught in the storm,” said Jaemin, his eyes still trained on the clouds as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“Eomma! We’re gonna die in here!” wailed Haechan, a smile immediately replacing the distressed look on his face when you glared at him.

“You said this place had a backup generator,” you said, sitting down on the couch next to him.

“It does, my grandma had someone around here come make sure it was working the other day,” as soon as Haechan finished his sentence his face scrunched up in disgust.

“You are not about to throw u-“

Haechan interrupted Jaemin’s words when he jumped up and ran down the corridor to what you assumed was the bathroom.

Jaemin tried to hide the giant smile that was pushing at his lips as you facepalmed.

“Why did you have that milk in your car anyway?” you looked up at him in question.

“Well it was strawberry flavoured, so I’m pretty sure it’s not even mine,” Jaemin said seriously.

You sighed and stood up to go check on Haechan. You found him lying starfish on a bed in the only room with an ensuite bathroom.

“You okay now?” you asked, sitting beside him and placing your hand on his forehead.

“I think the milk was a bad idea,” he said, not looking you in the eyes.

“Yeah, bub, I think so too,” you tried your hardest not to laugh at him, “Get under the covers I’ll bring you some water.”

After getting Haechan some water and finding him asleep when you got back, you and Jaemin settled in, each choosing the last two rooms with a double bed.

It was 7pm and the storm had already started knocking at the windows of the cabin. Your nerves were beginning to shake and gitter along with the trees outside. You tried to calm yourself down by watching some videos on your phone, but when a knock came from the door to your room, you jumped.

“Y/n?” you saw Jaemin’s wide eyes and glossy black hair peaking out from behind the door, “Will you help me make the bibimbap?”

You felt your heart beating in your chest from the fright you’d gotten, “Yeah sure, what do you need me to do?”

The two of you walked down the passage together, “Just cut up the vegetables for me, please?”

Soon the kitchen was filled with sizzling sounds and light music waving through the air, as well as the occasional and odd sound effects made by Jaemin. All of it was enough to distract you from the wailing of the wind outside.

You were in the middle of cutting the cucumber when Jaemin spoke up without turning away from the stove, “Taste this?”

You stood up and rounded the counter to stand next to him, he turned to you and held the metal chopsticks out, the meat balancing precariously between them, and he cupped his hand below it.

You ate it and smiled, eyes glossy from the slight heat of it. His food always was your favourite.

“Good?” he asked, eyes wide and his eyebrows knitted together in worry.

“Very, very good,” you said once you swallowed the food.

He smiled at you, the frown melting from his brow. His cheeks were slightly rosey from the heat of the stove and you could see how long his eyelashes were. It suddenly hit you that you were staring at him and you were standing way too close for comfort.

You couldn’t bring yourself to move, though, you’d never realised how much you liked looking at him until now. Your heart fluttered when you saw his gaze drop down from your eyes to your lips like a small child unhesitatingly jumping off a rock at the beach.

You were about to inch closer to him until a loud crack made your body almost cave in on itself from fright. Your hands came near your face in fists and your eyes were crinkled shut.

You felt Jaemin’s arms wrap around you and he pulled you to him in order to calm you down.

“Scared of storms?” there was no judgement in his voice, only warmth.

“Not usually- just when the windows start to shake,” you huffed out a small laugh against the material of his shirt.

“Hey, it’s okay, I got a fright too,” he said as his hand went to stroke your hair. Then after a beat, “I think the food’s about ready.”

You took that as your cue to let go of his waist which you hadn’t realised you’d wound your arms around, but not before he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Once he’d dished up the food, you took a bowl of it to the room Haechan was in, but turned around when you heard loud snores before you even opened the door.

“Still asleep?” asked Jaemin from his place on the couch, bowl in hand.

“Yup, and snoring. Very loudly,” you laughed and took your seat next to Jaemin.

The two of you ate in a comfortable silence, a random cooking show mumbling away on the tv in front of you.

After you’d both finished your food, you put on a movie you’d been wanting to watch for a while and Jaemin got some musty smelling blankets from a cupboard in the passage.

It was about 11pm when you started to drift off, you and Jaemin had wound up entangled together under the blankets. Your head had dropped down onto his shoulder and your eyelids were growing heavy.

Jaemin turned his head to the side when he felt you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. His soft chuckle woke you up, the bobbing of his shoulder being enough to catch your attention.

You opened your eyes lazily and felt your pupils adjust to the dark room, only to be met with Jaemin’s features mere inches from yours. The left side of his face had dancing lights and colours from the tv and the right was shaded in darkness. You had no more time to take in the view, though, because suddenly his lips met with yours lightly.

That had you wide awake. Your heart surged upwards in your chest and you reached for his soft cheek to bring him closer to you.

After a measly few seconds, the kiss was interrupted, much to your distaste, by the loud sounds of Haechan grumbling and dragging his feet down the passage.

The two of you pulled away from the kiss and from each other, you scooted as far away from him as you could. The scene was almost comical; the blanket you still shared had been pulled taut between the two of you.

“Did you leave any food for me?” Haechan asked in a half asleep daze.

Your chest was heaving and you didn’t trust your voice to answer for you, so you pointed behind him to the fridge in the kitchen in answer.

You were wide eyed as you gazed back at the tv, body rigid with your arms shrunken into your sides. You heard a light snort from next to you which prompted your head to look in Jaemin’s direction.

He was facing the tv, his oversized grey hoodie bunched around his torso and arms and his heart melting smile etched onto his face.

For the past few months you’d liked that smile a little too much- you’d liked everything about him a little too much. The thought of him possibly feeling the same brought even more blood to your already red cheeks.

“Scootch over,” Haechan’s voice pierced the little bubble you’d been in.

You made a dissatisfied face and moved back towards Jaemin again and when you placed your hand next to his leg in order to support your moving body, you felt his arm come around your shoulders. You cast your eyes down to the leather material of the couch and felt your cheeks warm up again.

Haechan paid Jaemin’s actions no mind; skinship being something you shared often with your whole group. His face was also practically buried in the bowl of food and only lifted when he heard a particularly loud gust of wind hit the window across from him.

Soon enough the adrenaline in your body dissipated and you began to fall asleep on Jaemin’s shoulder again.

“I think you should take her to bed,” Haechan whisper-yelled when he noticed you weren’t making comments on the movie anymore.

“And what about you?” came Jaemin’s voice from above you. The sound mixed with the slight rumble of his voice in his chest made you stir again.

“I just had a milk-induced coma,” was the next thing you heard from Haechan. He said it in a flat tone and it made Jaemin’s chest bubble beneath you in laughter.

“Nae sarang,” the term of endearment made you open your eyes again- more due to shock than from waking up. “It’s pretty late, I think we should both sleep.”

You nodded wordlessly and stood up, Jaemin catching the blanket that fell from your lap.

“G’night, Haechannie,” you said as you passed in front of him, ruffling his hair with your hand.

“Mm,” he hummed, “Sleep well.”

You wished him a good night’s sleep as well and walked towards the passage, but stopped when you heard Jaemin cooing at the other boy, “Haechannie! Are you feeling better now after your naptime? Saranghae- Ow!”

You giggled at the sight of Haechan manoeuvring Jaemin back onto the couch and sitting on the poor boy. After pulling them apart, you proceeded to your room where you got changed into pyjamas and lay down under the covers.

There was one problem now, though, despite the decent quality mattress and the perfect temperature of the room, you couldn’t seem to fall asleep. The storm outside was still raging and your fear of it kept you up, staring at the ceiling for goodness knows how long.

There was a tug in your heart for comfort. The kind of comfort you’d felt earlier in front of the tv with Jaemin, and before that in the kitchen and months ago when he’d held your hands when you said they were cold. You sighed at the feelings and memories, deciding your pride was far less important than your need for comfort.

Soon you found yourself standing outside Jaemin’s room, your hand knocking on the door before you could think better of it.

You heard a soft “hello?” from the other side and slowly peaked your head into the dark room. You were surprised to see Jaemin’s phone lighting up his features in a blue hue, his hair was a fluffy mess on his head and he was resting with his head half way down the headboard.

He looked at you with his big eyes and you nearly melted, “I couldn’t sleep. The storm is…” you trailed off, not wanting to admit to being afraid.

Without a word, Jaemin lifted up one side of the blanket to welcome you. You smiled a small smile and crawled under the covers, your head instinctually resting on Jaemin’s arm. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you close.

You felt him lean over to put his phone on the nightstand and shuffle down in the bed to lay his head on the pillow.

“Comfy?” he asked, voice light and feathery.

You hummed in response, your heartbeat and breathing had already slowed down enough for you to begin dozing off for the third time that night.

—

“We leave them alone for one night…” was the first thing you heard the next morning. It took a moment for you to register that it was Jeno, standing in the doorway wearing a thick black coat.

“When did you get here?” came Jaemin’s voice from behind you, you could hear that his face was scrunched from stretching.

“Hyuck called me last night after the storm calmed down,” Jeno leaned on the wall, looking at Jaemin.

“What time was that?” you asked, finally able to understand your own thoughts.

“At like 12,” said Renjun, head popping into the room before the rest of him followed.

“Junnie!” you yelled, holding your arms out to him and making grabby hands.

Renjun practically ran and fell backwards onto you, you put your arms around him and squeezed.

“Who’s making breakfast?” asked Jaemin, his arms completely removed from you now.

“Rock, paper, scissors?” you suggested, raising your eyebrows at him in question.

He nodded, “Rock, paper, scissors!”

It took a few tries, but eventually you and Renjun lost and decided to cook together.

“I’m guessing you haven’t gotten over your little crush on Jaemin?” asked Renjun as he cracked eggs into a pan.

It was just the two of you in the kitchen, everyone else either unpacking or playing switch in the lounge.

“I don’t think I have to,” you mumbled, cutting up tofu, “He kissed me last night.”

Renjun turned around in shock, but before he could answer you heard your name being called.

“I’ll tell you the details later, Jun,” you got up from your place at the counter and peeked out the kitchen and into the lounge, where Mark sat in horror looking at Haechan.

He then turned to you, eyes wide and mouth half open, “He drank fucking what?!”

if you enjoyed this, buy me a ko-fi!

© copyright jewelledtae 2021, all rights reserved

[kuroosweakness]

pouring rain | miya atsumu | pt. 1

summary: timeskip!atsumu: in which atsumu meets you for the first time 

word count: about 1,900

a/n: my first mini fic without an established relationship :) i’d love love love to what you think of it!!

atsumu scoffs and skids his shoe across the sidewalk. small rocks fly up in the air and tumbles down back on the concrete. is he really off his game today? no, it just seems like his teammates couldn’t do their job and just score. oh no, he’s going back to the same toxic mindset he had in high school. only this time, osamu isn’t here to kick him back to his senses. 

with a heavy sigh and hands deep in his pockets, atsumu reluctantly turns back towards the gym. his head hangs low as he feels people’s eyes staring at him in judgement. atsumu lifts his head to glare at them, only to find no one’s looking at him. he sighs again and slowly turns the door knob to the gym entrance. a wave of warm air hits him. he forgot how warm it is inside the gym compared to outside. 

“tsum-tsum, you’re back!” bokuto exclaims, jogging over to him and giving atsumu a big pat on the back. atsumu narrows his eyes at him, trying to find some snarky remark to say but decides against it. 

“yeah, i am,” he quietly says. his eyes dart around the almost empty gym. “where’d everyone go?” 

“home. it’s said to rain soon and since the practice game’s over, they headed home early. it’s just hinata and i.” 

right on cue, atsumu’s eyes find hinata waving at them while drinking water. 

“we need a setter to practice with us-” 

atsumu waves him off mid-sentence. “not today. i’m gonna head home.” 

hinata dashes over and atsumu quickly puts on an even grumpier face to resist hinata’s cheery eyes. 

“you usually always stay after practice,” hinata points out and starts doing high-knees in place, then arm circles. 

“well, today’s different.” atsumu reaches down for his bag and slings it over his shoulder. he needs to get out of the stuffy gym as soon as possible. “see ya guys later,” he calls and pushes the gym doors open. 

“see ya!” he hears bokuto and hinata call. 

oh he can’t wait until he gets home. when he gets home? and then what? by ‘home,’ he means the little apartment he recently moved into that’s always cold and dark when he goes back. not a very welcoming place, especially not with today’s grey, cloudy weather. 

atsumu trudges across the sidewalk and waits for the walking signal before crossing the street. a crowd of people walks towards him so he walks to the very right to avoid any contact. just four more blocks until he gets home. 

the near distance is the main reason atsumu chose the apartment. the short walking distance between home and the gym is nice, especially after tedious hours of practice. what’s even better is the fact that ‘samu’s restaurant is only a couple blocks away. 

oh, ‘samu! atsumu’s eyes widens as he straightens his posture. the thought of biting into a warm, delicious onigiri is enough to make his stomach growl and his mouth drool. only three more turns, he thinks, pacing his steps to avoid stepping on the sidewalk cracks. he suddenly remembers the way he’d laugh at osamu when they were children everytime osamu stepped on a sidewalk crack. 

“step on a crack and break your momma’s back~” atsumu would say as he held his stomach in laughter. his laughter quickly died down when osamu calmly reminded atsumu that they have the same mom. 

the skies are darkening. the clouds appears to be getting thicker. it’s only a matter of time before rain starts to pour down. good thing i beat the rain here, atsumu smiles and opens to the door to osamu’s restaurant. 

as usual, he walks over to the very end of the store and settles himself on a stool. good thing no one has taken his spot. he places his bag on the empty stool next to his right gives it a small pat before hollering out for his twin’s name. 

“‘samu! your favorite sibling is here~” 

osamu’s figure appears behind the counters. he’s wearing a black shirt and black pants with an apron covered in flour placed over them. on top of his head is his usual black cap. 

“and my least favorite sibling,” the cook chuckles before frowning at atsumu’s face. “why do you look so stupid?” 

atsumu pulls back and huffs. “stupid? is this how you greet me after a long day?” 

osamu’s lips slowly tugs upwards. he reaches down and dries a bowl with a grey towel. “care to tell me what happened?” 

“let me have some food first.” 

osamu rolls his eyes and places a plate with three beautifully wrapped onigiris on top in front of atsumu. atsumu’s eyes immediately glows as he snatches an onigiri and chomps down. 

“you didn’t even wash your hands.” osamu sighs and reaches for another bowl. 

“my sets weren’t so good today,” atsumu mumbles, setting his onigiri down and looking into the distance. “and so i got mad at my teammates for not scoring. they got mad at me and said that it wasn’t them, it was because of my sets. i don’t know why i’m not on top of my game like every day.” 

osamu goes silent. his drying pace slows down. “...’tsumu, you haven’t taken any breaks since you joined msby. maybe you ought to slow down and take care of your health.” 

to osamu’s surprise, atsumu doesn’t defend back. he just heavily sighs and takes another bite. “i guess so.” 

“oh look,” osamu nods towards the nearest window. “it’s already sprinkling.” 

“good thing i never remember to unpack my bag so my umbrella’s on me. gotta work smarter, not harder~ ” atsumu smirks and slowly steps out of his seat. “better get going before it rains even harder. bye ‘samu, thanks for the food.” 

osamu nods. “i’ll see you later.” 

atsumu slings his bag over his shoulder and heads toward the front door, only to see you also head for the door. who goes first...? atsumu awkwardly gestures toward the door. “you first.” 

you take in the sight before you. a tall, muscular, blonde guy who looks ... well, a little weird. handsome? yes. also really dumb. it’s so cold today, yet he’s wearing a sleeveless top. you scoff, it’s probably because he wants to show off those arms, isn’t it? 

from his frown, you realize your scoff was a little too loud. before embarrassing yourself any further, you give him a small nod and opens the door. as you step out, you leave a hand on the door to keep it open for him. he gives you a small nod as a thanks and steps out under the roof a few feet away from you. 

the sound of pitter-pattering is all you hear. water droplets skids down the brown roof and plop, onto your shoes. at least it’s not pouring, you think as you pull your hood over your head, ready to dash into the rain all the way home. 

as if right on cue, the swaying of the tree speeds up. the pit-pattering turns violent. 

“i um, have an umbrella if you want to ... share.” 

you turn to look at him in surprise. he unzips his bag and pulls out a small black foldable umbrella. with a press of a button, the umbrella opens. 

“if your home is in walking distance, i can drop you off,” he says with a shrug. he places the umbrella over your head and gives you an awkward smile. 

trusting a stranger to walk me home, what can possibly go wrong? you sarcastically thought. “you’re osamu’s twin, aren’t you?” 

“so you’ve heard about me,” he says with a smug smile, possibly one of the most annoying smiles you’ve ever seen. annoying, because they’re hard to resist. 

it’s hard not to when there are billboards with your face on them all around here. “yeah, i have. you’re... miya atsumu?” 

“that’s right. and you’re ...?” 

“y/n... maybe you can drop me off at a convenience store so I can buy an umbrella there and walk the rest of the way home. where i live is pretty far away...” it’s not that you believe he’ll murder you, but that he’ll have to walk all that distance and back just to drop you off. you can’t have a stranger go all that way for you. 

“are ya sure? the umbrellas in convenience stores are always expensive. i’m not looking forward to heading home anyways so don’t worry about me.” 

... “well, okay. my apartment’s across from ‘hug a mug’ cafe, if you know where that is.” 

to your surprise, atsumu chuckles. “yeah i know where that is. i can’t but laugh everytime i hear their name.” 

“it’s cute,” you defend. “you know, like getting a warm, toasty hug along with a cup of coffee.” 

atsumu blinks at you and appears to what you said into thought. “i guess i should go to ‘hug a mug’ more often then, shouldn’t i?” he steps out into the rain and waits until you step under the umbrella to start walking. 

