#he's from the brightest of waters and from time to time people remember tis in my eyes too (omer&ced)

[visxionaries]

who: @omerflorent​ where: the kingdom of the reach, cedric’s former quarters before he took the regency and basically before everything. he isn’t quite sure as to how he ended up back here this evening, but kit remains laid up in a corner beside a hearth, and the man finds himself at a table with a tower of books regarding the possible beginnings of the citadel. 

it had been years since the king of the reach had found himself in this corner of the sprawling grounds of highgarden, the smaller-cottage like building that was his primary place of rest in the days before he took the regency from his brother. back when he was insistent on separating his personal life from the antics of courtly politics, where his silver tongue could drop, and where he could find a moment to reflect on his actions of that day. 

in whatever matter his father and his older brother had wished for him to discuss with those noble houses of the reach he was able to converse with better, his conversation more free-flowing, as though there was no motive or veil behind his words. he was used in that regard, used to build connections that felt so utterly fake and false; as though each smile meant absolutely nothing. and as night turned into night, and the matter continued, and whatever information they required seamlessly returned back to them, it began to feel natural. natural for everything to be false. 

for words to mean nothing in truth.

to step within these rooms again felt as though the lines of time blurred, and he somehow felt as though this was just another night either thirteen or three years ago; when he stood on the very edge of teetered change. the candles were lit again, and the presence of any servants were dismissed after the hearth had been crackling and a solitary dinner had been had - and not an inch of him felt alone. he felt as though he needed, no, wanted to be alone. if only for an hour as he slouched upon the velvet recliner, hearing the sound of kit’s bushy tail swishing against the tiled floors beside the fireplace. 

one could assume his interest in the citadel would be a result of his own personal interests - but no. perhaps once he could have admired the establishment of great majestic learning for what it was, and yet now, there was another voice in the back of his head that spoke to him of something else. spoke to him of the dangers of one establishment being able to write, or shape, a narrative in the history books. gone were the days he could find simple, innocent fascination in it. 

he heard a knocking at the, admittedly, rickety door. and he heard the sound of the brightwater accent cursing what sounded like some part of it falling off. “what?” cedric called, remaining in the same position, knowing all too well who it was. his whirlwind of a cousin, who admittedly had the biggest heart in all the realm. 

[ghuleh-witch]

Stay ~ Copia x Female!Reader

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explict Warnings: NSFW, 18+, unprotected sex, blood drinking, oral sex, p in v sex Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x Female!Reader Characters: Papa Emeritus IV, Female!Reader Additional Tags: Dracopia, Vampire!Copia, no use of y/n Words: 3,758 Summary: Instead of meeting the Hat Man in your Benedryl-induced dreams, you meet Copia.

Author's Note:

So you know how people say they see the Hat Man when they take Benedryl? Yea, this was inspired by that idea. This is only the second fic I've written in a second-person point of view, and the first fic I've written in the present tense, so I apologize for any mistakes in point of view or tense. I also apologize for any poorly Google-translated Italian you might see in this fic.

AO3

You can’t sleep. The seasonal changes brought about your allergies and the sneezing, sore throat, and watering, stinging eyes made it impossible to get any kind of rest. You sigh as you look at the two small, pink pills in your hand. Benedryl would be sure to put you to sleep and ease your symptoms. You couldn’t sneeze if you were in a coma. You pop the pills and down a glass of water before changing into your pajamas—a pair of cotton shorts that barely covers your ass, and a thin, white t-shirt. You crawl into bed and make yourself cozy in your nest of blankets, pillows, and plushies. The Benedryl starts to take over and as your eyes grow heavy, a yawn escapes you. 

You don’t remember falling asleep, but when you wake again it��s dark. The tv show you fell asleep to is long over leaving you stare at a black screen.You sit up and rub your eyes, looking for your phone to check the time. You feel alright physically but you know something is off. As your eyes squint through the darkness of your bedroom, you spot a  humanoid shadow in the corner near your window. A chill runs down your spine as fear seeps into your bones. The shadow steps forward and the moonlight illuminates its features. The shadow is a man or something that looks like a man at least. He looks older than you, maybe in his late 40s or early 50s. His face is painted in black and white skull paint and his hair is combed back. The mismatched eyes, one a color you can’t discern, and the other the brightest of white stare into you. 

“W-who are you?” You ask, pushing yourself back against your headboard and making yourself appear small. Maybe if you look defenseless whoever is standing in front of you won’t hurt you.

The figure says nothing as he approaches. He’s wearing a dark-colored jacket with fraying around the edges of the lapels, a blue cravat tied around the high-neck black shirt, and tight black pants that were distressed, frayed, and patched dawned his impressive legs. You find the man handsome and fascinating despite the fear surging through you.

The man smirks at you, now just a foot away from the edge of your bed. “I think the better question is what are you doing in my word, cara ?”

“Your world? This is my bedroom,” you said, your eyes darting around as though to confirm you are indeed in your room.

“Hmmm, it may be your room in your world, but you’re not in your world anymore. You’re in mine.” He’s closer, his gloved hands now bracing himself on the bed as he leans forward. He inhales deeply, as though taking in your scent, and lets out a contentful sigh. “You smell delicious, cara .”

“W-what?” You ask, your eyes wide in shock and fear as you lean away from him. “This is a dream. I’ve got to be dreaming.” 

He chuckles, a gloved hand reaching up to cup your cheek. “You better hope and pray that you make it safe back to your own world.”

Your eyes snap open as you sit straight up in bed. The sunlight from the window on the other side of the room is filtering through the sheer curtains, bathing your room in warm light. You let out a sigh of relief. “Just a dream,” you say, falling back against your pillows. You feel your heart racing in your chest, but you can’t tell if it is from fear or the touch of the man from your dreams. You might have been afraid, but you get the sense that the man will not actually hurt you. 

~~~

It is another night of allergies ruining your rest, and two Benedryl later, you are dozing off once more. You fall into the same dream. You wake up in your dark bedroom and the man from your dream days prior is there once more. He stands at the foot of your bed smirking at you.

“Welcome back, cara ,” he says. 

“How did I get back here?” You ask. 

“Your mind, eh, reached out for me,” he says as though he’s not sure how you got back there either.

“Who even are you?”

“Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself. My name is Copia. I already know your name.”

“How?”

“Beh, I have my ways,” he says as he walks around to your side of the bed. “You don’t seem as fearful today.”

“Well this is a dream and you can’t hurt me in a dream. It’s not real,” you say almost smugly.

He lets out a chuckle. “Are you sure about that, tesoro ?”

Doubt fills you at his words. This isn’t just any average dream and deep down you know that. This is different; almost like you fell into a parallel universe. 

“Ah I see your gears turning,” Copia says, leaning closer to you. He inhales your scent once more and smiles, flashing your two long, sharp canines. “You still smell delicious.”

Your eyes stay on his mouth and the fangs he bears. “What are you?” You have a suspicion, but you want confirmation.

His lips curve upward. “Why, cara , I am a vampire. I thought it was obvious.” 

“It was not,” you respond. “At least not until I saw the fangs.”

“Are you scared?” 

You stop and think about it. Were you scared? You aren’t sure how you feel now. Fear isn’t the right word though. You don’t think he will hurt you, and the detail about him being a vampire? That didn’t bother you. If anything, it excites you. 

“No,” you answer.

He’s even closer now. He smells of bergamot and cedar and it’s intoxicating. You feel his breath on your skin as he speaks into your ear. “You should be,” he growls as his hand comes to your throat and tilts it away from him, exposing the smooth skin of your neck. You saw a flash of fangs and—

You wake, the sunlight making a bright spot on the ceiling above you that makes you squint. You sit up and look around your room. You’re alone once more. 

“Fuck.”

~~~

You want to see Copia again. After the last dream, or visit, you had with him, you find yourself wanting him. You want his hands all over you. You want his fangs and teeth on your skin. You want him all. 

Unfortunately, you are out of the medication that allows you to have the strange dreams. As you lay in bed, you will yourself to go to sleep. Your mind focuses on Copia—his face, his eyes, his scent. You’re not sure if you will see him in your dreams tonight. Perhaps he only lives in the dreams Benedryl allows you to have. 

Eventually, you fall asleep and wake a few hours later. Your room is dark and quiet. The moonlight gives the room a soft glow. You look at your phone. It’s just after two in the morning. You look around your room and don’t see anyone. Copia isn’t hiding in the shadows waiting to step out towards you. He’s only ever a dream fueled by medication it seems. You sigh sadly as you turn onto your side. You close your eyes, fully intent on falling back asleep, when you hear a voice.

“ Cara ,” it whispers. 

You crack your eyes open and sit up. Your window is open now, letting the cool autumn breeze into your room. “What the—” You say sleepily as you move to get out of bed. But before you can swing your legs off the bed’s edge, he’s standing next to you, dressed in the same outfit as the last two visits. 

“Is this a dream?” You ask as you blink. You almost want to pinch yourself to see if you are awake. 

“No,” Copia says as he steps forward. “I came to your world this time.” 

“Why?” you ask, but you already know the answer.

“Because I have to have you, tesoro ,” he says, his gloved hand coming to grip your chin and tilt it upwards to look at him. “ Sono qui per prendere ciò che è mio .” He leans down and his lips meet yours in a bruising and desperate kiss. 

Your hand comes up and your fingers curl into his jacket, gripping it tight as your lips move against his. You feel the points of his fangs lightly poking at your lips as he kisses you. His tongue darts into your mouth, tasting you as you let a soft whimper escape your throat. His teeth nip at your bottom lip before trailing down your jawline to your earlobe. You feel this breath in your ear and it sends a delightful shiver down your spine. His fangs graze down your neck before stopping just over your jugular. 

A sharp pain causes you to gasp and try to push away from him. It hurts so much and you want to get away. He grips you tightly, holding you to him making escape impossible. It feels like hot daggers piercing your skin and sending molten steel through your veins. Tears prick the corner of your eyes as you feel trickles of blood run down your neck onto your shoulders, back, and chest. You feel Copia sucking your life essence into his mouth, and as he keeps going, the pain dissipates into pleasure. The molten steel finds its way to your sex and you can feel your wetness pooling there. As the endorphins flood your body, you moan, tilting your head back even further to give him more access. You feel his lips move upward into a smile against your skin. He seems pleased with how you are taking this now. 

His mouth pulls back from your neck and you feel his tongue lick the puncture marks he made. He peppers kisses back up your neck and jaw before coming to your lips again. The coppery taste of your blood lingers on his lips as he crawls onto the bed. Copia's knees are on either side of your thighs as he pushes your upper body back down onto the mattress. 

“Tell me to stop and I will. Tell me to go and I will,” Copia says when the kiss breaks. His hand finds its way under your night shift and you feel the leather against your skin. 

“Please,” you say almost needily. “Don’t stop. Stay.” The idea of him stopping is unfathomable. You can’t stop. You need to go further—need that release that’s waiting for you. You need him and nothing else. 

He says nothing as he pushes your shirt up over your breasts. Your nipples grow hard at the sudden exposure to cool air. He smirks at you before dragging his tongue lazily over one of the buds. Your head lolls back at the sensation just as he takes the nipple between his lips and sucks on it. You let out a gasp as his teeth teases the sensitive skin. Before you become too lost in the feeling, he’s pulling your shirt off, gently helping lift your head and arms to remove it. The shirt drops out of sight on the floor as Copia's lips return to your breasts. As his mouth toys with you, his fingers slip under the waistband of your shorts and panties and finds your center. They slide up and down your slit and it’s like the floodgates open in you. There’s so much pleasure in the simple touch, and you can’t even comprehend how good it will feel when he’s finally in you. He lifts his head and you see his eyes blown out with lust.

“So wet for me,” Copia says as his finger finds your clit. The motion drags a moan from your throat, your eyes rolling back into your head. “And so responsive too.”

“Please,” you whine, arching your hips into his hand.

“Please what, dolcezza ?” He asks. “Use your words. Tell me what you want.” 

“You,” you say. “I want your fingers, your mouth, your cock. I want you.” 

He chuckles, his tongue flicking over a nipple. “And you will have me,” he says. “When I decide you’re good and ready.” 

You whimper knowing he’s going to tease you into oblivion. He’s going to bring you to the edge but pull you back just before you tumble over. He’s going to decide when you can let go and you’re okay with that. 

“I wonder if you taste as good as your blood tastes, eh,” Copia says as his lips move from your breasts and presses kisses down your stomach. He pulls his hand out of your pants and tugs your shorts and lacey panties down together. They join the shirt on the floor. Copia’s eyes roam over your body, taking in every detail of you. “ Bella ,” he breathes, his fingers trailing down your chest before slipping between your thighs.

He rubs your clit, making you moan again and buck your hips. Copia smirks as he moves back and lowers his head. He gives you one last look before his mouth is on your pussy. His tongue flicks over your clit and swirls around it as his hands hold your hips down, preventing you from bucking against his face. You moan, your own hands finding their way into his hair and gripping his mousy locks. You’re getting close. You feel the pressure building in your core, aching to snap and come undone. You know you’re not going to last much longer when he slips his tongue into you.

“I’m close,” you pant, your fingers twisting in his hair and tugging. You can feel your release reaching its crest, and before you go over that peak, Copia pulls away from you. You let out a whine in frustration as your fingers are forced to let go of his hair.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” he teases, his tongue licking his lips as he looks up at you. His skull paint is smeared around his mouth allowing the pink of his lips to show through the mix of now gray paint. “I’m not done with you just yet, cara .” His mouth moves to your inner thigh and he presses more kisses to your skin. He glances up at you before sinking his fangs into your thigh.

You are prepared for the feeling this time. That sharp, searing pain returns and you let out a whimper, but like the first time he bit you, the pain fades into a feeling of ecstasy. You watch as he takes your blood, his eyes are closed as though he is relishing in the taste. His mouth pulls away from your thigh before he licks the puncture wounds clean. 

“I can’t decide what tastes better. You or your blood. Both are exquisite,” he says, crawling back up to you and kissing your lips.

You taste a mix of your blood and your juices on his lips and it turns you on even more. He pulls away from you and is kneeling between your legs. You watch as he pulls the blue cravat from his neck before he peels off the jacket he’s wearing. You sit up and bat his fingers away from the buttons of his shirt. His eyes focus on you as you unbutton his shirt and push it from his shoulders. Your fingers trace the lines of a “666” tattoo about his nipple before replacing them with your lips. You trail kisses along his chest as Copia’s fingers thread through your hair. His fingers curl into a fist and tugs, pulling your head back from his chest so you’re looking into his eyes now. His mismatched eyes bore into yours before capturing your lips with his again.

Your hands slip between your bodies and begin to work the laces of his pants. You take the time to stroke his length that’s straining against the material of his jeans. He lets out a groan at your touch. You pull apart the bow that’s knotted together and begin loosening the laces as his tongue works its way into your mouth. You moan as his hands move yours away from him. Copia pulls back from you and slips off the bed, pushing the tight pants down his legs. He’s not wearing any underwear, you note. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with, and your desire skyrockets. You subconsciously lick your lips and his eyes watch you intently. 

“Do you like what you see, tesoro ?” He asks as he climbs back into your bed, positioning himself between your spread legs. 

“I do,” you answer, looking him up and down. Your pussy throbs with need. You need him more than you ever needed anyone before. 

He hums in response as his hands come to rest on the bed on either side of your head, caging you in as he holds himself above you. He leans down and kisses your lips almost tenderly this time. “Last chance,” he said. “I’ll go if you want me to.”

“Stay,” you say. “Stay with me.” 

His eyes are ablaze with carnal desire as he pushes himself back up, taking his cock in his hand and stroking it a couple of times before lining up with your entrance. He slides the head up and down your slit. The moan that left your mouth turns into a whimper as you lift your hips in want. He smirks at you, his eyes flicking to your face as he slowly pushes into you. He stretches you, creating a delicious sting as he fills you. 

“You’re so tight,” he pants as he bottoms out in you. “ Cazzo …”

You are in complete bliss. You didn’t think it was possible to feel as good as you do now. “You feel so good,” you breathe. “Oh god, you feel so good.” 

He pulls out slowly, almost as though he’s teasing you on purpose before he pushes back into you. You moan as your legs wrap around his waist, pushing him deeper into you. He lets out a low groan, his eyes closing in a moment of bliss before he begins to move. His thrusts are hard and fast making you whimper and moan. Your eyes close, taking in every little detail of how this feels when you feel his hand on your cheek. 

“Open your eyes, cara,” he says in a low voice. “I want to see your eyes when you cum.” 

You obey and open your eyes to meet his. His hand falls away from your cheek and moves to your breast, massaging it and pinching the nipple as he continues to move in and out of you. You let out a small gasp at his touch and watch as his fingers lightly trail down your stomach and to your mound before finding your clit. He readjusts one of your legs, putting it up on his shoulder and allowing him to push into you even deeper.

You cry out at the new sensation, your fingers gripping the sheets under you while one of your hands grips his arm. Your nails dig into his skin so hard you think you’ll draw blood. You feel your core tighten as a familiar pressure begins to build in you. As he begins to stimulate your clit, you can’t help but let go. Your orgasm is intense as it burns through you, wiping your mind of all thought and making you see white for a second. You clench around his cock, making him moan as he stills in you for a second before continuing to fuck you. 

“That’s right, tesoro , cum on my cock,” he purrs. “ Cazzo , you look divine when you cum.” 

You can’t form a single response. All you can think about is how he is fucking you and how good it feels. “Oh god,” you moan as he continues to drive into you. His thrusts are relentless as he buries his face in your neck, nipping at the bite marks he created. He reopens the wound and drinks from you again, his cock twitching inside you. You start to feel a second orgasm building in you as he takes your blood once more.

He moans as he pulls away from your neck, his lips bloody as he kisses you hard. His thrusts become erratic and you know he’s close to losing it as well. His face scrunches as though he’s concentrating on something before thrusting into you sharply one…two…three more times. He’s panting something in Italian that you can’t make out. You feel him spill inside you and it’s enough to set off your own orgasm, milking him of all he has to give. He lets out a low groan as his forehead rests against yours, his eyes closed. 

The two of you are silent allowing the sound of your heavy breaths to fill the room. He opens his mismatched eyes and stares into yours. 

“ Sorprendente ,” he whispers, his lips finding yours again. He pulls out of you and moves to lie next to you. You let out a small whine at the loss of him before you roll onto your side to look at him. You know he isn’t going to stay. This isn’t his world after all. 

“Will I see you again?” You ask, hoping and praying you will. 

“You will,” he confirms, his gloved hand resting on your cheek. “I wish I could stay, but the sun will be up soon and I must return to my own world.”

“When?”

“Soon.”

You didn’t know how soon was soon, but you trust him. 

“Sleep, cara , I’ll stay as long as I can,” he says, this thumb stroking your cheek gently. It’s as though he has a hold over you and you obey, closing your eyes even though you didn’t want to. You feel his hand leave your face and rest on your hip as you slip into sleep.

When your eyes open again, it’s daylight out and Copia is gone. You’re convinced it was all a dream, but when you start to come to your senses, you realize you’re naked and your pajamas are still on the floor. You slip out of bed and go to the mirror hanging on your closet door. There are two small puncture marks on your neck and on your thigh. Your finger runs over the tiny bumps on your neck and you smile. You will see him again and you hope it’s in his world so you can stay as long as you wish.

Translations: Cara: dear/darling Tesoro: treasure Sono qui per prendere ciò che è mio: I’m here to take what’s mine. Dolcezza: sweetness Cazzo: fuck Sorprendente: amazing

[kodzuvii]

CLUB STUPID [24: yeah probably]

next [25: premarital hand holding]

PAIRING - SUNA x FEM!READER

GENRE - crack + fluff

warnings - spelling and grammar errors lol guys its 1am plz-

SYNOPSIS - Club Stupid, an anonymous podcast meant for the dumb and dumbest to send in unspoken and nonsensical thoughts about issues they face in their day to day lives and for Y/n to speak out and give her opinions and feelings. Normal feelings though, nothing romantic like how she thinks this lazy guy with questionable hair in the volleyball club is actually pretty cute.

a/n: as an executive member and proud representative of the suna simp club (jk lol idk) it is my duty, to keep my simps fed. you’re welcome. please listen to some cute wholesome shit. 

“Look at this Samu, Suna really his own breed, how does he manage to look more dead compared to how he usually looks”

“Well Tsumu, he ignored the same girl twice in the same week and also got confronted by her cousin who’s also his captain. Pretty sad if ya ask me”

The twins snickered to each other as they eyed the quiet middle blocker who stood by his locker. “Did you see his blocks today Tsumu? I was afraid I was gonna break his toothpick arms with my spikes” Osamu whispered but made it loud enough for Suna to hear. Atsumu nodded, “yeah Samu, totally lame if you ask me. Thank God Yn wasn’t watching him” he teased. “Oi,” Aran called out as he packed up his things on his back that was sitting on top of the benches inside of the boy’s change room. “Lay off of him will ya” he scolded but the pair shrugged and continued to change out of their practice clothes. 

“What’s even happening?” Akagi whispered and Riseki could only turn to him and mirror the same lost look on his face and give a clueless shrug. They both just sat back and watched the scene unfold in front of them. The twins were teasing and throwing indirect jabs and insults towards their middle blocker who looked as if he was going through an existential crisis with the dull look in his eyes. 

Suna was quiet, everyone knew that. Yet somehow in some way, everyone could feel his energy hit an all-time low. He still attended practice sure, but it was like practicing with a pole lamp. He just stood there and observed whatever was happening but even then, his mind was somewhere else. Of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by the coach who gave him an earful about the proper attitude to be having during their practices. Did he listen though? Nah. Listening to a lecture required too much effort. He was just tired and done for the day and the anxious and nervous feeling bubbling up inside of him wasn't helping either.

Suna was stupid. He knew that. His attention span outside of the court was never the biggest and his lack of energy never helped increase his intelligence. He was never the brightest in his class, and honestly, it never bothered him that he wasn’t. Everything he learned came through one ear and left the other. He retained the information for a test but simply forgot everything once it was over. He wasn’t the brightest, and it didn’t bother him not one bit.

What did bother him was his terrible habit of being oblivious towards other people’s feelings. Maybe it was due to his lack of energy or lack of interest, but he simply never put much effort into acknowledging how people felt. Yeah, he got vibes when people had on and off days, his teammates were the twins, you HAD to notice their mood swings and take necessary precautions. It just never occurred to him that more people could enter his bubble. A bubble that revolved around himself.

However, instead of someone finding a way to enter his fragile bubble without popping it, Suna willingly left his bubble when you came into the picture. It was no secret that Suna was whipped the moment his eyes laid on you. He’s been getting clowned about it ever since the twins found out and they never let a day go by without calling him a simp.

He had no clue what type of person you would be when you entered the doors of the Shiratorizawa gym. You looked sweet and bubbly, the smile you came in with never left your face unless you’d whine to your friends or roll your eyes at them. When you stepped into the room, people just naturally gravitated towards your positive energy and your good vibe. He liked that about you. Then again he still didn’t know anything about you at the time. All he knew was that you managed to attract his attention without even directly giving any to him. Every time he tried to look away and focus on whatever was happening in front of him, his eyes trailed back to you.

For a while after camp, you kept popping back in and out of his mind. It was quite ridiculous actually. He’d be taking a drink by the water fountains and he’d look over to the hallway and suddenly the first thoughts would be ‘what if I saw the redhead again?’ It never lasted long, maybe for a split second or two before he snapped himself out of it. He’d never see you again, what was he talking about? He was just being delusional.

So you could imagine the way his mind stopped functioning the night at the train station. Suna had to pinch himself 8 times when he saw you walk out of the train doors. ‘No way’ he thought. You, out of the 7 billion people in the world, was Kita’s cousin. He remembers seeing your tired face and your short stature clad in a big hoodie and loose sweatpants with your hair tied up. You were supposed to look like a mess, why did he keep thinking that you looked so pretty? This must’ve been the higher power playing a trick on him for slacking off during practice. So annoying.

Suna could keep his cool around school. You weren’t in the same classes meaning he didn’t see you at all. So you could imagine the kind of panic that crossed his mind when Kita told the team that he’d have his cousin staying in the gym. He learned later on that you started watching practices because Kita didn’t feel comfortable with you walking home. You were nice to the team, incredibly nice actually. Your easy-going nature made it easy for you to have a couple of conversations with his teammates here and there. While you were nice to Aran and Akagi, you had a little feisty attitude with the twins (mainly Atsumu) and he couldn’t help but admire how outspoken you were. You were blunt, to say the least. That was something you and Kita had in common. But he liked that about you, how you were always free to speak whatever was on your mind and keep a conversation going. 

Suna noticed early on that you rarely paid attention to their practice. He figured volleyball just wasn’t your thing and he couldn’t blame you for that. During water breaks, he’d glance up and watch you tuck back your hair and sometimes he’d catch you scratching your temple in annoyance because of some question you couldn’t answer on your homework. You never looked up, simply unphased by whatever was happening in front of you. 

Even so, he still put the smallest amount of extra effort into his practices. Jumping a bit higher and running a bit faster and spiking the ball with more force. He insisted that it was about time he would break some of his bad habits, but even the team knew that it was a sorry excuse. Truth be told, a little part of him was just hoping that if you ever looked up from your phone or your work in your lap, you’d see him and think that he looked at least a little bit cool. 

One day, on the rare occasion that he’d be listening in class, he remembers his teacher having a discussion with the class about an epiphany. 

The feeling of a sudden or striking realization that hits an individual out of nowhere.

It was late at night where Suna hit an epiphany. You were off to Miyagi, spending your weekend with your best friend and the Twins continued to bug him about his little first-year crush even though he had asked them multiple times to drop the topic. 

Suna came to the conclusion that he liked the way you made him feel. He liked the way he felt at ease when you were around him. He liked how you were so different compared to him, but it never stopped you from forming a friendship with him. You never pushed him to ever open up to you, you listened to the bare minimum he had to say and never took his lazy nature and blunt attitude to heart. He liked annoying you, the way your face would scrunch up when he’d take your bento’s the first couple times during your first initial lunch hangouts or the way you’d puff your cheeks when he comments on your height. He liked the way your eyes lit up when the smallest things caught your attention. He took notes on the songs you said you were currently listening too or the ones that reminded you about happy memories. 

Suna especially liked seeing you smile. Especially towards him. Something about it gave him the same feeling that was comparable to the way he would feel when he would see those jelly sticks on sale at the grocery store. The way you’d roll your eyes in playful annoyance when he'd come up to you and ask to bandage his fingers even though you both knew that he was capable of doing it himself. You would tease him, a playful smile gracing upon your lips, telling him that his fingers would probably break off if you weren’t there to bandage them up. Suna liked thinking that having you wrap them up made his hands feel a bit stronger with his blocks. But you didn’t need to know that.

He remembers a specific memory that lives rent-free in his mind. He was walking down the hallway, casually strolling and taking his time to get back to class after using the bathroom and he happened to notice you heaving a tired sigh as you closed the doors to your class. You looked quite frustrated, probably because it was your art class and you had been complaining days earlier about how creatively drained you were.

 Suna must’ve been looking at you for a moment too long because the moment your eyes met, he felt something tug at his chest by the way your eyes sparkled at the sight of him. Despite being under a little bit of stress, the same smile he grew to enjoy seeing made its way onto your lips and you waved to him excitedly before running up and rambling off about how much your class was pissing you off.

You two eventually got in trouble for skipping the whole period after being too caught up in your conversation. Suna thought it was worth it though.

After scrolling through his phone, listening to Atsumu’s obnoxious lovey-dovey playlist, and inevitably searching “how to know if you like or like like a girl” (there's a difference, he swears) on google. 

He came to his epiphany.

 Maybe before, when he barely knew you and you never knew him, maybe he was just infatuated with the idea of you. 

But it was different now, He liked you.

And that scared him.

It scared him how vulnerable he felt. Suna’s reserved and quiet nature gave him a hard time to open to others. Not that he really cared if he was being honest. He simply had the mindset that no one needed to know everything there was to his existence. Everyone eventually leaves anyways, what was the point?

When it sank into him that he liked you, it confused him endlessly. You never wanted to get out of his head and sooner or later he found himself doing the smallest things for you. The little black silk band was always on his wrist and if it wasn’t on his wrist, it would be tucked away in his pockets. Not to mention that he kept one in his pencil case for good measure. The bandaids inside in his backpack were sealed away in a ziplock bag just in case you ever got hurt because he knew you were a bit clumsy. He found himself keeping his eyes open for little souvenirs and trinkets that looked like something that you’d like wherever he went. 

At first, he thought that he just wanted to upgrade you from friend to best friend. Maybe this was a friendship that he had just been deprived of since his world revolved around constantly meaning to improve in volleyball. Yes, he did find comfort in the friendship he grew with you, but sooner or later he realized that he wanted more. The thoughts of holding your hand slipped into his mind and sooner or later hugging you from behind and resting his head on top yours flowed in followed by taking you back by peppering your smooth and soft cheeks with kisses. That wasn’t something that best friends did.

Kita was right about how his logic of ignoring you to suppress his feelings was stupid and that the worst things that could happen were that he’d get rejected. But he didn’t want to face the chance of him getting rejected, he’d like you for so long and he learned during his time spent away from you that he didn’t want to just stop talking to you. Suna knew himself, if he got rejected then he’d distance himself away from you and never talk to you ever again because the embarrassment would eat him up. 

He didn’t wanna lose you for that. He wasn’t ready. 

What a coward. 

He just really hoped you liked the flowers and read his note, he thought anything was better than a stupid “I’m sorry” text.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“Hurry up, I need to lock up the gym” Kita’s voice echoed throughout the walls as he stepped into the changeroom. Suna looked up from his phone, taking one last glance at your ‘see you soon :P’ text before shutting it off and shoving it into his pockets. As everyone began to leave one-by-one and bid their goodbyes to each other and their captain. The twins however didn’t leave until they both gave Suna a teasing punch on both of his shoulders. Suna only glared at them before proceeding to make his exit as well. 

Kita stopped Suna before he could exit and the look on his face seemed rather serious. With his voice low, Kita simply said “She needs to be back by 7. If she comes home hurt in any way, I’m benching you” he said sternly and that was enough for him to feel his skin crawl under his tracksuit jacket. Suna nodded, understanding that he really wasn’t kidding and that he definitely bench him. 

Kita turned around and opened the door for them both to leave the changerooms. They walked together side-by-side and from a distance, he could see your short figure walking up to both of them. You looked different today, your hair was sitting on your shoulders and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses he was yet to see was sitting on the bridge of your nose. You were clad in your uniform with an oversized pink knit cardigan overtop. Was that a new cardigan you were wearing? He’s never seen it before either. 

Kita smiled at the sight of you skipping up to them and he watched you two exchange high fives and he gave you a brief little speech about staying late. You nodded along and Suna stood by and watched Kita ruffle your hair making you whine cutely. 

He wanted to do that.

You waved goodbye to your cousin and Kita looked at Suna and gave him a firm nod before turning back and making his way towards the gym doors. You turned back and faced Suna, your hands behind your back as you made your way towards him with a warm smile. “Hey there” you greeted and stood in front of him, looking up so you could look at him clearly. Suna couldn’t help but look at you weirdly, why were you acting as nothing happened? Shouldn’t you be upset with him? “Hi, let’s go?” god, why was he so forward. 

You hummed and shook your head, making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion, “do you not wanna go anymore? I can drop you off if you want-” You rolled your eyes, “I don’t see you for a week and you’re already trying to get rid of me?” you questioned and narrowed your eyes at him. Suna felt his heart wrench as your lips pouted. 

He shook his head, “n-no” he stuttered. Your eyes perked up and you watch his cheeks heat up (potentially from embarrassment, but you're not going to assume) and look away. 

You chuckled and grabbed his wrist and pulled him to follow behind you. What made you so bold today? Probably from the unexpected pep talk you had with Goshiki that morning.

“You don’t need him Ln-senpai! If he thinks he can just look over you and all your greatness and beauty and not acknowledge how beautiful you are and how your very presence graces this dull world then send his ass to KFC! You are a woman senpai! A beautiful woman who deserves everything. Not a value menu that has a 20% off discount!”

Did his speech make sense? Sure. You’ll take it over Tendou’s “cut his dick off if he does you dirty queen” text message sent with the confetti effect on imessage followed by a bunch of knife emojis that was honestly more threatening rather than comforting.

You pulled him out of the gym and Shin gave you a look before shaking it off and locking up the gym doors. From the corner of your eyes, you could see the twins sending winks your way before snickering and walking off. You rolled your eyes and stopped when you reached the doors of the school. 

You turned around and faced Suna who looked very lost and confused. “Let’s not go to the convenience store today, let’s go somewhere else,” you say. Suna nodded slowly, “okay? Where do you wanna go?” he asked.

Just then, you lifted up your other hand and it was only then that Suna noticed you carrying a small pink lunch tote. You let go of his wrist and tucked some strands your hair behind you ear, “we haven’t had lunch together in a week and you had a meeting today again so we couldn’t do anything today either and well..” you trailed off and looked up at him and shrugged, “I figured we could make up for lost time” you muttered. 

Suna felt his chest tighten, not only because you were absolutely adorable and it was making him lose his mind, but it almost seemed like you were the one trying to apologize to him when you didn’t do anything wrong. He did.

You frowned as you looked at how subtly his face dropped. As upset as you were, you understood that he wasn’t ready to tell you whatever he was meaning to hide. He wasn’t obligated to tell you anything and you understand that. A small smile creeping up on your lips, “let’s go eat at the park near my house. The one we walk by all the time. Saves you the trouble of worrying if you’re gonna get home on time or not” you laughed slightly.

Suna couldn’t say no to you, so here were the two of you now. Eating and sitting in front of the other with the bento’s you had prepared on the table. The park was as busy as it usually would be during the afternoon. The atmosphere felt warm as the sky was slowly settling into hues of orange with peaks of pink seeping through. Suna watched you happily eat the bento you had prepared and listened attentively as you told him about everything he missed during your week and you did the same when he talked about his. 

A part of him couldn’t help but admire how pretty you looked in front of him. Suna was lying when he told the twins that you were a 7. You were beyond a 7 and beyond whatever scale they had given him. It was a rare sight to see you with your glasses and partnered with that oversized pink cardigan? You were adorable. 

You tilted looked up from your food and stopped mid-sentence when you saw him just look at you with what seemed to be a fond look in his eyes. But you could’ve just been mistaken, maybe you need to have your prescription checked again. “Rin, what’s wrong?” you asked. At the sound of his name, Suna blinked snapped back into reality and was met with your concerned look. “W-what?” You chuckled, “you zoned out Rin, everything okay?” you asked.

Rin.

He liked the way his name rolled off your lips. 

He shook his head, “I’m fine, sorry. This is really good by the way, I didn’t think you could cook” he said as an attempt to change the subject. You rolled your eyes but you looked away. “As much as I want you to believe I’m some great chef, Granny helped me with most of it” you confessed sheepishly. 

He chuckled and poked the sausage that was cut up into a little octopus with his chopsticks, “Well, you did tell me that you burned rice once so maybe I thought too highly of you to make a full meal” he teased. You scoffed and grabbed his bento, “if you’re not gonna appreciate the chef then you don’t deserve the food” you huffed. Suna rolled his eyes and grabbed yours, “guess I’ll have to eat yours then” he said and shoved some rice into his mouth. Your jaw dropped at his actions, “Hey!”

As the day went on, you both began to feel at ease and comfortable once again with each other's presence. The harmony that flowed around between you two was coming back and was settling into its familiar rhythm. You two continued to chat as if nothing happened. Laughing at anything and everything you found remotely hilarious under the sun. Suna felt warm. He was here, with you, and everything felt okay. With both your bento’s empty and tucked neatly away into your lunch bag and the sun settling down and giving a wake-up call for the stars to come out, it was about time for Suna to bring you home.

The walk back to your place was comfortable. There was no tension in the air or any awkwardness in the atmosphere. It was simply peaceful. You were walking beside him and rambling on about something that had happened to you in class that day. It was slightly cooler and the winds were colder and he had noticed early on that you kept pulling at the ends of your cardigan at an attempt to get some more warmth from it. It would’ve just been rude for him to let you be cold, Kita would kill him if you got sick.

It took you by surprise to see Suna slipping off his volleyball jacket and shoving it into your hands. He was wearing a hoodie under it anyway, he didn’t mind. A part of him was just curious about how his jacket would fit you too and what kind of fool would you be to reject an oversized jacket? It was just extra points that happened to be from the boy that you liked.

Suna nodded along to what you were saying, but he couldn’t help the sudden urge to just grab your hand out of his system. You were walking so close to each other. Your shoulders kept brushing past and your hands were right there. 

But with the events that happened this past weekend, he didn’t wanna overstep any boundaries. He was still too cautious that he would mess up and make you upset all over again. With the thought of his actions, Suna suddenly felt a little ball of guilt eat him up. He never stopped feeling bad about what he did. Kita’s words rang through his head, he needed to learn how to communicate better and not deal with everything all on his own. Maybe he really was a coward for letting such a dumb fear eat him up.

In the midst of your talk about how much you despise your math class, you turned to look at Suna and saw how troubled he looked. He didn’t even look like he was listening anymore and seemed to be having some sort of internal battle with himself. 

You furrowed your eyebrows and grabbed his wrist to stop walking. “Rin, what’s wrong?” you asked, concern lacing the tone of your voice. You both never really brought up what had happened. Maybe you were just too caught up in having a good time but you were honestly content with the reasons he gave you. If he wasn’t ready then he wasn’t ready. 

Suna however felt like he owed you so much more than his apology that he already struggled to explain. 

Suna stared down at you for a moment, the unreadable expression on his face that only made you more confused. It was quiet for a moment, the only sound to be heard was the wind blowing by and the trees rustling.

Nothing would have prepared you for the way he turned around and pulled the arm that was holding his wrist and pulling you into his chest. His hands wrapped around your shoulders as he held you just a little bit tighter. He was a bit stiff, but you couldn’t put that against. He wasn’t the type of person to initiate things like this.

“I’m sorry”

Your body froze, something about his tone was different. It was vulnerable.

You stayed quiet, letting yourself relax slowly in his hold.

“F-fuck, I’m really sorry. I said I wasn’t good with words right? S-so I’m trying to explain now because you deserve it but I don’t even know why I did it. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you upset at all, I was just caught up with myself and I didn’t consider what I was doing to you. You didn’t deserve that. I like being around you and I’m sorry” He pulled away and one of his hands dropped to your waist and fiddled with the material of his jacket. You watched as his free hand dug deep into his pockets and you watched him pull something out. 

“It’s kind of pathetic if you ask me and it’s also kind of ugly but-” he grabbed one of your arms and dropped the object into the palms of your hands. Your eyes widened at the little paper craft,

It was an origami strawberry.

It was small, it fit perfectly inside on the palms of your hand. You could see that he struggled with making it. The leaves were slightly bent and the tip of the strawberry was ripping off. There were lots of creases all in the wrong places and even the seeds were drawn on. 

But it still melted your heart. 

“I read somewhere about 1000 paper cranes for a wish and well, cranes are kind of hard and I didn’t have enough paper to make 1000 and-god this is so embarrassing-” he muttered the last part but gained enough courage to look up at you and meet your eyes. Your eyes were soft and patient. “I wished that you wouldn’t hate me. Or that, this wouldn’t y’know...make everything all weird between us. I like you-or well uh- being around you at least and I-I know you joke about it all the time but please don't-” 

Suna paused when he felt you wrap your arms around his waist once again, hugging him back but just a little bit tighter. The small confession not even going through your mind because your attention was too focused on the way his words were making you melt. 

“You’re an idiot” you mumbled into his chest and hugged him a bit tighter. Your words made his stomach drop, but that feeling went away when you pulled back and looked at him with a smile. A smile that said you understood. 

“I’m never gonna force you to tell me anything you don’t want to tell me” You repeated but this time it felt different, it felt warmer. 

“I’m never gonna hate you. I know how you are Rin, you’re not good with your words and I get that. You could've sent me a text but you didn’t. You went out of your way with the flowers and even the little note and this adorable fucking strawberry is more than enough” you laughed but you could feel your eyes watering up slightly with the overwhelming amount of emotions you were feeling all at once. “You don’t need to keep apologizing to me okay? I understand. Thank you,” you smiled. Suna stared down at you. Nodding slowly and you chuckled and fell into his arms once again.

This time, he was the one who held you a bit tighter.

“This side of you is cute you know, but It’s kinda ruining your whole tsundere image you’re going for. Bet the twins would make fun of you for being this thoughtful” you whispered jokingly, making him roll his eyes and huff a quiet “shut up” in annoyance. If only you knew the pain he endured for putting up with those twins. 

You both stayed like that for a little while longer. Holding each other and fitting so perfectly in the arms of the other. If it wasn’t for your phone dinging from a text from Shin asking where you were, Suna swore he would have held you there for the whole night. 

You pulled away first and tugged his hand, “come on, Shin wants me home now so let’s get going ‘kay? Don’t want you getting benched the whole season now do we?” you grinned and walked in front of him and tugged him along. 

Somehow in some way, your fingers slipped perfectly into his.

Suna could only feel the warmth rising in his chest, his daze fixed at the sight of his hands interlocked with yours. 

“Oh and Rin” you called out, making him snap back into reality.

Suna hummed, looking right back at you.

“Tell me when you’re ready, okay?”

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

“Text me when you get up in your room safe”

You turned around to him with a quizzical expression before letting out a chuckle, “I’m in front of my house Rin, I got here in one piece” you said and motioned your free hand towards yourself to prove that you were indeed, uninjured. Suna rolled his eyes and bit the inside of his cheek, “you’re clumsy remember, you might fall or something” he muttered and looked away.

You grinned and squeezed his hand, “Awe, look at you caring for me and my wellbeing. My ears might be deceiving me but it sounds like you’re in love with me” you teased and swung your hands together back and forth.

Suna huffed, his mind not properly functioning when the words fell out of his mouth.

“yeah probably”

Simultaneously, his eyes and yours widened and you both froze. 

Both you and Suna blinked at each other twice. Your eyes looked down at your hands that were still interlocked and looked up at his face that was fully drained of any colour. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest and Suna began to question the very point of his existence.

“W-what?”

“Uh-”

“Y-you said-”

“A-ah I-”

“Oi!” you both jumped and instinctively Suna pulled you closer to him. You looked at up him briefly before turning around to see Granny waiting by the gate with an impatient but also teasing glint in her eyes. “It’s almost 7:30 Yn-chan! You almost missed bingo night! Kiss ya little friend goodnight and come in before Shin and I eat all the mochi we left for ya” she called out but you could hear the teasing tone in her voice.

“C-coming!” you yelled back. Your face was piping hot and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole from the amount of embarrassment and flusteration you were feeling at that moment. 

Granny nodded and walked back inside, and looked up at Shin who was standing with his arms crossed on the porch. Granny walked back to him with a victorious smile on her lips as she gave him a thumbs up. Granny knew what she was doing and she knew what she saw. She’s gonna call and gossip to your mother.

You gulped and took a step back and looked back at Suna. He was still frozen and his mind was racing at what just happened and he too, wanted the ground to swallow him whole. “I-I uh, I guess I gotta go?” you winced, but the tone of your voice made it sound like you were asking a question. Suna nodded, “y-yeah, goodnight I guess” he muttered as he looked away and you watched his face heat up. 

You were both so embarrassed but neither one wanted to let go of the others hand. 

Suna figured he couldn’t keep you out all night and just as he was about to let go of your hand, a sudden wave of confidence went through your veins and you just went ‘fuck it.’

You pulled his arm down towards you taking him back. His eyes widened, “what are you-” you stood slightly on your tippy-toes and kissed his cheek which made him shut up instantly. “That’s for today, thanks. goodbye.” you said frantically. 

Suna froze, too much in shock and his mind was still in the middle of trying to register what just happened and watched as you let go of his hand and covered your face furiously blushing and running off to your gate and slamming it shut.

He stared blankly at the gate door and blinked twice as an attempt to get himself back to reality. He brought his hands up to his cheeks that were on fire. His mind kept replaying the way your soft lips kissed his cheek and could feel the slightest residue of your lip gloss still on his cheek. 

Shit, you really had him wrapped around your finger. 

“Idiot” 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 

a/n: BYE STOP IM SO SINGLE THIS IS SAD AND I AM DEVASTATED.

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[theimpossiblescheme]

sleep to you who wander

(As far as I’m concerned, The Castle of Cagliostro already has a perfect ending, especially for what’s supposed to be Lupin III’s final adventure.  But what happens after our heroes ride off into the sunset and life continues for them, anticlimactic as it might be?  I wrote this after pondering that very question, with help from @dying-suffering-french-stalkers and her reference to a simiilar scene in The Princess Bride, where the ride off into the sunset doesn’t go quite so smoothly.  We’ve had a looooot of DM conversations on the topic, and this was the result--I hope you guys enjoy it!)

“Did we lose ‘em?”

Meeting Jigen’s eyes in the rearview mirror for a second, Goemon glanced out the back window.  There was a reassuring lack of sirens on the road behind them.  “We lost them.  Fujiko must have headed them off at the border.”

Lupin let out a quiet chuckle from the passenger seat.  “Oh, so she wouldn’t share the plates, but…”  He trailed off and sank further down, tempted to tilt the seat back, but not wanting to scare the poor unsuspecting samurai sitting there (not that ending up in a blushing Goemon’s lap wouldn’t be nice…)

Besides, they’d have to make a pit stop soon, anyway.

“Hey, Jigen?  As soon as we find a petrol station, pull over.”

“We’ve got plenty of fuel still.  And don’t tell me you gotta take a leak—”

“Just pull us over, all right?  I gotta take care of something.”

A pause.  Jigen and Goemon’s eyes met again through the mirror.

“… Get me some cigarettes while you’re in there?”

“Done.”

The last of the Cagliostro countryside turned into the Italian countryside, and the back roads turned into the streets of Ventimiglia, Italy.  So many people were out on the sidewalks, perusing shop windows and outdoor stands, lined up across each block in herds, almost drowning out traffic… what day was it?  Lupin realized he hadn’t even been keeping track—the only indication he’d had of the time passing was the newspaper clipping of the Count’s failed wedding.  The fashion markets happened on Fridays, right?  He remembered Rebecca mentioning that to him… how long ago now?  It couldn’t have been too long, could it?  Maybe if he watched the crowds now, he could catch a glimpse of long blonde hair streaked with blue (or maybe she’d gotten bored of that color and switched to pink or purple or something.  Women did so love changing up their hair), but he couldn’t twist that far without a rib digging directly into his lung and making him gasp.

Where the hell was a petrol station when you needed one?

It took about fifteen minutes of Jigen honking furiously at pedestrians and growling for them to “share the goddamn road” before they were moving at full speed and finally pulling in beside one of the pumps.  Jigen emphatically buried his spent stub of a cigarette in the ashtray, driving his own point home.  “You promised—”

“Don’t worry, I’m good for it.”  Lupin tried to reach for the First Aid kit under the seat as nonchalantly as possible as he opened the door and rose to his feet…

Jigen was too quick on the uptake.  Grabbing his wrist and twisting his arm just so, forcing Lupin to look up at him?  “Whaddya need it for?”

“C’mon, it’s not a big—”

“What do you need it for?”

… Well, right now, the last thing Lupin needed was to have the truth choked and yanked out of him.  Even sighing made his chest hurt.  “Get my jacket off for me, would you?”

Jigen obeyed, pulling it off carefully by the arms and draping it across the back of his own seat.  At the same time, Lupin unbuttoned his black shirt until the wrappings and bandages underneath were showing.

There was actually less blood than he’d expected.  Maybe he hadn’t torn everything open… just enough to make a mess, though.

Over his shoulder, he heard Jigen hiss in shock and the back passenger door open as Goemon bounded out.  “Why the hell didn’t you tell us?” came Jigen’s choked voice as he almost jumped out of the driver’s seat, letting Lupin’s head fall back against it.  Lupin almost made a joke about how he’d been cheated out of laying in two very choice gentlemen’s laps, but it died in his throat as he let his back fully stretch out for the first time in hours.

“Wasn’t really the biggest thing in on my mind,” he admitted, unable to keep from wincing, but forcing himself to relax more as Goemon knelt and inspected his wounds.  “We had a wedding to stop, a princess to rescue, a treasure to uncover, a Count to defeat… kind of a packed schedule, even for us.”  Still, getting into a fight in a clocktower and then plummeting several hundred feet into freezing cold water on top of that didn’t exactly do wonders for multiple gunshot wounds and a concussion.  Who would’ve thought?

“You still should have told us you were in pain,” Goemon replied somewhere near his waist.  He lay one cool hand over where one of the bandages had come loose, a warning and a request, and Lupin nodded and gritted his teeth in anticipation.  “We could have helped you when you first came back.”

“Yeah, I know… I just had a lot of my mind.”  Goemon went slowly and gently as he tightened the wrappings, occasionally mopping up the blood with a paper napkin from the glove compartment along the way, and Lupin tilted his head back for any friction to distract from the sting and pull in his skin.  Normally when he was being treated like this, he would either playfully swoon over his wonderful nurses and how good they were with their hands, or he would rail loudly at how unfair it was and that he couldn’t be slowed down like this.  Right now, he didn’t have the energy for either.  His chest was still tight, and it had nothing to do with the bandages.

“If you ever need help, just let me know.  I’ll come running from anywhere on earth to save you.”

Just don’t need me yet, kiddo—I’m not in the best shape for it right now.

“You gonna be okay?”  Jigen’s voice again.  The seat right above his head dipped, and Lupin looked up to see him crouched right above him, his knee almost grazing the top of his hair.

“Oh, yeah, I’ll be fine.  You know me—it’s gonna take a lot more than this to knock me out of the running.”

“Says the guy who was knocked out for three days straight not that long ago.”

“But isn’t that why I have you?”  Lupin tilted his head further back and shot Jigen the brightest, most charming smile he could manage.  “To gallantly nurse me back to health when my strength fails?”

Jigen didn’t answer, but he did mutter something that sounded like “smug little prick” before raking a hand across Lupin’s head, fingers digging through his hair into his scalp.  Lupin shamelessly leaned into the touch—it was enough to make up for the lack of Goemon’s hands after he tied off the last of the bandages and buttoned Lupin’s shirt back up to the collar.  He still couldn’t tie a necktie, but Lupin didn’t want to bother with it right now.

“Do you know where we’re heading next?” Goemon asked, offering a hand to help Lupin straighten up.

“Not a clue.”  He tried to pass it off as casual, his usual devil-may-care recklessness, as he rose to a sitting position in the passenger seat once again.  “You guys have any ideas?”

Jigen shrugged as he climbed back in behind the wheel, but Goemon hesitated, still kneeling right outside with the First Aid kit in his lap… ears going slightly pink.  “I… may have one.”

“Oh?”  Now Lupin was extremely alert.  “Well, you know I’d loooove to hear it, Goemon!”

“I would like to go back to Japan--Suminawa’s village, specifically.  I have… some loose ends I’d like to tie up.”

No sooner had those words left his mouth than Jigen let out a knowing cackle.  “You’re wanting to see Murasaki again, aren’t ya?  Isn’t it about time you made an honest woman of her?”

Goemon’s extremely pink face was answer enough for both of them.

“Hey, that sounds great!”  Lupin leaned forward, shifting just so he could sling an arm around his partner’s shoulder.  “Tell you what—we’ll make a road trip out of it.  Just the three of us.  We’ll just drive until we need to find a ship across, and if there’s any place you guys wanna hit along the way, we can do it.  Doesn’t even have to be a heist—if you guys wanna go sightseeing or shopping or anything at all, just let me know!”

It felt a bit like stalling, and maybe it was.  Maybe he just didn’t want to let Goemon go just yet.  Maybe the prospect of him settling down (even if it was with a nice girl like Murasaki) felt a little too much like never seeing him again.  But he’d already left way too soon after the three of them hightailed it out of Monaco, and as nice it was to spend all that time on the road with Jigen… the Fiat’s backseat did feel pretty empty.

And there was still that tightness in his chest he wanted to put off dealing with for as long as possible.

To his relief, Goemon nodded.  “That does sound nice… as long as you don’t get us lost on the scenic route through Russia on the way.”

“Hey, that was one time!”

“And the only time, right?”

Before Lupin could say anything, Jigen was cackling again and actually aiming a gentle kick right at the small of his back, forcing him to his feet.  “C’mon, dumbass—you’re still on cigarette duty before we hit the road.”