“yeah, you should. business has been slow for them lately. every time i go, there are barely any customers.” you look at to avoid stepping in puddles, and to avoid walking too close to him. every time you inch a bit further from him, he just seems to center the umbrella with wherever your head is.

“i should recommend ‘hug a mug’ to my teammates then. i’ll have to go try it out first, of course, just to make sure i’m not recommending anything bad,” he chuckles along his last lines. 

“...atsumu, your shoulder.” 

“my what?” he whips his head in your direction. 

“you’re not covering your shoulder,” you point out. water’s running down his right arm. 

“it’s fine,” he replies, and leans back to peek at your shoulder to make sure it’s not like his. “osamu and i used jump in puddles and compete with each other to see who could make the biggest splash. whenever i made a big splash, osamu would pretend he didn’t see it.” 

you softly laugh under your breath. the puddles ahead of you are quite tempting. but you know better not to jump in, for the possibility of splashing on his shoes and pants. who knows how much his shoes might cost? he’s a professional volleyball player, afterall. 

“just one more turn, right?” atsumu asks. “oh look, the rain has slowed down.” 

little droplets of water slides off the black umbrella in front of you. “yeah, you can drop me off here, i’ll walk the rest of way since it’s barely raining anymore-” 

he huffs. “drop you off at a random corner? and what happens if it starts pouring again?” 

... with a few more steps, you spot hug a mug across from the street and points it out to him. “see? we’re here. my apartment is just on the second floor. i’ll get going now, thanks for sharing your umbrella...” you give him a small wave before speed-walking up the stairs to your apartment. 

halting in mid-step, you turn to see if he’s still there, only to see a bare sidewalk with water running down the drains. he must’ve left already. 

as you unlock the door to your home, atsumu’s walking back home with a stupid grin spread across his face, finally letting out the breath he’s been holding in since he left his brother’s restaurant. if only if he had walked slower, then maybe the conversation with you would’ve lasted longer. 

[folkloreguk]

Gold Rush (optional bias)

A/N: I honestly don’t know a lot about the middle ages, so if anyone is a history genius, pls bare with me if I write something that doesn’t make sense asfghjk PS: feedback is greatly appreciated!!

genre: optional bias (male), thief!au, strangers to enemies to lovers, medieval!au, suggestive content, reader is always ready to fight lmao, a tiny bit of angst

summary: As thieves, you both try to steal from the same royal carriage. Only it doesn’t go as planned for either of you. Will you get away before the king sentences you both to death?

words: 8.9 k  

You had been tailing the royal carriages for an entire day now. You were sure your horse was getting exhausted, but the sun was setting and you knew what that meant. Soon, the transport would come to a halt. They would find a clearing somewhere, with trees as shelter from all sides. Then, they would set up their camp for the night, only to pack up everything in the morning and travel another two or three days, until they reached their destination: the castle. Only instead of delivering the full carriages, with gold, silver, pearls and gems, a few handfuls would be missing. It would be almost nothing to them, you suspected. They might not even notice it disappeared.

To you, however, it meant existing. You had to admit, being a thief hadn’t been your first choice when it came to choosing an occupation for the rest of your life. You had tried to integrate into different businesses. You were going to learn to be a baker, a glover and even tried to keep a job helping out on a farm. But none of these professions were for you. You were tired of being commanded around by men who tried to make you their little maid or worse – ask you for your hand in marriage. The judgement was tedious. “Aren’t you too old to be unwed?” “Where is your husband?” “How many children do you have?”

You wished you could talk back. “No, I’m just fine, he doesn’t exist and none – is it any of your business, by the way?” But you had learned that arguing with elders would only get you in trouble, and perhaps your decision to refrain from living the typical life was exactly what made it impossible for you to keep a job. That was, until you discovered your talent – a sleight of hand that was invincible. Some would call it avaricious; you would prefer to describe it as a passion. It wasn’t evil, just a thrill you enjoyed chasing. The beginnings had been humble. A few coins out of someone’s pocket here and there, some food from an unsuspecting marketer; you had to keep yourself afloat somehow, right?

But the seasons went by, and you became more audacious and greedier for your beloved adrenaline. Plus, you realized that stealing from the rich had something weirdly rewarding. Maybe it was the anger you felt at the king for hoarding the wealth of the land whilst letting his people starve in the streets. Either way, stealing from those who had power made you feel a sense of benevolence. You gave away some of your stolen goods to those who actually needed them, instead of letting all the money and jewelry rot away in someone’s bag and around someone’s neck. Sometimes you hid in the shadows after your theft had been settled, only to see the reactions of your victims. It might have sounded obsessive, but it gave you assurance, when they moved on after only minutes of complaint, because you knew those few coins were miniscule to all of them.

And currently, you were on to one of your most reckless thefts. You were well aware this could get you killed. Yet you couldn’t help it, the glimmer of the jewels and the gold was hypnotizing. Finally, the carriages had come to a halt. From a safe distance, you observed how they unloaded their tents and checked especially carefully where they kept the most desired goods. The wares would stay in the carriages, probably guarded all night long. You would need to wait for the right moment.

“Good job today, my dearest Dorato,” you whispered to your horse as you tied the reins to a tree. Gently, you pat his nose. He pushed his head closer to you, demanding more affection, but your eyes were already on your objective. For at least an hour you stood, hidden in the thicket, waiting for the sun to set completely and some of the men to lay to sleep. With a hawk’s gaze you counted the men and made sure you knew each of their whereabouts. One of the wagons stood with its back opening facing you – which was perfect. It was like they were presenting the goods to you on a silver plate. To the left of the wagon, some of the men had lit a bonfire and were seated around it. Judging by their laughter and lively conversations, you doubted they would go to sleep soon. One of them was sitting on the edge of the carriage, meant to guard the inside. He, who should have been paying the most attention, however, was fast asleep. And that was your chance.

“Wish me luck, Dorato,” you whispered to your horse, running your hand over his warm neck. Then, you slowly moved towards the carriage. Outside the shielding cover of the trees, you felt you needed to act quickly. The gales of laughter were helping against your vulnerability in reminding you that the men around the fire were trusting their sleeping guard to have everything under his control. Sly as a fox, you kept your distance and approached the opening of the wagon only when the bonfire was out of sight. You pulled the fabric to the side and with a swift jump, you landed on the edge of the carriage right next to the dozed off man. It only took one maneuver and you had opened the wooden chest nearest to you.

You grinned in triumph at the jackpot in front of you. With eyes sparkling just as much as the diamonds and gems, you grabbed handfuls and transported them into your bag.

“Henry, change of shift!” someone suddenly shouted. Their voice sounded scarily close to you, and then you heard footsteps approaching. Even though you had wanted to be greedier and steal some more, this was definitely your cue to get out of there. If they saw you inside the wagon, you’d be done for. So, without second thought, you yanked the cover away and leaped off the edge.

“Thief!” the surprised man howled as you passed him. Luckily, this wasn’t the first quick escape you had ever had to make. Your feet carried you rapidly, over the grass and into the trees where your horse stood. One quick pull and the reins had come off the tree trunk.

“Over there!” a hoarse man growled. Now more voices were heard, curses and angry shouts directed your way.

“Let’s go, boy,” you said and hauled yourself into the saddle. You pushed your legs against his belly, quickly signaled your horse the way and he knew the drill already. He took off sprinting, out of the forest cover. The wind in your face momentarily forced your eyes to tear up a little and you squinted against the cool night air. But just as you thought you were getting onto the gravel road, one of the guards jumped out in front of you. The fire from the torch he was holding danced aggressively in the wind. As he pointed it high, it was a blaze against the darkness of the night sky, and Dorato whinnied in terror. He jumped and reared up, and you lost balance.

“Seize her!” a man shouted at your disoriented figure on the ground. You wanted nothing more than to get back on your feet and flee. But it was no use. You were surrounded by a number of gravely livid men, and should you try anything stupid now, it would cost you your life, probably. Somebody grabbed your shoulders and pulled you up.

“Take the horse,” one of them ordered and your eyes widened. If they hurt your best friend it was the last thing they would do, you swore in silence. But to your dismay, as the men dragged you over to the wagon, they ripped your quiver and your bow from your back. You sat still as they tied your hands and feet and hurled you into the very wagon you had just stolen from.

“There you have your gemstones,” a guard spoke. “Look at them as much as you want, because soon you won’t be looking at anything anymore.”

Giving him a gaze so spiteful it should have hurt him physically, you spit right into his face. Lucky for you, he wasn’t up for a fight. It wasn’t on him to convict you for anything just yet. A complacent smile spread on your face as he walked away, wiping your saliva out of his eyes. At least now you had a guaranteed roof over your head for the night.

You were in slight trouble, you had to admit that. In two days, you would arrive at the castle. Depending on what the king decided, your punishment could be as severe as death. But until then, it would be a while. There was still plenty of time to escape, you assured yourself.

All night long, no matter how much you forced your eyes shut, you didn’t catch a minute of sleep. The men’s chatter was simply too loud and maybe you were concerned for your safety, after all – even if you would have never confessed it to someone other than yourself. The heavy chests of luxurious items sat across and next to you, as if they were mocking you for your foolish actions. For hours you sat staring at them, cursing your greed. Only in the morning, when the carriages continued their journey, the rocking of the wagon lulled you into a slumber.

~

You awoke later that day. Judging by the dim light falling into the carriage, it must have been the early evening. Curious, you scooted to the edge, lifted the fabric that was covering your sight and checked. Your assumptions had been right. The golden sunlight of the last hour of daytime shone into your face. The wagon you were in was the last of them, behind you only the bright gravel and trees left and right. For a while you daydreamed the boredom away. You went into another world, in which you didn’t have to steal to survive. In your real life, you were either born into luxury or you had to toil each day for the rest of your existence. There was no hard work that could have transported you out of your peasant-state and into something more carefree.

Suddenly, shouts ripped you right out of your dreamworld. The wagon had halted, but when you looked out the back, nothing was there. Trying to learn what the commotion was all about, you concentrated on the chaos of voices. Had they all gotten into an argument? The men were all talking at the same time, so there was really no use but to wait and see.

“You will be delighted to have some company until you receive your sentence from the king,” a man said. Footsteps drew nearer. Someone pulled away the fabric at the end of the wagon. Before you knew it, a figure was pushed inside. It was a young man but clearly not one of the guards, as he was dressed like a peasant. With a groan, he was bracing himself up across from you.

“Enjoying the ride?” the guard outside the wagon taunted you with a sneering grin. You spat in his face. Again.

“You little-“ he snarled.

“Let’s go! We can’t lose any more time!” someone yelled and unknowingly saved you from more trouble. The man disappeared and the carriages began to move again.

You welcomed the newest addition to your wagon by staring him down like he was about to take all the gold and diamonds clearly reserved for you. When he had sat up and checked his surroundings, he noticed your look.

“Is there a problem or something on my face?” he asked.

“Were you trying to steal from them?” you asked back. “Didn’t go as planned, did it?”

“Were you not?” he replied. “My highness, we’re in the same situation, so don’t you try to aggravate me out of tediousness.”

“Don’t you mock me, or you’ll receive the same response as the guard did,” you threatened. “And you are very wrong. You are going to be brought to the castle and thrown into a prison. I will escape.”

“Is that so?” he asked. “I see you’re making great progress with getting out of these ropes. You better hurry, or I’ll get away before you do. I can carry a lot in my pockets.”

You huffed.

“The diamonds are mine,” you stated, matter-of-fact.

“Whoever gets out first will have them,” he replied. “I’m betting on myself.”

“God…could you not have chosen a different day to steal from the royals?” you asked, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize it was your highness’ turn today,” he said, and his smile was taunting and cocky at the same time.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” you hissed, one second from collecting your saliva in your mouth.

“What do you prefer then?” he asked. His smirk made you wonder whether he was contemplating to suggest some more stupid pet names for you. He better not, you thought.

“I don’t know…what about my name?” you said. “It’s Y/N.”

“All right, Y/N,” he said. “And would you consider sitting on death row one of the more entertaining parts of your job? Are you used to it?”

If only looks could kill, he’d be torn to shreds.

“This is the first time I’ve ever been caught,” you said. “But judging by how lightly you’re taking this, you must spend more time in jail than outside of it.”

“What can I say? The guards love me,” he said. “But didn’t they teach you to be honest? I don’t believe you. Or maybe you were a coward for so long and this is your first time actually trying to steal. What’s the truth, sweetheart?”

There was nothing you despised like people who underestimated you. And with that, you spat in his face and turned away from him. Know-it-alls weren’t going to be granted a second of your attention.

“Hey, talk to me,” he said. “We’ll be here for another while, so we might as well become friends.”

“Missed your chance,” you said. And it was the last thing you said to him for a long time. Even when he tried so hard to lure you back into a conversation. You knew if you gave in, he’d never learn.

“My name is H/N, by the way. Oh, that’s right. You don’t care. I forgot,” he said. And he was right.

~

Having to rot away by yourself in the back of a carriage was already exhilarating enough. But rotting away in the back of a carriage while an irritating young man filled your head with stupid stories you could care less about? It made hell sound inviting. Even when the guards had set up their camp for the night, he occasionally tried to get you back into conversation. Because you had slept throughout the day, you knew you’d be awake until the early morning hours, a fact that only made your situation more unbearable.

Your ears picked up the crackling of the wood as the bonfire fed on it next to the wagon. Suddenly, a guard pulled aside the curtain. Without a word, he slid a plate with a piece of bread and a bowl with some water inside and left.

“This is going to be hard to eat with my hands on my back!” the young thief in front of you shouted, but the guard only laughed.

“Nice try,” you said, eyeing the food.

“Oh, she speaks after all,” he said. “And at least one of us is trying.”

“If I had one coin for every time you’ve provoked me since we met, I could buy my freedom,” you said. And again, he was in the wrong. Obviously, you had tried hard to figure out a way to get out of the restraints digging into your skin. If only you had a sharp object or –

“Are you gonna eat that?” he asked, pointing his head at the bread. He was willing to share, at least.

“I’ll bite off half and you get the other side,” you announced and bent your head down to the plate.

“Hey!” he exclaimed, shoving you out of the way so you tumbled onto your side with a huff of surprise.

“What the fuck is your issue?” you asked, regaining you posture.

“I’m taking the first bite,” he said. “I don’t know where your mouth has been.”

“I’ll show you where my mouth is,” you snapped. The next moment you tackled him, teeth digging into his shoulder. He groaned in pain, ferociously pushing you off him. His foot hit your thigh and you realized if you had any chance of getting away, an injured leg wouldn’t make it easier. So, you trudged away slightly.

“Are you out of your mind? Did you just really fucking bite me?” he growled.

“Go ahead, eat your damned bread,” you snarled. With a sulky sigh, you leaned back against the chest behind you, shut your eyes and tried to keep your fury in check.

You sat that way for an hour, maybe a few. With time, the roaring laughter from outside had died down. It must have been the middle of the night when you opened your eyes again. The silence let you conclude that your fellow captive had fallen asleep. Finally, you bent down to where you suspected the water bowl to be and took a few gulps. Only now you realized just how empty your stomach was. But your nose picked up something. Bread. In the darkness, you could hardly make out the half of the piece he had left for you. His humble act redacted your opinion of him from 100 to 98% dickhead. Like a starved animal, you gobbled the food. When you took your place against the chest once more, even you managed to snooze off into a much needed rest.

~

When the carriage steered through a pothole it shook you out of your slumber. Surprisingly, it was completely bright outside.

“You’re just on time,” the young thief across from you announced. “We’re about to arrive at the castle.”

He hadn’t woken you up. Maybe he had earned a few more sympathy points – with emphasis on a few. Only twenty minutes later, you were lead trough the cold halls of some dark part of the castle, down into the dungeon. While the guards dragged you around, even your loudmouth shut. This was new territory and made you slightly nervous. Were you going to make it out of here? So far, nothing was decided. You dearly prayed the king would be in a fantastic mood when he convicted you.

Your whole body was sore from the hours of sitting in the same position on the hard wood of the wagon, so you almost welcomed being shoved through the uninviting halls. One of the guards cut the remaining ropes from your hands, before pushing you into a cell. Much to your dismay, your fellow wagon inmate would also join you in this prison.

“The king will tend to you lowlives when he has time,” the guard said. The loud metallic clash of the prison bars closing and the lock sliding in place sounded like your demise. Your eyes followed the guard’s figure helplessly, until he had disappeared down the dark hallway. A slam of a door indicated that he was gone. Like a nervous animal, you paced from one wall to the other over and over. Your arms were crossed in front of your body and you were trying hard not to have a nervous breakdown. You needed your brain for more vital things right now – like contriving a plan to escape this hellhole before you could be sentenced to death.

“Would you sit down, goddammit!” the young man remarked. He was leaning against the back wall of the cell, eyeing you closely. “I need to think!”

“Do you think I don’t?” you replied. The moment of panic in your voice was short-lived, but he probably noticed it either way.

“I can’t focus if you’re losing it in front of me,” he said. “If you’re already processing your inevitable death, that’s cool with me. But I’m still planning on getting out of here, so please try to process in silence.”

Your nostrils flared in anger and you clenched your hands to fists by your sides.

“You idiot!” you said. “If you hadn’t done everything in your power to make me despise you right when we met, we could have tried to flee together.”

“Last time I checked, you were the one biting me for having a sense of personal hygiene,” he fired back. “We’re stuck in here. But get it together, we’re not on death row yet.”