***

He had planned for a couple of heists along the way.  Just a couple—there weren’t many places Lupin hadn’t already stolen from or at least had a memorable encounter therein.  At some point over the campfire, he’d dug out a collection of old roadmaps and traced the many annotations he’d left in it.  Every continent, every large metropolitan area in every country.  X-es and checkmarks over where he’d been, notes scribbled in the margins.  Lists of traps to look out for, supplies to bring with them.  Lather, rinse, repeat on every page.  Sheafs of hotel stationery tucked into the bindings with diagrams and estimated floorplans and arrows mapping out everyone’s positions, including Zenigata’s.

(Where was Pops now, anyway?  Was he still out there looking for them?  Had he given up?  Hell, there was a chance he’d stumble across their little campsites any second… in which case, Lupin was tempted to just offer him a sausage and tell him to take a load off.)

Very little empty, unexplored space left on any of them.  That, too, sat heavy somewhere in Lupin’s chest.

But he did want to eke out a handful of smaller jobs.  Mostly second tries at treasures they hadn’t quite managed to steal, moving from one museum to another.  The Faberge Museum had apparently found more eggs to display, and what the hell, it might be nice to have something pretty for the hell of it (and they’d lost their old haul somewhere in a Moscow hotel the last time) …

It seemed only appropriate that Fujiko beat him to it.

The Fiat had parked overnight along the Moyka River Embankment, nestled inconspicuously among the other cars.  The engine was running just enough to leave the heat on, and Goemon was sitting upright in the backseat, head lolled gently against his chest, while Jigen had tipped his own seat all the way back so that his head nearly rested on Goemon’s knee.  Lupin had spent the past six hours driving, and his jacket was actually buttoned for once so he could burrow into the neck, trying to force himself to sleep.  Jigen’s snores didn’t usually bother him, but right now they were unnecessarily loud.

He'd almost mistaken the rumble of Fujiko’s bike for another snore.

But as he leaned his cheek against the window, there it was.  And there she was.  Still blonde, her surplus military uniform traded for her old red biker’s gear.  Goggles pulled up over her forehead as she sidled up to the car, eyes finding Lupin’s and giving him a slight, amused smirk as he could only blink at her at first before rolling down the window.  She’d been so far ahead of them… how had she caught up?  Or rather, how had they caught up with her?

“Nothing there that we haven’t already picked over, unfortunately,” Fujiko said, hefting a large satchel into her lap.  “Still… I did manage to come away with a few little beauties.”  With some effort, she lifted out a large golden egg latticed with starbursts and topped with a diamond the size of an eyeball.  And when she cracked it open, a miniature red coach, also studded with gold and propelled by golden wheels, tumbled gently out.

Lupin couldn’t help but whistle.  “Very nice… I don’t suppose I can get you to share, Fujicakes?”  He pressed his hands together under his chin like a child praying at Christmas, tilting his head up and exaggeratedly batting his eyelashes at her.  “I’d settle for just the coach, y’know.”

“Not a chance.”  Fujiko quickly tucked the treasures back into her satchel.  “I know appraisers who would pay in blood just to touch the Imperial Coronation egg.  And last I checked, you came away from Cagliostro empty-handed.”

“Hey, I was the one who uncovered the Roman city underneath the lake—that has to count for something!”

“But you can’t exactly carry a city, Lupin.”

“Well, not with that attitude.”  As if he couldn’t still picture it perfectly, even after so many weeks.  Or months—had it been months since they started?  It felt like hours since he’d been there walking the ruins, jumping across causeways Clarisse couldn’t reach so he could catch her on her way over.  He’d stolen San Marino, he’d stolen Paris, he’d stolen New York City more than once, and now he had this little piece of Cagliostro… there was something romantic about that.  Something suitably grand for the world’s greatest thief.  Lupin the First would definitely approve.

Fujiko just hummed skeptically and let it go, repositioning her bike in preparation to drive away.  “So where are you all off to?”

“Back to Japan—Goemon wanted to patch things up with Murasaki, and I told him we’d make a trip of it.  What about you?”

“Mmmm… I haven’t decided yet.”  There was a note of wistfulness in Fujiko’s voice, in her eyes… Lupin always found that particularly beautiful.  Not that she wasn’t a knockout when she was confidently conning her way through droves of men, himself included, with that hard set in her face and that edge in her smile—lesser men had died just for a glimpse.  But these spare moments of uncertainty, especially in the dim light when she still had some plausible deniability, were that much more precious.  Lupin had missed seeing them, now that they weren’t in such close quarters anymore.  “I know at least one dealer in France who would pay pretty handsomely.  And I haven’t been back there in a while… you know, I actually miss it.”

“Even with all the bullshit from last time?”

She actually laughed, if only just a little.  “Even with all the bullshit from last time.”

“Hey, say hi to Ami for me.  And save me a reservation at the Ritz—we could catch up.”

There was something oddly final about this, too.  Maybe he was just overthinking things; after all, this was Fujiko, who couldn’t be bothered tying herself to any one city or any one man or woman.  They’d see each other again someday.  It was almost inevitable.  That was why he didn’t bother giving her a date—maybe it would be months, maybe even years, but at least that table would be there, waiting.

Still… he pictured this going differently.  Maybe after one more grand heist, one more merry chase through the hallways of some huge museum or manor house before they emerged onto a balcony and Fujiko leaped onto the ladder of a waiting helicopter, leaving him with empty hands and tingling lips once again.  Or maybe one last tumble, for old time’s sake (not that there was room in the car for that, and Jigen would bawl him out if he dragged them all to a hotel just for her).  This felt… weirdly anticlimactic in comparison.

Maybe that was only fitting.  It wasn’t really an end per se, or at least it didn’t have to be.  Nothing ever really ended between them.

Fujiko smiled.  “We’ll see how things turn out.”  And she started to turn around to leave…

“Oh, Fujiko?”

She stopped midway through lowering her goggles.  “Hmm?”

Lupin was tempted to ask for a kiss, or even to just take her free hand and kiss it in farewell.  But neither felt right at the moment, and on the chance she’d refuse he didn’t want them to leave on bad terms.  So instead he just gave her a smile.  “See you around.”

Her own smile brightened, and she gave him a wink in return before revving her engine and riding off down the road.  Lupin watched her go until the motorcycle was a dot in the distance before sinking back into his seat, not even bothering to roll the window back up.  There was a breeze coming in from off the river.  Beside him, Jigen had backed nearly all the way up and off the passenger seat toward the back, still laying flat with his hat over his face, but nearly on top of Goemon, who barely registered his presence.

It was a nice night.

***

It was a nice night when they finally dropped off Goemon as well.  They’d long since lost track of how long they’d been on the road--the Fiat had lasted several dozen tanks of gas, two flat tires, one fussy engine that Jigen had taken multiple attempts to jumpstart, and a barge across the Sea of Japan.  By the time they reached Murasaki’s village, the air brushed coolly through the open windows, the caps of snow on the mountains nearby had grown whiter, and the trees rustled red and gold.

The world had been green when they started out, Lupin noted.  Maybe he just hadn’t noticed the change.

Halfway through a familiar glen, where a small roadside garden stretched slowly into view, Goemon motioned for them to stop.  “I can walk the rest of the way.”

“You sure?”  Lupin pulled over to one side and parked, but didn’t kill the engine just yet.  “We can drop you off right on her doorstep, it’s no problem.”

“I think I would rather talk to her alone when I get there.  We’ll have a lot of ground to cover… since I’ve been gone so long.”  Climbing out of the backseat, sword in hand and travelling hat tucked under his arm, Goemon came to stand in front of them.  “So we can say goodbye here.”

Oh, to hell with that.  The second he and Jigen climbed out after him, Lupin reached out and took Goemon’s hands and, when he seemed receptive to that, swept him into a hug, one hand on the back of his hair.  There was so much he wanted to say… most of it variations on thank you.  For putting up with his nonsense, for coming through every time they needed him and every time they didn’t, for staying by his side even when Jigen couldn’t, for being so absurdly loyal and brave, for making him laugh and feel alive even from the moment they met, for letting Lupin make him laugh when he thought he never would again, for letting him be a part of his life at all… they’d be here all night if he kept counting the reasons.

For now, one quiet “Thank you” would do before he pulled out of the hug and gave Goemon a kiss on each cheek.  “You take care of yourself, okay?  Her, too.”

Goemon nodded, throat suspiciously tight as he moved onto Jigen, who wrapped him into his own tight hug.  “Don’t be a stranger,” Jigen murmured before dropping his voice and whispering something only he could hear into his ear.  Lupin didn’t try to listen, tempting as it was--he just stood back alongside them, hands in his pockets.  When Goemon finally stepped away, his jaw stuttered with the beginnings of half a dozen parting words before snapping closed as he gave them both a nod.

“Travel safe, you two.  I’ll… I’ll be in touch.”

Lupin gave him the same smile he’d given Fujiko, feeling it pull even more at his lips this time.  “We’ll hold you to that, y’know.”

And with that, Goemon turned, let in a deep cleansing breath that eased the remaining tension in his shoulders, and started off down the road.  His partners watched him go until he, too, was only a dot disappearing around the bend in the wake of a tiny indoor light glowing yellow and drowning him out.  Saying goodbye to Fujiko had felt strangely unsatisfying, but somehow just right.  This… this just felt right. 

Didn’t stop his eyes from burning against the dark, though.

Lupin hadn’t realized how dark it had gotten--how long they’d been standing there--until Jigen nudged him, a fuzzy indigo blur in the shadow of the car.  “C’mon.  Let’s find a place to sleep.”

Neither of them moved for a few minutes after that.  Even with nothing left to see but the fireflies in the grass.

***

“You can take that off now, you know--it’s starting to creep me out.”

Lupin grinned behind the mask of Zenigata’s face.  “Hey, maybe Pops’ll take the hint and join us for a breather.”  It had been almost a year since they’d seen hide or hair of the good inspector (hell of a thing to process), and Lupin was starting to miss him.  And after all, no matter where he was in the world, there was no better way to summon him than somebody reporting a false sighting.

Jigen rolled his eyes, but patted him on the shoulder as the elevator landed and he peeled back off down the hotel hallway.  “Yeah, well, you go change.  I’m gonna go check out our room--they better have been serious about the bar.”

Once he was alone, Lupin ducked through the doorway to the courtyard, glancing around him before pulling off the mask and tucking it into the pocket of the great brown overcoat before slinging it over his shoulder.  There were still a few weeks left before the snow stayed down in drifts, so for today the sky was blue and clear, and piles of grey slush clumped around the remaining patches of grass and the little patio that had once been surrounded by summer flowers…

He’d almost walked right on past, but his eye finally caught the figure sitting on the sofa.  Surrounded by large antique suitcases, flanked by an old man in rough-hewn gardener’s clothes and  two hulking security guards the size of professional wrestlers.  A petite figure in a purple dress, red hair pinned elegantly at the nape of her neck and hidden by a wide-brimmed hat.

Lupin recognized her in an instant.  She recognized him, too--as she rose and rushed over to meet him, her arms went out as if to hug him, but at a start from one of her bodyguards, she resisted and forced them back down to her sides.  Instead, she held up a hand for him to kiss, as befitting a proper young lady, but as he did so her voice was breathless with excitement.

“I knew… I just knew we’d meet again someday, Mr. Thief.”

And the ache in Lupin’s chest yawned so fiercely he feared it might swallow him.

***

Their hotel room did not, in fact, come with a bar.  With much grumbling, Jigen had taken them to the one across the street.  It was admittedly a very nice place--the staff were friendly, the drinks were great, and the in-house jazz band had the tact to slow things down after a certain hour and more than a few patrons needed cut off for the night.  Right now they were playing a melancholy piece for saxophone and piano, more of a reflection than a true song.

It gave Lupin something to focus on… the ice in his glass was melting and the condensation leaving rings on the table, but he couldn’t bring himself to drink.

“Been doin’ an awful lot of sighing there, buddy,” came Jigen’s voice beside him, slowly nursing his own glass of scotch.  When Lupin didn’t rise to the bait, Jigen heaved a long-suffering sigh of his own.  “Look, I’m not gonna choke it out of you in front of a buncha strangers, so you might as well tell me now.”

“All, right, all right…”  Where did he even start, though?  It was all a disorganized jumble in his head, and that bothered him more than anything.  That, and the stupid lingering anxiety of how Jigen might react.  He raised his melting glass and downed it, desperately drawing energy from the burn in his throat.  “You’ll never guess who I ran into earlier when we first checked in.”

“Better not have been Pops--at least not while you were still wearing his face.”

“Nope.  Clarisse.”

Jigen’s face softened a bit.  “No kidding?”

“No kidding.”  Lupin wanted to smile, but he only managed a slight upturn of his lips.  “She’d snuck into Japan to ask for help establishing a tourist program for Cagliostro.  She was just on her way home, though, so we… we didn’t actually get to talk much.”  But there was so much more to the conversation, short as it was, that Lupin wished he could go into.  How Clarisse had dedicated so much to dismantling the tools of her family’s corruption and making public statements to the world about undoing the damage.  How she was personally helping to convert the underground printing press into shelters for the poor.  How she’d spent her seventeenth birthday touring her kingdom and getting to know her subjects, even taking the afternoon to make tea for an old woman and her grandchildren.  How Christopher was still a good friend, how Karl was still lively as a puppy even as “an old man in dog years.”  How healthy she looked now that she was no longer a prisoner in her own home, how she wore the poise of a queen when she was still so young.  How much difference a year had made for her.

How much it hurt to say goodbye to her twice.

“Glad she’s doing okay.”  Jigen’s voice was soft, as if intuiting everything Lupin wasn’t saying.  “She’s a good kid.”

Lupin nodded, staring down into his empty glass.  He was tempted to ask for another, but the way his mind was now, it would only lead into a dark drunken spiral, and he didn’t need the additional static in his head.  This was a conversation he needed to have sober.  “I don’t know how I’m ever gonna top it.  Cagliostro, I mean… we saved a princess, we saved a whole kingdom, we uncovered this whole conspiracy, we found the city under the lake… kinda hard to go any bigger.”

Jigen tipped his head in agreement.  “Not to mention how often you almost got yourself killed.  More than usual for you.”

Oh, if he only knew… there had been a split second, right before he and Clarisse hit the water, that he thought if he were to actually die--not just faking it for the sake of a scheme, but for real--it wouldn’t be a bad way to go.  Foiling the Count, shielding her from the impact.  Being the hero for once.

A few more drinks, and he might wonder if it was a shame the fall didn’t kill him after all.

“What haven’t we done at this point, Jigen?”  He knew how tired and pathetic he sounded and couldn’t bring himself to care.  “We’ve been on the road together for how long, and now it’s just us… what else is there left?”  He thought back to his collection of maps, how many checkmarks and X-es marked where they’d all four stayed and stolen.  How many places they could never go back thanks to bounties on their heads and warrants for their arrest, how many people they’d left behind.  It was hard keeping in touch when you were constantly moving around; so many unopened letters and dropped calls from Rebecca, Ami, Maki, Laetitia, and he’d lost track of how many others sat waiting for replies that would never come.  Before it might have felt freeing, but now it was just lonely.  Especially with Goemon and Fujiko gone and the roads ahead of them drying up.  The world felt so much hollower.

It took a few minutes for Jigen to answer.  The saxophone wailed plaintively from the bandstand as he drained the last of his scotch and sat contemplating, leaning heavily forward with his arms crossed over the table.  “You remember a couple years ago in Paris?  I told you to consider retiring now that things were getting more complicated?”

Lupin looked over at him.  “You still think I should?  Just… pack it in for good?”

Jigen gave the briefest of shrugs.  “It’s an option.  If you ever wanted to.”

It was strange to even think about now.  He’d joked about it on plenty of occasions, and Jigen had promptly barked at him to shut up and not treat the topic so lightly.  And he’d taken breaks before, usually for the sake of a woman who’d caught his eye and even once for Fujiko.  But the idea of well and truly retiring… how would he even spend it?  His grandfather had still taken undercover jobs on the side--as a tutor, a museum curator, a Minister of the Interior, even as a private detective.  That might not be a terrible idea; Lupin had rather enjoyed his last stint at solving a mystery rather than causing one.  And even if he didn’t go with that, he’d still promised that girl Marie he’d ask after her someday after she’d helped him.  He might actually have time for that now.

His father had died in a train crash that left only two survivors.  Even as a teenager watching the last car go up in smoke, Lupin had promised himself that he’d never die like that.  Every close call, every false alarm since then had simply been to head off what everyone said was inevitable at the pass.  To steal himself more time.  And now, for once, he had an abundance of it.

At least until he looked in the mirror one day and found more wrinkles under the makeup, more grey under the black.  He’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

For now, he managed a small, humorless chuckle.  “Honestly… it’s the one thing I still haven’t done yet.”

“Figured out what you wanna do?”

“Not yet.  I might stay here for a while, make a few calls until I do.”

“Well, you’re not gettin’ rid of me, I hope you know that.”

“... What?”

“You heard me.”  Jigen tipped back the brim of his hat, exposing his eyes and the total honesty therein.  “I know we’ve been having this whole farewell tour, but… where you go, I go.  I meant it then, and I mean it now.”  A few years ago, there might have been some flicker of uncertainty in his voice, as if afraid that Lupin might turn him away, but now that fear was gone, replaced with a gentle conviction.  Offering reassurance instead of asking for it.

Lupin wanted to cry.  He hadn’t even begun to plan how he would say goodbye to Jigen, even on the way to the hotel.  Nothing seemed like enough, even the wildest, tenderest night of passion before they parted ways.  Knowing his track record so far, it might have been something unremarkable, a final cigarette or meaningless conversation in an alleyway before Jigen exited one way and Lupin another.  Either way, one last goodbye in this endless series seemed inevitable.

But here was Jigen still.  Until the end of the line.  Sparing him any more.

He still felt unbearably tired, but he let that fatigue sink comfortably into him as he leaned against Jigen’s shoulder and slipped a hand into his.  “I’m glad.”

[vagrantblvrd]

modern au wth biker luke meet the parents

Friend, you brain-thoughts, I like them. <3!

(Modern AU idea.)

Let’s say this takes place sometime after Luke’s old biker gang comes to town, at least a couple of months afterwards to allow Din to recover from the shenanigans.

I mean, he likes Luke’s friends just fine, they’re all good people and he definitely appreciates the fact they were there for Luke and his family when he needed them to be, but...they can be a lot.

So.

A few months down the road and things are pretty much back to normal for Din’s odd little family, right?

He and Luke attempt to do Real Dates but the universe at large tends to conspire against them in the form of shenanigans like car trouble or that time the the water main broke and Din got roped into helping fix it and other assorted reasons.

Which, honestly, fine with both of them.

Neither of them are all that big on stuff like that, and are just as happy with staying in with takeout and watching a over with Grogu.

(Or, you know, Cara or one of their friends taking Grogu for the night so they can have Alone Time, although half the time that just means one or both of them ends up a snoring, drooling mess before the credits roll on the movie they’re watching, but that’s fine too, because sleep? But also morning frisky times and the whatnot, or just being sappy saps who are totes married who send the morning in bed smooching and making fun of their bed hair and dumb faces and anyway, they do just fine, you know?)

Once in a while, though, the planets align or some BS and they get to go on a Real Date.

Tends to result in one or both of them being !!! and ??? because it’s been a while since they’ve been on one of those or they overthink the whole thing like they aren’t sickeningly gone over one another and more or less married already, but still!

Must make an effort to show how much they love and cherish the other and want them to feel special and such. (Also, their friends/family have had Meetings about this stuff, insist they have at least one (1) Real Date every six (6) months so they can see how normal human beings socialize.

ANYWAY.

Their anniversary is coming up and everyone insists Din and Luke have one of those Real Dates, right?

There are actual strategy meetings to make sure every possible complication/disaster is accounted for, their friends are going to make sure this thing happens or so help them!!1!

Din is honestly a little terrified of telling them it’s not that serious a matter, and Luke thinks the whole thing’s hilarious. (Gets this wistful look on his face when he gets a glimpse of the war room Din’s friends set up in the back room of Boba’s bike shop and makes yet another vague reference about that time his family was at the heart of a vast conspiracy that spanned decades and effects are felt even now, and yeah.

Din gets sent all over the city to Prepare for Real Date.

According to his friends and loved ones he needs a new haircut, and a new suit - which, fair, the last one was from a job and kind of technically stolen because that time he had to go undercover and there was a suit..shop..and anyway, he apologized, but that’s neither here nor there.

SO.

Din’s all over the place on errands his friends and loved ones assigned to him and it’s less trouble to go along with all this than trying to reason with them.

(And honestly, he’s kind of looking forward to it in a weird way?)

Anyhow.

He’s just leaving the final fitting for his suit - all shy and embarrassed because Cara and Fennec went with him to decide on what he/they wanted for him that first time. They’d both given him the softest smiles when he settled on one he liked, fabric and color and all that, approved and told him he cleaned up nice and anyway, he kind of likes the thought of doing that for Luke, okay. It’s...nice.)

Thing is, though.

He’s had the weirdest feeling the last few days, week, maybe. Like. It’s weird but he the thing where he used to work as a bounty hunter with/for Boba and he learned to trust his instincts, so he’s not completely caught off guard when he gets cornered in the parking garage after his last fitting.

A couple of guys he doesn’t recognize, lean guy in all black and a long coat. Long-ish hair and a scar over one eye. Black gloves - something about that sticks in his head, niggling little thought, something familiar.

The other one’s broader built, a little shorter. Din’s mind categorizes him as the muscle. Wearing a dark jacket, baseball cap pulled down to hide his eyes but there’s something familiar about him too, knocking around in Din’s head.

Definitely a threat, but it’s the first guy Din knows he doesn’t want to turn his back on.

Just this aura of threat, and dangerous, and don’t look away from him in Din’s head and for the first time in a long time he wishes he still carried a gun.

Not that he’s helpless by any means, knows hand-to-hand and all that, martial arts and boxed when he was a kid. Also, you know. That collapsible baton that strictly speaking he shouldn’t have, but knowing Boba means exceptions get made, and it’s one he’s never felt all that guilty about. Especially in situations like this one.

Din hasn’t gone for it because for all the bad vibes these guys are giving him they haven’t done anything yet and he’d rather not be the one to start something.

(Paperwork, you know. Also, his date with Luke.)

Oh, they’re between him and his minivan, acting like a couple of tough guys with the posturing but it’s not just that.

Din knows the difference between idiots who watch too many action movies and think they’re worth anything in a fight and the real thing and these two aren’t the useless kind.

So far all they’ve done is stand intimidatingly, which is strange as hell, but fits with the rest of Din’s life, and anyway.

Just as Din’s starting to wonder if this is going to end in a fight, like, really actually, he hears a bike. Aggressively. Getting closer. Aggressively.

Nothing weird about it because they’re in a city and people drive bikes, and hey. Parking garage where people sometimes park their bikes while going about their business elsewhere and really, he tells himself, it’s just some random person who rides a bike.

REALLY.

Only thing is.

It sounds familiar?

Like.

Really, unfortunately familiar in that he swears he’s worked on it himself a time or two. Become unbearably fond of it’s owner, and please, please, please don’t let it be Luke.

So, you know, of course it’s Luke.

Comes roaring into the parking garage, Din sighing and like oh, goddammit, as he and his two new BFFs listen to Luke approaching.

Bike going vroom vroom and tires squealing as he makes it up every level of the parking garage to where Din and his BFFs are.

And it’s like, there’s part of him worried Luke’s going to crash, but the rest of him knows Luke’s a good driver, knows he knows every little quirk of his bike and how it handles and when Wedge and the others were visiting he got to see Luke show off just how good he is.

(It had been utterly terrifying because potential for death and whatnot? But als super hot, so. You can see how Din is conflicted there.)

Anyway, Din is standing there listening to the love of his life vroom vroom up several levels of the parking garage to, like, rescue him or whatever, and the guys who cornered him are sharing this look like why are we even surprised by this and shrug at each other going from top tier threats looking Very Tired all of a sudden that’s kind of confusing, and entirely relatable.

FINALLY they see Luke coming up the ramp and he’s headed right for them, does that totally rad thing where he swings the back of the bike around as he screeches to a stop, solidly between Din and the other two.

Dramatic as hell, but to be fair Din had been warned about that, something about it running in the family and anyway.

Luke himself warned Din. Obi-Wan warned Din, as well as sharing stories of the stuff he and Luke’s dad got up Before while they worked for the same agency. Cody warned Din, shooting a loot at Obi-Wan and dropping his voice so the other man wouldn’t overhear “Don’t let him fool you, Anakin learned most of that from him,” but there was fondness under the scowl aimed at Obi-Wan’s back that Din understood because, well, Luke.

Everyone in Luke’s life Din’s met told him about the Drama that runs in the Skywalker family, so this?

Yeah.

“Luke,” Din says, because the other two are definitely armed, and love of his life who helped expose a massive conspiracy theory and all, but also maybe not the brightest idea to do this right now. Or ever, really. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Luke being Luke, he ignores Din.

Reaches up to pull his helmet off, and Din notices he’s not wearing the glove on his right hand, or the synthetic skin over the prosthetic, like he was in a hurry, didn’t take the time to “pretty it up” for other people the way he puts it, vague shrug strange smile on his face, like there was something more important on his mind. 

(Din never got the full story about it, just knows it’s tied to whatever happened to his family and the everything that turned Luke’s life upside down, ended up with him in Din and Grogu’s life.)

Luke sets his helmet down in front of him, and gives Din a quic once-over, checking to see if he’s okay before he lets out a sigh. Flashes Din a smile, relief, something that’s simply happy to see him, and a bit like an apology.

Looks like he’s about to say something, but then the lean figure in black takes a step towards them and the smile drops off Luke’s face and his head snaps around to the other two.

The figure in black stops, goes still.

Din stares because he’s never seen Luke look like that in the time he’s known him.

(Remember a night out with Luke, Obi-Wan, and Cody, Luke laughing about double dates and Obi-Wan’s exasperated smile as they watched Luke and Cody in the middle of a game of pool when a pair of drunk idiots wandered over and tried to pick a fight.

A comment they had been far to overhear but easy enough to figure out with the ugly sneer tossed toward the table Din and Obi-Wan were seated at, something that wiped the tolerant smile off Luke’s face, had him pushing past Cody who was trying to de-escalate the situation, and saying something that made the drunkard go white. Scared shitless as he dragged his friend away.

Din had looked at Obi-Wan who just sighed, faint smile on his face as he shook his head.

And Din, Din had said he’d ever seen Luke angry before -

“Angry?” Obi-Wan had said, amused? “Well I suppose you wouldn’t have.”