In disbelief you stared at him, your irritation almost drowning out the restless pounding inside your head. He held his chin high as if to challenge you. And you could have gone for it. Down here in this cold, forlorn dungeon no one would hinder you from fighting each other. No, you knew for a fact that not a single soul in this castle gave one last damn about whether you lived or died. But you were completely drained. After all the sleep you had gotten, you should have been wide awake, and maybe your body was – but your mind was in the middle of shutting down. So, even though it hurt your pride, you stopped your uneasy walking and mirrored his behavior on another wall. Arms crossed and eyebrows furrowing, you kept your eyes on the ground. Maybe he was right. Giving up wasn’t characteristic for you, so why was your head spinning from dread?

In desperate search of some sort of hope, you caught glimpse of his rather relaxed stance. If he could keep up a calm front, maybe you could too. Luckily, he wasn’t looking at you, and not noticing how you drew strength from his so simple but enheartening behavior.

~

Three days into your stay in the dungeon, you had found a daily rhythm. Your mornings consisted of pretending to be asleep for as long as you possibly could, then holding yourself back from attacking your beloved cellmate because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut for more than five minutes. By midday your arguments had usually turned into playful bickering, because you couldn’t cope with being angry all the time. And frankly, you were bored. Even though standing his endless interrogations about your life was exhilarating, it was still better than losing sense of time and in the process also losing your sanity. Late, when darkness had fallen upon the land, a guard delivered a small ration of food for both of you. This was the part where your bickering morphed back into serious conflicts. If you were going to live on tiny amounts of food, you wouldn’t settle for the smaller ration of the two.

The fourth day was different. When you first reached consciousness, you heard nothing. Usually, he was already awake, noticing like a stalker when you awoke, only to tease you from the moment you woke up. But that day, you opened your eyes to a seemingly empty cell. Until you spotted him in the corner. His body was shaking, and his tiny, husky cough concerned you further.

“H/N?” you asked quietly. Considering the amount of loathing you’d thought you held for him, you sure worried an unnormal amount. But it wasn’t the mere thought of him being ill that concerned you most. It was the idea of having to suffer in the dark, murky dungeon all alone, day to day, until you’d have to face the king, who likely wanted you dead for your crimes. An ice-cold fear crept over you. You didn’t want to – no, you couldn’t – die lonely. Even if he was the last person you could have wished to be thrown into prison with, he was still company. This loathsome cell, the horrors of the near future, the neverending progression of time and the uncertainty that came with it – it all terrified you to the bone. Only now you realized just how much comfort he gave you, all by existing in the same space as you.

Carefully, you approached him. He wasn’t answering you, and he never not answered you. It was a heartbreaking sight. He was curled up in a fetal position, hands clenched to fists on his chest. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his forehead. Whether he liked it or not, you sat down with him. Gently, you reached for his forehead. A second was enough to determine he was burning up.

“Get off me,” he said, slapping your hand away. His voice was so frail.

“Hush. Let me help you,” you insisted. He huffed in annoyance.

“Are you a doctor when you’re not a thief?” he asked.

“No. But improving your mentality will help your body recover faster,” you said. “And you seem to be in a very negative headspace right now.”

His mouth opened to speak, but then a shiver rippled through his body and he wrapped his arms around his knees tightly. All this time, he hadn’t even opened his eyes.

“We need to keep you cool,” you said. “Take off your jacket.”

“This isn’t the time to ask me to take off my clothes,” he said, almost whispered.

“Will you just do as I say so you can get better? Do you want to die in here?” you said, brushing off his words. Something flashed across his face. Fear? Disappointment? Aware that it could invade his comfort zone, you very carefully took his hands. Lucky for you, he let you. When his jacket came off, you noticed the sweat stains that had formed on his thin shirt.

“You can lie down on this, it’ll be more comfortable,” you advised. Without arguing, he followed your instructions and allowed you to spread out the jacket underneath him. This behavior was new, you thought. But you could surely get used it. You knew it must have been serious, if he didn’t give you a silly remark for everything you said.

“I’ll get you more water,” you said, as you retrieved the almost empty water bowl from the center of the stone floor. Set on not spilling a drop, you lifted it to his lips and watched as he swallowed the last few sips. You used the sleeve of your shirt to wipe his wet hair out of his face, as he sunk back down onto the hard ground.

“Sleep now,” you said. You didn’t need to tell him twice. He had been almost unable to keep his eyelids open, so without hesitation, he drifted off into dreamland. For hours, you sat, hugging your knees to your chest, eyes on his anguished figure. Just as you had thought you could deal with the scary ordeal of being held captive in a castle dungeon, this had to happen. Stricken with sorrow, you waited for time to pass. If only you could have slept too, it would have made all the anxious thoughts go away. But someone had to look after him, and you weren’t tired.

His slumber must had been a hag-ridden one. Sometimes, he made small sounds, like whimpers, other times his brows furrowed, and his muscles flexed from whichever terror it was that haunted him in his head.

“Shh, you’re going to be okay,” you assured him, and maybe also yourself. But his tireless stirring only became worse, his body twisting and turning on the uneven ground. He groaned in agony, and your heart clenched like a million little daggers had slashed it.

“I’m here to keep you safe,” you whispered, bending down to his level. With utmost care, you lifted his head and let him rest in your lap. You weren’t really planning what was happening, but your hands found his hands. Softly, you stroked them, waiting for him to calm down and relax his tight fists. His mumbles and quiet moans of distress continued, until you realized. He was trying to tell you something.

“I can’t go like this,” he said.

“You’re not go-“ you started.

“No! My- parents need- me,” he stuttered. By now he was grasping your hands desperately. You sighed and his eyes opened ever so slightly. The anger he had held for you was vanished. You almost teared up at the delicateness of his gaze.

“I need to help them... they’re old and sick and can’t be alone,” he added in a small voice.

“We will get out of here,” you said. You had no idea when there had first been a ‘we’, but now there apparently was. “You have to be strong now, do you hear? Then you can meet your parents again.”

He was looking almost through you. His eyes were so dark, it was like staring right into the deepest part of the ocean. You stroked the back of his hand with your thumb, whilst trying hard to keep a hopeful gaze. For him, you had to appear strong. Or else, how else was he supposed to be?

“I’m sorry- I was such an asshole to you,” he suddenly confessed. “I thought you would steal away the gold before I could. And now look where that brought us.”

“This isn’t your fault. We were both being reckless,” you said. “I’m sorry I bit you. And threatened to spit on your face. And then spat on your face.”

The tiniest smile spread on his face. Success. Any sort of positive emotion could help him now.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he whispered. “I’ll think about whether I can forgive you. You must know, I’m very vindictive.”

His grin was playful, and his eyes were closed, as if he was on the brink of falling back to sleep.

“Forgiveness hurts less than holding a grudge for the rest of your life,” you said. Who knew? Maybe even the king could show remission. All you knew was that you would crumble, would you have to encounter the king alone. Your brain had set on the need for H/N. For years, you hadn’t formed any meaningful relationships – not counting your bond with your ardently loved horse. Now, with his head on your lap and your fingers intertwined with his, you ached for more. Was it really him you wanted? Or had you denied yourself of any affection for such a long time, the smallest contact with anyone appeased your yearning? Would you have felt the same, if it had been somebody else in his place?

~

At night, the metal noise of the door at the far end of the hallway outside your cell made you lift your head. Gently, so that H/N wouldn’t be awoken, you lifted his head to lay on the jacket instead of your thigh. In impatience, your foot tapped on the ground while you stood in the middle of the cell.

“Sir,” you called the guard with a fake-soft voice. “Will it be possible to receive another cup with water? My fellow inmate has fallen sick.”

The grumpy guard unlocked the metal bars, entering with the usual small ration of food and drink.

“What does it matter if he dies now or by command of the king? Do you think I care?” he growled, not sparing you a glance. You had been almost convinced this would have happened. So, you’d have to resort to different measures.

“Please-“ you begged, suddenly stepping towards the guard, who was on his way out of the cell. Without second thought, you threw yourself onto him, making sure to look extra-devastated and helpless. What could a weak, little young woman do to a guard, other than fall on her knees, right?

“Touch me once more and you’re dead, too, bitch!” he barked. One quick move of your skilled fingers and you eagerly backed off, hands hiding behind your back.

“Sorry, sir!” you said, lowering your head in false shame and guilt. “Please consider my request.”

All he gave you was a grunt of disapproval and he stomped out of the cell, the lock falling into place in a loud crash. Feigning inferiority and intimidation, you didn’t dare move until he was out of the dungeon. Then, you spun to the young man behind you on the ground.

“Open up,” you commanded, suspecting the shouting could not have kept him asleep. Finally, you could pull the flask you had stolen from the guard from behind your back. It seemed to be almost filled to the brim, too. Perfect. He did as he was told, and you let some of the water spill into his mouth.

“I take back what I said in the carriage,” he confessed. “Only full-time thieves have a sleight of hand like yours.”

“It was my pleasure proving you wrong,” you said. “Now, drink up.”

That night, you let him have the full ration of food. For at least ten minutes, he refused to have all of it. But you were stubborn and even though he hadn’t known you for long, he knew that much about you. If you wanted to escape with him, he would need to be fit to run. You had deemed your chances small to begin with, but in his state, you estimated them close to zero. After you had emptied the guard’s flask, you reached through the prison bars and tossed the item as far away from the cell as you could. He should never assume you’d had anything to do with its disappearance. The next day, a different guard would find it there, and bring it back to him under the assumption that he had carelessly dropped it.

~

Two days passed by. In the first night of the two, you had to comfort him through another few nightmares. During the day, he was sleepy, but had enough energy to have a little conversation with you now and then – something you read as a good sign. The second night, you were able to sleep all the way through, and when you checked his forehead in the morning, it had cooled down a little. On the second day, he had regained his strength enough to be able to sit, leaning against your shoulder.

“Will you stop moving? My head’s pounding,” he said.

“Your complaints make me wonder if you’re doing well now,” you asked, smirking.

“Like I said…my head’s killing me,” he repeated.

“Drink the rest of the water,” you suggested. “I think it’s almost evening. The guard will bring a new bowl soon.”

“It’s your turn to eat tonight,” he stated.

“We’re sharing,” you said. Lucky for him, he didn’t fight back. You wouldn’t have cooperated, either way.

“It’s time to make a plan now, if we want to get out of here. What do you say?” you asked. When he lifted his head, you looked over at him. The color was back in his face, the beads of sweat nonexistent and his cheeky smile bright as ever.

“I wonder…about what your little magic hands did to that guard’s flask…could they do the same with his keys?” he suggested. The way you mirrored his mischievous grin, he knew you agreed. But it would be trickier, this time. From days worth of observation, you had learned that the guards behaved differently. Some adamantly made sure the keys remained in their clenched fists – an instance you couldn’t work with at all – while others preferred to leave them in the lock by the door. You knew you’d never get close enough to even attempt to steal them from there. What you needed was the careless type of guard. The one who snuck the keys into their pockets or left them hanging on their clothes by the keyring. All it took now was to wait and hope the king would keep you locked away for long enough to give you a chance to flee.

That night, luck wasn’t on your side. The guard kept his hands on his keys as if they were his most precious possession.

~

“Do we really have to go over this again? I told you your pacing is driving me insane,” he said. It was midday of the following day, and you were deep in thought – or you had been – until he had to interrupt you.

“What do you expect me to do? We’re jailed like animals,” you countered. “I can’t stand around like you all day.”

When you saw him open his mouth, you read in his expression what he was about to do. It was his bickering face.

“If there’s one thing I’m not in the mood for currently, it’s getting lectured by you over nothing. Come up with a topic of conversation, please,” you said before he could speak. His smirk concerned you.

“What are you in the mood for, then?” he asked with raised eyebrows. Your death glare said more than a thousand words. “Fine, here’s a conversation topic…let me think…why are you not married?”

“Are you fucking kidding me,” you said in the most impassive tone you could muster.

“Oh, alright, if that’s not good enough, I’ll go back to flirting,” he said. The steps he was taking towards you made your brain activate fight mode.

“I’ve never met a man good enough for marriage,” you said.

“And what qualifies a man to be good enough for you?”

“Hm…where do I begin? I’m not a good cook, nor do I enjoy being a maid, nor do I know how to take care of children. Most men want those things in a woman.”

“You took pretty good care of me, didn’t you? But why waste your thieving talent on running a household?” he said.

“That’s where the issue lays. Men don’t favor women who sneak around the village at night and make their own money from being a criminal.”

“Nothing wrong with being a criminal,” he went on.

You laughed out loud.

“You know what? I like it this way. Why settle for staying with one man who might turn out to be a monster, when I can have them all for a night?” you said.

“Well, right now you’re not having anyone.”

“Seems like that’s bothering you more than it bothers me,” you replied in a feisty tone. If you didn’t call him out for the flirting, who would? Although you had to admit, you greatly preferred being courted to his unnerving teasing.

“Why would that bother me?” he asked. “You hate me, don’t you?”

He was right in front of you now, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that made you consider biting him again. And at the same time, something in your body – not your head – wanted to close the small distance between you two.  

“If I hated you, I would have let you die,” you said.

“I assumed you kept me alive because you need me to get out of here.”

Now you had another reason to get up in his face. You gripped him by the collar, looking into his eyes.

“Excuse me? You think I wouldn’t be able to escape by myself? If you’re only trying to rile me up, you better let me know, because I already told you I can’t stand to be underestimated,” you said.

“Alright,” he rose his arms in defeat. “After your little stunt with the guard I’m actually pretty glad I have you in here with me. Honestly, I don’t think I’d get out without you.”

“Was that so hard to spit out?” you said, self-accomplished.

“No. But you only come close to me when you’re mad or worried,” he said. By now, his eye contact was captivating in the most confusing way possible. His eyes occasionally skipped to your lips. “And since I’m not sick anymore, I had to opt for the former.”

“You’re unbelievable,” you said. Unbelievably handsome, your brain added. And yes, maybe he was. Perhaps it wasn’t so much his beautiful face, but the way he spoke, understanding, even encouraging your lifestyle. You had just forced him to be honest with you. So, maybe it was time to stop holding back the truth from yourself, too.

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked. It’s time to give in, you told yourself. Therefore, rather than telling him, you showed him. With a sudden rush of hunger, your lips crashed against his. Momentarily, he seemed taken aback and let out a surprised groan. But within seconds he caught himself, hands grabbing your sides desperately. You thought addictions needed more time to develop, but the feeling of his mellow lips on yours already seemed like one to you.

You had never kissed anyone who had truly made you feel things. Now, your knees were weak in an instant when his tongue grazed yours only for a moment. After so much arguing, it was hard to believe your hands clasping the fabric of his shirt couldn’t be a product of you cursing him but derived from mere want. The way he claimed your mouth silenced even your most invasive thoughts. It was a serenity you had wished for ever since you had gotten caught a few days ago. A moment to breathe freely, make whichever noises you desired and be as close to him as you could.

You pulled him along, stumbling backwards until you hit the cold stone behind you. Being trapped in a dungeon was horrific – but being trapped between his body and the wall left you feeling safer than you had felt in a long, long time.

But the peace didn’t last long. You suddenly heard the all too familiar metal noise from the distance. Alarmed, you sprung apart. As the unexpecting guard walked down the dark hallway, you smoothed out your clothing hastily.

“Congratulations! Your time in here will be over. Tomorrow the king will see you,” the guard announced. You shot your fellow inmate an alerted gaze, which he returned. Silently, he nodded at you. It was time to do something. The guard was now opening the door, bringing inside your food. His key was in his hands – this was going to be an issue. He set the plate down in the front of the room, and was in the process of spinning around, when H/N spoke.

“Sir, may I attract you to a magic trick?” he asked the guard. “I have been practicing it for so long, and it would be a shame if I had to die before I could ever present it.”

“Go to hell,” the guard said.

“I have a coin here,” H/N added. The guard raised his head. “If you win, you get to keep it.”

“Give it to me,” the annoyed man said.

“That’s not how it works. First, I will need both of your hands,” H/N explained. You smiled slightly when the guard sighed. He complied, letting his keys disappear into his oversized pocket. Retrieving them would be child’s play for you.

“Stick up your hands ahead of you. And keep your eyes locked on the coin. Be quick, or you’ll lose it,” H/N said in his dramatic voice. As he lifted his own hand with the coin in it, the guard followed and looked upwards. This was your time. Like a cat, you tip-toed around the guard’s back, not even paying attention to what H/N was doing anymore. Ever so swiftly, your hand slid into his pocket, fingers closing around the chill metal. As quickly as you had approached him, you stepped away, the key sliding into your sleeve and out of sight.

��Incorrect!” H/N called. “But you know what? I will grant you the coin either way. By tomorrow, I might not need it any longer.”

The guard even went so far as to laugh – even if it was a gloating sort of laughter. The only thing left to do now was hope he wouldn’t discover his missing key. But luck was on your side. Without another word, the man stepped out of the cell, shut the door, and walked off. The tune he whistled became smaller and smaller, until it faded out completely.

“Guess who’s getting out of here?” you asked, triumphantly revealing the key.

“You did it!” he exclaimed. You weren’t sure whether it was a spur of the moment decision, or maybe he was just too ecstatic to stop himself, but he flung his arms around your frame and squeezed you tightly.

“Hey, hey, you can’t crush me so close to my escape,” you laughed.

“Our escape,” he smiled. “We need to act fast. He could notice the missing key any second.”

Nodding eagerly, you grabbed half of the bread and downed half of the water bowl. You weren’t going to leave that behind. After all, you never knew when your next meal would be.

“If we make it to the stables, we can get a horse,” he announced. “I saw them on our way here. They’re to the west. The sun should be setting now, if my sense of time is still correct. Let’s hurry, or else we’ll be out of directions.”

“Dorato!” you exclaimed. “They took my horse!”

“The black horse that was tied to the carriage when we came here? I saw him,” he noted. You nodded, swearing you would leave here without Dorato only over your dead body.

~

Ten minutes later you had successfully exited the cell and approached the door at the end of the hallway.

“Out there it’s on both of us to keep running, okay?” you whispered.

He only nodded. “Towards the setting sun.”

The second you had slipped past the door you were spotted by a maid.

“Prisoners!” she yelled. Your plan to slip away unnoticed had gone down the drain quickly. With one last glance at the young man next to you, you both took off. The way out of the castle was still burned into your brain from when you had been brought inside. Back then, you had already planned to get out, so you had payed an extra amount of attention. When you reached a turn, you barely had time to think about the right way. By now, two guards were after you and you were forced to trust your intuition. H/N was a little ahead of you. The sudden exercise after being refined to a tiny cell for so long made your chest burn in exhaustion after only such a short while. But the adrenaline drowned it all out easily.

You knew you had to be close to the outside, it was a feeling. But then, all of a sudden, a guard cut off your path in front of you. H/N was racing far ahead, so that he could get away. You, on the other hand, had no time to overthink your actions. Before the guard could catch you, you had ducked under his outstretched arms. Now, sprinting down an unfamiliar corridor over the marble flooring, your sense of direction was gone, but your will to survive vigorous as ever.

For minutes you ran, collecting a horde of guards behind you the longer you kept going. When you turned a corner, you were greeted by another long corridor. Only this time, it was a dead end.  Nevertheless, you kept up the speed. What else could you have done? By now, your calves felt like they were on fire, breath coming in short gasps. You suddenly took notice of the precious paintings and statues that adorned the hallway. Maybe this was the answer.

Without slowing down, you took hold of a stone vase. Just for a moment, you gathered all your might. Then, you dashed it forward, against the window at the very end of the corridor. Your body followed shortly after, but it was enough time for the glass to shatter before you. In a protective manner, you folded your arms over your chest and shut your eyes tightly as your figure flew through the opening.

When you had passed the window, your eyes opened, and you ducked. Soft grass caught your body as you rolled onto the ground. The impact knocked the air out of your lungs momentarily. But within seconds you were back on your feet. Aggressive shouts from behind you only motivated you to keep going. Faster. Just a little longer. Dawn had broken in, but the sky was still a bright blue to your left. That’s where you were headed. A market place close by acted as the perfect cover for a while. You barely had time to watch out, crashing into people’s shoulders and knocking over bowls and baskets. An enraged shout followed you, but you were already far gone.

And he had been right. Your nose picked up the scent of hay and animals. You had to be close. What if he wasn’t there? What if they caught you again? A short panic bubbled up inside of you. Stealing might could have been forgiven, but for your current deeds no king would let you live. The wooden stables were in sight by now.

You could barely breathe anymore, but something inside of you kept you up and going nonetheless. Every breath burned as you entered, stalls of horses and other animals to your left and right. But no sight of H/N. Nor of your horse. Did he leave without you? Had he assumed you had been caught and tried to save his own life, at least? Your head spun as you scanned the animals one last time. Then, the men’s deep shouts caught up with you. You needed to get out, or else this stable would turn into a trap.

When your feet hit the cobblestone outside, you spotted the mob of angered men and women coming at you. They were holding spears, torches and pitchforks and were livid.

“Y/N!” someone suddenly yelled from your right. The sound of his voice had never sounded better to you. He was on your horse, careering towards you. One last look at the furious crowd of peasants and guards, and then you only focused on him. Only a little more strength, and you could get out of here.

The second he was close enough to you, you started running again. Like you had done so many times, you hauled yourself onto Dorato behind him. Your hands caught his shirt and you pulled your body flush against him. You needed no words. Now, you only needed to trust your horse to get you out of here. Just for a moment, you closed your eyes in exhaustion and took a few, consciously deep breaths. In lightning speed, you raced across the grass and towards the archway out of the courtyard.

And you made it. He shouted in a boisterous tone, and while at first you laughed, you couldn’t help but join his happiness loudly.

 ~2 months later~

 The rough bark of the tree was digging into your back, but you couldn’t have cared less. Not when he was all over you. Not when his scent was so intoxicating, and his busy hands made you forget about any other sensation on your skin. It took no time. You had escaped together, thinking it was your time to part ways after what you had gone through with him. Now, each day you hung on his every word and couldn’t even bear to be away from him for minutes at a time.

Not far from you, your two horses stood, grazing on the grass by their feet. Meanwhile, the two of you, supposed to be on the lookout for your next target, had found another occupation in the cover of the trees. The market close by wasn’t exactly your goal – it was the nobles who would arrive in their carriages like every weekend to spend time by the beautiful lake. While they had their picnics and gossiped about each other, there was enough time for you two check for some gifts to retrieve from their carriages.

You sighed happily as he kissed your neck ever so softly. In him, you hadn’t just found a partner in crime. He was your muse, your comfort and your home. His family was your new family and finally, you had someone to tell all your most unbridles stories and dreams to – someone who could actually reply, with no offense to your horse. Going out stealing was as exciting as hiding between the sheets with him. In such a short time, he had learned to read your face and knew every curve of your body like it was a part of himself, and you had no problem with that.

Suddenly, he pulled away. He looked over your shoulder, gaze changing from tranquil to fierce.

“There they come,” he announced. That moment, you heard the sounds too. Hooves and the crunch of gravel under wheels. Smiling in excitement, you turned to check the situation as well. But you had to be honest, he was much more entertaining to look at. Like in so many cases, you found yourself tied to his gorgeous features and the way his jaw clenched when he was plotting.

“Eyes on the prize, sweetheart,” he said, not peeling his look from the carriages.

“Don’t you know, I’ve already won the best prize there is in the world?” you asked, hearts in your eyes and a cheeky smile on your face.

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust / 11 - dreameater

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a/n: Please let me know if you’d like to be added to a taglist for this story. Thank you all for the kind comments! ;-; @fishyfish-y @writingmi @just-some-stars 

 —

ch 11 | dreameater

The memories you had of the rest of the night were fragmented, incoherent — just a few rare flashes of consciousness.

You did not know how long you were stuck within the amber, but you knew fear, and darkness, and suffocation; felt the energy draining right out of you into the crystal. Though you had briefly been resigned to your fate, the thought of Zhongli suddenly had you struggling with renewed vigor. 

You wanted to see him again. You wanted to live. 

—-

For as long as you could, you tried to stay conscious. You thought about Zhongli’s eyes, how they twinkled gold under any light. About how warm his hands had been, holding yours. His hearty laugh, and how it stole your breath away each time you managed to coax it out of him. The knowing smile he wore as he told you stories and corrected the ones you were reading. His voice, rich and deep; his lips around your name— 

The mercy he had shown you, where he had been well within his rights to be cruel. The way he had taught you of a life worth living. 

—-

There was a strange, cold heat between your collarbones. Perhaps, you wondered absently, the amber was reacting with the jade in your necklace. For a moment, it seemed like it would burn a hole right through your throat, but after a while, the heat subsided.

—-

Somewhere along the line, your thoughts shifted from a steady mantra of Zhongli Zhongli Zhongli to: Rex Lapis . 

Though you were sure that the former Archon received no lack of desperate prayers, even with his apparent death, you still prayed fervently, offering contracts that you’d find some way of fulfilling: you would bring Osmanthus Wine to his statues, you would learn to use your Vision, you would learn to fight and defend Liyue from monsters—

—-

Somewhere outside the pitch darkness of the amber, you heard a loud whoosh; and even through the sap, you could feel the familiar warmth of Geo. Of Zhongli’s Geo. 

Oh.

You could barely let yourself hope, even as a brilliant golden glow shone through the thick walls of your prison. Even as the amber cracked open with a deafening groan, slowly at first, then shattering into millions of fragments. 

—-

You found yourself on your knees, savoring the damp mud against your skin and the cold air deep in your lungs. Solid arms gathered you, gently bringing you to your feet. 

You threw out your hands and wrapped them tightly around your savior, despite the hideous pain in your wrist, deeply breathing in the scent you had long since begun to know as “home”. 

“You’re safe now,” Zhongli murmured, “I’m here.” 

—-

You blinked back the relief that welled up in your eyes, a sudden bout of exhaustion and pain rendering you limp in his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered into his chest, “I’m getting mud on your coat.”

Zhongli made a noise you had never heard him make before, sort of a laugh but not quite. “ Oh , Hansi ,” he shook his head. “My coat is the least of my worries. Are you hurt anywhere?”

“I think my hand is broken.”

“Hmm.” Zhongli gently lifted your arm, examining your swelling wrist with composure that you didn’t think 

Behind Zhongli, in the dim light, you noticed a small movement amidst the grass. Suddenly, you remembered where you were, the danger you were both in. “Watch out!” you cried, gripping his sleeve with your good hand and trying to run. Without his support, your legs immediately buckled, but Zhongli caught you before you hit the ground. “Zhongli, be careful, the Adepti— they’ll kill you—”

Zhongli exhaled lightly and to your bewilderment, showed not even the slightest hint of panic or fear on his face. With a gloved finger, he gently pushed the damp hair from your cheeks, then looked up at the mountain where you came, eyes sharp. Suddenly, you were no longer afraid. 

“ She is under my protection .” Zhongli’s voice was not loud, but even more than usual, it was resonant. Before you gave in to the heavy calm of sleep, you swore for a moment that you saw the amber ends of his hair glow the same warm hue of his eyes. “ Do keep your karst crawlers in check, Mountain Shaper .”

—-

The next time you slipped back into consciousness, you awoke to a rhythmic swaying. You blinked the sleep away from your heavy eyelids, peering up, and your heart skipped a beat. 

Zhongli was carrying you effortlessly, one of his hands under your knee and the other supporting your back. 

Your cheek was pressed firmly against his solid chest. Was it your imagination, or was his heartbeat… too slow, each resonant thump far too many seconds apart? 

It was freezing. The amber had kept you insulated, but now that you were out in the air again, your damp hair and clothes caught the bitter windchill and made you shiver. Zhongli paused in his steps.

“You’re cold,” he asked, and without waiting for a response, began shrugging off his coat. Your protests died on your lips when he gingerly draped you in it, carefully avoiding your broken wrist. The residual heat from his body offered a much welcome warmth. You inhaled deeply into the silk and hoped he did not notice.

Between the rocking of Zhongli’s footsteps, the gentle moonlight, and your newfound comfort, sleep found you quickly once more.

—-

You never thought that you’d see the woodlands outside Zhongli’s house again, yet the welcome and familiar sight greeted you the next time you opened your weary eyes. 

“Are you able to stand?” He asked. You hesitantly nodded, then crumpled immediately when he gently lowered you to the ground. 

“Actually,” you corrected, grabbing onto Zhongli to steady yourself, black spots on your vision like ink stains, “no.”

With furrowed brows, Zhongli deftly removed one of his gloves and pressed the back of his hand against your clammy forehead. “You have a fever,” he stated, “Go get changed—” The world lurched, the black spots growing bigger and Zhongli’s voice becoming distant. “Hansi? Hansi, stay awake—” 

—-

When you dredged yourself back into consciousness, you were inside the warmth of the house, sitting on the side of your bed. Zhongli was meticulously, slowly, peeling the wet silk off of your damp skin, and though you felt a brief surge of shame through your haze of torpor, there was no judgement in his gaze — only concern.

As he raised your arm to wrap a large coat around you, you realized that your wrist had been put into a splint, wrapped neatly in a small white towel. 

After Zhongli was finally satisfied with the layers upon layers of clothing he had piled upon you, he covered you with a thick blanket. You supposed that it was a cause for concern that despite everything, you were still cold, but for the moment, you were so comfortable and content that you did not mention it. 

Finally, Zhongli stepped back, and you noticed the empty space on your windowsill. Oh . “I’m so sorry,” you suddenly blurted, the horrible memory of what had happened that night suddenly rushing back. “I lost the dragon’s tooth. We were attacked by an Abyss Mage, and- and--” 

Zhongli’s thumb gingerly brushed over your lips, quieting you instantly. “As long as it protected you, it has served its purpose,” he said, as though you hadn’t just lost a priceless heirloom from his old friend. “What matters is that you are safe.” 

—-

You fell into fits of feverish sleep. 

The grotesque chittering of the Abyss Mage, the blood on Xiangling’s fingers, and the endless hungry darkness of the amber swirled about in your mind each time you closed your eyes. 

Several times, you found yourself waking up with Zhongli’s name on your lips, but each time, the chair by your bed remained empty. 

—-

You would not remember this, but: at some point of that night, you found yourself once more in the realm of cloud and dust of your dreams.

Relieved, you looked up in search of the familiar silhouette of Zhongli, to once more watch him in peace and quiet. 

Instead, you met golden, reptilian eyes, each the size of dinner plates.

A monstrous dragon was curled in a wide circle around you, the berth of which scaled larger than Zhongli’s house. Its scales were like terraced fields, each one shining its own spectrum of brilliant, iridescent gold. For a moment, you were enamored by how beautiful — how oddly familiar — the beast before you was. 

But mostly, you debated begging for your life.

Its mighty head was lowered just enough that you could see it was looking straight at you, and when it opened its mouth to speak, it revealed rows of huge, wickedly sharp fangs. They looked just like the tooth you had lost. You dropped to your knees, pressing your forehead to the ground, knowing now who stood before you. 

“She will not remember this dream ?”

The dragon’s mouth barely moved, but its deep, guttural voice seemed to shake the world itself. You raised your gaze slightly and saw, under the dragon’s head, a young man with dark hair and green-blue undertones. He was also staring at you intently, and unlike the dragon, there was disdain clear in his eyes.

“No, Rex Lapis,” he said, shortly. “Not when I’m done.” 

“How is she faring ?”

“I can’t tell until I consume it,” the young man shook his head, and vaguely, you realized they were talking about you. “But the dream is stable, and so it seems, is her mind. Rest assured that Jueyun Karst has not broken her like it does so many other mortals.” 

Rex Lapis’ body, all scales and sinew, seemed to visibly relax.

“I must apologize for placing this task upon you. But it is imperative she does not remember this when she wakes up. I fear that she is not yet ready for the truth.”

The young man exhaled in quiet resignation. “You gave me my name, and you released me from an endless darkness,” he said, and with a deft wave of his hand, donned a beastly fanged mask over his face. “At your request, I would lay down my life a thousand times over, Rex Lapis.”

“Thank you, Xiao . Do proceed.”

The dragon cast one last lidded glance at you, dipping its head as if to leave. You don’t know where within your lungs you find it in you to whisper: “ wait .”

To your absolute astonishment, Rex Lapis did, once more turning to look at you expectantly. 

Rex Lapis. Giving you the time of his day. You hadn’t cried in a very, very long time, but you thought that you might just start right then and there.

“Speak, mortal,” the young man — had Rex Lapis called him Xiao? — snapped, crossing his arms. “Don’t waste his time.” The curtness stung, but it helped snap the fuzzy panic right out of your head. 

“Your majesty,” you bowed low once more. Was that how you were meant to address an Archon? You certainly didn’t know! “Wh— why did you give me a Vision? Was it a mistake? Do you— do you want it back?” 

The words felt as stupid coming out of your mouth as they did in floating around in your head. 

You heard Xiao snort incredulously, but Rex Lapis stared at you for a moment, unblinking and as still as a rock. You had begun to wonder if “begging for your life” was still on the table, when the dragon’s massive head shook gently from side to side. 

“A mistake? ” Even in his deafening timbre, you could hear incredulity. The clouds, the dust, the ground beneath your feet seemed to sway. “ Is that why you have not told...?”

There was a brief pause. 

“My dearest Hansi, nothing I have done for you is a mistake.”

If you weren’t already on your knees, hearing your name rumbled from between his fangs would have brought you to them. It was not the first time , you realized, something deep within you rearing its head. It was not the first time you had heard that guttural voice utter your name. 

“Rex Lapis, if I may be so bold as to ask,” Xiao asked, “just what is this mortal to you?”

It was not the first time you had met Xiao, either.

“She is under my protection” , the dragon responded shortly. “ As I once was under hers.”

Under his… protection?

All at once, you realized whom the dragon’s golden, iridescent gaze reminded you of. Your lips formed around his name, just as Xiao stepped forward and raised one clawed hand.

—- 

You woke up to the soft morning light, your head once more feeling like it had been stuffed full of cotton. Though you didn’t know how it was possible, you felt hot and cold at the same time. 

Wondering how many days had passed, you sat up slowly, but even that small motion made you retch. 

You’d had a dream. You didn’t remember what it was, but it was vitally important— that much you knew. Thinking about it too much made your head hurt. Giving up for the moment, you reached out for where your cup usually was; yet your fingers wrapped around something smooth and cold. 

On your bedside table, next to a cup of steaming tea, sat the dragon’s tooth — the only indication that it had ever left the house: a charred ring where it had met the Abyss Mage’s fiery shield. 

[sasuhinasno1fan]

No relationship is all sunshine, but two people can share one umbrella and survive the storms together- Adrien AUGrest Day 3

Doing this event again and even though there are less prompts, still might only be able to do a few. Still hope you like this though, it a Descendants AU, with Adrien as Rapunzel and Eugene’s son and Luka and Juleka as Captain Hook’s kids, but they were looked after by their mom cause Arnaka is amazing. Umbrella

Adrien wasn’t sure if it was his anger that made him blind to the weather outside. He had a good reason; it was like most of the council didn’t even care about those from the Isle. Most of his classmates thought they were hooligans who deserved to live there. No one deserved to live in complete poverty, with no running water or access to food. That fact that it had been allowed to go on for 20 years and for those heroes who started out from humble beginnings to not care? It filled him with rage he didn’t know he had.