He’d taken a drink, and leaned towards Din like he was sharing a secret, just between the two of them, and laughed. “You still haven’t, by the way, in case you were wondering. Trust me, you’ll know when you see it.”

There’d been something else too, about Luke taking after his father that way, weight of history Din wasn’t privy to behind it and a fond exasperation Din knew well.)

“Hey, Dad,” Luke says.

He sounds.

Well, the thing is, Luke doesn’t sound angry.

Or, not just angry.

He sounds careful, controlled. Tense. Like he’s a lot of things at the moment, and the wrong word, moved, from his dad - Luke’s dad - will be the deciding factor.

The figure in all black - Luke’s dad? - sighs. Rubs the back of his neck with a hand, shares a look with the man next to him who shrugs.

“Luke,” he says, sounding...sheepish, caught out. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

Din winces on his behalf, feels an odd sort of kinship with the other man who snorts, mutters something like not a great idea.

Luke nods, sounds like oh, no, yeah, I totally understand that.

“I know,” he says. “Good thing mom called to tell me you were coming for a visit.”

Luke’s dad winces. “Oh she did, did she?”

It goes on like that for a bit before Anakin apologizes for pulling this nonsense, approaching Din in a parking garage like something from a spy movie -

“Well, I mean,” Luke says later, once things aren’t quite so bizarre. “He is a spy, so. You know.”

They all head to Obi-Wan’s center where they can “talk” because Luke was supposed to go there to help with administrative stuff or whatever before Padme called, and anyway, surely Anakin and Rex wouldn’t mind?

Obi-Wan takes one look at all of them, the way Luke makes sure to be between Din and the others at all times and pins Anakin with a look.

“Oh, Anakin,” he says, amused and dismayed. “What did you do?”

Din misses a lot of what’s said, things going over his head because Luke and unresolved issues and his dad’s earlier antics, and anyway, anyway.

Din gets a call and goes outside to take it, waves off Luke’s worried look because he’s not done reading his dad the riot act about not being a complete menace about Luke’s life, dad, c’mon.

But the thing is, the call’s not a number he knows, he just needed to get out of there for a moment.

Imagine his surprise, suspicion when he hears, “I hope my idiot of a husband didn’t make too bad of a first impression.”

Because it’s Luke’s mom, and he’s definitely not going to think about how she got his number after the everything with Luke’s dad, and just.

They have a conversation, one that’s actually nice. She asks after Luke, if he’s taking care of himself, if Din is helping in that regard. Asks how Din’s doing, how his adorable son of his is, and Din knows okay. Knows Luke’s sent her pictures of Din and Grogu, the three of them, when he talks to her, but it’s still a surprise how much he talks about them to her?

When he says that, just a random comment he didn’t mean to say there’s a moment of silence and then she laughs. Tells him her son is head over heels for Din, that she’s never seen him like this with anyone, and he adores Grogu, and just.

It’s a lot to take in, hear someone else say, and she must know it because she’s so gentle the rest of their coversation, laughs again as she asks him not to think too badly about Anakin, and he tells her he’ll try, because wow, what a first impression to make,you know?

Just as they end the call the door behind him opens and Din looks up to see Anakin.

He looks...awkward. Embarrassed? Something.

Din watches as Anakin goes over to Luke’s bike, remembers Luke telling him it used to be his dad’s.

Watches the complicated mess of emotions that wash over Anakin’s face as he looks at the bike, runs a hand along the side of the gas tank Luke repainted when he joined that biker gang of his.

Anakin sighs, shoulders slumping and when he looks at Din he doesn’t look like the intimidating figure in the parking garage, like threat and danger and the smart ones run.

He looks. Tired. Worried. Older than he should be, but with what he knows about Luke’s family Din’s pretty sure he knows the reason for that. For what h thought he was doing in the parking garage, maybe, Din’s still on the fence about that.

He understands why Anakin did that, just. Like Luke says, Complicated.

The important thing is that Anakin apologizes to Din. Tells him he’s maybe kind of an idiot - Din is like OH??? - and the Thing with his family that is definitely his fault, but he is trying to work things out with them and he’s just.

A touch overprotective as a result of the everything, so.

He just.

Worries.

Din is like, no, no, he gets it? But maybe try not to look like you’re going to murder your son’s boyfriend in a parking garage maybe? (Assuming Din survives the Skywalker family.)

Some awkwardness and then Anakin’s like, “I didn’t think he’d keep it,” about the bike, because Issues.

And Din is like, well, okay, and tells him what Luke told him about it. About Padme giving Luke the bike and that summer he spent restoring it, about his friends -

“Yeah,” Anakin says, and laughs. “Never expetd him to join a biker gang.”

The thing is he doesn’t sound surprised by that, or even a little worried. Probably used to hiding bodies, or he’s just met Luke’s friends and knows there isn’t anything to worry about there.

Anakin tells Din about how he got the bike, stories when he was a dumb kid and asks if Luke ever managed to get this things with the bike fixed.

Tells Anakin no, it still acts up and is the reason Din and Luke met when the bike broke down that first time, and to his surprise Anakin actually laughs.

“That’s...huh. Padme and I met under similar circumstances.”

Which, weird?

But Anakin’s looking at Din with this tentative little smile, and Din is like, well, he doesn’t know what just that he understands being protective of his people.

So they talk about the bike, and Din tells him about meeting Luke - leaves out the awkward flirting bits but he can tell from the looks Anakin gives him he fills i the details himself.

And then!

At some point Anakin pulls out a little multi-tool because you can’t aways cart a toolbox around with you Din is like, just wonders if Anakin knows Luke carries one for the same reason Well, that and the fact his prosthetic hand can be temperamental and such.

“Well this is definitely better than what I thought I’d find,” Luke says, surprising the two of them who have kind of taken the bike’s engine a little somewhere along the way?

Anakin and Din trying to pinpoint what’s wrong with the bike even though no one has for years by this point, and it’s like uh, ooops?

Because it’s Luke’s bike now and they didn’t mean to, but Luke is just. Amused, fond. Goes over to them and asks if they found the problem yet and when they say no clearly they must continue, and anyway.

Obi-Wan comes out after an hour, maybe two and looks at the three of them with raised eyebrows.

Tells Anakin that Padme’s flight just landed and Cody and Rex left to pick her up from the airport - which.

Huh, that explains where they went. The three of them notices, waved and all but were caught up in figuring out the bike Issue and didn’t give it much thought,

Also, Luke and Din are going to be late for their reservations if they don’t get going and then it’s like.

Anakin all flustered because Padme - knows he’s in trouble with the whole parking garage incident but Padme, and Luke and Din share this look with Obi-Wan because it’s seriously adorable.

Also, though, also.

Luke and Din and a quick conversation off to the side while Anakin goes inside to get cleaned up - smudge of oil or grease on his face, and his hands are filthy and just.

Yes.

And then Luke asks if Obi-Wan and COdy had plans for the night, all casual and such, and Obi-Wan has this little smile on his face.

Because he knows these idiots so well, and tells Luke that no, he doesn’t actually, is there a reason Luke’s asking?

And of course Luke is asking because Luke and Din cancelled their reservations, but there’s a nice restaurant they know that should still have roo for their group if no one object.

Just a nice little family dinner out, and anyway, no pressure?

So of course they do the family dinner thing - Anakin worried because the whole everything from earlier and takes Din and Luke aside and apologizes again, and that they should go have their date and it’s like.

Luke gets this look on his face, all soft and kind of sad and touches his dad on the arm to get him to look at him.

“Just. Don’t do anything like that again, alright?”

That look from the parking garage on his face again for a split second, and Anakin clearly sees it, knows understands.

Looks at Din to see what his feelings are on things and Din just shrugs because while it had been a bit much, he did understand, and anyway.

So.

Din gives Luke a ride home to get ready for the dinner - Luke insisting Din show him the new suit...later, which gets poor Din all flustered while Luke laughs at him, and anyway, anyway.

The go off and have their family dinner, where Din is rightfully in awe of Padme and the way Anakin dotes on her. Gets this soft little feeling in his chest at the easy relationship between her and Luke, and leans over to Obi-Wan at one point like.

“Are Cody and Rex related?” because there’s a definite resemblance between them.

Obi-Wan almost chokes on his wine, and manages to get out something about the two of them being from a big family. Gets this little smile on his face and tells him to ask Boba about it sometime, and anyway.

Padme gets Din alone for a private chat while everyone’s bringing the cars around and getting ready to say their goodnights.

Apologizes for Anakin again and tells Din they both like him very much, and Din while Din is trying to think of something to say about that Anakin pulls up to the curb.

Padme gives Din a mischievous little grin and presses a kiss to his cheek, tells him that what they like most about him is how happy he makes their son, and while he’s all flustered from that gets in the waiting car with Anakin.

Luke comes over, worried little frown on his face and Din is like, so confused?

Luke’s parents are so confusing, and Luke laughing at him about it while he herds Din over to the minivan isn’t helping, and anyway, anway.

For a day that started rather ominously, it ended surprisingly well.

And!

Din even gets a goodnight kiss for his troubles, so you know, good day.

[lykegenia]

It's become a regular thing, Nate cooking her dinner after sparring with Mason. She enjoys the time she gets to spend with him. But all it takes is one little slip to remember that having a vampire for a boyfriend isn't so easy. 

--

Chapter1/3

The waft of enticing aromas hits as I enter the kitchen, a wall of warmth and a faint haze of steam, with the lilt of classical music as an accompaniment to whatever is sizzling on the hob. Fairy lights dance above the antique dining table and reflect in its polished surface, but at the sound of my footsteps the brightest thing in the room by far becomes Nate’s smile, as welcome after my sparring session with Mason as the hot jet of the shower to relieve tense muscles. He sets down a pan of something – sautéing garlic, by the smell – and reaches out to draw me into his side. I sink into the embrace with a sigh as he presses a kiss to my forehead. His hand splays across my back.

“You smell nice,” he murmurs, without pulling away. It’s a new shampoo, fancy stuff from an online boutique that guaranteed the use of natural ingredients that I’d hoped would be easier on his senses.

I smirk, satisfied. “So does dinner.”

The lazy smile as he leans back teases the unspoken innuendo, mirth clear in his brown eyes, though after a moment he lets his gaze fall in careful inspection, his hand trailing up my arm.

“How was training?”

“Either I’m getting worse or Mason isn’t holding back so much anymore,” I chuckle. “At least he’s teaching me so many tricks the guys at the gym are getting jealous.”

“I’m sure it’s the latter,” he says as I roll my neck to stretch it out.

The new array of bruises across my body protest at the movement, and I make a mental note to ask Nate for help later – Elidor gave me some kind of magic salve so the injuries can heal faster, some of which are harder to reach than others. But food comes first.

“What’s on the menu?” I ask.

Still with one arm around my waist, he smiles wide and makes a sweeping gesture over the bubbling pots and pans. “We’re having pan-seared duck over a bed of parmesan mash, with wilted spinach and a side of roasted seasonal vegetables.” He finishes the movement with a swift kiss to my knuckles, and I can tell that beneath the smirk he’s waiting for my reaction.

The first time he cooked for me he confided that he enjoyed making food for others, but since the rest of Unit Bravo doesn’t eat human food it leaves me as his only guinea pig. It’s become almost a ritual for us since then, intimate, something to share, and the effort he always puts in to impress me still ties my insides in knots. No one’s ever cared so much about my opinion before.

“You know,” I tease, nudging closer, “if you keep trying to outdo yourself, eventually you’ll set the kitchen on fire.”

He laughs. “Perhaps. But until then… taste this. Tell me what you think.”

He lets me go to fish for a teaspoon in the cutlery drawer, which he dips into a saucepan of simmering, brownish liquid and holds up for me, the other hand held carefully underneath to catch any drips. If anyone else tried to feed me like this they’d end up wearing the spoon as a hat, but his gaze is expectant, hopeful, and my stomach is gnawingly empty. With my fingers on his elbow to steady his hand I take the offered mouthful. The moment the sauce hits my tongue I have to pull back, hiding a giggle behind my hand. The flavours are complex, savoury then sweet with a hint of spice trailing at the end.

“What is it? It’s…”

He preens at the reaction, just a little. “It’s a jus made with pomegranate molasses. Do you like it?”

“Definitely,” I answer, closing the space and reaching up on tiptoes, and he obliges by dipping his head so I can kiss him. “You’re amazing.”

“No more so than you,” he purrs without missing a beat.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” We had this argument early on; I’m not one to sit by while others work – I never know what to do with my hands.

“I still need to finish the mashed potato, if you want to prepare the duck breast?” he points to the island in the middle of the kitchen where a package sits wrapped in brown paper stamped with the logo of the butcher who runs a stall at the local market. “It needs scoring and seasoning.”

I nod. “Got it.”

Unfolding myself from his side with a final squeeze of his hand, I set about my assigned task. After washing my hands, I take one of the hardwood chopping boards from the rack on the countertop and a slim knife from the stand next to it, and set up my little work station with my back to Nate so he can get on with whatever fancy technique he’s using. The Agency spared no expense with the equipment in any of the warehouse’s rooms and the kitchen is no exception, despite how little it’s used. I’m not exactly lost when it comes to cooking, my limitations more due to laziness than a lack of skill, but half the utensils that fill the drawers are ones I’d never seen before coming here.

There’s a burst of soft fragrance as I pluck a few sprigs of thyme from the planter on the windowsill. Soft scales of piano notes trickle in to fill the silence, soothing the last of the tension from my day of paperwork and solving petty crime.

“What music is this?” I ask as I lay the newly unwrapped meat on the board and start to cut into the skin. “I like it.”

“This piece in particular?” I hear him check on something in the oven. “I’m not certain. It’s from a collection of overtures I found in the Agency’s music library.”

“Overtures…” I consider. “That’s the bit in the opera before they start singing, right?”

He chuckles. “That’s a good way to put it.”

“See? I’m not just a pretty – shit!”

“Leah?”

I’ve already brought my finger to my mouth, the taste of iron welling against my tongue. Of course I wasn’t paying enough attention. The Agency’s knives are sharp – the sting feels like I’ve sliced half way to the bone. Without thinking, I pull my hand back to examine the wound, assessing damage, and instantaneously a bloom of deep red erupts along the white line of the cut.

There’s a gasp behind me.

Shit.

I turn but Nate’s already there, a solid wall so close I have to crane my neck back to see his face. A tiny, wild animal part of my brain shouts an alarm that he shouldn’t have made it there so fast, with so little noise. He catches my wrist, half-lidded eyes on my hand, entranced as a droplet of blood grows too heavy and escapes like an unspooled ribbon down the length of my finger. The moment stretches. His throat bobs in a dry swallow, lips slightly parted.

“Nate…”

His eyes flash up to mine for an unsteady instant, unfocussed and intense, before dropping to my mouth. A harsh breath eases between my teeth, but when he leans closer I realise what must be drawing him.

“Nate.” My voice is firmer, more urgent.

He blinks. The strange, vacant light slips from his eyes.

“The tap,” he manages through a clenched jaw, still fighting for control.

The small, calm part of my mind registering my body’s reaction, prey to predator, struggles with the non-sequitur. The pointed tips of fangs peek out from beneath his upper lip.

“You need to run your hand under the tap. The smell –”

“Nate,” I answer, in the voice they trained into us at the academy for talking down drunks and people with weapons, “you need to let go of me.” The grip on my arm is gentle, certainly not tight enough to hurt, but it’s not one I could escape by force.

Another weightless instant passes – and then he drops me, curling away like a leaf under flame, breath ragged as I count steps across the kitchen floor and all but lunge for the sink. My face pushes into a grimace as my finger hits the cold stream of water, but what blood there was is washed away in a matter of seconds. For an instant, my shoulders sag in relief, only to seize up again when a bang like a gunshot has me flinching for cover.

It’s just the door. It hangs open, swinging with the force that slammed it against the wall, and as I watch, breath heaving, a chunk of mortar falls out of the dent made by the handle and crumbles to the floor.

Nate is nowhere to be seen.

[kireii-writes]

I won’t let you go

-

a huff of annoyance escaped from your lips as your footsteps blended in with the silent night. it was 2:14am, and you were supposed to be back home, snuggling under your toasty blanket and letting your soft bed engulf you in a soft hug as you drift of to sleep. but no, hero work had other plans for you. instead, you were out here in the wee hours of the night, keeping your eyes peeled for any villains. you weren’t supposed to be here- a regular hero was supposed to be in your place instead, but the pro-heros got word that members of the villain league were seen lurking around, and they just had to pick you to keep a lookout just in case.  

sighing to yourself, you grumbled at the task beforehand. you weren’t paid enough to be called out of bed while everyone was still asleep. making your way towards the area where the villains were supposedly spotted, you secretly hoped there were none as a certain childhood friend came across your mind. 

tenko shimura. 

or rather, shigaraki tomura. 

you remembered the day tragedy fell on shigaraki and his family like it just happened yesterday. how the little boy, who was full of sunshine, became an empty shell of his former self instead. when you first got wind of the League Of Villains and pictures of each member, you had a bad feeling. there was something familiar about the leader. who knew, that your worst fear turned out to be true- shigaraki really grew up to become a villain. but who could blame him, after everything he went through as a child? 

~~~

Thwack! the sound of skin hitting on skin resonated through the house as the young boy fell to the ground. it wasn’t the first time you’d seen tenko’s father physically hit him because of the young boy’s talks about being a hero. in fact, it was a normal occurrence in the shimura family. 

“y/n,” you looked up with frightened eyes at your best friend’s mother, who looked back at you with kind eyes.”why don’t you return to the room and wait for tenko?” she encouraged. you wanted to stay and help your best friend, but what could you do? taking one last glance at a trembling tenko, you ran back to his room as fast as your tiny feet could carry you. 

with every second passing, you were close to running out to find tenko. just as you were about to yank open the door of his bedroom, the door was gently pushed open, and a tenko appeared in the doorway. 

“tenko!” you cried out as you saw the stinging red marks on his face, hands, and legs. “are you okay?” tears were spilling out of your eyes as you stood there, watching tenko give you a bright smile. 

“i’m fine.” your friend smiled. ‘come on, let’s continue playing. stop crying, okay?” tenko grinned at you. not wanting to upset tenko any further, you nodded your head and brushed away the tears that were rolling down your eyes as you joined tenko back onto the floor and resumed the game the both of you loved to play- heroes vs villains. 

“are you really okay? you can live with us! i’m sure papa and mama will understand.” you asked tenko. you half expected tenko to brush off this topic with a ‘i am fine’ just like how he did every single time. but instead, he gave you the brightest smile he could muster given the situation. 

“don’t worry about me y/n.”

“are you sure?”

“yes.”

“...”

“just promise me something.” tenko’s serious tone made you look at your best friend in the eye. 

“become a hero, for me, okay?” 

at tenko’s words, tears began to well up again. 

“what do you mean for you? you can become a hero too! when you grow up, you can do anything you want! that’s what my mama says!” 

“not for me.” tenko shook his head. “papa will never let me be a hero. so you’ll have to become one on my behalf, okay?” tenko smiled and ruffled your hair.

not trusting your words, you swallowed hard and gave him a nod. 

“pinky promise.” tenko smiled as he extended his pinky towards you. intertwining your pinky with his, you vowed to become a hero, all to live tenko’s dreams for him. 

“now, stop crying already. you look so ugly.” the young boy laughed. 

“shut up.”

“never.” 

~~~

that was the last time you ever saw that brilliant smile ever again. a few days later, tenko lost control of his quirk, and everyone in his family perished, leaving the young boy helpless. when you arrived with your parents to his house, the look in tenko’s eyes tore your heart apart. it was a look of agony and pure pain. it was a cry for help. 

instinctively, you wanted to reach out to your best friend, but a hand pulled you back to where you were standing. 

“that boy’s dangerous, y/n.” your father warned. “don’t go near him.” 

soon, a crowd started forming at the entrance of the shimura household. everyone was pointing and whispering at tenko, who stood there numbly. there wasn’t any remains of his family members except for their hands and some mangled body parts. tenko had destroyed them all, and now everyone was calling the boy a murderer, a hindrance to society. everyone was against him, and he had nowhere to go. taking one last look at you, tenko ran back into the house and exited through the back door before the pro-heroes could arrive. afterwards, nobody saw him again. 

sighing to yourself, you were about to turn into a corner when a flicker of light from a bar caught your attention. there was someone in there. cautiously, you approached the bar, and saw a group of people. strange, they didn’t look like ordinary people. in fact, there was some kind of bad gut feeling that you just couldn’t shake off. deciding to take a precaution, you had your phone in your hand, ready to call whichever pro-hero that was on duty to handle the situation with you. you might be a pro-hero, but you aren’t stupid. you knew that there was no way you would be able to handle this all alone.

“hm? a mocking voice came from behind you, causing a cold shiver to trickle down your spine. “what do we have here?”

“oooh, a pro-hero!” another voiced squealed. 

instinctively, you knew who the voices belonged to, unfortunately. 

not daring to move a muscle, your mind raced and churned to find a way out of this tricky situation.

“you’re gonna regret coming here, pro-hero.” dabi chuckled. 

“i want y/n’s blood!” toga called out excitedly. 

“go on in.” dabi mocked as he pushed you forward, causing you to push the door to the bar open. 

immediately, every pair of eyes in the bar was upon you. 

“what did you bring back this time, dabi?” you recognized each and every single person in front of you- they were all members of the League Of Villains, and you’ve just stumbled into their hideout.

“some nosy pro-hero.” dabi scoffed. “we caught this fool lurking outside.” 

‘stop squirming or i’ll roast you alive.” dabi ordered as he tied your hands behind your back.

“wait till shigaraki comes! he’ll know how to handle this situation!” the villain, mr compress ordered. 

“like hell i will wait.” dabi retorted. “why should i wait when i can burn this so-called hero alive right here?” 

“dabi, i swear-”

“what the hell is going on? why is it so noisy?” a voice grumbled out. 

at the sound of the new voice, everyone fell silent. that was when a man in a black jacket emerged from the other room. 

“we caught a pro-hero!” toga answered gleefully. 

“huh? pro-hero?” 

as soon as you saw the man who had spoken, a surprised gasp escaped from your lips.

“tenko?”

immediately, the man in front of you tensed up, the air now deathly still. 

“who are you?” he demanded, his eyes now staring into yours.

almost immediately, a look of recognition dawned on his face. 

“y/n? is that really you?” 

you nodded your head as emotions came rushing through your veins. he recognized you. he hasn’t forgot about you. 

“tenko-”

“it’s shigaraki tomura now.” your childhood friend corrected. “what brings you here? how did you find this place?” he asked as he grinned widely at you. you opened your mouth to speak, but was cut off by him again. since when was he so chatty?

“oh!” shigaraki’s eyes widened at your hero costume. “you’re really a hero now, huh?” 

“i didn’t forget our promise.” you replied quietly. 

“...”

“tomura..?”

the man in front of you seemed to snap out of his daze, and red eyes met yours. “that’s too bad, y/n.”

huh? what did he mean by that? 

“i hate all heroes now.” a maniacal grin appeared on his face. 

“what? didn’t we promise-”

“that was in the past.” shigaraki cut you off harshly. “heroes are noting but titles that make people feel good about themselves!”

“but-”

“you don’t understand, y/n.” shigaraki continued in a gentle tone. “heroes are fakes. they don’t really want to help people, it’s all just for show.” 

“you know that’s not true, tenko!” you cried out.

“it’s shigaraki tomura now.”

“what happened to the boy who looked up to heroes more than anyone else? what happened to the boy that wanted to grow up and help others?” you argued, your eyes watering as you finally realize the tenko you once knew was no gone. 

“he’s dead. along with his stupid dreams of being a hero.” shigaraki continued  emotionlessly. he died on that day the pro-heroes left him to rot away as a hindrance to society. you remember now, don’t you?” his eyes bore into yours as the scene from so many years ago unfolded in your head. 

“now that you’ve learnt of our hideout, i’m afraid we can’t let you go like that, y/n.” shigaraki’s voice brought you back to reality.

“what do you say, y/n. will you quit living a life full of lies as a hero and stay by my side and destroy this rotten society? now that I've found you, i don't want to lose you again.” shigaraki whispered as he gently stroked your head.

“no.” you replied firmly, looking back into shigaraki’s cold and lifeless ones. 

“...”

“then i guess you’ll have to die.” dabi piped up after awhile.

“no!” shigaraki’s sudden outburst caught everyone by surprise. 

“y/n,” he turned to you. “think about it. we’re doing everyone a favor. after all, there’s no way a new society can emerge unless this tainted one is out of the way. stay and help me, okay? we can be together forever.” 

“tenko, you know my answer. i became a hero to help people and to live your dreams. you know that i won’t give up on your dream.” you sniffed. 

“i told you, that dream’s long gone already.” he scratched at his neck in irritation. “will you join me or not, y/n? i promise you, we’ll never be apart from now on.”

“...”

“sorry. i can’t let you get away with this.” you hung your head low, your shoulders heaving as teardrops dripped onto the wooden floor. 

“shall we kill this pest now?” dabi quipped. 

“no,” shigaraki ordered as he lifted your head with his hand. 

‘i’m never letting you go again, my precious y/n.” he hummed. 

“i want you to stay with me forever.”

[hyunsracha]

some things — kim seungmin

word count: 2.6k

summary: your life with seungmin was full of routines. but some things change.

Some things never change, you assumed.

The cool metal of bleachers was a constant under your thighs, as was the open binder that sat in your lap. The contents of said binder changed with the seasons, but your eyes scanned them the same. The analytical glare you always wore stayed the same, eyes only ever softening when they came into contact with him. 

Him, with his perfectly styled hair, hours of practice barely messing up the strands. Fitted baseball uniform snuggly pressed against his tall frame, beads of sweat forming at the brow. The sounds of his heavy steps on the bleachers were music to your ears as you pulled your attention from the papers in front of you. 

“What are you studying?” He breathed out, accepting the water you offered to him out of habit.

“Cost-benefit analysis.”

“Again?”

“Unfortunately so. A majority of the class failed our last test on it, so we’re doing it again.”

He chuckled, “But you passed, right?”

“94%.” You grumbled down at the paper. You shouldn’t have to relearn things you already knew. But you had familiarized yourself with every part of this course the first week; you weren’t learning anything new at this point. You closed the binder when he cleared his throat.