Did he want Mother Gothel anywhere near his mom? No, of course not? She kidnapped her and locked her in a tower and tried to kill his father, not to mention abandon his Aunt Cassandra. But if she had a child, then that child deserved to live life not suffering for food. He didn’t know how many of the villains had changed and cared about their children now, but from what he got from the new VKs attending their school now, there weren’t many. The number of heroes who wanted things to change were so few it was taking so much to even get the council to listen to him.

Maybe dating a VK made things harder but he wouldn’t change that for the world. Maybe he got his type from his mom, rugged guys who had hearts of gold. Though, Luka was nowhere near as vain as his dad could be when he got into one of his moods.

He stared at the rain, thinking about how unfair everything was and how his home was full of hypocrites when he heard a welcome voice.

“Stuck in the rain kitty cat?”

Luka, son of one Captain James Hook, was nothing like his father. He had a mild temper, was a mother duck and didn’t hate the people of Auradon on principal. He said it was because of Anastasia, Cinderella’s step sister, talking about all the good things Cinderella did for her. Adrien just thought Luka had a kind heart to not judge before he met people. Adrien made himself available as a friend when the VKs came to Auradon and Luka just accepted it without judgement. They’d talked and interacted the longest and what had first been a simple flirting to keep the more overzealous girls at bay, turned into giving him baked goods as a thank you then an invite to explore the Enchanted Woods and teaching Luka how to swim better in the Lake and then…the kiss. It just happened, Luka somehow more nervous to swim in a lake than shark infested sea water and holding on to the edge of the stone gazebo, Adrien calming him down, them staring at each other and it just, happening. Adrien felt fireworks and he knew.

Not that anything after had been easy. Telling people turned out to be the worst idea ever. None of his Auradon friends wanted him with Luka, thinking the pirate had spelled him. The VKs that didn’t trust Adrien thought he was only with him for publicity. It was hard and difficult and Luka was so worth it, but he questioned if they were making the right choice. His parents assured him he was.

“When you met someone, you know can change your whole world, it doesn’t matter what anyone else says. You need to listen with your heart.” His mom said.

“Besides, no relationship is all sunshine, but two people can share one umbrella and survive the storms together. that’s what your grandparents told us after we wondered if we could still get married after the whole debacle with your Aunt Cassandra.” His dad explained.

If his parents, who’d been two totally different people made it work, than he could do it with Luka. and so far, despite the storm they faced with judgement, they kept each other warm through it all.

“Hi my jolly sailor.” Adrien loved how Luka looked in his black coat, the snake wrapped around the Jolly Roger living on its back.

“You look upset.” Luka said sympathetically. He always seemed to understand how Adrien was feeling, even without saying anything.

“Meeting didn’t go well. How they can spout about being heroes yet turn their backs on people in need, I’ll never understand. Plus this rain isn’t helping.” Adrien said pouting at it.

“I like the rain.” Luka said.

“But it’s always cloudy on the Isle.”

“Yes. The barrier doesn’t make the weather the greatest but I don’t know. Maybe it was because mom is always with us, but when the rain would turn into a storm and rock the boat, she’d have me and Jules lay with her on a hammock and we’d feel the boat rock back and forth. Even hearing dad yell at the other pirates to secure the boat didn’t bother me. It just felt really relaxing. Honestly, the rocking boat has been the thing I’ve been missing the most.”

“Not your mom?”

“Well, we video chat with her whenever Fairy Godmother can arrange it and speak for ages after that, so it’s not too bad. But yeah, the boat rocking always made me fall asleep easier.”

Adrien didn’t know how he didn’t realise the dark circles under Luka’s eyes. Now that he knew they seemed to stand out more against his eyeliner. Part of him felt guilty that Luka seemed to always be there, even when the night got late if Adrien asked to see him. He opened his mouth to ask when Luka started to pull his jacket off.

“Didn’t bring an umbrella. I was waiting here when it started up, so we’ll have to run fast. I suggest holding on to your bag tight, ok?” Luka said, lifting his jacket so it was over their heads and stepped close to him. “Ready?”

Adrien nodded. While Luka was more open than the rest of the VKs, he would still clam up if Adrien pushed too hard. So he’d have to plan a little.

                                           _________________

“Ok, step up. Oh, sorry!” Adrien said, tilting the umbrella back so Luka wouldn’t get wet again. It was still raining later in the week, which was perfect for what Adrien had planned.

“Kitty, what are we doing?” Luka asked, still obediently covering his eyes with a gloved hand. His hair was starting to curl slightly from the rain.

“You’ll see.” He brought them to the middle, letting Luka stay close so they were both under the umbrella. “Ok, open your eyes.”

Luka did as he as told, looking around at the rather old school yacht they were standing on. The sails were tied up and the seating on the deck were covered to protect them from the rain, but the elegant lines of the 33m VIP ketch still stood out in the greyness of the rain.

“Where are we?”

“On the Flynn Rider, my parents’ yacht. My dad sailed around when he was pretty young so he chooses this one and named it after the name he went by when he met my mom for the first time. It was from a story book he read when he lived in the orphanage. He says if he never read the stories, he would never have met mom later. You said you like sleeping on a rocking boat in the rain. It doesn’t shake that much but it’s still pretty ok. No hammock but you can still feel the rocking on my loft bed. Is this, ok?”

Luka took the umbrella from Adrien to free Adrien up to be pulled closer and kissed him. “You certainly always surprise me kitty. It’s prefect, thank you. you up for cuddling with this pirate?”

“Always.”

[jenoptimist]

request:

can i request something with lucas? 💖

✮ Pairing: yukhei x reader (gender neutral)

✮ Genre: fluff | werewolf!au

✮ Additional info: accidental marriage (werewolf style)

✮ Word count: 5.6k

♡ Yakult says: thank you for your request !! i was a clown when i said i’d have it up before the new year 🤠 but well here it is nonie !! i hope you like it 💙

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The moon hung big, bright and beautiful in the dark sky as it illuminated the thick forest. The brightness of the surrounding stars didn’t even compare. Not one bit. You stood up from your position on the porch and stretched your arms and legs, the tattoo on the inner part of your wrist tingling. You watched with impatience as your wolves emerge from the trees and you couldn’t resist the urge to run over to them, the soles of your feet becoming slightly wet due to the damp grass. You couldn’t go with them as they raced through the forest, no matter how much you pleaded, so you wanted to be in on their joyous energy. They were quick to pounce on you, hard enough to tackle you to the ground where you soon find yourself covered by them.

“Finally!” You said, feigning exasperation as they surrounded you and took turns rubbing their snouts in the crook of your neck, effectively scenting you, “took you guys long enough!” They couldn’t talk to you, at least not in their shifted states, so you moved so that you could stand up and then took off to warm up inside the Wong residence without so much as a warning. They weren’t too far behind you, evidently not burning through their energy just yet.

Once on the porch, the boys shifted back into their human forms. Their voices overlapped each other as they walked in, telltale sounds of them shoving at one another through the back door good naturedly. You kept your eyes away from them as they entered, stared pointedly at the variety of colorful magnets that were on the fridge. Nudity didn’t bother them in the slightest simply because it was in their nature. However it was not in yours. You were just a human that somehow wormed your way into their pack - you’d often jokingly said that they just couldn’t resist your charm - and so nudity didn’t come as naturally to you as it did them.

“Aw,” cooed Yangyang in that playful tone of his, “still shy after all this time, y/n?” That earned him nothing but your middle finger which resulted in laughter from the others.

“I’ll order some pizza so go shower and get dressed.” You told them when they stopped laughing, already grabbing your phone from where you placed it near the microwave earlier. They let out a chorus of cheers, thanking you by ruffling your hair while they passed by you. The last hand lingered slightly; it lowered from the crown of your head to your nape before skimming over to the crook of your neck and stayed there, warm and heavy. You didn’t have to turn to know it was Yukhei. It was the large size of his hand that always gave him away. 

“There’s money in the hallway, under the orchids.”

“I know,” you said while lowering your phone slightly so that you could turn your head towards him, “there always is.”

Try as you might, your eyes seemed to have a will of their own as they trailed from his eyes to the slope of his nose and the curve of his lips and then slowly, very slowly, your eyes roamed down his neck and followed the lines of his collarbones. Remembering yourself, you lifted your gaze, practically looking at him through your lashes, and found him staring at you intensely; there was definitely something in those dark eyes of his. Whatever it was, there was one thing that you were certain of: it was a combination of both man and wolf. It was evident from the color of his eyes, while not fully changed they contained a sliver of gold, just around the edges. You couldn’t decipher what it meant and you weren’t too eager to ask the others either—it would probably resulting in them teasing you, like they always did.

His warm hand lightly squeezed you for a fraction of a second and then he was off, striding towards the direction of the hallway so that he could join the others upstairs. Against your better judgement, along with the mentality that you already crossed the line earlier, anyway so this couldn’t be a bad thing to do, you watched him go. Your eyes focused on the smooth and tanned expanse of his upper back, not daring to look any lower because you had already went passed the line further than intended—it also felt wrong and creepy if you did. You shifted your stare to your phone, not wanting to be caught practically gawking at his behind when he would inevitably turn so that he could go up the stairs.

After having your fill of pizza - Dejun and Yangyang bickered for the last slice - the eight of you took your respective seats; Kun, Yongqin, Dejun and Kunhang squished together on the largest couch on the left side of the room while you sat on the other couch, with Sicheng on the far and while Yangyang and Yukhei were on either side of you. As the start of Ocean’s Eleven played on the TV, you tried very hard not to concentrate on your left thigh, where you could practically feel the heat of Yukhei’s hand underneath your joggers. Touching between all of you was a regular occurrence, heck Yangyang was even leaning into you, but it was different with Yukhei. His touches lingered the way your stares on him did; sometimes they were feather light, fleeting, and other times they were heavy and prolonged, as if you’d disappear if he didn’t have a grip on you—like last year when you almost. . .when the incident with the wendigo happened.

Three and a half movies in, Dejun, Kunhang and Yangyang were sound asleep. Kun and Yongqin had taken it upon themselves to clear up the space a little and rearranged the sleeping boys into much more comfortable positions. You would have helped them but your parents were expecting you to return home. They understood your connection with them - after what happened last year it was important that they knew the truth - but they valued family time.

“Thanks for walking me back,” you said as you and Yukhei reached your driveway. Although your living room windows were covered by a set of blinds and curtains, the lampshade was still visible. Yukhei flashed you a quick smile and a quick shrug of his shoulders.

“Goodnight.” He replied, stopping just a handful of steps away from where you stood in front of your door. You returned his words to him and just as you turned and unlocked the door, one foot barely inside the house, he said, “oh hold on!” There was the sound of his shoes tapping against the pavement in rhythmically as he jogged towards you. “I forgot to give this to you earlier.” His hand was fisted and stretched out to you. When you held out your opened palm underneath it, he released his hold from the object. It was an agate rock, you could tell by the lines and how it had several colors. “I got it during our run.” Yukhei said while he peeked at you through his lashes. He wore a small, shy smile, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he rocked back and forth between his heel and the balls of his feet. He looked positively endearing, especially with the way the moon casted its light on him.

You ran your thumb across it’s smooth surface, secretly pleased that he thought of you. It probably didn’t mean anything (even though you desparately wanted it to) because the others did it, too. On one, most recent, occasion Kunhang bought the two of you matching cat shaped night lights just because. So, really, Yukhei most likely meant nothing about it; he just happened to spot a rock that he thought you might like. Now if only you could convince your heart that. Along with the fluttering in it that you felt, there was a rush of warmth that flooded through your entire system. Hopefully it wasn’t noticeable—their senses, as well as their healing, weren’t as enhanced as usual during the full moon which served to be in your favor at the moment.

“Thank you,” you finally said, a smile that stretched from ear to ear as you closed your hand around it. “I love it.” Although he barely showed it, you could tell he was relieved. Yukhei smiled softly at you, his eyes full of joy. “Goodnight, again. Text me when you get home.” You could feel his eyes on you as you walked in and once you shut the door, you were quick to look through the peephole to make sure that nothing happened to him while he walked off.

Later when you were cozy in your bed, marvelling at the rock, lifting it up so that the moonlight could kiss it through your window, your phone buzzed. Setting the rock on your beside table, you patted around your duvet for your phone.

from: xuxi

made it back in one piece!!

With the text came a picture of him, thumb raised. Yongqin was making a silly face in the back while Sicheng formed a ‘V’ with his index and middle finger, his face neutral as if he wasn’t originally intended to be in the picture. It coaxed a small huff of laughter from you. You were quick to send him a text back and then you repositioned yourself, closing your eyes so that you could go to sleep.

*

There was something different about you when you woke up. It wasn’t noticeable, not at first, but the more awake and alert you became, the more you were aware of the thrumming? No. Current. It felt like somebody had inserted wires inside of you while you were asleep, somehow, with the buzzing that you could feel inside your body. It didn’t hurt but it was definitely there although, surprisingly enough, it didn’t feel wrong for it to be there. If you weren’t in the know (read: if you didn’t know about werewolves) you could have chalked it up to excess energy. But seeing as you did know about the supernatural, whatever had happened to you overnight could be a problem. Thankfully, however, the current was faint. Faint enough that you could probably forget about it. Unfortunately, a habit of yours was that once you noticed something, you couldn’t stop concentrating on it.

The panic set in when, after eating your breakfast and rushing to work, the feeling was still there. It was like an itch but no matter how hard you tried to forget about it or subtly shake it out, nothing happened. In fact the exact opposite happened; it became just that bit stronger, as if to say, ‘hey I’m still here’. Thankfully it was a slow day at work which allowed you to think about what could have caused your current condition? Situation? You didn’t even know what to call it. There weren’t any current threats or anyone who posed danger that you knew of. Maybe some fae casted this one you? No. That didn’t make any sense. The fae may have been known for trickery and deceit but they wouldn’t do anything to anyone who didn’t strike a bargain with them.

By the time you were on your break, your head was practically pounding at the amount of possiblities you had thought of. You took a bite of your panini, staring out the window of the café you decided to eat at. Trying not to get caught up in thinking again - you had done enough for the day - you focused on watching the people that passed by. A few bites into your sandwich, your tattoo tingled. It didn’t override the other current in your body in the slightest, not that it could, because it only affected the skin where your tattoo was. You wondered who was out and about. It could be anybody since it was a Saturday so none of you had any lectures—although Kunhang did mention that he would be in the campus to work on his project today so it couldn’t be him. Kunhang, bless his heart, tried to explain his project to you and you were nothing short of confusion by the end of it. You and engineering simply did not mix, like oil and water, but it was nice to watch him speak about something that he was clearly interested in.

The tingling stopped as soon as you found yourself face to face with Yukhei, who stood on the other side of the glass. When you locked eyes with him, he was quick to wave and then weave his way through the sea of bodies moving in two opposite directions so that he could enter the café. He made a beeline towards you and spared no time in occupying the seat opposite you, although he stood up almost immediately.

After a quick, “I’ll go get us a drink,” he was off. You didn’t even see his gaze wander to your empty cup. There was that pleased feeling again, the one that warmed up the inside of your chest and spread itself to the rest of your body. You bit the inside of your cheek and forced yourself to tamper it down. It meant nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing. You seared the word into your mind but it didn’t do anything to dissipate the fluttering in your heart. When he came back, two steaming beverages in hand, the two of you fell into an easy conversation. It hardly took any effort to get lost in Yukhei whenever he spoke because he always spoke with his whole body; his eyes bursting with emotion, the various facial expressions he displayed and how he used his hands to go along with his words. He was telling you about the shenanigans Bella had gotten herself into that morning, his voice full of both amusement and fondness. You did nothing but listen to him, lips curled into an affectionate smile while your cheek laid in the palm of your hand.

It was only after the two of you said your goodbyes that you realized that the current stopped when you were in Yukhei’s presence. The gears in your head turned, perhaps instead of a current, it was a pull. A pull towards Yukhei. That was ridiculous, though. Why would that be the case? You were probably just mixing up your feelings for him with the current or something. You made a plan to ask Kun and Sicheng what they thought because if anyone could provide you with answers, it would be those two brainiacs.

When your shift ended, you were quick to leave the building and call Kun so that he was aware that you were going over to the apartment that he shared with Sicheng.

“Wait, y/n,” concern colored Kun’s voice, “you’re not in any trouble, are you?”

“No,” you assured, “but you’d know if I was, wouldn’t you?” It was an alpha thing, you remembered him telling you when you woke up in the hospital and had a boatload of questions. It was because of that alpha quirk that he found you.

“Yeah,” his voice took a softness to it before he cleared it away, “I’d know. Sicheng is already here, by the way, and so is Yongqin. He’s asking if you could pick up some Doritos on your way.” You gave him an affirmative, feeling lucky that the two people you were looking for were in the same spot.

You all but sprinted to Kun and Sicheng’s apartment, the handle of a paper bag full of various snacks in your hand. The usual pleasantries were exchanged which consisted of mainly scenting rather than words. And then once the snacks were distributed on the coffee table in the living room, the four of you were down to business.

“Hold on, so, you just woke up and, what, bam there it was?” Yongqin asked through a mouthful of chips. From beside him Sicheng simultaneously flipped onto the next page of the grimoire with one hand, which he had on loan from the local coven, and stuffed a handful of chips with the other. His eyes scanned the two pages lightning fast before turning them, decidedly not finding whatever he thought the solution was for your current problem. Ha. Current problem.

“Yeah,” you confirmed, popping some Maltesers into your mouth. You tilted the bag of Maltesers in Kun’s direction on your right and retracted when he shook his head in refusal. His brows were furrowed, head tilted as he chewed on his bottom lip. Not wanting to disrupt his train of thought, you shrugged at Yongqin and said, “it could be worse.”

“I’ve got nothing,” Sicheng said as he closed the grimoire. “I could ask Jaehyun but if it’s not in his grimoire then I doubt he’d know. I’ll text him anyway, just in case.”