“Wanna take a trip to Smith’s? On me.” It was always Smith’s, and it was always on him. But that’s just the way the two of you were. Since you were freshmen in high school, 4 years ago. Your father had gotten a job at a firm in a different city, causing you to uproot your entire life just after middle school ended. On your first day in a completely new area, Seungmin saw you eating lunch alone and decided to join you.

“C...Can I sit here?” You remember him saying, pointing a shaky finger to the seat beside you. And you had nodded, forcing yourself to hide an excited smile.

“What’s that?”

“Oh!” You frowned at the heavy book you had placed next to your tray, “It’s a law textbook. My dad is a lawyer, and he wants me to be one, so I have to read all of this stuff.” You didn’t know what you wanted to be yet, but you certainly didn’t want to be a lawyer. You would frankly rather die than argue with strangers in stuffy ties all day long. But apparently, Seungmin did, “I wanna be a lawyer! Can I see it?” You nodded again, pushing the book his way. You allowed yourself to smile once you saw the way his eyes lit up at the words on the pages. 

Seungmin hasn’t left your side since.

Maybe that’s why you fell in love with him years ago. Because he never left your side. Even after you broke each other’s hearts on a set of bleachers identical to the ones you were sitting on now, too young and too dumb to be good for each other, he never left you. 

You forced yourself up, collecting all of your things and putting them in your bag before following Seungmin to his car. You knew how to drive, and you had a car of your own that you bought in high school, but Seungmin’s car was nicer, and he was nice enough to drive you around all the time. You knocked impatiently on the window for Seungmin to unlock the passenger side door, as you always did. And you immediately plugged your phone into the aux once you were seated, as you always did. Full of routines, you and Seungmin. But that’s what worked between the two of you. How could you ever want to do anything different? 

Well…

You watch him while he drives, a playlist of Dean and Day6 songs soft in the background. He drove with one hand, the other resting on the center console, tapping mindlessly. Maybe you did want to do something different. Maybe you wanted to reach out and wrap your fingers around his. Maybe it would feel like it used to.

You shook your head. You already knew you and Seungmin wouldn’t work out. But then, why was your face suddenly red at the mere thought of holding your best friend’s hand?

Smith’s was a small cafe on the outskirts of town. The two of you have had many a study date here. The warm atmosphere mixed with its cheap coffee made it one of your favorite places in town. Bonus points for the cute barista you had made friends with at the beginning of the year. 

“(Name)! Seungmin! My favorite customers! Your regulars, I assume?” The previously mentioned barista chirped. How Jisung could be so cheerful all the time, you didn’t know. But you always appreciated the extra brightness he brought to your days. You made small talk with the boy as Seungmin paid, not failing to notice the brightness of his cheeks and the small sun he drew on your cup, but not your friend’s. You knew Jisung had a bit of a crush on you; he had practically admitted it to you one night when you were studying alone. And you would go for it, honestly, but there was something holding you back.

That something pushed the warm cup of coffee into your hands, tilting his head toward your favorite table. You followed his footsteps, situating yourself in the booth. The two of you always sat here. Same table, same drinks, same boy. And it felt right.

Conversation with Seungmin was always easy. How was class, how was practice, is that one professor still seemingly trying to flunk you? You could flow from topic to topic with the brunet without skipping a beat. This was the purest version of yourself; no schoolwork, fathers, or expectations making you act differently. Seungmin always brought out the real you, and you figured one day you would have to thank him for that.

Some things do change, you discovered.

You looked past Seungmin’s sheepish grin as his words sunk in. 

You were sitting on the bleachers again. This time, your binder was open to a print-out

about personal finance. Seungmin wore the same baseball uniform with the same perfect hair. But this time, something was different. 

Seungmin was telling you about his upcoming date.

It wasn’t the first time either of you had started seeing somebody else, obviously. It had been over two years since you broke up. 

Let’s see...you had dated Hwang Hyunjin junior year. It ended horribly. You also went on a few dates with Lee Minho last semester. And Seungmin had dated Choi Lia that same year. And Shin Ryujin senior year. And Yang Jeongin senior year. None of those relationships ever upset you. Well, except for the breakups. Especially his breakup with Ryujin. That one was messy.

So why did the idea of Seungmin going on a date with someone new make your stomach flip with something besides excitement for your closest friend? But you smiled anyway, shutting your binder firmly, “Tell me about it!”

“Well..” He started rambling about this boy named Felix that he had met in his algebra class. You could see how excited he was in the way his eyes shone and his hands shook. You couldn’t not be happy for him. So you swallowed your unnamed feelings and placed a hand on his shoulder, “You got this, Min. He’s gonna love you.”

And love him, he did. As did you.

You couldn’t be mad, you really couldn’t. Especially not at Felix. He was probably one of the sweetest people you had ever met. 

Seungmin introduced the two of you at Smith’s, at your favorite table. At first, you were upset. How dare someone come and stain the perfect routine you have with Seungmin? But then you got to know the boy, and you understood why Seungmin liked him so much. Felix was a pretty boy with a face full of stars, yet he shone like the sun. You tried to ignore the burn in your chest when you looked down and saw their hands intertwined. 

When Felix left to go to the bathroom, Seungmin turned to you with the brightest smile you had ever seen, “He’s cute, right?”

You forced a laugh from your throat as you nodded, “He really is. I can tell he likes you a lot.” Of course you know what it looked like when someone liked Seungmin. All you had to do was look in a mirror. 

The three of you stayed at your table for a few hours, chatting and giggling until Seungmin said he had to take Felix home. After they waved goodbye, you let out the groan you had been holding for hours, resisting the urge to slam your head on the table. 

You needed a drink. Not alcohol, but hot coffee to warm the coldness inside of you. Approaching the counter, you plaster on a smile, “Hey, Jisung.”

He smiled back, something big and bright and beautiful, “Hey, (Name). The usual?” You nodded in response. As he turned to prepare your drink, he spoke again, “Why do you always get the same thing? Why don’t you try switching it up?”

You hummed. He did have a point, you supposed. You liked your drink, and you liked your table, but sometimes you itched for something new. Seungmin was breaking from your routines. Maybe it was your turn. 

Perching on one of the stools near where Jisung was currently working, you answer him, “I think I will try something new today. I’ll get an iced matcha latte instead. And…” You heaved a sigh. Maybe it was time to move on; start new routines, “...and your number.” 

Some changes are necessary, you’re still learning.

Being with Jisung was good. Jisung was good to you. You felt good around Jisung. He was a perfect gentleman, the type to open doors for you and pull out your chair. He made you laugh, and he was one hell of a kisser.

Seungmin unfortunately had to discover that when you showed up to your spot on the bleachers late one day with messy hair and swollen lips. He just stared at you, an unknown feeling bubbling in his chest. He knew that your appearance was because of Jisung, and he didn’t like it one bit. Maybe he was feeling protective. His best friend was messing around with some barista boy they barely knew. That was it, right? 

He pointed to your neck, clicking his tongue at the purple mark present on your skin, “What is that?”

Your hand followed his finger, face flushing a dark red once you realized, “Shit! Sorry, that was...Jisung...he- yeah.” The collar of your shirt was too low for you to cover it, so you just kept your hand over the spot, unable to make eye contact with the boy in front of you. His eyebrows shot up, and you could see his jaw clench before you, “Okay.” He turned to go back to practice, his break long over. He seemed upset, and you couldn’t help but wonder why. Maybe he was just being protective. But you were an adult, you could handle a hickey or two. You shook your head to rid yourself of the thought, opening your binder once more.

Weeks passed, and you believed you were settling into a new routine. A routine that involved more Jisung than before. Not quite joined at the hip, you and Jisung spent lots of time together. And you always pushed for more. He was so good, so kind, so sweet. But something was missing. So you planned more dates, hoping to light that spark that would start a fire. 

It never came.

On one of those dates, you spilled your guts. You had drank a little too much. You were still conscious, but you were feeling a little loose-lipped. Blame the Desperate Housewives drinking game the two of you were playing. Your guts just so happened to be filled with love and affection for your best friend, as opposed to the boy sitting across from you who looked at you with stars in his eyes. He had only sighed, taking your cup from you and dumping the remnants in the sink.

“You’re not mad?” You had pouted. 

He breathed out a sad chuckle, “No. I sort of expected it. I’ve seen you two interact...I knew I was only a placeholder. It’s okay.”

He walked you home that night and helped you get ready for bed, only leaving after he was sure you were asleep, plugging your phone in in the living room so you didn’t drunkenly text anyone.

You were thinking too much. Thinking too much about a certain boy, which only made you feel more guilty, considering that boy wasn’t the one you broke up with the night before. So you came to your spot on the bleachers. A part of you hoped he would sense you here and come running, wrap you up in his arms and make it all better. But he was probably out with his boyfriend right now. God, you felt so stupid. Falling in love with your best friend again? Not to mention the whole ex-boyfriend thing. Maybe you never stopped. Maybe every time you looked at him and felt your heart rate increase, it wasn’t in a friendly way. You wrapped your arms around yourself. The wind was cold and you were only wearing a thin t-shirt. You should’ve thought about this before running out here, but the bleachers were the only place you wanted to be right now. You couldn’t cry; you weren’t sad enough to cry. Your phone pinged once, twice, three times. No doubt texts from Jisung, probably saying that he wasn’t mad and he would see you at the cafe and you were still friends. 

The sounds of his heavy steps on the bleachers were music to your ears as you pulled your attention from the baseball diamond in front of you. You furrowed your brow, “What are you doing here?”

He took a seat next to you, “I could ask you the same.” He paused, “Felix and I broke up.”

Well, that was surprising. You turned to face him, concern lacing your features. He felt your eyes on him. He always did. “I realized some things and...we just weren’t meant to be.” You wouldn’t pressure him to speak, but you couldn’t help your curiosity. 

“Jisung and I broke up, too.” His head snapped in your direction, making surprised eye contact with you. He reached out, placing a warm palm on your knee. Your skin burned at the touch, like it usually did. “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, “It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I realized some things, too.”

“Count of three?”

“Count of three.”

This was a thing the two of you had always done. If you both had news to share, you would say it at the same time, so one piece didn’t overpower the other.

“1...2..3...I still love you-”

“I still love you-”

The wind seemed to suddenly halt its attack on your shivering frame. The two of you stared at each other blankly, your minds taking their time processing each other’s words.

I still love you.

You’re opening your mouth to respond when Seungmin takes the initiative, leaning forward and crashing into your lips, rough and gentle at the same time. Your entire body feels like it’s been set on fire, scalding skin set ablaze by Seungmin’s lips over yours. His hands are on your cheeks, your neck, your waist; anywhere he can grab to pull you closer. This is what he was missing. He liked Felix, but the boy was unable to light a fire inside of him like you did. Powerful yet warming, every movement of his lips was laced with the adoration he had been holding in his heart since you broke up all those years ago.

Some things change for the better. You and Seungmin change for the better. 

[secret-engima]

Beneath a Bed of Stone (We’ll be Carried Home)

(I’m actually here and I’m actually doing this. Lemme just- *drops 7k words of angst fic into ya’ll’s laps* there. *gently hands fic into the raccoon hands of @rayearthdudette * *Also tagging @dogsanddigimon @a-world-in-grey @hamelin-born and @ean-sovukau for good measure*. ALSO ALSO before we really get rolling I binge wrote this to This Song but it was This Song that truly slayed me and insisted on a cameo at the end of the fic. Just if anyone’s curious.)

     Once upon a time, there was a woman of Tenebrae who didn’t want to meet her soulmate. She didn’t want to be a Second, to be regulated to the stepmother of a child she had yet to meet, a child who would not be her own. So she ran from fate. But fate is not so easily denied, and when the world burned and the wilds closed in, she was the only guardian standing between death and children who were not her own.

     And perhaps there was an instinct there not so easily denied, a knowing of the wilds and the dangers that hounded after little feet. Because the children under her care did not die, but were instead shepherded to the city of Insomnia, where Galahdian refugees waited with open arms, and a Captain swore loyalty in his heart, and a king who doted on the son that was born from a union without a soulmate.

     So she came to Insomnia, and there she met a sweet little boy who had a destiny too large for his little shoulders, and there she met a soulmate who was the Father and who was endlessly kind. And that was her beginning, for every story has one.

     But some stories, like that of the little Chosen King, do not have only one beginning, but also a second that starts long, long before the first. The story of Lucina of Many Braids is another such story, that had not just one beginning…

     But also the beginning of an end.

     That second beginning, which was really the first, took place long before Lucina of Many Braids found her soulmate through the innocent wanderings of a child, long before she made for the safety of Insomnia’s Wall with children following under her watchful eye, long before she fled the fires of Tenebrae’s burning. It started far, far before any of those things, before there was a Wall of magic and blood over Lucis, before there was even an Empire to wage war.

     The first beginning of the story started with a simple peasant girl, an unwanted child born out of wedlock and kept only for property…

     And a plague.

     Kore’s life wasn’t an easy one, but it wasn’t a bad one either, and she didn’t really mind. It was a good life for a child who was born out of wedlock —worse, out of wedlock between two non-soulmates who were married to their soulmates already—. Father made sure she was never idle, but to be honest, Kore liked being a shepherdess. It was lonely to spend all day from dawn until sunset in the hills outside the village, but the wilds were beautiful and the chocobos never looked at her with scorn like some of the village did. She had plenty of time to herself, plenty of time to make up songs to sing to her little chocobo herd or weave flowers into her hair and imagine they were fairy crowns. When travelers passed through, sometimes they would sit down and talk to her a while, and through them she learned of the world outside the wilds and her little village.

     From the traveling healers she learned of kindness and medicines, from the traveling minstrels she learned of heroes and kings and great monsters to be slain. From the traveling merchants she learned the value of her herd’s discarded feathers, because if she pierced the feather’s shaft just right and added some little beads of engraved wood, they made good jewelry to trade for things like extra food or even a blanket or two. From the wandering hunters she learned how to wield more than just the spear she used to fight off predators looking to kill her herd. One of them, impressed when she helped him fight off a voretooth pack at her young age, gave her a little bow and quiver of arrows and taught her how to shoot straight and true. Another laughed at her spear, calling it a pointy stick, and traded her a batch of her finest feathers in exchange for an old, larger spear with a rusty head that she spent hours upon hours restoring as best she could.

     Sure, her father still treated her with a much rougher hand than his wedlock daughters or sons, and her father’s wife made no effort to hide how shamed she felt by Kore’s existence, but she only had to deal with them in the evenings so long as she got up earlier in the morning than the rest of them, and Eldest Brother was kind to her. He was the one who first let her toddle after him into the hills and taught her how to mind the chocobo herds in the first place.

     She was around eight years old, just a few months away from nine, when she first heard of the plague. A traveling healer passing through with fearful eyes and dire stories of an illness no tonic seemed to cure, a plague that cursed men into monsters and turned their blood black. It was terrifying things to hear, and the healer must have repeated his story in the village, because the normally peaceful atmosphere gave way to tension. Travelers began to be treated warily, in case they were sick, and countless talismans of good health and protection dangled from the rafters of every hut. She didn’t put too much stock in it herself, though she did stop waving at travelers to stop and talk to her, instead lurking in the tree line to watch them pass in silence. Just in case.

     “Just in case” didn’t save her. “Just in case” didn’t stop one of the young chocobos, just out of chickhood, from wandering off from the herd. “Just in case” didn’t help shorten her hours-long search for the wayward cockerel, or keep the sun from setting by the time she had found it and was leading it back to the pen where the rest of the herd already slept.

     “Just in case” did nothing to stop the monster that surged out of the shadows to attack her before she reached the village.

     It was like no beast she’d ever seen, small as a child younger than her, fast and screaming and angry. It was wearing clothes like a man, and a pointed little cap, but there was no friendliness or mind with which to bargain. It did not even respond to the waving of her torch or the strikes of her spear, like pain was just an afterthought to it. It slipped past her guard, knocking her over with a ball of something that glowed eerie pink-purple, then rushing in close to rip out her throat. It got her arm instead, sinking sharp teeth into her forearm while she screamed and ran her spear through its heart at long last. When it died, it withered, turning to mud and dust that dripped down her bleeding arm and onto the ground before disappearing entirely.

     Kore ran all the way home, too frightened to even care that the cockerel had fled into the dark again.

     Eldest Brother helped her treat it, and even her father and his wife were concerned over her tale. She had never been one to tell fanciful stories to anyone but her chocobos, and for all they did not like her, they did not doubt her honest. A daemon, they whispered, from the old tales. What could have attracted it?

     “She’s a child born of unmatched souls out of wedlock,” muttered one of her elder half-sisters, “It could probably tell she was as unnatural as it was.” Eldest Brother snarled at her for it, but the words still made Kore flinch.

     Eldest Brother smiled at her as he smeared tonic on the bite and bandaged it, “Don’t listen to them. Everyone knows daemons only go after the purest and brightest of souls. You must be very beautiful indeed, and strong too, to survive. You’ll be just fine.”

     Kore smiled and hugged her Eldest Brother for his words, ignoring the twinge of her arm. It would go away. Just like the pain from her other animal-made scars.

     Only it did not go away.

     The wound scabbed over black and ugly, and no amount of reopening it and applying hot water and tonics would make it heal correctly. When it finally did close, it left an ugly purple-black scar of teeth-shapes on her arm. She wore a little bandage to hide it after the villagers started to talk, but even after it had scarred, it did not get better. Her arm hurt all the time, a low, aching throb that sometimes flared to searing agony when she least expected it. The scar’s ugly color began to spread up her veins and turn her skin white-pale and the more it grew, the worse her pain was.

     She hid it from all but Eldest Brother, afraid of what her father and his wife would do if they found out. Eldest Brother smiled a shaky smile and discreetly asked any healer passing through, but none of their remedies or talismans or prayers helped slow the spread. Light began to hurt her eyes and her head and her skin, and she started to lose her appetite.

     She lost her temper too. Sudden and uncontrolled, without even realizing it was at risk of being lost. One moment she was bringing in the herd, the next she was screaming and pounding her little fists into the face of one of her other half-brothers for his snide remarks (remarks she’d dealt with as long as she could remember, remarks that had long since lost their bite until now).

     Eldest Brother dragged her off and she screamed at him too before bursting into tears, confused by her own wrath. Father took the cane to her rump to teach her better, but it didn’t help, her temper just got worse and more unpredictable.

     Nightmares started, driving her screaming from her sleep.

     It didn’t take long for the nightmares to follow her into the waking world. Making her lash out in terror at what she thought were monsters, but a blink later proved to be normal people. The village tied her up in a shed and outside she could hear them arguing over what to do with her. Over if they should kill her before the plague spread from her to other people.

     She had the plague.

     She had … the plague.

     That daemon had given her the plague. The plague that travelers said cursed men into monsters.

     Oh. Oh no.

     She was turning into a daemon too.

     A decision was made that day, but it was late, so the result would be carried out in the morning, and that night she couldn’t sleep. Her skin was burning and fear ran its claws constantly down her spine. Fear of dying, fear of herself and what she was turning into (and how had she not realized it, how had she not realized why her skin was paling and why the sun hurt and why her teeth sometimes felt sharp-).

     Eldest Brother ducked into the shed and she warned him away with a sob, afraid any minute she would transform and strike him, any moment her uncontrollable rage might rise and burn him. He cut her ropes with a knife, heedless of her warnings. He smuggled her out past the night watch, gently pushed a sack of food, a knife, and her bow and arrows into her hands and told her to run. If she stayed then she would be dead by tomorrow afternoon, and even if she was sick with a plague, she was his baby sister and he couldn’t let that happen.

     Terrified of death and herself and the sudden loss of her whole world, Kore ran away without looking back.

     She never saw Eldest Brother again.

     She ran into the wilds, away from the roads where people travelled, away from the hills her chocobos had lived on all their lives. She ran the other way, into the woods. Deeper and deeper until she couldn’t run anymore from exhaustion. As soon as her limbs stopped shaking, she got up and ran again. She ran for days, then when the sun became true torture, she started running at night.

     The dark didn’t stop her from seeing where she was going anymore.

     Her pack of food was left behind somewhere along the way. She was hungry, starving even, but not for anything in the bag. Even the little berry pastries Eldest Brother had slipped in —the ones that had always been her favorite— were tasteless and revolting.

     The nightmares got worse, and they followed her. Sometimes they were her half-siblings, taunting her and spitting on her, sometimes it was her father’s wife, raising her ladle to strike and calling her a stain on the family. Sometimes it was the monster that had done this to her, but she knew it wasn’t really that monster, because instead of screaming, it spoke and when it spoke it was with Eldest Brother’s voice, twisting it into something spiteful and poisonous. It called her monster. Coward. Unnatural. She tried to scare it off, but none of her screaming or angry swipes of her knife would make it go away.

     Her skin became white as snow. Her veins turned black as coal and her teeth became sharp enough to cut her lip if she wasn’t careful. Time slipped away. She couldn’t remember what day or night it was, or how long she’d been gone. Her legs itched-itched-itched and it got hard to put one foot in front of the other when really they just wanted to move together as one, often leaving her sprawled on the ground, caught for hours-years-ages between nightmarish rage and exhausted reality. Eventually she stopped being able to tell the difference of even that.

     Everything hurt. She was hungry-hungry-hungry-angry-hungry-where-was-food-where-was-somethingtohurt-.

     There. Road.

     She was in the branches of the trees, burning light was setting-setting-almost-gone-safe-enough and below was dirt and stone and food.

     Food was sitting on the feathery thing that kwehed-kwehed-kwehed. Feathery thing could sense her, it was afraid yes-yes-good-good. Better-better that Food was still unaware, patting feathers and making noise-noise-noise that grated at her ears and made her angry-angry-hungry-angry. She breathed and smelled blood. Fresh blood. Pumping-pumping-pumping away under thin skin and she wanted it. She wanted to bite it she wanted to eat it she wanted to hurt it.

     She lunged out of the trees and down-down-down. Screamed as she missed and tumbled off the hindquarters of the screaming feathery thing because her legs were wrong and half fused into the tail they should-have-been-would-be-too-slowly. The food fell off the feathery thing too and she lunged for it, mouth open for biting and blood and hurting-.

     Impact. Pain. Tumbling end over end until she hit a tree and she screamed in agony and fury because feathery thing had kicked her, feathery thing had kicked her away from her food. She would kill it too she would rip it apart and smear it’s insides on the dirt as it screamed she would-.

     Food came closer, long stick-staff-stick in frail little bitable fingers, making more noise and she lashed out at it, struggling to get back up when her legs wouldn’t move right and her middle throbbed from the kick and her bones were still scraping back together. Food pushed her down with the stick and she howled in fury at being weaker than food, held down as it flaunted itself so close she could smell its blood just out of her reach. The noises took on a different note and she didn’t care because she hated it, she wanted it dead she wanted it to die.

     The stick pulled away, then struck before she could recover. The crack of wood against her head was sharp and loud, filled with power that sticks shouldn’t have and as the blackness swallowed her up and the twisted nightmares of the things-she-didn’t-remember laughed at her, she heard Food made another soft noise.

     “Oh little one, you’ll be alright now. Let me help your suffering…”

...

...

     Kore woke up with a sluggish blink, then squinted at the sunlight poking her eyelids. Had she … been doing something? Where … where was she? If the sun was already up, then who was taking care of the … herd…

     Memory crashed back, blurry and disjointed and terrifying and she sat up with a gasp. Hands caught her, warm and much larger than her boney shoulders, “Easy there, you’re going to be shaky for a while. But you’re alright now.”

     Kore flinched away from the touch, because she was sick, she was sick and going to turn into a monster at any moment and she might hurt this person if she stayed. The hands holding her steady didn’t falter, not even when she stumblingly told him she had the plague. Instead, they squeezed her shoulders in comfort, “You’re alright now child. You’re not sick anymore.”

     Kore stopped. There was a surety in those words, a faith she couldn’t deny. She blinked and really looked at the man holding her still. He smiled at her, blue eyes bright and kind, his red-violet hair a flyaway mess that glowed in the sun. He was dressed in simple healing robes, and there was a healer’s staff nearby. He looked tired, like he had spent the whole night watching over something (someone. Her?). She licked her lips, “You … healed me?”

     The man nodded and sat back, finally letting go of her shoulders, “I did. I found you just in time. Or,” he laughed softly, “you found me. But it is the same in the end. See for yourself.” He gestured gently at her arms. She looked, and a moment later she started crying, because her arms were pale but not deathly white, and there were no purple-black veins winding up her skin. The bite that had started all her troubles was a faded, nearly gone scar the same color as all her other ones, and when she reached for nightmares and rage all she found was exhaustion and relief.

     “You healed me,” she whispered hoarsely, voice cracked from disuse and memories still foggy past that night she ran away from the village on Eldest Brother’s order, “You saved me.”

     “It was my pleasure and honor-, oh.” The healer hesitated, then his hands came to rest on her back as she clung to him and sobbed from relief, “It’s alright, child. It’s alright now.” He held her and soothed her until she had stopped crying, then he fed her a thin, easy soup. When she was settled, he asked softly, “Do you live nearby? In the next village perhaps? I can take you there.”

     Kore shook her head. These woods were a stranger to her, and even if she knew where she was … she couldn’t go back. The village had decided to kill her. What if she went back and they killed her anyway out of fear she wasn’t really cured? She couldn’t go back. She didn’t want to go back. “I don’t have a family,” she whispered, “Eldest Brother was- he was the only one-, he told me to run. So I did.”

     The healer looked at her with sorrow in his eyes, “I’m so sorry. I … I can still take you to the next village, I am known there, I can ask them to take you in-.”

     She shook her head, and an impulsive desperation filled her bones, “Take me with you.” She looked up, desperate and pleading, “Take me with you, please! You saved me, I owe you a debt-.”

     He wavered, “I really don’t think-,”

     “Please,” she whispered, “I don’t have anyone else. Or anywhere else. I want to stay with you.”

     The silence settled for so long she started crying again, sure he would say no. Then he sighed and rested a hand on her head, “If you are going to travel with me, Little One, then I need a name to call you by.”

     She sobbed in relief and leaned into his touch, “Kore.”

     “Well, Kore,” he murmured as he stroked her ratty hair, “my name is Ardyn, and you may travel with me as long as you like.”

...

...

     Ardyn was not just any healer, he was the eldest son of House Caelum. A healer blessed by the Astrals with the ability to take away the plague people called the Scourge. He was kind, and skilled, and stubborn, and Kore traveled with him without hesitation. He showed her how to make tonics, and how to tell when someone was just starting to be sick with the Scourge, and she watched in wonder as he cured them. Cured anyone he could find no matter their state of mind or status. He was endlessly kind and loving to his people, and he doted on Kore in a way only Eldest Brother ever had. She learned at his side, and though she couldn’t heal anyone like he could, she learned to help in other ways. Like comforting and distracting the children with stories and songs and gentle touches while Ardyn healed whatever ill relative was tied down inside the hut this time. She held babies so mothers could embrace their spouse and cry for joy, and she comforted little ones until the maddened screaming softened to gasps of relief and awareness. When they were done, Ardyn would smile at her, proud and kind and pleased, and they would move on, leaving stories in their wake of the Sage and his little shadow, and to his people, Ardyn was unshakeable. A rock for all their hopes when the Astrals seemed to have turned a deaf ear.

     But Ardyn, she knew, was also clumsy, and absentminded with himself, and he disliked fighting to the point of being a bit of a pushover, and Kore had been a shepherdess of silly chocobos for too long to ignore his need for a protector. She begged him for a spear, her own weapons long lost, and when he looked at her in confusion, she told him that he had saved her life, so now she would protect his. Even from his own stupidity. He laughed and ruffled her hair, told her that he would be in dire straits indeed if he needed a tiny ten year old girl to protect him, but if that was truly her wish, then he would train her to be the finest Shield that House Caelum had ever seen.

     And he did. He gave her a spear from his armiger, and then later gave her access to his magic itself, settling it in her soul, setting light to her blood with power that let her call her spear or bow and arrows from thin air, that let her wield the elements as easily as the fairies from the stories. She took her self-appointed role seriously, guarding his back from wild animals, or bandits, or Scourge victims too far gone to save —the ones already turned fully into monsters, the ones that could not be held down long enough to cure—, making him sit and eat when he forgot, making him rest before he could fall over from his driving need to help his people. Eventually, when she was thirteen, he wandered back to the capital, and there she met his younger brother Somnus and Somnus’s Shield, Gilgamesh.

     Somnus’s eyes were very cold toward them both, scoffing at Ardyn’s mercy and at the little brown haired, brown eyed peasant girl standing at his side with a spear and skin bare of any soulmark despite her age —she didn’t know if being so close to turning into a daemon had barred her from getting a soulmate, Ardyn just insisted that some people did not have soulmates and that it was just as natural as having one, or that perhaps her soulmate was just too young for a mark to form yet—. Gilgamesh laughed at her outright, calling her small and weak, less than half the height of her own spear and surely too tiny to lift it. Let alone use it in battle.

     He stopped laughing when she knocked him onto his back and shoved her spearpoint under his chin during a spar, too angry and determined to feel her own split lip and sprained ankle and bloody side until later when Ardyn tutted worriedly over her.

     Somnus and Ardyn often fought over what to do about the Scourge. Somnus was in favor of killing them, saying there was no choice but to contain and eradicate the scourge with fire. Ardyn said there must be mercy, there was a cure and it should be found and until it was, he would be that cure. Neither would budge, and the topic made Kore’s skin crawl —she would have been one of those slain and burned, she could have been one of those Somnus called mindless monsters—. Ardyn’s trips to the capital were already few, and they got fewer as the years went on and the rift between brothers got larger.

     As Ardyn got sicker.

     Kore was horrified when she learned the price of Ardyn’s power, even if she didn’t stop him, didn’t even suggest it. She had been one of those victims, and she knew how desperately people needed the hope of a cure. She also knew Ardyn wouldn’t stop even if she did beg him to. Instead, she got Ardyn a cloak with long sleeves to help him with the sun, and when they visited his lover Aera, Kore kept watch from afar and prayed for healing while his Oracle soulmate tended to Ardyn in body and spirit.

     She was eighteen when everything fell apart. Fast and wiry and strong, small but mighty and protective of her Healer King, her Sage. They had been on the run from Somnus’s soldiers for months by then, and Ardyn’s sickness was getting worse —so much worse. Thousands he had cured, the sickness of thousands he carried, and yet there was always more to find and it hurt her heart to see him suffer, it hurt her knees to spend all night praying for a different cure to be found so he would be spared—. Then the soldiers came and instead of violence, they knelt and declared Ardyn king. The Astrals had finally decided on who was to sit upon the throne, and they had chosen Ardyn.

     As well they should, Kore scoffed in Ardyn’s amused ear, Somnus certainly wasn’t the one working himself to the bone to fix this mess.

     Ardyn chuckled tiredly, but there was a darkness in his eyes. He held her hands and asked her to do something for him.  He’d heard rumors from one of the larger towns that the Scourge was appearing there, and he had planned to go there next. He needed her to go check, so that after the coronation he would know whether or not he had to go straight there or if there would be time to consult the Astrals on creating a larger scale cure.

     He had sent Kore to scout ahead before, and she thought nothing of agreeing to this. She promised to be there in time for the coronation, to stand at his side as his Shield —as his adopted daughter, claimed in secret by rites long held secret by the scions of House Caelum—.

     But there were bandits on the road home, and during a fight on her way to the capital, she sprained her ankle, drastically slowing her pace.

     She did not make it to the coronation.

     She was too late to save Ardyn and his soulmate from Somnus’s treachery.

     The common folk warned her on the city outskirts, turned her aside with mixed stories. Ardyn had become daemon, said some, the Sage was betrayed, cried others. All of them said the same thing. Both Ardyn and Aera were dead, and Ardyn’s corpse was locked away on Angelgard.

     Kore had thought she’d forgotten what fury felt like since being cured of the Scourge, but now she felt it, hot and thick, burning in her bones and carving tear tracks down her face as she fled. She wanted to kill Somnus and his traitor Shield, but they were surrounded by ignorant nobles and soldiers who didn’t know the viper they guarded and she was only one.

      Her only hope was her magic. She still had it, still had red crystals that came to her call, and she knew that so long as they remained, Ardyn lived. Ardyn lived, though Somnus claimed him dead, and she had to find him.

     She went to the shores overlooking Angelgard, she stole a boat and sailed for it only to be turned back by the brutal storm winds. She tried again, and again, and again but was turned aside each time with unnatural accuracy —like the Astrals themselves barred her way even though she could feel Ardyn, feel him on the island from this close, feel his pain and his grief— until her ship was smashed against the rocks and she screamed her rage at the sky. With a broken heart and bitter words, she turned away from Angelgard. She took to wandering the lands, a sellsword and a healer, a mercenary and a killer of the men Somnus sent to round up entire villages of people for the illness of just one.

     Gilgamesh tried to hunt her down, but she was small and fast and the woods at night had stopped being scary long ago. He never found her, but if she had ever seen him alone and without his army, she would have let him. She would have killed him. Burned him alive with the magic in her veins that proved Ardyn —her Healer King, the true king, her father of the heart— was still alive.

     She was twenty-seven when Somnus’s men caught her and dragged her to him in chains. She looked into the face of a kinslayer, a brother killer, a pretender and saw a broken man looking back. “You still have his magic.” Somnus said after dismissing everyone, even his seething Shield, from the room. Kore snarled at him, low and feral like the daemon she had once almost been. Somnus stared at her, and she watched in a mix of confusion and vindication as he sagged onto his stolen throne like a man tired of life, “I was wrong.”

     She stopped snarling, more out of surprise than anything else. He laughed and the sound was bitter, filled with a self-loathing that matched her own hate for him, “The Astrals showed me what I had done after I put on the crown. I have doomed generations. Worse, I have doomed my own brother to an existence of torment until the new Chosen King is born.”

     She breathed in hate, exhaled poison, “You murdered the Oracle. You imprisoned your own brother all for a throne that wasn’t yours. What did you expect.”

     Somnus rubbed a hand over his face, and when she demanded why he hadn’t just let Ardyn free, Somnus told her he couldn’t. He had sent ships there to retrieve him, but the way was barred by storms, and the entrance to his cell was walled up with thick stone. Kore was horrified, because surely her king would have a slow, starving death, then grew more horrified when Somnus told her that Ardyn couldn’t die. Not by any mortal means. Not until the new Chosen King was born and set him free.

     Unless.

     “You traveled with him most,” Somnus told her as he knelt before her, a man in chains of prophecy and sin where hers were iron, “you saw his methods and his magic. Help me find another cure. Help me bring him back.”

     She stilled. She stared.

     In the end, there was no choice for her but one.

     “I hate you,” she hissed, “and I always will. When Ardyn is free and well, I will kill you for what you’ve done to him.”

     A twist of his wrist and her chains dissolved into blue magic, “And I will let you do just that. After we find a cure.”

     “After,” she agreed and could already imagine his blood running down her spear.

     And so the Pretender King and the Shield-Daughter searched, and invented, and searched more. A hundred medicines they created, both magical and mundane, a thousand maladies they learned to turn aside, even to the point of reviving someone from a newly dead state —the Phoenix Down, named after the stories, not able to save everyone, only those who had died mere seconds before, yet still unable to cure the Scourge—. Gilgamesh watched them and seethed. He did not trust her, he blamed her for Somnus’s guilt and nightmares and regret, she bared her teeth at him and hoped he suffered for his role in Ardyn’s fate as well.

     Somnus gained a wife, and then two healthy, boisterous sons, and Kore watched him with sharp eyes as he told them obliquely of his sins in the form of a fairy tale and a monster he called Adagium. “Tell them the naked truth.” She hissed in the shadows of his study.

     “When Ardyn returns, all will know the naked truth.” Somnus promised. Then he paused and whispered with a voice that showed the age beginning to silver his hair, “Spare them when I am gone. They do not deserve to pay for my sins.”

     “I will spare them.” she promised and meant it. Because his children were innocent of their father’s sins, and Ardyn would never have let her do otherwise. Even if the eldest son listened too much to Gilgamesh and watched her with wary, scornful eyes.

     Somnus was hailed as king. As wise. They named him the Mystic and built statues in honor of his magical and medicinal prowess, and in the dark of night, Kore and Somnus drank bitter wine in a sarcastic toast to human folly and forgetfulness.

     When he died, she was forty years old and there was still no cure.

     There would never be a cure and both of them knew it. They had known for years, yet never stopped looking.

     She stood at his bedside as he died, in the place where his wife would have stood had she not passed three years prior. As his last breaths shuddered into sobs that wracked his old frame, Kore didn’t blink. Didn’t speak.

     “Find him,” Somnus ordered, though in truth it was a plea, “Set him free.”

     “I will.” She replied, “No matter what it takes, I will be there when he is cured, I will welcome him back into the sunlight that you took away.”

     “Tell him,” Somnus whispered, too tired to speak louder, “that I am so, so sorry and that … I … love…” He exhaled.

     He didn’t breathe again.

     “I will,” she promised quietly, because even though she hated him, he was still Ardyn’s brother, and even at their lowest point, Ardyn had loved him. Then she turned and left out the window. Gilgamesh would come in from training with the guards hours later to find his king had passed away without him, seemingly without any witnesses, without any company or comfort.

     The world would remember that Somnus died alone.

     They would never know that his brother’s Shield, the woman who hated him with every fiber of her being, had still possessed enough kindness in her soul —kindness taught and put there by Ardyn, her king, her adoptive father— to hold his hand until he died.

...

...

     Kore roamed for three more years, searching for a cure she knew would never be found. Gilgamesh hunted for her, as did the eldest son who blamed her for his father’s “weakness” in his later years. But Kore was old herself, and she didn’t trust her body, scarred and battle worn as it had become, to last much longer anyway. With the last of her coin, she purchased the sturdiest little ship she could afford, and one more time, she sailed for Angelgard’s shores.

     The storm lashed her, tore at the sails and chewed on the keel, it clawed at her and screamed for her to turn back, and into the wind she screamed right back. This time there was no turning back, this time she would make it to Angelgard’s shore or die in the attempt. The mast shattered, the hull broke. She plunged into the frothing, roaring water and swam.

     It was late when she dragged herself onto the grey, lifeless shores of the holy island. Or possibly early. She couldn’t tell. There was blood running down into her eyes, and she could no longer feel one of her legs. Her lungs burned with each breath, and copper coated her throat and turned the water she vomited out to red. She had one of the potions Somnus had created with her help years ago, but when she took it, all that stopped was the bleeding on her head, and some feeling returned to her leg. Well. She had said she would reach the shore or die in the attempt. Now here she was. She staggered to her feet and followed the winding path through the black rocks as the rain stopped and the storm cleared. When her leg gave out again and would no longer work, she crawled on her hands and knee. When her other leg gave out and her head swam from copper-tasting air, she dragged herself with her hands.

     She reached the prison. The wall of stone was just as thick and sturdy as Somnus had despairingly described. His masons had done their jobs very well.

     She hauled herself upright using the lines in the stone, and the armiger in her soul sputtered from her pain as she dragged out her spear and mindlessly dug at the masonry with the head. I’m here, she tried to shout but had no energy to, I’m here, father. Dad. The spear broke off in her hand, she pounded at it with her fist until her grip grew too weak and she slid bonelessly down to the ground. Rolling over to sit with her back against the stone, she sighed and spat out a wad of blood. “I’m sorry,” she whispered hoarsely, “I’m sorry I can’t get you out. But I’m … here. I’m right here.” She blinked back tears at the sunrise creeping over the mainland mountains, “I’m staying right here.”

     She didn’t know if he could hear her. If he could sense her through the stone. She couldn’t reach out with magic like he could to her, and she didn’t know if in his pain and sickness and darkness he could sense how close she was. She didn’t know. But she could pretend.

     She closed her eyes against the sunrise, felt it warm her ocean-chilled skin. She could pretend. And if he really could hear her … she could sing.

     Ardyn- Dad- had always loved her singing. He’d loved the ditties she made up as a child shepherdess on the lonely hills. He loved the ones she’d made up as they travelled and saw so many things. There was one that had always been his favorite, they’d sung it together many times on the road, and it had never sounded sweeter than when they had taught it to Aera and sung it together in a three way chorus. The only voice left now of that group was hers, and her voice was hoarse from the blood in her throat and the struggle to get here, but … she could pretend. She could still sing.

“Stay … in my shelter,”

“Beneath … a bed of stone.”

“Though tides pull me under,”

“I’ll be carried … carried home.”

     Her breath rattled, she spat out another copper clump. With a shaking hand, she pressed her palm against the unmoving stone door, squinted at the sunrise like if she concentrated hard enough, he would be able to see the sunlight through her eyes.

“Grey shorelines … break the silence,”

“With songs … of rivers flow,”

“And I … see you … cross the ocean…”

“But I … will never go, I will … never … go…”

     Her hand slipped to the ground.

     The sun shone soft and warm across Angelgard’s grey and black stone as the Shield-Daughter of the Sage stopped breathing, her back still pressed against the cell door that held her father and king.

     And so the first beginning, was also the first end. But not the only one. Because souls are stubborn, stubborn things, and she had never gotten anywhere in life by giving up. Because she had made a promise, and promises were things to be kept. One way or another.

     “No matter what it takes, I will be there when he is cured, I will welcome him back into the sunlight that you took away.”

     In the darkness between life and death, the soul called Kore walked. She walked and walked until eventually she reached the border. She reached for it, and she was found. “Mortal. Turn back. Your time has ended.”

     “I can’t. I have promises to keep.”

     “Those are for naught. The one you have sworn to is beyond your reach. Turn back, Shield of the Accursed.”

     “The Sage. His name was Ardyn and he was your chosen. He was my father.”

     “Once, yes. But he has fallen into darkness. He is now Accursed, and his end will usher in the end of the Starscourge. Go back to your rest, Mortal.”

     A silence that was heavy, resentful and stubborn.

     “Well? Do you dare disobey me?”

     “I’m sorry, Great Draconian.”

     “Return to your rest, Mortal, and all will be-.”

     “But I didn’t get this far by lying down and letting go.”

     “Wait-! Cease!”

     Great claws tore her as she ran by, peeling away the name of Kore, the memories of things long lost. Stripped of purpose save the need to run and fulfill a promise now taken away, she kept running, kept moving even as the pounding of great wings drew ever closer.

     Ice and cold. It curled around her like the breath of winter and in it there was judgement and amusement, “You should turn back, Mortal. You have displeased him.”

     “I can’t. I promised.”

     “And this promise means that much to you?”

     “Yes.”

     Frost caressed her shoulders in the shape of slender hands, “You should have been one of Ramuh’s children. Stubborn as you are. The Prophecy must be fulfilled and the darkness banished … but…” Ice firmed beneath her feet, snow crunching along the invisible path, “The magic that governs this world is older than the Dragon of Steel or any of us, and there is no interfering in those strong enough to Walk Twice.”

     “He took my memories.”

     “For a time. They will return. Your soul is still marked, and that bond is not something so easily unmade. You are a strange soul. Oh,” A low laugh that sounded like the first snowfall of winter, “it would seem you more stubborn than even you realize. There are very few that Walk Twice, and even fewer content to wait until their second journey to find their other half.” Fairy lights, refractions of starlight on snow lighting a path through the void, “Very well, little Saepio. Continue onward and keep your promises. May you find the end of your journey worth the path to get there.” Hands of ice and blizzards pushed her on and she stumbled through the fairy lights, slipped and fell-.

     In a small town in the land of Tenebrae, a child wailed her first breaths to the sky. Her parents laughed for joy, held her close and named her Lucina.

     The child fell asleep, and a year or so from then, the black smudges on her arm would solidify into the words, “Thank you for looking after my son. But why did you not tell anyone he was here?”

     Inside her soul where scars from dragon claws lingered and memories sank too deep to touch, red magic waited. For years and years, until Lucina was adult, and married, and strong. Until the Marilith loomed, and she pulled her son into her arms and hunched her back over him and reached for power with one thought and one thought alone.

     I am a Shield, and I will protect you.

     And magic like blood and promises bloomed.

[tothemeadow]

Commissioned by @hinokami-s​

Kamado Tanjiro x OC

- When the days seem gloomy and Hayami’s obviously stuck in a rut, Tanjiro decides it’s on him to make her feel better, but with secret little notes... - 

warnings: none

words: 3.5k

-

And when the world treats you way too fairly, well it’s a shame that I’m a dream…

It hurts. It hurts so, so much. No matter how far she tries to escape it, the visions keep coming back, haunt her during the dragging hours of the night. It shouldn’t come as a surprise when Hayami firsts starts to see the darkening bags underneath her eyes, the way her fair skin loses its gentle glow. It’s only a nightmare, she constantly tells herself. That may be so, but this certain nightmare shouldn’t be revisiting her so often, just waiting for her to drift asleep.

Even now, her memories of the dreadful dream run through her head, make her days dimmer than what they should be. How long is this going to last? Hayami desperately needs her sleep, but if this continues, well… She doesn’t know what to do.

On the other side of the door, there’s a gentle knock. “Yami-chan? Are you alright?” Nezuko’s sweet, twinkling voice sounds. “You’ve been in the bathroom for a while, now…”

Oh, yeah. Hayami supposes Nezuko is right; she has been in the bathroom for some time now, absentmindedly staring into the mirror, at her horrified eyes and dark circles. If anything, she looks more like a shell of her usual self.

“Give me a moment!” she calls back. No, she doesn’t want Nezuko to worry. Frankly, she doesn’t want anyone to worry, but the Kamado family has a certain way of creeping into people’s hearts and rooting themselves onto their souls. Quickly splashing some water in her face, Hayami releases a long, shaky breath. Pushing the loose strands of hair behind her ears, she takes one last glance at her reflection before finally turning away and opening the door.

As expected, Nezuko’s large eyes glitter with concern, her eyebrows furrowed. She looks too much like Tanjiro whenever she does it, and it never fails to pull at Hayami’s heartstrings. “Yami-chan, you know I don’t want to pressure you or anything…” she starts, voice small. Tapping her fingers together, she glances around, makes sure that the two of them are truly alone. “But what’s bothering you?”

Ah, there it is – the inevitable question. Now, Hayami’s always been one to turn away her own problems, rather choosing to focus on the other people around her, but when the tables are turned… Well, it leaves her feeling icky, to say the least.

Still, Hayami forces a smile, both for her own sake and for Nezuko’s. “What do you mean?”

Nezuko sighs, much like she was expecting this exact response. “You look… tired. Dead, even. And, well, your hair is down, so I thought…” Trailing off, Nezuko shifts her weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable and unsure of how to approach the subject. Like Tanjiro, her senses are keen; she’s able to pick up on the slightest of troubles, but she usually stays to herself, not wanting to bring discomfort to others.

It’s one of the things Hayami admires about her, but at the same time, she wishes Nezuko would drop it. She has a point, though; instead of her usual ponytail, Hayami’s long hair hangs loose, brushes against the entirety of her back. At times like these – at times of unease­ – her hair is the closest thing she has to a shield. Granted, only few people know of this so-called “habit,” so she can’t necessarily blame Nezuko for asking the reason why.

“Don’t worry about it, Nezuko,” Hayami tells her, albeit softly. “I just haven’t been sleeping well. It’s no big deal.”

Nezuko opens her mouth, seemingly ready to complain, but then she’s abruptly cut off by excited squeals. Shigeru and Rokuta come barreling down the hallway, cowboy hats on their heads and horse figurines in their hands. A chorus of neechan! greets her; both boys hop up and down in their spots, beaming grins on their faces.

“Neechan, play outlaws with us!” Shigeru exclaims.

“Yeah! Yeah! Outlaws!” Rokuta echoes, his voice a bit more chipper than Shigeru’s.

“Now where are those sneaky no-good-doers?” a voice drawls. Tanjiro comes into the hallway, then, a cowboy hat of his own sitting on his head. His face instantly flushes upon seeing Hayami. “O-oh… Yami-chan, how are you feeling? I was afraid you fell ill or something!”

“Uh-oh, the cop’s here!” Shigeru yelps. Both he and Rokuta scramble to hide behind Hayami, giggles spilling from their lips.

Hayami can’t help but laugh, the unease settling over her heart dissipating for once. Nezuko’s expression softens at that, but the look in her eyes still yells concern. Hayami ignores it, opting to forget her woes, even if it’s just for a little bit.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” she says to the two boys behind her. “I’ll keep him distracted while you two make your getaway! Go on, hurry!”

And, just as fast as they appeared, the boys take off again, proclaiming their gratitude as they scurry down the hall. With an amused huff, Tanjiro walks over to the girls, pushing his hat further away from his face in the process.

“Thanks for that,” Tanjiro says, a smile spreading easily on his features. “I swear, it’s like everyone else in this family wants you to be the eldest sibling rather than me sometimes.” His eyes flitter over Hayami’s loose hair for a moment; the smile on his face flattens into a straight line, the happy gleam in his eyes melting away into something sadder. “Yami-chan…”

“Listen,” Hayami interrupts, putting her hand up, “is it okay if I can crash here for the night? It’s just… Things are a little trying at home right now. I could really use the company.”

Cocking his head, Tanjiro seems bewildered by the sudden request, but the surprise quickly dwindles away. Sharing a glance with Nezuko, he nods his head, that familiar, soft expression coming back to his face. “Of course you can. You know you’re welcome here anytime, right?”

At that, Hayami’s heart flutters, both from gratefulness and well, something else. “Thank you, Tanjiro.”

-

Now, Tanjiro may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but he does have heart. His empathetic nature is one he was born with, one that developed into something strong once his younger siblings graced his life. And, considering that he and Hayami are extremely close, it’s only natural for him to pick up on her continuous crestfallen behavior. He doesn’t want to push it, though, because he knows that she’s just like him, always willing to put others first and ignore her own problems for the sake of others.

He still wants to support her, no matter what. And so, he does the only thing he think that might actually help…

-

“A note?”

Both of Hayami’s friends – Shinobu and Mitsuri – say it simultaneously, although in different tones. Mitsuri’s in more whimsical, romantic; Shinobu’s is more or less skeptical. Hayami nods at them, feeling just as confused as they are. It was mysteriously left in her locker this morning, and it had no name on it whatsoever. No initial, no hint, nothing. In fact, if it didn’t have her name on it, Hayami would have thought it belonged to someone else.

Granted, finding something so… special… waiting for her sent her heart flying into the clouds. The note itself was made of pink construction paper, neatly folded and even tied with a white ribbon. The sheer amount of effort put into the outside of the note only left impatient wonders for what could possibly be written on the inside. Hayami has already reread it, like, three times, but that’s not the point.

Handing it over to her friends, she watches as Mitsuri eagerly pulls off the ribbon; she’s practically shaking with excitement at this point. Knowing Mitsuri as much as she does, Hayami is more than aware of her romantic side. She’s not surprised as Misturi releases a delighted squeal, a lovely blush blooming on her face.

“Calm down,” Shinobu tells her, but a shit-eating grin is on her own face. “Let me read it.” Taking it from Mitsuri, she holds in before her, clearing her throat before she begins.

|Hayami,

I know things haven’t been the best lately. I can tell you’re hurting, but I just want you to remember something important. You’re important to so many people (me included) and you’re truly incredible. It pains me to see you without that beautiful smile of yours, but I’m not sure how to help. You always keep your pain hidden, and I want nothing more than to take it away. I want to see you smile again.

Sunny days are coming, I promise.

<3<3<3<3 xoxoxo|

“Oh my gosh!” Misturi gushes. “Look! There’s even little doodles on the paper!”

“Is that… supposed to be a cat?” Shinobu asks, cocking her head and squinting her eyes. “I don’t wear glasses, but I might need my eyes checked out after looking at that.”

“Shinobu!” Hayami squeaks. “Don’t say that!”

“Yami-chan, you have a secret admirer!” Misturi continues. Clutching her hands to her chest, her eyes glaze over with a joyful, love-stricken glow. “Think about it! Somebody is just waiting out there, wanting to confess their love to you! This is great!”

“Okay, but don’t you remember Valentine’s Day?” Shinobu interjects, a neat eyebrow raising on her forehead. “She got – what? 23 different people confess to her?”

At that, Hayami scratches her cheek in embarrassment. While it is true that she’s had so many people confess to her throughout the years, something about this note strikes her as different. For once, it doesn’t outright say that the anonymous sender holds any romantic feelings for her, but the choice of words leaves much food for thought. At most, this person is only wanting what’s best for her – pure, unadulterated happiness. It’s sweet, nonetheless.

Mitsuri pouts. “But this is different! This is secretive! Clearly whoever sent it doesn’t want to be outed for their feelings just yet. They’re giving chase! I say we try and figure out who it is!”