“Wait don’t,” Kun ordered. When the the three of you looked at him, he was staring at you with the same contemplative expression that he had been wearing since you told them about your situation. “Yukhei walked you home last night, right?” You nodded, wondering what theory he had come up with. “By any chance, did he give you something?”

You smiled brightly, “yeah, look!” The rock was nestled inside the pocket of your jeans because you didn’t want to leave it at home, you thought of it as a charm of some sort, and you made quick work of fishing it out so that you could show them. “Isn’t it so pretty?” Yongqin agreed whereas the other two traded looks with each other.

“Oh,” Sicheng breathed out, as if he connected all the dots which, knowing him, he probably did. He glanced at you before looking back at Kun. Their conversation was silent; nothing but a series of brow movements. Dread immediately flooded your system, your outstretched hand dropping onto your lap. Whatever happened to you was probably horrible, considering that they didn’t outright say what they thought it was. You thumbed at your rock to try and soothe your nerves while you waited for them to reveal whatever it was that they figured out.

Yongqin jerked suddenly, eyes wide with surprise as he spread his arms out wildly, smacking Sicheng square on the chest. “You married Yukhei?!”

You returned his surprised expression with one of disbelief. “I think I’d know if I got married to him.”

“No,” Kun said softly, “he’s right. Y/n you”-he arched a brow at Yongqin-“bonded with Yukhei last night.”

“What! But- I couldn’t have.” You all but exclaimed. “How?”

“Everything witnessed by the moon, specifically the full moon, is binding for werewolves. When a wolf, or a human in a pack for that matter, gives a token to another under the moon it takes full effect. Although it only works when there are particularly strong feelings involved.” Sicheng explained in a tone that was both gentle and matter-of-fact.

Oh great. So all this happened because your feelings ran extremely deep for Yukhei to the point where you got werewolf married to him. All he was doing was being his usual self and the moon went ahead and bound the two of you together because of your feelings. It must have been the immense joy you felt, on top of your feelings for him, about the fact that he saw a pretty rock and thought of you. It felt a little bit pathetic in a way. Yukhei probably didn’t even want to be married to you, werewolf married or not. He called you a ‘good buddy’ two weeks ago! There was absolutely no way he thought of you as marriage material at all! You felt a little ill all of a sudden. While you may have fantasized about being married to him - it was one of the many scenarios you conjured up when you closed your eyes and waited for sleep to take you - you never wanted it to happen like this—non-consensual and without meaning.

“Don’t worry!” Kun rushed in, “you can undo it. All you have to do is give the token back to him at the next full moon then the bond will be dissolved.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Then you have to give him a token and then you’ll be together forever.” Yongqin piped up. You thought as much. After all, werewolves never did anything in halves when it came to their love lives. “The current will disappear eventually, too. Or at least it should.”

“Perfect,” you said with false cheer before laying back on the couch, groaning as you squeezed your eyes shut. Then you sat up, all but yelling, “please don’t tell Yukhei!” Sicheng looked as though he wanted to disagree but you silently pleaded at him until he dutifully nodded. Kun and Yongqin followed his lead. “I’ll tell him myself.” You mumbled, dread already creeping up inside of your system at the thought of it.

There was a couple of minutes of silence before Yongqin spoke up. “It could be worse.” He said, mimicking your words from earlier.

A bubble of hysteric laughter escaped your lips before you agreed. It really, really could have been worse.

*

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Yukhei said over the phone. You could hear the frown in his voice and could already picture the expression he wore on his face. There was hurt there too, just a hint as if he was trying not to let it show, and it made you hate yourself a little bit more, especially since the statement was true. You had started avoiding him since the revelation of your marriage three weeks ago. Confrontation was never your strong suit and it doubled in this particular situation because not only would you have to tell him that the two of you were accidentally werewolf married, but also because your feelings regarding him would be out in the open. The full moon was in a couple of days, however, so it would all be over soon.

“Sorry I’ve been busy,” the words felt like ash in your mouth. “We can hang out later though, if you’re free.” Half of you hoped he was and the other hoped that he wasn’t—if he was free then you didn’t know how you could look at him and not think, ‘we’re married’ or similarly ‘we’re bound’ over and over again.

“Yeah ‘course I am! I’m working on something with Kunhang right now, we’re just taking a break, so he’ll probably stick around with us. I’ll text you when we’re done.”

“Sounds good,” and it really did because with Kunhang there maybe you wouldn’t have to think about your marriage to his best friend or worse, accidentally tell him. “See you later!”

Later came sooner than expected. Time seemed to pass in a blink of an eye and so you found yourself in front of the Wong residence, waiting for someone to open the door for you. They definitely would have heard you as you were walking up their driveaway and normally, Yukhei’s little brother would have opened the door already so you assumed he was out with his friends. The door swung open to reveal Mrs.Wong - your, oh God, secret mother-in-law - who all but beamed when she saw you and beckoned you inside.

“It’s been a while,” she said after she closed the door behind her. Within a second she had an arm around your waist and lead you to the kitchen. “You came in just in time! Someone from my book club gave me her curry receipe and I just finished making it.” She was quick to pass you a spoonful of the dish, watching you in expectation as you tasted it. “Too salty?” She asked and then smiled delightedly when you assured her that it was lovely. “That’s dinner sorted,” she said as she placed the lid back on the pot. “Now, tell me, what’s the latest gossip in town these days.”

Halfway through telling her about how apparently there was drama in the Zhao family because of the late Mr.Zhao’s will (some even suspected that he was murdered but you highly doubted it), Yukhei - your secret husband - and Kunhang walked in. Yukhei immediately made his way towards you, placing a hand on the crook of your neck which he slowly moved downwards to rest in the middle of your shoulder blades. It stayed there until Kunhang took the seat beside you and started chatting animatedly about what he and Yukhei were working on. Yukhei’s stare practically seared the side of your head but you refused to look at him. From the corner of your eye, you could see Mrs.Wong look slyly between you and her son and you hoped that she didn’t figure it out—silly considering she herself was a ‘wolf and therefore would definitely work it out. But, still, you hoped.

“The others are coming by later,” Yukhei informed you and Kunhang, his eyes locked on his phone as he tapped away. The three of you had moved to his room a few minutes ago. Once he finished typing, he stood up and said, “I’ll be back.” Then left his room.

There was a beat of silence as you scrolled through your Instagram feed, double tapping on pictures while Kunhang played a game on his phone that he recently downloaded. He either completed a level or his character failed because he lowered his phone and looked at you, waiting until you returned his stare before he spoke.

“You know,” he started, shifting his legs until he was in a more comfortable position, “he was pretty torn up about not seeing you lately.” You bobbed your head. “And if this is about the token he gave you—”

You shot up immediately. “How did you know about that?” Did Dejun and Yangyang know, too? But the others said they wouldn’t say anything or, well, not to Yukhei at least. Unless they were all in the know?

“Who do you think gave him the idea?” He asked rhetorically and then launched into how he, Dejun and Yangyang helped Yukhei with his plan. “The token could have been anything because it’s the thought that counts but he found that rock and polished it ‘cause he thought you’d like it.”

Your lips parted in shock while your brain scrambled for something, anything, to say. So Yukhei did want to be werewolf married to you? He had feelings for you? He went to the trouble of finding a rock and polishing it because he thought you’d like it? It felt like a dream come true. Suddenly, his shy demeanor on that night made sense. Being bound to him wasn’t horrible - life was short and you knew it - but you did wish that he asked you on a date—the two of you could have done anything; a picnic, go to the cinema or drive to the next town over.

“He was really nervous about the whole thing, y’know? I mean I thought you’d definitely say yes because it’s not like he was asking for your hand in marriage or anything,”-wait, what?-“he just wanted to court you.”

“Kunhang,” you said slowly, “we are married. I asked Kun and Sicheng and he- we’re- he didn’t ask to court me.” Even though he did accidentally marry you, at least you were aware that he liked you back. Courting, like all other things involved in a ‘wolf’s love life, was considered serious business.

“Oh shit,” Kunhang exclaimed, slapping a hand on his mouth with wide eyes.

Yukhei chose to re-enter his room at that moment. His brows furrowed as he looked back and forth between the two of you. “What’s wrong?”

Kunhang’s hand slid from his mouth, about to speak when you quickly said, “I was telling him about how some people think Mr.Zhao was murdered.” You gave Kunhang a brief, pleading look.

Yukhei huffed out a laugh, “and he believed it? Dude there’s no way. They would have said so when they examined the body.”

“Exactly what I said!” You laughed along with Yukhei, forcing down the giddiness that spread through you at the sight of him. He shot you a big smile before trapping Kunhang in a playful headlock.

Before you knew it, the others arrived and as usual, dinner was a loud affair as everyone voiced their opinions on the topic of conversation which steadily continued to change. After dinner, everyone helped clean up excluding Yukhei’s parents because you all insisted that they relax. There was a couple of rounds of Uno at the dining table after everything was cleaned and put away and then the seven of you were on your way home. One by one, the number dwindled until it was just you and Yongqin.

“He was meant to ask to court me,” you told him just after Yangyang turned left onto his road. “Not marry me.”

“Let me guess,” Yongqin replied, amusement in his voice, “the three rascals helped him out without asking anyone.”

“Who else?” The two of you laughed, briefly recalling the mischief the four of them had gotten into whenever they did something without consulting their parents or anyone else in the pack.

“So what are you going to do?” Yongqin asked as the two of you approached your driveway. “If he was planning to court you then obviously marrying you is already on his mind.” You tried not to flush at the bluntness of his words because of course courting was only done when marriage fit into the equation.

Still, the corner of your mouth lifted. “I think you already know.”

Yongqin threw his head back to laugh and then beamed at you. “Yeah, I do.” He then ruffled your hair in that brotherly way of his and said, “remember, it’s the thought that counts.”

“You know, not enough people give you credit for being smart.” It was true. People thought Yongqin was nothing but an airhead who liked to dance and draw in his spare time because obviously you couldn’t possibly be intelligent when you enjoyed those things.

“I know,” he agreed while he jammed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. “But it gives me an advantage, don’t you think? Now go on, I’m sure you have lots to think about.”

“G’night.” You said as he spun around and walked across the road to his own house. He just waved without looking back.

*

With the little time you had to think of a token to give Yukhei, you hardly slept for the past two days. There were so many options to choose from but ultimately, you chose a bracelet that had agate stones which matched the one that he gave you. It remained hidden in a box on your shelf and you thought about what Yukhei’s reaction would be while you sent him a short text.

to: xuxi

let’s talk after the run tomorrow

from: xuxi

okay

*

The full moon was big and bright as it always was. You and Yukhei stood underneath it, allowing yourselves to be soaked in its light, in the clearing between his house and the forest. Your rock was hidden in the saftey of your chest, just under your hoodie - you had asked your dad for help so that you could loop a necklace chain into it - while your token for Yukhei was inside of your loosely fisted hand.

“You asked me to marry you,” you said softly, peeking at him through your lashes. “You like me enough to marry me. You might even love me.” Although he was visibly shocked, he did nothing to assure you otherwise. His expression of shock melted into one of shyness, maybe even embarrassment, as he wrung his fingers together.

“Yeah, I did and,” his voice was low and gravelly, “I do love you.”

You didn’t even try to fight your smile as you stretched your hand out towards him and waited for him to place an open palm underneath it. When you released your token, you watched his expression turn into astonishment. He picked up the bracelet gently, examining it for a couple of minutes before slipping it past his hand and onto his wrist.

“You have one month to divorce me just in case you change your mind,” you tried to make it sound like a joke but it fell flat. “Just like I did with you.” At least according to Sicheng.

Yukhei strode towards you, his steps full of purpose until the two of you were practically chest to chest. “I don’t need it.”

Your heart soared as he leaned in closer and closer until your faces were a hair’s width away. “No?”

“Absolutely not.” And then he kissed you, a hand cupping the back of your head while you snaked your hands up to his shoulders.

“I love you, too.” You said breathlessly once the two of you pulled apart. “In case that wasn’t obvious.”

Yukhei’s laughter was as warm as sunlight. His hand moved from the back of your head to cup your cheek while he stared at you in complete adoration. With the press of his lips on yours, he removed it so that he could step back and hold your hands onto his. 

“Mother Moon,” he began to say, his warm hands giving your cold ones a light squeeze, “may your light shine on our love through all of your phases for eternity.”

Yukhei’s eyes searched yours as if waiting for you to tell him that you were joking even after all that has happened. You just smiled at him, already knowing what to do next thanks to Yongqin.

“Mother Moon,” you repeated, taking pleasure in seeing Yukhei mirror your smile with awe in his eyes, “may your light shine on our love through all of your phases for eternity.”

[how-masterful]

Remastered

Dhawan!master x reader

Chapter 3: New Earth

Summary: New earth, new adventures, but the return of a dreaded old face. You’d been acting strange all day, and despite the distracting wonder of the mysterious cures the sisters of plenitude were concocting, the Master had most definitely noticed. But when all is revealed in the hospital, things go from curious to complicated- especially when the sick break free, and the root of all the days problems decides she wants to try the masters body on for size.

Notes: At last! Another remaster! This time not a Matt but a David episode: loathed by some, but a guilty pleasure of mine! I mentioned wanting to write this fic  while ago, and i finally got around to it on the eve of Doctor Who day! I hope you all enjoy!

As usual, this fic is dedicated to my dearly beloved queen @plethora-of-imagines​. My watchalong companion, fellow soft dom lover, most trusted confident, and the most hat obsessed girl i’ve ever met. I hope it lives up to the hype!

They were surrounding you in droves. 

The sick. The diseased. The nearly dead. 

The filthy pipe covered walls of the hospital basement flying past your field of vision as you desperately raced towards salvation.

Or at least, the woman who was currently controlling your body raced.

Cassandra's presence in your head was agony- not just for the fact the woman was compressing you to death, but because she was so damn judgemental. In all of your adventures in time and space you’d never met someone so cruel, so self absorbed. And you travelled with the Master of all people, for crying out loud. You suspected the only reason you were being saved was because she was too self preserving to let herself, and by extension your body, go to waste. At least she had the common sense to keep up her speed, the Masters pace just in front of you as you bypassed the closing passageways of the intensive care unit and headed towards the room where she'd been hiding all this time.

“You’d better know where we’re going!”

The Master, for lack of a better term, was fucking pissed to say the least. The revelation that you weren't truly yourself was far more shocking than the revelation of the human farm the Sisters of Plenitude were hiding in their basement. He’d first accused the matron, who denied having any part in the ‘fuckery with your brain’, but it soon became clear who exactly had decided to hitch a ride inside your delicate human brain. The, as the Doctor's pet had once referred to her as, bitchy trampoline. You supposed he was also furious that she’d kissed him. You yourself were certainly boiling with anger at that fact. At least it was still your mouth, you reasoned.

“Keep a lid on it, handsome! This has been my terf much longer than its been yours!”

She knew the way well, the distance between yourself and the following lab grown humans strengthening as your feet lead you towards the dingy basement where your mind had been overtaken. Her assistant chip was long gone now, the boy probably dead from the swarming humans. All that was left was you, Cassandra, and the furious Master. 

The pair of you skidded around a plethora of corners, the basement of the hospital built not unlike the elaborate mazes the Master would construct within the walls of the TARDIS. You very much wished to be safe in your home instead of running from manic nuns and the almost living dead, but you knew that travelling through time and space meant a girl couldn’t be picky. If only Cassandra also shared the sentiment

"THROUGH HERE!"

You still weren't used to the ridiculously posh accent coming from your mouth, her shrill yell guiding the timelord to the small door that lead to her chambers.

The Master huffed, following your guide as you crawled through the square metal hatch. You heard the door slam and latch shut soon after, the chambers flying past as the far entrance arrived into view. With a heave the hinges opened, Cassandra letting out another scream as the diseased loomed large in the doorway. The door slammed shut as she pressed your back against the rusting metal and pulled down the lock, her eyes meeting the deadly glare of the Master in the middle of the room.

"My god, we're trapped in here! What are we going to do?!"

The Master narrowed his eyes, leering at the woman with a cast iron gaze that made you even shiver.

"Get out. I want her back. Now."

Cassandra rolled your eyes, the woman matching the Masters stance. He let out a low growl, the Master stepping forward with gritted teeth.

"I know you've met the doctor, but you've never dealt with someone like me. So let me be quite plain: I'm not going to play your stupid little human games, Cassandra. I want Y/N back, and I want her back now."

"God, you timelords are all the same, so demanding! You do know it's just a title, don't you darling?"

The Master scoffed, pure fury evident in his sneering grin. Cassandra took a step back, arms dropping from their fold as he took a step closer. His presence was intimidating to say the least.

"This plan of yours, it had potential. A psychograft- I must admit, rudimentary but creative."

It was Cassandra's turn to scoff now. The pair of them practically circling each other, the Master watching her turn her back as the last human stepped towards the ruined remains of her rusted frame. The Master stood besides the psychograft, the TCE now in his grip as he gestured with the small device squarely at the machine.

"Banned on every civilised planet, I can relate. But you know why they were banned, Cassandra? They were sloppy, completely unstable."

"Another thing you can relate to?"

"You're compressing my Y/N to death!"

Cassandra sighed, venom on her tongue as she kissed your teeth, scrunching her nose in disdain. Your fingers carefully traced over the metalwork of her frame, the jarred brain she once used now beginning to wither as the suspension fluid leaked and pooled out onto the rank basement floor. 

"And where do you suppose I go, hmm? My skin is long dead." Cassandra snapped, head whipping around to glare at the man in the purple coat. She smirked cockilly, tilting your head.

"You ought to play softer with your toys, time boy. This very sore little human of yours is my one ticket out of this shit hole"

"I'm afraid you'll have to deboard your vessel, Cassandra. You can float in the air- like dust, or a disgustingly persistent mosquito. Quite on brand, for you-"

"Very funny-"

"But your self preservation, Cassandra, is nothing but a big, fat you problem. That body you're in is precious to me and I'm not letting you get even a scratch on her."

Cassandra glowered, clenching her teeth as the Master gripped the TCE tight in his palm. She stared at him, lips quivering as she planned her next rebuttal. The Master held his nerve, unable to help the tightening of his chest as he thought of you, stuck inside your own body. He knew the feeling of being kept from your own being all too well from his little stint in utopia. Cassandra finally relented as the Master slowly raised the TCE to aim at her head.

"Give. Y/N. Back."

Cassandra carefully stood, slowly stepping towards the Master as he brandished his weapon in his hand. She teasingly began to twist the charm on the necklace around your throat, holding the pendant between her fingers. The Masters glare strengthened, eyes focused on the jewellery in her grasp. 

"You know, once you were dead and this place far behind me, I was planning on dumping the meat and pawning the bling as soon as I could. But you, Master, are too stubborn for your own good."

The Masters expression reeked of confusion, his head tilting to the side as Cassandra squared off her shoulders. The time lord took this as a threat, tightening his hold on the TCE as he watched her every move. You could see it in his eyes- Thousands of possibilities processing at once, the gears of his mind shrieking as they grinded through his manic yet methodical systems of thought.

"You want her back? You asked for it."

The tremendous pressure on your head suddenly lifted in a whirlwind of overstimulation. Every sound screamed in your ears, the basement around you caught in a surge of darkness as your hazed vision was stolen from you. A loud ringing persisted, if only for a few moments, the muted and muffled existence you'd sat within ripped from under your feet. Your knees weakly buckled, shoulders slumping as you felt the ground connect between your feet. You let out a gasp for air, eyes scrunching shut as you shook your head. The basement slowly came back into vision, your head recovering from the imprisonment with a low groan from your throat and a palm to the side of your skull.

"Ow, jesus christ, my fucking head. Where did she go?"

You focused your vision on the man in front of you. The Masters back was turned towards you, the timelord almost bent in half. He didn't respond, body oddly still as you dared to take a step forward. You had a dreadful suspicion about where she'd run off to after leaving your head.

"Master?..."

"Dear lord, I'm a bad boy now!"

No way. No fucking way.

Cassandra turned around with a flourish, hands upon the Masters chest as she let out an excitable giggle. His eyes sat wide, a half smile upon his face as she familiarised herself with her new body. She stumbled on her feet like a newborn deer, inspecting her fingers and rocking on her toes as she rubbed at her chin. The presence of a beard under her fingertips seemingly blowing the woman's mind. You didn't know whether to laugh at her antics or cry at the problem that just emerged before you.

"I've never been a bad boy before! Bad girl, for sure, but this?! Isn't he just delicious!"

His usual northern tone was long gone, a fact that hurt much more than it should. Cassandra couldn't stop giggling to herself, her hands playing over his cheeks as he hurriedly raced towards the cracked mirror placed upon the wall. She gasped loudly, rippling with excitement as her hands roamed over the Masters body: Fluffing his hair, synching his waist, popping the top button on his shirt. Seemingly doing everything she could to fill you with jealous rage.

"Are you about done?"

The Master flapped his hand in your direction, shushing you as she childishly jumped up and down on the spot. You folded your arms, biting your tongue as she preened and primped in the mirror, pushing his face within her hands and posing with narcissistic delight. You'd seen the Master do this himself, on occasion. But this was a completely different beast- especially since you didn't enjoy where her hands were seemingly wandering to

"Oh hush, darling. I'm just having a little fun with all these new… graciously extensive parts- these have definitely been well worn in, the saucy little thing. I'm quite the handsome devil now, aren't I?"

You growled, nose scrunching as she hummed to herself, smoothing down his purple tweed collar as she began to prance and strut around the room. She lept over various apparatus and rubble, spinning and watching the purple material of his coat fly like a skirt behind her. Cassandra let out a satisfied cackle, sighing with up most content. Your rage was furiously simmering within your chest.

"He's quite the riot, isn't he? He's so feisty, I love it. So edgy, so... Naughty! He has lots of filthy thoughts about you in here, oh the pictures i could paint for you."

"Get out of my- the Master now!"

Cassandra cackled, leering in towards you with a torturous grin. You'd feel rather flustered if it weren't for the fact this wasn't the Masters doing. Cassandra held her hands to his chest, stalking forward as you desperately clung to your stoicism. You wouldn't give her the satisfaction of watching you crack.

"THE Master? Or were you about to say MY Master? You forget darling- i've been inside your head. You want this samba in his chest to only beat for you."

You rolled your eyes, leaning away as the Master giggled and leant in closer towards your face. If Cassandra weren't within the Masters body you most definitely would've punched her. But your growing level of rage meant that was a fact you would possibly be able to overlook.

"It's a shame, really. If it weren't for the fact he'd kill me on the spot, I think i'd like to keep him. He seems like a seasoned professional in showing a lady a good time, after all!"

You let out a scandalised squeak as Cassandra grabbed at your hips, causing herself to dissolve into stitches of laughter as you shoved at the Masters chest. A blush of embarrassment flooded your cheeks, your fists bunching together in furious resentment. 

You sighed loudly, narrowing your eyes as you glared at the woman currently possessing your time lord. She was well and truly pushing your limits at this point and you weren't sure how much of her shenanigans you could handle.

"It's so easy to tease you, darling! You know at first, i just thought it was a personal interest of yours. But he actually calls HIMSELF the Master!-"

"Cassandra-"

"How fabulously kinky! Lucky girl, you did find an exciting bedfellow. How you kept hold of him i'll eternally have no idea."

"ENOUGH!"

The timelord paused from playing with his hair, turning to look you up and down with widened eyes. Cassandra took in your heaving chest, the tightening of your jaw as you glared daggers into her forehead. She raised his eyebrows, raising his hands in mock surrender. You could feel the sarcasm dripping from her actions, which served to infuriate you even more so than before.

"Struck a nerve, did I?"

"We're stuck in the basement of a hospital in QUARANTINE, chased by INFECTED LAB GROWN HUMANS! All of which, by the way, is ENTIRELY YOUR FAULT! And you think the best use of ALL OUR TIME is to play a game of musical bodies and piss off the only person able to help you out?!"

Cassandra pouted childishly at your words. You let out a frustrated huff, causing her to almost recoil in shock.

"We're short on time and big on problems. The last thing I need is you making this situation any worse than it already is!"

A thick silence sat between the pair of you. It was almost a dare to see who would attempt to move first, Cassandra's lips pursed and quivering as if the sarcastic retort was planning itself behind the Master's teeth and upon the timelords tongue. Your determined stoicism was completely abandoned in favour of indulging in the buttons Cassandra had been desperate to push. At this point all you wanted was the Master- not the stuck up snob currently cursing you internally in several languages.

You wanted to be out of this hospital and back in the TARDIS, to lay together and laugh at how a crazy old human who didn't know when to die decided to prance around inside the pair of you for an hour or so. But you couldn't. Because that crazy old human was ridiculously persistent. You thought her and the Master could possibly get on if it weren't for the current predicament you'd found yourselves in.

It seemed Cassandra had finally found her argument. The Master stepped towards you, hands on his hips as he sneered up and down your body. You opened your mouth to speak, ready to smack down any argument she could possibly have against common sense and decency, until a loud crash suddenly broke the pair of you from your standoff.

"Please… Help us!"

The far door to the basement slammed open, the sound of metal ricocheting against the aging stone wall. The diseased clawed and clamoured, spilling into the dingy room with a surge of newfound freedom.

The Master let out a petrified scream, hands flinging to your shoulders as he yanked you forwards to act as his human shield. Cassandra cowered behind you, peeking over your shoulder in terror. You could most definitely slap that woman, you decided. Guilt be damned. He let out a shrill yowl of panic, jutting you forward towards the oncoming hoard.

"TAKE HER, SHE'S LESS VALUABLE THAN I AM!"

Yep. Guilt be most definitely damned.

"Cassandra we have to work together!" You pleaded, turning over your shoulder to face the terrified Master cowering behind you. 

"The Master would know what to do but since you won't leave his head you have to trust I know what he'd say!"

Cassandra whined, roughly pulling you backwards as she stepped away from humans that were slowly beginning to close in.

"And what would he say?!"

You assessed your options. The sick were surrounding you from most angles, your entrance still sealed from your previous escape. However, a possibility caught your eye.

A slender black ladder. Your way out.

You turned once more to the woman, confidence finding itself back in your stride.

"UP THERE!"

The Master screamed once more, heaving you forwards with a weak shove as he scrambled up the stone steps that just emerged behind him. You yelped, gathering your footing with haste as you saw the purple of his coat flail behind him.

“Out of my way! Pretty people don’t die first!”

You followed Cassandra's path, clambering through the remaining metalwork of her skin frame and heading towards the metal ladder that sat flush against the wall. The basement supposedly lead towards all manor of places within the hospital, this upward ascent leading you towards the hollow insides of an abandoned elevator shaft. You watched the timelord hesitantly grasp hold of the flaking and rusting rungs of the ladder, disgust evident on his features as he retched at every climb. You couldn't be dealing with any more of her antics today.

“WHAT’S THE PROBLEM!?”

“THIS LADDER IS FILTHY!”

“SO!?”

“I HOPE YOUR MASTER HAS HIS TETANUS SHOT!”

You shrieked in frustration as you shoved Cassandra further up the ladder, your wafer thin patience having been tested today by that woman more times than you ever thought you could possibly muster. Your time was very much running out, and getting a disease from a ladder was of more concern to the woman than obtaining every single disease on new earth. The audacity of that woman astounded you to a completely new degree.

“IT'S EITHER THAT OR PLAGUE!”

“STOP YELLING AT ME, I CANT COPE WITH ALL THIS PRESSURE!”

“FUCKING CLIMB, CASSANDRA!”

A metallic thunk erupted from the bottom of the ladder, the blistered fist of one of the lab grown humans clinging tight to the first rung of your escape. The flustered cry of Cassandra floated further up the length of the ladder, your stomach filling with pity as you watched the pained glances and heard the pleading cries of the sick. You only hoped you could get the Master back and figure out a way to help them.

“Please… help us!”

“I’m sorry! I’ll try, I promise!” you called in return, before turning to face the panicked clambering of the Cassandra possessed Master up to safety.

You could do this. If you were lucky, you reasoned. It was possible.

If you were truly lucky you could get your Master back, lift the quarantine, save the sick, and escape this dreaded hospital. Only four things. You could do this.

But first, you had to deal with Cassandra:

And judging by the fact she was still screaming, several rungs up the ladder, you needed all the luck you could possibly get.

[malereader-inserts]

broken crown | ix.

“Limestone pavement,” You responded, letting go of Harry’s hand, “Dad used to take me here, day out to hike about really. It was a way to get out of the house, we lived an hour and so away. We moved away in the Christmas break of the fourth year.”

Word Count:  1,899

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Harry held on your hand tightly as you had the locket around your neck.

There was tension between the three of you after Ron had left. Harry had reflected on Ron’s word, a bit of guilt had built in him when Ron felt left out so Harry was clinging on to you - making sure you were well, his affection had increased and you wondered if it made him any less stress.

The three of you walked to an unknown destination, there wasn’t much talking. After a while, the three of you thought you were away from the original location and decided to apparate to Yorkshire.

“Why here?” Harry asked, looking at the stones.

“Limestone pavement,” You responded, letting go of Harry’s hand, “Dad used to take me here, day out to hike about really. It was a way to get out of the house, we lived an hour and so away. We moved away in the Christmas break of the fourth year.”

“I’ll set up the tent,” Hermione speaks as Harry nodded, saying that he would get enchantments up.

The air had become colder, winter had definitely settled in, though you weren’t sure what month you were in or what date it was. Harry looked over to your way, seeing you sat down at one of the rocks, snapping fire on your fingertips - he smiled to himself, remembering in the third year when you were struggling to do so, but now it was natural to you. He watches how the small little flame bounce to each finger.

Harry could tell you were preoccupied, ever since Ron has left, you were just quite, reading Merlin’s notebook and whenever you were on guard for the night sometimes Harry could hear you mumble something and the swish of your wand. He could tell that even now you were just practising your magic, Hermione checks up on you that since you had a lot of free time, the progress had increased immensely and hoped by the Easter break, you’ve grown into the power rather than allow it to control you.

“Hey, Hermione,” Harry gathered Hermione’s attention, “Does (Y/n) seem off to you?”

Hermione looks at you, sitting about, flipping open the compass that Dumbledore had given to you. She looked back to Harry, tilting her head noticed the worried look upon Harry’s eyes.

“The locket affected Ron the most, perhaps it affects (Y/n) differently?” Hermione suggested, shrugging her shoulders, “He’s just concern about his dad, remember they didn’t have the best send off. Not to mention, he’s getting annoyed with any mention of Merlin recently.”

Harry had noted that; Harry moved away from Hermione to sit by you. You allowed the wind to extinguished as you looked at him. Silently, Harry takes the locket off you, you had been wearing it for hours. As he holds the locket he looks at you.

“Feeling better?” 

“Yeah.”

“Want to talk about it?” 

“Not right now.”

“Godric’s Hallow...?” You tilted your head, standing in the middle of the tent, lost on what Harry and Hermione were talking about.

“Harry wants to visit, and I think we should also,” Hermione sighs, “It was only a matter of time and I think the sword would be there.”

The two of them looked at you as if they were looking for your seal of approval. Whilst they judge each other’s opinion, your judgement was far for valuable, they think you have a sense of the way to Horcruxes. You sighed and nodded.

“You know, you should stop putting all the final decision on me,” You mumbled, pulling on your coat.

“Well, you’re-”

“Harry,” You cut him short, knowing what his reasoning would be, “I’m not omniscient, I’m not God, I don’t know all, unlike Dumbledore, who I’m convince is more of a God than I am.”

“You might as well be,” Harry says, patting you on the shoulder with a smile, “You and your nonsense wisdom and power.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “Hermione! Harry’s bullying me!”

“Boys,” She said sternly before cracking a smile, “Honestly, you two are children!”

The pair of you looked at each other before looking at Hermione, who shakes her head and starts telling you to pack up as the three of your prepare to visit. The three had apparated there, Harry gripping your hand for reassurance.

“I still think we should've used Polyjuice Potion,” Hermione mumbled, clinging on to Harry’s arm.

“No,” Harry shakes his head, refusing with a stern voice, “This is where I was born. I'm not returning as someone else.”

“Fair enough,” You mumbled, shivering.

You really despite the snow and the colder season. Though, having endured winter at Hogwarts, up in Scotland where it regularly snows you just got used to it. The three of you walked down the snowy road, seeing a Church come up to your right, the lights were on.

“Harry, I think it's Christmas Eve,” You mumbled, looking over to the church, “Guys, listen.”

The three of you could hear Christmas carols being sung within the church for the midnight mass.

“Do you think they'd be in there?” Harry asked out of the blue, his eyes trained in the graveyard, “My mum and dad?”

“Yeah, I think they would,” Hermione answers softly,

The three of you enter the graveyard as Harry separates himself to search the headstone. You looked at Hermione who takes one side of the graveyard as you did as well. You looked at all the headstones, nothing striking out to you as you lifted your head. The cold hitting your face as you noticed that Harry had stopped in front of a grave.

You had moved to stand by his side, you kneel as Hermione arrives, the pair watching you pull out your hand and held it in front of the grave. The two watch you wordlessly and wandlessly produce a wreath of flowers for them. You stand up as you softly grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

“Merry Christmas, guys,” He spoke

“Merry Christmas,” Hermione and you had spoken in unison.

You really did wonder how this world would turn out to be if one or both had survived Voldemort. Everything would have been different, you would have another uncle and an aunt. Harry would have truly grown up to be your brother or some sort. You would be childhood best friends as if the reality hadn’t conveyed that. 

“Harry, there's someone watching us. By the church,” Hermione says, looking over to the person’s direction. You looked over as well as Harry. “I think I know who that is.”

“I don't like this, Harry,” Hermione expressed her nervousness as you felt a funny feeling with this person.

You tilted your head to the side as you felt Harry let go of your hand. You looked at him in confusion.

“Hermione, she knew Dumbledore. She might have the sword.”

As Harry marches towards the gate, the woman had continued to walk as you and Hermione followed. Harry stop short noticing something, before looking up to see a house, broken beyond repair. You breathed out to see the ruins of the house that started it all.

“This is where they died. This is where he murdered them,” Harry spoke as Hermione came to your side, gripping your arm.

“Harry,” You mumbled as you noticed the woman was back, this time next to you, wordlessly staring at Harry.

Harry looked at you before noticing the woman, “You're Bathilda, aren't you?”

She uttered no words as the three of you follow her into her home. You let out a shaky breath as you looked at Hermione, gripping her hand as she grips your arm. You and her were feeling uneasy about this whole situation. As you enter her house, you looked at the dark room. 

You looked at Hermione, who was calling out to Harry, who followed Bathilda up the stairs, “I don’t feel too great about this, Hermione.”

“Nor do I,” She whispered.

Moving along the house, Hermione ventures out as you stay put, hoping Harry would come down soon. Then, you heard a thud, without thinking you raced upstairs to see a snake and Harry. You tried to grab Harry’s hand but the two of you fall back into the wall, crashing into a baby’s room.

Harry was pressed against the wall with you in between. You were struggling to get your wand out of your boot as Harry threw a book at the head, attempting to get behind you. As Nagini attacks, instead of getting Harry, its teeth latched onto your neck.

“Argh!” 