“Isn’t that a bit… irrational?” Hayami says. “There’s so many people who go to this school-“

“I agree with Mitsuri,” Shinobu cuts in. Hayami does not like the mischievous expression playing on her face. “We can single out the person who wrote this. Look at the handwriting, for example. Whoever left it obviously took their time writing it – it’s neat, but their natural handwriting still shines through. It’s messy.”

Both Hayami and Mitsuri gawk at the other. “You got that just by looking at it?” Mitsuri exclaims. “That’s so cool!”

“Hang on. Aren’t you two taking this too seriously? I doubt it’ll lead to anything more…”

Shinobu rolls her eyes. “Oh, to be young and naïve. It’s only because you’re super popular and have people practically drooling at your feet to have a chance with you. If we can find out who sent it, it shouldn’t be a problem. Like you said, it probably won’t lead to anything more.”

“Except that it will!” Mitsuri says with a giggle.

Hayami doesn’t know why her friends are so adamant about something so trivial – silly, even – but she supposes they have a point. Though, in the back of her mind, she’s almost positive that it’s some random admirer, just like the others. However, there’s another part of her that’s saying the exact opposite.

Either way, her friends have set their minds to discovering the so-called “culprit” or whatever their selected codename is. If one thing’s for sure, it’s that the hunt is on.

-

By the end of the school week, there’s still no obvious suspect.

Shinobu and Mitsuri are still hellbent on figuring out who’s leaving the sickeningly sweet notes; they’ve been popping up every day, much to Hayami’s secret pleasure. Something about them makes her heart soar, the overwhelming sense of joy and love flooding her very being. The feeling can only be described as beautiful.

Even now, she stares down at the folded piece of pink paper, the darling white ribbon wrapped neatly into a bow. Heart beating furiously against her ribcage, she gently pulls at the end, loosening the ribbon and opening the note.

Like usual, the various doodles decorating the edges catch her attention first. Pictures of cherry blossoms, mochi, crude cats… They’re all so delightful, and Hayami cherishes each and every single one of them. Little stickers join in alongside them: fluffy little animals, Sanrio characters, cute things like that. Whoever’s been leaving these notes obviously knows what Hayami likes, that much is clear. The attention to detail makes the note so much more special; worrying her bottom lip, she flicks her gaze over the neat-yet-messy handwriting, absorbing each and every word carefully.

|Hayami,

I’ve noticed you’ve been wearing your hair up again! Things are looking up, right? You always had this habit of wearing your hair down when something’s bothering you… Not that I mind (I think your hair is really pretty!) but it’s nice to know that your old self is coming back. I’d like to think these letters are at least bringing a smile to your face 😊 You’ve always been special to me, you know that? I wouldn’t know what to do if you weren’t my friend. We should have frozen yogurt at my house sometime this weekend! I think I have some strawberry froyo in the freezer… You like strawberry, right? I can always pick up another flavor if you don’t!

<3<3<3<3 xoxoxo|

That’s just… so cute!

Holding the note close to her chest, Hayami suppresses a squeal. How could somebody be so sweet? Pulling it away, she rereads it over and over, the smile on her face growing to such a point that it hurts her cheeks.

Now that she’s really looking at it, it says that she and the anonymous writer are friends. Plus, they mentioned frozen yogurt, and not many people know that’s one of her favorite treats! Does this mean that this mysterious person is going to give themselves up? If they were going to follow through with their plans and invite her over for froyo, then they’d have to, right? It only makes sense.

As much as she doesn’t really want to admit it, her curiosity is getting the best of her. Maybe – just maybe­ – if she follows in Shinobu’s and Mitsuri’s footsteps and plays detective herself, she can find out who’s been leaving the notes! It shouldn’t be that hard…

Right?

-

And so, at the end of that very school day, Hayami sets her little “plan” into motion. Well, it’s not really a “plan,” but it’s pretty close. Instead of going on a whole shebang of deciphering handwriting and dusting her locker for fingerprints (and yes, Mitsuri did think of that idea), she’s choosing to sit and wait. Call it intuition or simply a gut feeling, but the person whoever was responsible for the notes was bound to show up again. And, if they were going to show up and invite Hayami to their house, this is the time to do so.

As the last stragglers hanging around in the hallway finally take their exit from the building, Hayami slings her backpack her shoulder. A mix of anticipation and excitement boils within her blood, makes her nerves frantic and tingly. She isn’t quite sure how she should she go about this; after a moment or so of silent thought, she decides to hide around the corner and wait for this “knight in shining armor.”

Time passes – seconds, minutes, hours, Hayami doesn’t know. All of it feels like days to her. Before long, she’s mindlessly scrolling through her phone, debating whether if she should ditch the plan or not. With a sigh, she slips her phone away, drawing herself to a stand. Her knees ache from crouching so long; taking a moment, she winces at the slight pain, but then she immediately clamps her mouth shut at the sound of footsteps drawing near.

Slapping a hand over her lips, Hayami peers around the corner, her long ponytail swinging behind her. Wait, wait – are her eyes deceiving her? Tanjiro? What’s he doing here?

And if that wasn’t enough, Tanjiro glances around, seemingly checking out for any bystanders. Hayami ducks away just in time, her breath going still in her lungs. She watches on as Tanjiro shucks his backpack off his shoulders and brings it around his front; digging around inside one of the front pockets, he pulls out a folded-up piece of pink paper, a white ribbon wrapped neatly around it. Quickly, he walks up to Hayami’s locker, pops it open, and then gently places the note inside.

It was Tanjiro the whole time…?

The revelation sends Hayami’s heart wild; forget about the clouds, the clear blue sky. Her heart is flying through outer space, becoming one with the millions of stars shining through the darkness. Her best friend, this sweet, sweet boy… Now that she knows, it doesn’t seem surprising. Actually, she should’ve figured that it was Tanjiro the entire time, considering how his personality is.

“Tanjiro,” Hayami calls out, stepping away from her hiding place.

Upon hearing his name, Tanjiro flinches. Whirling around, he drops his backpack, his jaw dropping once he sees who it is. “Y-yami-chan!” he stammers, his face immediately heating up. “What are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you the same thing,” Hayami says, a delicate smile coming to her pretty face. “Tanjiro… Have you been the ones leaving the notes behind?”

If possible, Tanjiro’s blush turns even darker. Rubbing the back of his neck with a hand, he looks away, a sheepish smile spreading across his lips. “I… I can’t lie, and there’s no point if you saw me…” Clearing his throat, he dares to look at Hayami. “…It was me. It’s just… You’ve been so bummed lately, you know? And I wanted to do something to help you out – gah!”

Hayami suddenly slams into him, then, her arms snaking around him as she buries her face in his shoulder. Although she’s taller than Tanjiro, their bodies fit well together, almost like two long-lost puzzle pieces. He’s warm, delightfully so, and he smells like the bread his family’s shop makes.

“Thank you, Tanjiro,” Hayami mutters. “Really. Those notes you left… I love them. They mean a lot to me.” She squeezes him harder. “Thank you so much.”

Tanjiro releases a pent-up sigh. “Of course,” he says, his arms wrapping themselves around Hayami’s form. “You know that I’ll always be there for you, right? No matter what it is, thick or thin… I’m here for you.” He pulls away, then, just far enough that the two are looking face-to-face. “It hurt to see you so sad like that.” His face crinkles with concern. “I didn’t want you to be sad anymore.”

Oh, lord, is this boy an angel or what? Saying such sweet things like that…

“Tanjiro…”

Looking at each other like that, eyes glistening, cheeks rosy, Hayami doesn’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s the both of them, drawn to each other like magnets or something easily as cliché - it doesn’t matter, though. Tanjiro’s lips are ridiculously soft as they slide against Hayami’s; it’s a dream of hers that she’s never dared to speak of, one that she thought of frequently. But to finally be able to live it, to make it a reality…

Her mind goes completely blank as her fingers slink into Tanjiro’s hair. He’s just so soft, so tender, so dreamy. Here’s literal perfection standing before her, kissing her with a gentle passion. After a moment or so, Tanjiro pulls away; eyes fluttering open, Hayami looks to him, to his pleasant smile and mirthful eyes.

“That was nice,” she hums.

Tanjiro’s earrings clank as he bobs his head. “It was perfect,” he chirps. Pressing his forehead to hers, his eyes fall shut. “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he confesses, his voice just barely above a whisper.

Something irresistible and warm caresses Hayami’s chest, whisks her away to a world of fairy tales and happy endings. She’s only heard of such feelings in movies and in writing, but to experience it for herself – well, it’s a little off-putting, if she’s being honest, but it’s so wonderful.

“Same here,” she replies. “What… What do we do now?”

Leaning back once more, Tanjiro opens his eyes, a hopeful gleam to them. “I guess… If you want… We can be together? You know, be more than friends?”

At that, Hayami can’t help but release a giggle. “Is the famous Kamado Tanjiro nervous? You’re one of the most confident people I know, and this is what gets you?”

“Hey, don’t be like that! I’m not experienced with this sort of thing…”

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing you, Tanji. I’d love to be more than friends.”

“Wait – seriously? For real? I-I mean… Of course! That’d be great! Yami-chan, I’m so happy!”

Again, that cheek-hurting smile comes back to Hayami’s lips. “I’m happy too, Tanjiro. I’m happy too.”

[frywen-bumbles]

The Way to a Man's Heart Goes Through His... Cat? Ch2

Days 6-7: Jaskier gets some unexpected messages and looks after house plants

AO3

Master of Music.

Jaskier loves the sound of it.

What he doesn't love is the half-empty document staring at him from his laptop screen.

'Historical Facts, Recent Myths, Current Connections: The Witchers in Historical and Contemporary Music'

He has all of his research material on hand. He has read through it. Several times. But writing the actual research down isn't happening.

Gods above how much he wishes he could just compose new songs and throw his brain out of the window. He doesn't even believe in any gods but if praying will help writing to happen he's willing to try.

Roach sits on top of the bookshelf, in one of her favourite places to... stare at him. And judge. Or maybe Jaskier feels like the cat is judging him. She hasn't warmed up to him during the first week at all, all she does is stare at him whatever he does but doesn't let him close enough to touch yet alone to brush.

"You know, Roachie if you won't let me touch you soon your owner will have to shave you naked when he returns."

Roach doesn't answer.

Of course, she won't answer. He must be going bonkers. Maybe a walk will help. He doesn't hold high hopes, everything is going shite anyway, what good could one walk do?

He snaps a quick silly selfie of himself and Roach and sends it to Roach's owner, like every day. It doesn't take long for the mark to turn blue to note the message has been seen. No answer, but at this point, Jaskier is not surprised. There has been no answer in the previous days, why break the tradition now? Some people just aren't made for small talk and Jaskier isn't going to force it. Not that he'd want to see the man. No, that would be ridiculous.

He gets lost in his thoughts, trying to figure out how to put together his thesis in some sort of coherent way as he walks to the nearby park. His phone buzzes in his pocket for a new message. He digs it out, not giving it much thought expecting to see a message from Essi or Pricilla. What he sees makes him almost drop his phone in his shock.

Cat dad answered? And with a photo?

A honk makes him realise he's standing in the middle of the road like an idiot and he crosses to the other side to reach the park. Only it feels like he doesn't need to have a walk anymore, this is more excitement than he's had in the entire week.

He opens the message.

A selfie with a blonde girl and a man stare back at him. He feels like his heart will stop.

"Essi?" Jaskier has to talk to someone. He knows he shouldn't, he promised absolute confidentiality. But he will burst if he doesn't talk about this to someone. He will absolutely without a doubt die.

"What is it, Buttercup?" Essi drawls like she has all the time in the world.

"Cat dad it insanely hot!"

"Whaaat? He texted back?"

"Yes! He's off the wall hot? I can't deal with this! How am I supposed to just sit working on his desk knowing what the man looks like? He will haunt my dreams, Essi!"

"Well, spill the tea! What does he look like?"

"You know I can't tell you, just know he's the hottest dude I have ever seen, okay? I can't deal with this. How am I supposed to write academic bullshite when his picture sits on my phone and I could just... look at it whenever I want to?

"Jaskier, for fucks sake. Your thesis is already a year late. You have been promised a place in the doctoral programme. If you keep sitting on your arse with this, instead of being the brightest student at the Uni, you will fail, understand? Get your shite together and stop falling in love with every person you happen to see."

"But, Essiiii... He's really hot!"

"I know, darling. Just keep it in your pants until you've finished with your thesis. Then I give you my permission to go chase the hot cat daddy."

"Melitele forbid, Essi, you're no fun. I wasn't going to chase him! I don't even know where he is. I just can't get over the hotness, okay?"

"Mm hmm, I know you too well. Get back to work or do I need to remind you why you took up pet sitting?"

"No. I'm sorry. I'll take a small walk and then get right back to writing, I promise."

Jaskier does not get back to writing.

He stares at the picture in his phone trying to figure out how a gorgeous man like that could have such an impersonal home. The man has his hair tied back in a messy bun, revealing an undercut which tells the milky white locks are natural. Jaskier didn't know he had a thing for blonds, but he sure as hell does now.

The girl's young, maybe around ten years old, Jaskier isn't sure. Kids aren't exactly his forte, all of his friends are still firmly stuck in their studies instead of having families of their own.

The picture had been taken by the girl, the grin wide on her face suggesting taking it had been her idea. But the soft smile the man has as he looks at the girl is melting Jaskier's heart.

If only someone would look at him like that he could die happy.

A crash from upstairs startles him enough to put down his phone and look at the time. Jaskier tries and fails not to fall into despair. He has wasted another day, not a single word written and how he wishes he could just throw up all of his ideas into coherent text but it is not happening.

He closes his laptop. It's no use. Going like this he'll never graduate.

Roach stares at him from the door, covered in dust and... definitely more dust.

"I'm a mess, aren't I, Roachie?"

Roach doesn't answer. Instead, she screams and runs downstairs, expecting him to follow like a good servant. His phone buzzes for a new message and Jaskier taps it open.

<Water the plants. Remember to brush the cactus.>

Remember to what the what now? He stares at the message, trying (and failing) to ignore the image above it.

"What the fuck?" he mutters to himself as he makes his way downstairs to stare at the house plants he has given no thought at all up to this point. On the windowsill in the kitchen is a lone cactus, right next to where Roach likes to sit and look to the yard. A cactus completely covered in cat hair and Roach is happy to provide how that particular thing happened. She jumps next to the plant and rubs her head against it, leaving even more hair on the spines.

"Brush the cactus. Okay then..."

<How do I brush a cactus?>

<What the fuck Jask?>

Jaskier snaps a picture of the cactus and sends it to the group chat with Essi and Pricilla.

<How do I get rid of the hair???>

He gets no response. ... appears on the screen several times before crying laughing emojis fill the screen.

<Thanks a bunch -.- >

He goes to dig through the cabinet where he found cat things and discovers a comb.

"That'll have to do," he sighs and gets to combing the cactus, careful not to harm it. In the end, the cactus comes unharmed from the endeavour but unfortunately, Jaskier doesn't. His palm is adorned with spines he spends a good five minutes plucking out with tweezers.

<If i die bc of a cactus related infection I'm blaming you>

<omg what did you do>

<Squeezed a ball of hair in my hand but it was filled with spines from the cactus>

<lmao>

<lmao???? I'm suffering and you're laughing??? Essi, Pris is being horrible>

<it is only what you deserve>

<OMG rude!>

<kissy face emoji>

Jaskier looks up from his phone when he hears water splashing. He doesn't even want to know what toy the cat has decided to drown now but if he doesn't hurry the whole kitchen will be filled with water.

Roach is happily playing with a toy mouse dunking it in her water bowl and tossing it around, spreading water everywhere.

"Roach, please? Could you just... not do that?" Jaskier begs as he fishes the mouse out of the water bowl and puts it to dry in a cabinet. "This may come as a surprise to you but I do not enjoy mopping the floors after you." He complains as he dutifully takes kitchen towels and dries the kitchen. At least it's better than the time Roach tucked the entire kitchen rug in the water bowl while he was out.

"You are a menace," Jaskier tells Roach after he has cleaned up everything. Roach meows.

Jaskier feels like he has barely fallen asleep when he wakes up. At first, he doesn't understand what woke him, but another yowl has him wide awake. What has him jumping out of the bed and run is the sound of pumping, like someone was trying to unclog a toilet.

"Roach you bastard, where are you? Please don't throw up on a carpet!!" Jaskier tries to find the cat based on the noise, stumbling in the dark. To his horror, the noise is coming from the second floor, where he was absolutely forbidden to go.

"Roaaaaach...!" he whines and makes his way up the stairs.

The view that awaits him when he flips the light on is totally unexpected. It is so unexpected Jaskier has to pinch himself to believe he's actually standing in a real room.

It is, and really the only way to describe it is every little girl's dream room. The room spans the entire second floor, ceiling low on the sides showing it was renovated from an attic, pinks, purples and blues adorning the furnishing.

And right on the middle of the white rug is the vomit.

"Fuck."

Jaskier collects the rug and carries it in the bathroom and spends an ungodly amount of time washing it, hoping against all the odds, the stain would leave.

It doesn't.

Come morning and Jaskier is sure it's all been a weird dream. Unfortunately for him, the stained rug awaits him in the bathroom when he goes to brush his teeth and he groans in frustration.

Roach meows at the closed door and scratches it until he lets her in so she can stare at him. Jaskier sighs and snaps a quick selfie, hair mussed and toothbrush still in his mouth and sends it. No need to prolong it, now he can hopefully focus on writing.

He's drinking his third cup of tea when his phone buzzes for a new message.

<Roach's hair is as messy as yours>

Jaskier stares at the message, sent from an unknown number.

<Who is this?>

<Youre looking after daddys cat>

<You're the girl! From the picture!> <I'm Julian but you can call me Jaskier> <Wait you shouldn't text strange men does your dad know you've texted me?>

<You're not strange you just told me your name> <I'm bored daddy went out with grandpa and im left with uncle> <Hes no fun> <I'm Fiona>

<Hello Fiona, it's nice to meet you>

Jaskier doesn't know what else he's supposed to say. How does one talk with children? Just like normal people? Right?

Wait!

Jaskier comes to a sudden realisation; now he has the perfect opportunity to ask cheat codes for Roach to get the cat to, well maybe not like him but to tolerate him.

<How do I brush Roach? She doesn't let me near her>

The screen fills with laughing emojis earning a sigh from Jaskier. No help then.

<Give her cheese> <Shes crazy about it but only gets it after shes brushed>

Of course, why hasn't he thought to give the cat cheese? Maybe because it doesn't make any sense. Who gives cat cheese when there are perfectly good cat treats available?

Nothing else about this makes any sense either and since writing isn't happening nor is Fiona texting anything else he makes his way to the fridge and digs out a block of cheese and cuts a piece.

Roach runs at him screaming. She thrills and screams and rubs herself against the drawer where all of her brushes are.

Roach doesn't purr when he combs through her fur, but feeding her bits of cheese every time she gets too annoyed helps and like a miracle Jaskier manages to brush a cat-sized pile of loose fur to show for his efforts. He gives Roach the last piece when he has finished and tries to pet her, but she sprints away from him with an annoyed meow.

Maybe Roach doesn't hate him as much as he thought after all.

[prettycutebunny]

On the other side

Illumi x reader

It’s part of a collab with my discord lovelies hope you enjoy it.

The fire was burning your flesh as your throat scorched. Everything was wrong ! You did nothing wrong but everyone is wrong ! This is not how it was supposed to happen. You’re tired, so tired of crying,begging,and screaming. They were the accusers,judge,and the jury. Why did it end up like this?

You two were young and naive. He always had a mean streak. He loved toying with people and animals alike but he wasn’t mean to you. You both decided to marry once you’re adult. Your parents approved. Love comes with time doesn’t it ? Being “soulmates” is for romantic suckers you didn’t need it ! Just a home and protection. How’d you know he’s going to find his “soulmate”? You still can remember that day when he came to you looking so happy yet mad?

“Hey,can we talk?”

His face was grim,which is weird compared to his deranged smile he held most of the time. His gang was standing nearby like guards. What’s going on ?

“Sure, are you okay ?”

“I found my soulmate,I’m going to cancel the engagement”

He said it without any hint of a joke. You felt rage boiling inside you. How dare he?

“No. I don’t care about this soulmate bullshit. You said we are going to get married and everyone knows that. I won’t allow you to break your promise. I refuse to be humiliated”

Yelling at someone you knew was resentful and vengeful wasn’t one of your brightest ideas but you couldn’t help it. Him canceling this whole thing and going with someone else was out of question. He wasn’t angry however he laughed.

“I know you’d say something like that”

He exchanged looks with his friends and they all attacked you. Screaming and scratching did nothing. Three men who loved fights and crime against a woman,it’s a losing battle. They didn’t care about touching you as they carried off toward the village. Your screams attracted attention as everyone got out of their home to check all this racket. Genthru Dropped your legs as his friend held your arms behind your back. He stood in front of the villagers and yelled.

“I caught my dearly beloved doing black magic”

He announced causing a chaos among people. There’s been dead animals found around the village which many interrupted as a sign of a witch nearby.

He held his hand high showing a weird looking necklace.

“She gave me this. It has a love potion in it. When my dear friends pointed it out and I took it off I started seeing the truth. She tricked us all”

“Are you kidding me ?! I don’t know what you’re talking about you cheating .....”

You voice was muffled by one of his friends as he kept talking. He kept showing weird items you never saw around saying you gifted them to him hoping to keep him beside you.

Tying you to a pole the edges of the village wasn’t hard. You couldn’t fight three of them let alone a hoard. There’s been rumors about monsters living on the other side of the river. You as a horrible witch deserve to be offered to them. Your flesh shall appease them as you slowly burn to death in the middle of nowhere with no one by your side.

The fire was closing in as the nearby wood started catching it. Your skin slowly melting,that’s when you felt it. A present of some sort. Opening your eyes you noticed a little boy. He was pale with beautiful blue eyes and white hair. His clothes were so elegant. He slowly approached you passing by the fire without an issue. You felt your ties loosen as he pushed you off away from the heat. The feeling of cold ground and the breeze on your skin was heavenly. You were burnt badly and dehydrated near death. The blue eyes boy spoke up.

“If you are a witch, why didn’t you use magic to escape ?”

You tried to laugh but it came as a weird scratchy noise. Your throat still dry and you legs burnt badly you couldn’t talk or move.

“Killu,how many times do I have to tell you. Stay away from humans. They’re food nothing more”

The new voice made your heart stop. From the frying pan to the fire of course. Looking up to the new comer. He was pale like the white haired boy,black long hair,big black doll eyes, and tall lean body. He slowly approached assessing you.

“She’s badly hurt brother,she was screaming so loud it annoyed me”

He said looking at his brother pleadingly

“If you’re going to kill her , can you do it quickly ?”

He asked giving you a pitiful look. The little monster had more mercy than you entire village. At least you won’t suffer for hours and you can come back to haunt the hell out of you fiancé. Excuse me, ex fiancé.

“Fine,but I’m drinking her blood.its a waste letting it rot with her”

He said approaching you before lifting you by your shoulder.thats when you felt it. Your entire body was filled with weird scorching warmth as your vision became suddenly so lively. Your heart was jumping out of your skin as you stomach started flattering. By the way he dropped you like you were a hot potato, he felt it too. His black eyes looking and assessing you again but not as a threat this time. Your entire skin turned pink as his eyes examined you from your hair to your toes.

“Brother ?”

The little boy asked.his older brother put picked you up suddenly.

“She’s my soulmate killu, I’m taking her with us.”

You looked at him before pointing to the river nearby. You’d pay half of your life for a sip.

“Oh,hold on”

He stopped putting you down in the middle of it. The water felt so good as you drank and wetted you’re burnt skin.

“Better?”

“Yeah”

Your throat still hurt,but at least you can talk. As he picked you up again you looked him in the eyes and introduced yourself hoping he’d do the same. You even added human for good measure.

“Im illumi zoldyck. What you humans call a “vampire””

“And I’m killua ! His little brother”

You looked at the little boy smiling. He was so adorable

“Nice to meet you killua. Illumi can I ask you a favor ? As your soulmate and all”

His eyes looked down at you studying your facial expression.

“Soulmates increases the life span and gives us more the best kids. I’m not letting you go”

You shook your head.

“No, you turn me to one of you ? I want to go back and kill my asshole ex and his new wife”

You said praying he’d agree. That jerk was going to pay. While you’re out there you’d burn the village for good measures.

He looked amused as he nodded seemingly liking the idea of getting rid of any guy you were once close to. This is going to be fun.

[mcfanely]

The Blessed Moon

The Celestials, gods that observe the thriving world. Be it amongst the mortals, or from a distance, their existence has a profound effect on the world. Providing day and night, warmth and comfort, safety. They are worshipped, or feared. They give blessing of their power to a select few. Yet, some people feel as though they deserve the favour of the gods, and there isn’t much they won’t do to get it. 

4304 words 

Trigger Warning: Death, Graphic Injury, Blood

The cloying sensation of muzziness and fog surrounding his mind made it hard for Cole to open his eyes, but he found that even with the confusion and the nausea that seemed to come in tandem with his gradual waking awareness; he wanted nothing more than to let his eyes slip closed all over again and let the darkness of sleep take him. 

Only, the feeling of a cool breeze running through his nightclothes, and the unusual awareness of not being in his bed anymore forced him to try and make sense of the situation. 

Cole remembered his dad putting him to sleep that night. He remembered the long day he'd had before that. Sitting around, trying to keep his four year old self from getting bored. His father, Lou, renowned performer for the God of the Sun; had taken him to work that day with the knowledge that he was to be respectful and quiet in the temple as he entertained the visitors that came by. 

Kai was a very welcoming and enigmatic deity, and some legends said that whilst he existed in the sky, shining down and providing day, allowing crops to flourish under his watchful gaze and humanity to thrive under the day that he provided; he preferred being amongst the humans. That he took the form of an assortment of animals, though mainly favoured the look of a fox. He gave light and joy to everyone and the temples dedicated to him reflected that. 

If Cole was told to sit still, he tended to do the exact opposite. Everything and anything was interesting, and the best time to sneak away and explore the Temple of the Sun was when his father was far too distracted to notice and stop him. 

He'd made sure not to touch anything, not that he'd been able to reach what seemed to catch his eye. Yet, everything seemed to. The temple rose high, towering walls and pillars that held up the structure, adorned in the brightest red tapestries that the seamstresses in the nearby villages had been able to provide. The brightest colour Cole had ever seen. Then there was the gold, glinting in the sunlight that came pouring through the open doors, along with people from far and wide. Large oaken contraptions that stayed hanging open from the tiny hours of the morning just as the sun peaked its glow over the horizon, to the late night as the final rays of its light descended and darkness took over. 