Harry’s eyes widen as you kicked the snake, it’s long fangs dragging down before detaching. Harry grabs you from under our arms as your left hand flies to your neck, feeling blood dribble out, helping you back out. As Nagini strikes again, Hermione had successfully got upstairs and cast Nagini down. The three of you taking shelter behind the bed in the main room. 

Hermione grabs Harry’s wand, which fell out of his back pocket. The three of you waited to see if the snake was to return. It did. 

Hermione exclaimed, “Confringo!”

As the fire was produced to hit back the snake, Hermione grabs a hold of Harry who was gripping you tightly. Hermione apparated you three to a forest, but by that time you had passed out. Harry, ignoring the scenery, was looking down at you. 

“Harry, set up the tent,” Hermione says softly, “I’ll sort (Y/n) out.”

“He-” Harry hiccuped, not realising he was going to get choked up with his tears because he was worried for you, “he didn’t use magic, he knows he can do magic without a wand so why didn’t he-?”

“I think he was more caught up in protecting you, Harry.”

Hermione throws him her bag as she looks down at you, applying the same potion that she had applied to Ron months ago. Watching how the wound had closed up.

“It’s going to scar but at least he’ll be fine for now.”

Hermione got up and started to make enchantments as Harry found the tent and started to set it up, every so often he would look over to you. He adored Hermione and Ron as his best friends, but you were someone different. You were his first friend, his childhood best friend.

The boy down the road who was deathly sick all the time. The boy with (e/c) eyes and wanted to play pirates with him. 

“He’ll be okay, Harry,” Hermione softly reassures him, finishing with the enchantments.

“You know, Hermione,” Harry hums as he moves to you, helping your unconscious state sit up, “What would happen to us after this? He’s going to do brilliant, magnificent things, what if he doesn’t need me anymore?”

Hermione tilted her head, helping Harry carry you into the tent. Lying you down in one of the beds as she looks at Harry with a soft gaze.

“I have seen how much he needs you, how much you need him. You’re like two sides to the same coin,” Hermione places a delicate hand on his shoulder, “You two are strangely bonded, whether it be duel mates, soul mates or whatever. You two need each other. It’s a fact.”

“But-”

“Harry, give me the locket, I’ll keep guard outside, you stay with him. Make sure he doesn’t get any worst.”

Tagged

@carefulthatsharassment-sir​​ @lanlanlan020202​ @hanniejji​ @dumbssbtch​ @lea-the-foxe​ @stan-joonies​ @littertortilla @purpleshusbandd​

[fallingstarnovel]

Chapter Two

content warning: alcohol, binge drinking

That was how Evan ended up standing in front of a huge house in a part of the city that he had never visited before with an unopened bottle of vodka in his hand. It was getting dark out – midwinter was coming fast, turning the air frosty and driving everyone indoors. At least it would be warm inside the house.

Evan took a deep breath, forcing himself to relax. A puff of vapour clouded the air before him. 

This was fine. It was fine. It was a party. He was supposed to be here – he had been invited. There was no need to be anxious. It wasn't going to be like it was back then. 

He could hear loud music pumping from inside the house, and spilling from between the curtains of the house was dim purple light. 

God, who was he kidding. He couldn't do this. 

As Evan turned around to leave, someone opened the door from the inside. 

"Oh, shit, there's someone here. Sorry, were you waiting to be let in?"

Evan looked up at the tall student who just stumbled outside. "Um. Yeah. My friend is inside. She–" 

"Go ahead," the student said, holding the door open and gesturing to go inside. Evan nodded in thanks, before stumbling into the house. 

Immediately, he was surrounded by people. The house was crammed wall to wall with students in various stages of inebriation, all chattering away at the top of their lungs as the hypnotic electro music filled the space between them. Evan found a pile of coats in the hallway and dropped his on top. He hoped it wouldn't get lost or stolen before he left. 

"Excuse me," he said, edging his way past a group of girls in short dresses who gave him judgemental looks. "Sorry. Sorry, sorry–" 

He couldn't find Aliya anywhere. She wasn't in the living room or the kitchen. Evan poked his head behind every door, but all he kept finding were more guests crammed into unlikely places like sardines in a tin can. He recognised one or two from around campus, but some of these people seemed slightly too old to be students. Was this really a university party? Did these people all know each other? 

Evan saw someone who looked like they were slightly in charge, maybe, and tapped them on the shoulder. They turned around with an unfocused look, hair in messy tumble around their head. 

"What's up? Didn't Fae get you it? Oh, shit, where did you get the vodka?"

Evan blinked. This person sure was saying words at him. "What?"

The person squinted at him. "Didn't you just ask me for a kitchen towel?" 

"No, I just got here," Evan said. "But thanks. Um. I'm looking for Aliya, do you know where she is?"

That got him a blank look. "Who?"

"Aliya! Aliya, you know, she does Astro with me. Uh." The blank look still persisted on the person's face. "She came here with volleyball? No, wait, I mean, netball? I think?"

The person looked vaguely less blank. "Oh, wait, the netball bitches. I love those girls, they make me feel like I'm some kind of insect. My name's Rock by the way."

"Oh," said Evan, who didn't know why that was relevant. "That's a cool name. Like Dwayne Jo–"

"Not like Dwayne fucking Johnson," Rock replied with a scowl. "I hate that guy."

"Oh. Sorry."

Rock just nodded, before tapping a person on the shoulder seemingly at random. "Is Becca around?"

"In the garden," the girl replied, "probably? Unless she left."

They were both yelling at full volume. Evan winced. His ears were already ringing. 

Rock led him through sweaty crowds of people to the kitchen, and then out of a door into the garden. It wasn't much of a garden – more like a patch of concrete with a few bricks and weeds lying around, as if for decoration. There were more people out here, mostly smoking. Some of them looked like they were asleep. It was so cold out here – the girls were huddled up under big jackets that they had stolen from other people. 

Wait a minute. Evan was pretty sure that was his coat. How did it get stolen so fast?!

"Aliya?" Evan called. Some people looked up, their eyes glazed over. 

"Aliya bounced," someone said. 

Evan's heart sank. "What?" 

"Yeah, she dipped pretty quickly. Said she forgot about a deadline."

God damn it. Evan fought the urge to bang his head off the nearest wall. Why didn't she text him and say so? He could have escaped too! 

"Right, thanks. I, uh–"

"Bro, no, you're not leaving yet, are you?" Rock said, giving him a betrayed look. "You just got here!"

Evan shrugged, plastering on a polite smile. "I don't really know anyone here–"

"Yet," Rock said firmly. "You don't know anyone yet. You know what they say about strangers? They're just friends you haven't made yet. Come on, live a little." 

Personally, Evan thought Rock was slightly unhinged. He must have looked obviously uncomfortable, because Rock held out a hand and squeezed his shoulder. 

"You don't go to a lot of parties, huh? It's cool. You can chill with me. Give it half an hour and see how you feel, yeah?" 

Why was this person so eager to see a complete stranger join the party? Evan considered saying no and leaving anyway, but then again... 

Evan wasn't a coward. He would give it half an hour and see if he made any friends. And if not, he could always leave. 

"Sounds good," he said. 

Rock cheered. A bunch of other people in the garden cheered too, though Evan doubted they knew what they were cheering for. "Alright! We got another one! Come on, pal, let's get you a drink!' 

Half an hour later and after a couple of drinks, Evan somehow found himself watching Rock pour out a tray full of shots in the kitchen. 

Several people wandered over in interest, lured by the idea of free alcohol like they were cats who just heard the tin of tuna being opened. "Who's down?" Rock said. 

A few people came forward. Evan watched as a girl slung herself over Rock's shoulders with a bored expression. She had long, long straight black hair, like an oil slick that ran down her back, and she was either exceptionally tall or she was wearing huge platform boots. Maybe both. Evan thought it was both. "I will."

"Evan?" Rock said. "You want one? It's okay if you don't, I know shots are a little much..."

"I can do shots," Evan said without meaning to. Oh, shit. Was he trying to impress the hot goth girl? He kind of was. "Uh, if that's cool." 

Rock's smile widened. "If you're sure you can handle it. Are you a lightweight, Evan? Because if so, I'm not going to be the one cleaning up your puke afterwards."

Evan smiled. "Ah, I don't know. Maybe. I'll try to keep it inside."

"Attaboy, big guy! That's what I like to hear!"

Soon, everyone around him had a shot in their hand. Evan had no idea what the liquid was. He tried to sniff it, but then Rock was counting down, and everyone was lifting their shot glasses up and drinking. 

People winced and made appropriate noises as the burn hit. Rock blinked away his tears with a grin, before watching Evan drink with interest. 

Evan calmly put down the shot. After seeing everyone else's reaction, he quickly pretended to gasp. "Oh, wow, the burn, wow..." 

Rock's eyes flickered over the glass. It was empty. "Have you done that before?"

Evan shrugged, waving him away. "Once or twice."

Hot Goth Girl finally seemed to notice him. She stared him down, before slowly smiling at him, her black painted mouth in a closed-lip smirk. It was kind of terrifying. 

"Hey Rock," she said, keeping her eyes on Evan. "Who's this?"

"I'm Evan," said Evan, before holding out a sweaty hand. She stared at it, and he immediately dropped it. "Haha, what, I don't know why I did that. Nice to meet you."

"I've seen you around," she said. 

It sounded like an accusation. Evan wilted – before perking up. Wait, didn't this mean she remembered him? She had noticed him before! This was good, right? He nodded eagerly. "You recognise me? I'm sorry, I don't think I've seen you around, otherwise I would have remembered – I mean, you're very recognisable, haha, there's not a lot of people around here who dress so, like..."

He trailed off, feeling awkward. Hot Goth Girl glared at him. 

"Like what?"

Evan blinked. She was wearing black lipstick and huge eyeliner, like two bat wings painted on her face. Most people around here weren't so brave. 

"Um... so, um... alternatively."

Her eyes narrowed. Slowly, she grinned. "Where did you find this guy, Rock?"

"Aliya likes him," Rock laughed, before holding up the bottle. "Let's do round two," they hollered, and the night took a downward turn from there. 

Coming to this party was such a bad idea.

When Evan woke up in the morning, he was very confused. 

He had a vague memory of someone carrying him home. And holding someone's hand. And... 

He groaned with embarrassment and rolled over to bury his head in his pillow to try and suffocate himself. When that didn't work, he rolled onto his back and massaged his forehead. 

It felt like something had crawled into his mouth and died. He was so thirsty. But mostly he was mortified. 

Ah, that poor person! Evan probably rambled on about weird depressing personal problems! He became one of those maudlin drunks who just starts crying about stuff! The person who carried him here must have been totally sick of his shit. 

What an angel. Evan wished he could remember who they were. 

He looked around for his phone, his bleary eyes cracking open. Whoever they were, they left a full glass of water on the desk. Evan jumped at it, drinking the whole thing in seconds. 

It helped a little bit. But now he felt nauseous. 

This sucked. Why did he do this. 

Oh, shit, his phone and his wallet. Did he have them? He looked around in a panic. Were they in the jeans he wore? Where the fuck were his jeans?!

Slowly, he looked under his duvet and realised that he was still wearing them. Ah. Oops. 

At least the person didn't undress him while he was drunk or unconscious. That would have been uncomfortable. In fact, he seemed in exceptionally good condition, considering he got black out drunk at a strangers house.

Aaaa god why did he do that!!! Why didn’t he slow down and drink some water!! This was so embarrassing, he could have done anything last night!!

... oh jesus fuck, why did his eyes hurt so much? They were so sore! It was like someone shone a supercharged torch in his eyes or made him stare into the god damn sun!! What happened last night?!

In his pocket, he found his wallet and phone, much to his relief. Evan quickly scrolled through his messages to see if he had sent anything weird to anyone. 

Huh? Who the fuck were all these people he had added on Facebook? Why had he sent out so many friend requests?! He didn't recognise any of the names here at all!

He also saw a series of messages he sent to Aliya. 

> you. are the qorst friend ever 

> ┻┻︵ヽ(`Д´)ﾉ︵┻┻

i'm so sorry!! i'm really sorry!! oh i feel so bad, i thought i text you not to come anymore!! <

> ABANDONED me 

> discarded me like an EMPTY CRISP PALKCET

> packet

... evan are you perhaps a little drunk? <

> everyone is very friendky. They keep handing me shots. These are my new friends now 

> you're fired

no!!! 😭😭😭 <

don't fire me!!! i need someone to copy revision notes off!! <

> too late. now rock is my new fri be. Goodbye

> oh shit they’re doiign WEED in here

> Your missing otu on thrjelkc weeb

who's rock?? <

seriously though, be safe evan and have fun. if you need to call anyone, im up all night doing this assignment so just call me okay? x < 

Just as he finished reading the texts, his phone buzzed in his hand. He nearly dropped it in shock. There was an unread text in his inbox from an unrecognised number. 

How are you feeling? <

This was awkward. Clearly, this was a person Evan gave his number to last night. Unfortunately, he had no clue who they were, and now he felt too awkward to ask, since they clearly assumed he knew who it was. 

> haha a little hungover!! oops

Was that too many exclamation marks? This mystery person would think he was a psycho. 

The reply came soon. 

Make sure you drink plenty of water. And eat something salty. < 

Do you want me to bring anything? <

Seriously, who was this and why were they being so nice? Evan still felt a little awkward. 

> i will :) and no thank you but that's so kind! how are you feeling? 

I'm fine. I'm glad you're alright. <

...

This was too much to deal with. Evan decided not to answer. Hopefully, whoever this was would drop a clue at some point, or just leave him alone.

There weren't many people it could be. He had all his friends (haha, all his friends, as if he had more than three) saved as contacts. So this must be a stranger from the party. 

A memory flashed into his head of the messy haired host – what was their name, Tree? Root? Boulder? – saying something stupid about all strangers being friends he hadn't made yet. It was probably them. They seemed overly familiar, so this lined up. 

Ah, what the hell. This was a problem for future Evan. 

He rolled himself into the shower without vomiting even a little bit, which he considered a huge achievement that should be celebrated with pizza for breakfast.

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[loki-darkprince-odinson]

I like you as a character but unlike everyone I wouldn’t say you’re “not evil just MiSuNdErStOoD”. You’ve done some pretty terrible things. I understand it’s because you were hurt and lied to by your family I mean I’d be pissed too but that doesn’t protect you from your terrible actions. Im not going to ingnore them just cause you got a pretty face. Though I do believe you can and were becoming a better person....before you died...

“Did you not think, with all your odoriferous moaning, that your jagged words would not make their way on soot-stained wings back to me? I admit, I knew not the source of them at first, so little did I think of the ones much like yourself who malign me with no other option but to infect themselves with their own diseased tongues, but now that you have brought yourself to my attention, I believe you will regret it. A mage's memory is long and his ways cunning. 'Trickster' is not always a playful appellation, as you will find out." Loki folded his arms, gazing out over the expanse before him, his words drifting on the merest puff of breath. He couldn't find it in himself to be affected by such idle gossip and hollow opinions; so often had it been aimed at him in the past. It seemed a constant in his life now, background noise, but every once in awhile, someone screamed out for his recognition.

Loki took great joy in denying them.

"Your malice and harsh judgement towards me consumes you and yet I have no idea who you are. Nor do I care. It must be infuriating to be such an insignificant little mortal, a tiny being spinning around on a primitive rock. You claim to understand my reasonings yet you know precious little of my air. I am blamed for wrath and destruction when so many others who are hailed heroes have committed crimes far worse than I. That the ant has a quarrel with the boot makes it no less an ant nor the boot any less a boot.”

Loki took a moment to reminisce on the events of the past. There was one single moment, one single word, where everything could be traced back to. On the Bifrost, when Odin had told him no and he had let go in response. That moment was when the cascade of events truly began. Perhaps if Odin had said something else, if he had returned to Asgard instead of fallen, then things would have been so much different.

Still, it was a wish and there was nothing he could do to go back and change that moment. The past was the past, and Odin was gone. Loki sighs, biting his lip for a moment to keep the emotion it still drug up in. He was only partially successful. There were things it was best not to ruminate upon, and this was one of them.

"No, Loki."

All his hopes and dreams, all his efforts, dashed in two words. It was at that moment that he had decided there was no place for him in Asgard and that there never would be. If neither Odin nor Thor could see that he was trying to protect them, that he could defeat Jotunheim just as Thor has tried to, then they would never see. He would always be Loki the failure, Loki the lesser, Loki the monster and outsider. Better to fall and perish than to live in shame and ignominy.

It was that fall that brought him into the hands of the Chitauri and ultimately, Thanos. Where he was tortured, his most powerful asset broken into, then controlled by the mind stone housed within the scepter to be warped into their own personal demi-god.

He smiles to himself, and something like a laugh nearly made it to his breastbone, but not quite. Loki eyes sweep back and forth. Like a vulture waiting in a tree above feasting lions as he stares down at them imperiously.

“I needn’t protection from my actions. Nor do I have to defend them from the likes of you. Redemption is over-rated. And this pretty face is still very much alive.” His voice purrs and thrums.

A sinister smile plays across his gentle mouth, his eyes glowing iridescently as green flames lick the fingertips of his left hand. Loki lifted his hand, and slowly rubbed his fingers together, languidly humming under his breath. With the snap of his fingers, he casts a silent spell on the unfortunate mortal. For now, when mean words or harsh judgment is wrongly directed towards another by them, a permanent blemish shall appear on their face to show just how ugly their heart truly is.

“I would be careful with my tongue if I were you.”

Loki lifted his chin and turned with a flourish, quietly singing a haunting tune to himself as he confidently walks away.

"His warring and his deadly wrath

Were widely seen, and far

And near that scather of the Goths wronged them with hate and brought them low

And then ere break of day

Betook him to his hoard again in secret hall that lay.....”