To a child, the notion that everything in that room had been built, crafted so expertly all in the name of a benevolent god that allowed them all to thrive and grow and live. It was astounding. 

For about the whole of ten minutes. 

Cole padded around the main room, explored the hallways that webbed off to the sides. Toddled past cleaners with wooden buckets of steaming water, some people dressed in some nicer tailored clothes with loaded platters of food heading straight to where the central sun dais was situated, providing food for the masses of people that came and brought with them gifts for their god. 

A few people spared him a few glances, though most workers knew who he was. They gave him small waves, smiles. Cole simply continued to gaze around each new room in turn. Until the corridor circled back around to the performance area, and he was back where he'd begun. 

And he was quickly bored again. It didn't help that his father's job seemed to stretch on for so long that it was almost like the day was stretching and making Cole's boredom and torture worse. He'd looked around, but now there was absolutely nothing to do other than sit around at the side of the room, try not to complain, and allow his dad to work. 

He must have picked a small pile of loose threads from his linen shirt when his father had come over to him. The sun had dipped, long shadows cascaded over the floor and Cole let out a large yawn when he felt himself get picked up under the arms. He rested his cheek against his dad's shoulder, and let his eyes drift closed. 

He'd come around when they'd arrived back at their home, a small place, quaint but well built. There was a large green space to the back of it, and a cobbled area to the front. Candles lit around his bedroom chased away the darkness and Cole snuggled into his bed with a soft sheet pulled up to his shoulders. His mind drifting back into the hold of sleep. 

Cole knew he hadn't woken again, he hadn't gotten up and gone outside, he hadn't pulled a stool to the window and pushed the shutters open to allow the breeze of the night into his room, then why did he feel so cold?

Why did the breeze now bite at his skin, why did he feel so bad and sickly? Why did he have the oppressive sense of wrong that caused fear to curl in his gut? 

He tried to open his eyes again, and this time it allowed a sliver of an image to get in. His head was pounding, his body was aching and he felt tears quickly prickling at the corners of his eyes. 

Cole was most definitely not at home. 

The more of his surroundings his mind decided to take in, the more his chest tightened at the fact that he didn't know where he was. Somewhere high up? The peak of a mountain? It was hard to make out anything under the faint light of the moon which was shrouded by clouds. 

There was a small fire, faintly glowing too far away to feel its warmth. Then something moved, the form of a large man, his visage covered by the night. 

The moment the man noticed that Cole was moving and awake, he stood and advanced forwards. By default and in reaction to the stranger, Cole immediately shuffled back on the ground. His night pants were muddied due to the sodden dirt and yesterday's rain, his shirt was ripped and ruined. 

And he barely moved an inch back before something stopped him. His back hit a solid blockade, a wall, or a thick pole driven into the ground, he wasn't sure?

The man knelt down in front of him, and Cole was more than close enough to see his cracked and yellowed teeth, the animal hide cloak draped over his shoulders and the wicked sharp and glinting knife on his belt. 

He whimpered, closed his eyes tightly as some tears spilled free. The man just chuckled, a rough hand clasped his chin and forced him to look up. 

He needed to get away. He had to get away, find his way back home, get to his father. Anywhere but the mountain peak. 

"Snivelling brat." the man ground out, though there was an edge of glee to his voice. "I can't believe it was so easy for me to get my hands on you. You're going to be doing something very important tonight."

The man pulled his hand away, but Cole could still feel the pain. There was bruising that would follow, should he get out of the situation unscathed.

What was happening? What had..?

Around the fog in his mind, a memory surfaced. It was distorted, and hard to make out. He remembered waking up to a figure in his room. Not his dad, his dad didn't stand that tall. Then a cloth had been pressed to his mouth before he'd even had a chance to scream, the noise only came out muffled as a sickly sweet and cloying scent rushed into his mouth and nose. His eyes had dropped instantly, his body sagging soon after. Then nothing. 

Nothing until he'd woken up freezing on a mountain top, thick ropes tied around his chest and arms to keep him in place with an unknown person in front of him.

He wanted to go home. 

He wanted to go home! 

Cole could feel the tears flowing quickly now, each one dripping from his face and hitting the ground. His nose was running, his shoulders were shaking and he couldn't move his hands to wipe it all away. 

The man just towered to full height in front of him, a monster of a man. He was bedraggled, and dirty, and he smelt foul. 

"Please, let me go!" Cole squeaked out, his tongue like lead in his mouth, "Please, I want to go home! I want my dad!" He was wriggling, pulling on the ropes. Though they weren't shifting an inch. 

In response, the man smirked and turned away. 

He began setting up a circle of small candles, thick and short, the wicks barely staying lit with each frozen whip of the wind. Cole simply watched, his breathing ragged, his voice cracking and shrill as he screamed for any help, only for the sound to echo and die in the surrounding expanse of night sky and nothingness. 

His only companion was the light of the moon which intermittently broke through the clouds. 

The man seemed to gaze up into the sky with excitement every time a moon beam helped barely light up the mountaintop. 

He was muttering to himself as he worked, moving over to the fire intermittently to collect items from a leather bound bag, sewn crudely together with thick lengths of spun wool. It seemed filled to bursting with every new item taken out of it. Strips of silver cloth, which he laid to rest over the wicks of the candles, each one beginning to burn with a glowing fervour. 

Then came the flowers, a small bunch of them but Cole knew what they were. They grew in his neighbours hanging baskets, and he'd climbed up to pick them before without permission many times. 

A white petled bud, almost a star shape. They were thin and small but there were quite a few of them. They seemed to absorb the moonlight, and give off a soft white glow. 

It was comforting, and it would be pretty, if Cole wasn't so terrified of what was going to happen.

The man stepped over once he'd looked like he was happy with the set up of his items, and placed the collection of flowers just a bit further from where his feet could reach. 

Moon blossoms. Secred datura. 

Only ever used in special rituals. Told of in stories, said to ward off evil spirits and be a gift from the moon to man. An apology, almost, for bringing darkness to the world. 

Now that the man was closer, Cole could make out what was being said, and fear coiled. He was talking to himself, in a mad fervour of words and excited cackles of glee. 

"This is the perfect night, perfect… 

A child of a disciple of the sun god, what better to use to get the attention of the moon?

They'll be so pleased. So, so pleased."

"What are you going to do?" Cole questioned, the words pouring quietly from his mouth before he could stop them. They were pitted with a teary sound, and short pulled in breaths as he spoke through the tears. 

Attention was immediately back on him, the man's eyes wide and his smile large, Cole just wished he could shrink back. Disappear into the ground, be anywhere else. 

"Gain unimaginable power."

Cole's brow furrowed deeply, his body still trembled, but if he could bide a bit of time, maybe someone would come and help him. Maybe… Maybe his dad knew where he was and he was already on his way. 

He needed to be strong, he needed to have hope. 

"How will you," He paused, swallowing around a lump in his throat, "How will you do that, mister?" 

The man seemed to perk up at the question of how, and when one hand came to rest on the hilt of his blade, Cole felt his heart stutter in his chest, even with it already racing a mile a minute. 

"You see, my boy. The gods can sometimes come to the surface, like that blasted Sun God. But they do give out power to those who they deem worthy." The man crouched down, but he was still tall enough for Cole to need to look up and see his face. Though that wasn't where his attention was focused. It was the knife, now held in the man's grasp, being twirled slowly. "They give power to people who give them gifts, help them out, or if they simply just like the particular human."

The knife was getting lifted, being brought far too close. 

Cole whimpered lightly and pressed himself back against the pole. 

"But there are some things that the gods cannot possibly ignore. Summoning gets their attention well enough." The man spread his hand back to the circle of smouldering candles. "Yet, gods cannot ignore precious and unique gifts. And tonight, my boy, the moon is at its peak. It's waxing, but bright." He grinned madly, "The moon god is watching, my patron, and when I show them how devout I am, give them such a gift, they will descend and bless me with anything I desire."

The point of the knife came to rest on Cole's throat, and in an instant his body stilled. It ran cold, but didn't move an inch. There was no shaking, tears dropped down but he didn't dare shift an inch. The point was digging in lightly, if he swallowed, if he breathed, it would do more damage. 

If the intention was injury, there wasn't much Cole could do from where he was to prevent it. 

"Please…" He whispered quietly, his pupils blown wide. "I just want to go home."

The man lent forwards, carding his fingers through Cole's hair before his grip tightened on the strands. It forced his head back, exposing his neck further. He couldn't help but shriek, the noise echoing around. The moonlight around him was harsh now, oppressive. He'd heard stories, horrible nightmare inducing tales of some of the gods in their world. Ones that didn't take material gifts, foods, crafts, gold and silver pieces. 

Some gods only accepted things that provided more power. Belief could go a long way for the deities, but there were things… 

Sacrifices, spilled blood. Tales of people never returning home, of horrifying beings that roamed the land. Searching for waylaid children, those who didn't listen to their mothers and fathers. 

Who stole them away in the night. 

All in the name of their gods. 

"You have more use here." the man smiled. 

In an instant, a powerful wind blew over the peak. The candles cascaded into darkness, one after the other. Moonlight, more powerful than Cole had ever seen it, provided light to everything around him. Silver and white. Soft. 

Cole just wanted his dad. 

"They're here." The man whispered in glee, his grip adjusting on the knife. "They're really here. The perfect night, the perfect gift. A blooming soul, for anything I desire." He said to himself, his eyes slipping closed. 

Then the knife twisted and moved, slicing in a sharp arch. Cole didn't flinch, he couldn't move. 

He remembered a cold, wet sensation, which descended into a bone deep chill. Strength left his body in an instant, slumping forwards but supported up by the tight rope that bit and burned his bare skin. 

There was a liquid dropping intermittently to the ground, his heart was pounding loudly in his ears. 

It took him a second to realise the liquid wasn't his own tears, but by then his senses were leaving him. His mouth moved, open, trying to form words. But copper simply filled the back of his mouth, preventing any noise from coming out. His vision was swimming, edged with an advancing grey fog. 

The man was still in front of him, the blade in his grip. The edge of it coated with a deep red liquid, running off its point freely. 

The moonlight strengthened around them, but Cole didn't pay it much mind. 

His fingers and toes were tingling with pins and needles, before the feeling started to fade away completely. The liquid hitting the ground was coalescing, becoming a growing puddle. It was sticky, it seeped into his shirt and pants. 

Cole barely managed a slow blink, before his vision faded fully. 

He was sure he'd seen another person on the mountain top. 

__

Summoning, for a god, was like a magnetic pull. It was there, tangible, it could be ignored but it was a present sensation. One which moved through The Moon's form as he gazed down on his favourite planet once again. 

Mortals were unusual but interesting beings. Fun to observe. They went about their nights in their homes normally, shrouding from the darkness in the safety of four walls. 

He just watched. It was what he did every night. Be it whether he could see clearly down to the world's surface or not, he just looked. Each night, a new mortal to observe. But sometimes his attention was beckoned, pulled in a certain direction. Yet it was expected whenever mortals provided gifts for him. They didn't have to, but the action of a human providing a possession of theirs in his name, The Moon couldn't help but turn towards it.

However, that night, something different happened. Something had been given to him. Something that The Moon hadn't felt in decades, centuries even. 

The copper tang, the oppressive and surrounding shroud of darkness that chilled even the god to the core. If forced anger to bloom, however unwillingly. It made his powers rile and climb, whip and scream within his form; increasing to levels that would easily be deemed by his fellow Celestials’ as anything but natural. 

Blood magic, a blood sacrifice. 

Some gods took them, thrived in the dark energy and boost of power they provided. 

The Moon, Zane, was sickened. The power felt wrong, yet it seemed into his form. Even as he descended to the planet's surface to the epicentre of the power, he could feel the energy. 

He could feel it seeping into his mind, distorting his form. Favoured silver and white robes darkening to a steeled grey. Eyes that shone blue like a perfectly pure moonbeam dulled into an almost inky blackened mockery of their true nature. 

On the mountaintop, Zane could finally see what had happened. 

See the sheer horror of the scene. 

There was a man, gazing in his direction with an incredible look of awe. His form tended to bring that out of people, but that wasn't what caught his attention. 

The bloodied blade, the man's hand with the red liquid also dripping from his fingers. The summoning circle. 

The body at its centre. 

"My… My Lord." The man bowed his head and dropped to his knees before him, his head bowed but his hands held out before him, palms up. As if he was expecting something. 

"You're truly here." He laughed, it was loud. Ecstatic. "Look upon all that I have done for you! The gift that I've given you."

Zane just stood there, his eyes never leaving the unmoving form. Clearly lifeless, skin a clear ashy grey in the dim light, red rivulets that were dried and looked as though they'd stopped flowing a while beforehand. 

A gift? 

"What have you done?" The Moon questioned, his voice carefully level, he took a small step forward.

The man looked up with a wide smile. "I provided a sacrifice for you. Power, a soul, and in return you are welcome to bless me however you see fit!" 

Bless him? Zane almost laughed as loud as the creature before him had. There was anger blooming under the surface, but it wasn't the tainted sacrifice that was causing it. 

The idea that this human… This mere mortal had taken the life of someone and thought it was what The Moon wanted? The sheer uncaring look in his eyes, the fact that he was unbothered. Unphased by what his dirtied hands had done. 

"Power?" Zane questioned, his voice echoing seemingly, even though the word was barely above a whisper. It had a ring to it, shrill and loud. 

The man knelt before him spared a wince. 

Good. But The Moon was not done. Not by a long shot. 

He stepped closer to the man and knelt before him, his back straight and greyed and charcoaled robes draping over the ground around his legs. The Moon reached forwards, his fingers resting against the monster's cheek. "You wish for power?" Zane questioned quietly. This time the reaction from the man was faster, clearer. There was pain, gritted teeth, winced eyes. 

Fresh blood was dropping, but this time it was from the man's ears. His nose. The corner of his mouth. Zane had been given a blood sacrifice, tainted abilities and power, but he wasn't above using it once provided. 

__

The moon was near to concluding its bow over the night's sky, and Zane stood back to his full height. The mountaintop was silent now, with only himself and the remnants of a disaster spread out around him.

A horror, plain and simple. Zane couldn't help but look around. Such a simple set up, so unassuming and easily done. Candles, material, fire. 

A blade. 

His attention went quickly back to the form slumped in rope, and getting closer he could feel disgust and abhorrence descend.

It was a boy. Bound, Zane could see where he'd been moving. The ground was kicked up with light trenches of shifted dirt, the ropes had left marks on his small arms. 

But the worst thing was the wound. 

He moved forwards quickly and with a wave of his hand the ropes holding him up dissolved into a puther of silver smoke, which faded just as fast. Zane was there to catch the small form, though, one hand lightly on the boy's cold cheek, another on his shoulder as he lowered him to the ground.

He wasn't moving. 

He hadn't moved for a while.

"No…" Zane whispered quietly, "No, no. So young… You're so-" He shook his head, his words catching in his throat as he crooked forwards until his chin was resting against his chest, his back bent until he was a visage of one of his followers. Bowed forwards, knees beneath him against his chest. In prayer, almost. 

Had the boy prayed? Dark skin was soft and near delicate, tiny hands with mud caked under his nails, eyes closed but if they were open they'd be unseeing. There were dried tear tracks patterning his cheeks. 

He must have been so scared…

Zane carefully brushed some hair away from the boy's face, lifting him just carefully until he was situated on his robe instead of directly on the floor. The wound took his attention.

Long and far too deep for someone so small. The edges smooth and caked in blood. It would have been slow, painful. Terrifying. Yet, before he'd even realised it, The Moon had placed his fingers just above the marring mark. 

This boy, this death, it had given him horrible power. Power that was already fading, if his robes were anything to go by. But there was some left. Mixed and diluted with his own energy, everything before him had been carried out by a mad man on a disillusioned mission to be blessed by a god. Be given power. 

Zane didn't bless people as freely as The Sun; as Kai did. Hardly at all, really. 

But if there was anyone who was deserving of it… 

He felt power flow through his hand. Firstly, into the open wound. Like silver ichor, the power seemed almost liquid, flowing beautifully. Glowing calmly. 

The skin and flesh stitched slowly back together, and the taint of blood was removed from the boys skin in turn. Yet, the power still flowed in, even when the wound had disappeared. There wasn't much power provided, not really, but it was enough. 

The boy's small form before him took on a slight glimmer, and under closed eyelids there was a sliver of light from his eyes. 

In a second, it all stopped. 

The scene went back to The Moon, knelt down on the mountaintop, cradling the boy in his arms. This poor, now blessed boy, who had laid still and unmoving for far too long. Who had been caught up in such twisted man's plan with no idea what was going to become of him. Or maybe he had known, had realised? 

The sun was edging on the horizon, the light blue of the sky chasing away Zane's deep colour of the night. 

Then finally, after too long. The sound of quiet breathing permitted the air. The boy shifted slowly in his arms, wrapped in the power of the moon and the dregs of sleep that had now overtaken him. 

Zane couldn't help but smile down at the mortal, the way his chest now moved. 

The fact that the scar was gone, but an intricate design was adorned in its place. Barely visible in the oncoming sunlight, a light blue diamond in the centre of his throat, with curled wisps of silver stretching out along either side of his neck. It was not a scar, thankfully, yet it would stand out as a physical remnant of what had taken place. 

Zane just hoped that the boy would not remember the horrors of the night, simply just the comfort and safety The Moon hoped to provide with his presence. 

He would need to leave soon, with the sun rising so fast, but he was content to wait till the last second to ensure this mortal boy slept soundly.

-

AO3

[miss-tc-nova]

A Garden for the Lost - Marluxia

Hey! Most of my zine work is coming to a close, meaning I can post this one here! Written for the @disorganizine. It was a blast to be part of such an awesome project.

~~~~~

              Lord of Castle Oblivion: the man takes immense pride in his position, even if it’s been handed to him by the very person he seeks to ruin. Nevertheless, between overseeing the castle and plotting his take over, there’s little time to recoup. Despite his ambition and drive, Marluxia still needs those moments in which he can forget obligations and goals and focus on something he wants to do.

              So he made time. With Vexen as acting lord for a day, Marluxia has taken to another world.

              Upon his first visit, only dirt greeted him. However, when no inhabitants had been found to be a bother, the barren plot was claimed as his own. Since then, the dusty, drab lot has transformed into a lush, expansive garden. Everything inside has been grown by the Graceful Assassin himself; even the little toolshed and bustling greenhouse had been put up with his own hands. Flowers of all sorts comfortably thrive here from roses to snap dragons—there’s even a cactus patch in its own sandy enclosure. This is his sanctuary—the only place he has ever felt complete. It’s absurd to say he enjoys this hobby seeing as he has no heart, but for as long as he can remember, peace only finds him when he indulges in gardening.

              The hefty black coat is shed, sloughing off the woes of work with it. Boots scrape the dirt path as he makes his way towards the greenhouse; there are some seedlings that require his attention.

              And that’s when he notices it: shuffling among the vegetation is something unknown. As it makes its way through the rose bushes, Marluxia begins to stalk the rustle. Every now and then, the top of a silver head bobs above the leaves, a pair of folded ears bouncing and a ring of flowers perched between them.

              The shifting halts at the end of the shrub line causing the assassin to freeze. The intruder is feline in its characteristics but is clearly no ordinary house cat. A cape sits across small shoulders and a large, pink coin purse hangs from its neck. A crown with the most intricate weaving sits atop its head, made of flora from this very garden.

              Before the animal is a previously empty patch Marluxia had not yet designated, though that seems to have changed. Little paws lift a watering can over the freshly planted foliage. The flower looks like a flock of ridiculous birds on alert. Green and ruby “beaks” jut out at the top of the stalk with a vibrant crown of gold and violet. A twinge in his chest causes Marluxia to act.

              “Excuse me,” he sneers, having long lost his sense of sympathy—if he ever had one.

              The watering can clatters to the ground with a shocked gasp. Blue eyes peer up at the gardener before a puff of smoke engulfs the feline.

              “Hey!” But the strange cat is already gone.

              A closer look at the plant reveals an orange ribbon tied around the stem of the brightest bloom.

              No warning brings about the pain that suddenly surges through his skull. With a snarl, Marluxia stumbles back, but no amount of grasping or wincing eases the agony. Unprovoked, it swells and spreads until it overwhelms the man, bringing him to his knees. The blinding ache only fades when he blacks out.

~~~~~

              “—r—m. L—ia—”

              What happened?

              “L—m.”

              Eyes flutter open to a brilliant sky. Blue, yellow, and every shade of pink frames his vision, the soft petals occasionally grazing against him as they sway in the breeze.

              “Figures you’d be snoozin’ here.”

              Pushing from the flowers, Marluxia glances back, finding a crowd of blurred faces strolling closer.

              Who are they?

              Without consent, his lips pull back in a smile—a real smile without all the insincerity and secrecy he’s become so skilled at. “You caught me.”

              “That makes this my nappin’ spot now. Scram.” A hand meets his shoulder in a teasing shove, provoking light laughter from the confused man.

              “Oh come on, _____,” a feminine voice scolds. High pitch ringing and static consumes her voice for a moment but no one acknowledges the anomaly. “We caught you asleep in the library like an hour ago.”

              The first stranger, clad in black, flops into the flowers. “Aw, well now you went and blew my secret.”

              “Did I miss a meeting or something?” Marluxia asks.

              The third, a blur sitting above a crimson scarf, reassures him, “No. We were just worried about you; haven’t seen you all day. Only ______ seemed to know where to find you.” Again, the name is drowned out in a blaring mesh of noise.

              He looks to the man beside him, somehow finding this normal. “You knew, huh?”

              A finger points to a looming tower not far off. “Yep. Could see you from the window.”

              “Really?” interrupts the girl. “You couldn’t have just told us that instead of dragging us all the way out here?”

              “What fun would that have been?” He lies back, his hat tipping forward to shade his face. “Besides, why would you wanna miss this view?”

              “It is pretty,” admits the one in the scarf.

              These people, regardless of who they are, have managed to bring out a lightness that Marluxia can’t recall ever feeling. With no memories of who he used to be, he can only assume that this is what happiness must feel like to somebodies. It’s as warm as the sun, as light as the breeze, and as beautiful as the flowers; he can’t imagine how he’s gone so long without knowing something so wonderful could exist.

              A fourth voice, the last stranger, speaks, “Hey, did you ever find _____?”

              This time, the cacophony is far more extreme, picking at his brain like needles. They sink in, allowing this oozing pain to seep through. Whatever spell gave him this bliss is broken, freeing Marluxia and allowing him to grip at the stabbing in his head.

              Clouds roll in, bringing threats of a storm and snuffing the serenity for good. Carried along by a sudden gust is a chill that sweeps over the field. The first three strangers disintegrate in the wind, leaving behind the last. His face clears, revealing someone Marluxia is fairly familiar with.

              Roxas?!

              Blue eyes, usually full of innocent curiosity, are empty, as if dead. Curled around him, waving menacingly, are tendrils of darkness. He’s a threat.

              “—iam.”

              What is this?!

              Foreboding shadows engulf the boy as they reach for their new victim. From within, a pair of violent, yellow eyes pierce through to leer at the man. That gaze antagonizes the ache that paralyzes him.

              “L—r—.”

              What’s happening?!

              With the impending darkness looming above, he cannot fight the inevitable, only brace for the end.

              Shrieks of scraped metal fill the air. Peering past the pain, Marluxia peeks just in time to see the shadows and the boy fading away on the other side of a massive scythe—his scythe. The weapon towers over him, wielded by a Nobody he’s never seen before. Wings splay out behind the female figure with swaying vines. Beneath the pink mask is her empty, tormented face with golden eyes that seem to pity Marluxia.

              “_____.”

              His attention drops to the ground; there’s a girl there, clad in white as if to mock his usual black coat. Her face is entirely veiled with only two strands of red hair giving her any defining features.

              Immediately, Marluxia’s mouth produces a word he can’t hear. Everything in his body is pushing him to approach but as he reaches for her, something repels his advance. Sound pours from his mouth but he can’t decipher a single syllable. He’d give anything to reach her but he doesn’t know what’s driving this desire—he doesn’t understand why she’s so important.

              A flurry of petals blasts at the man and his feet begin to drift—he’s losing ground.  

              “No! Wait! _____!” Screams tear from his throat even if he can’t hear them. “_____!”

              The gale grows stronger, sending him flying back. The robed figure grows farther and farther out of reach as the darkness consumes him.

~~~~~

              Coming to, Marluxia clears his bleary eyes. The sky above is tinted in pink, the sunset warning him of lost time. Rubbing at his face as he sits up, he struggles to remember his dream. It ends in failure as every frame is forgotten, despite the feeling of importance it holds.

              Rising to his feet, the assassin immediately rediscovers the tall blooms he’d been suspicious of earlier.

              The Bird of Paradise. Its name slips from his mouth: “Strelitzia.”

              The colors of the flowers suddenly bleed together. A hand lifts to clear his vision but comes away with smears of water. Just the thought of shedding tears perplexes the man, let alone actually crying. Regardless of what Xemnas likes to pretend, Nobodies cannot have emotions. So Marluxia chalks it up to his body having some sort of reaction to the flowers—they need to be disposed of.

              Reaching out with the intention of tearing off the blossom, Marluxia snags the vermillion ribbon. Another spasm of pain wracks his brain while a strange twinge ripples in his chest. The backlash causes the man to stumble, the fabric coming free in his grip.

              Once recovered, he glares but this plant still has some sort of spell on him. The cloth is crushed in his fist in spite of the futility. Releasing the pent-up tension in a huff, he turns away; it’s too late to be worrying about some pest of a plant.

              “I’ll deal with it later,” he grumbles.

              But Marluxia never does. Days turn to weeks and then months and the plant thrives. It grows taller and releases more blooms of the exotic flower. He makes a point not to, but there are clear signs of it being tended to: his tools move, fresh dirt and fertilizer are taken, and the ground around it is disturbed with stolen equipment and paw prints. Clearly, the creature visits often.

              The strange thing is Marluxia’s waning hatred for the flower and its caretaker. In his usual upkeep of his garden, extra supplies are purchased to account for the invasive plant. He even picked up a smaller watering can he’d spotted while passing through the market. The cat still refuses to reveal itself, but there are signs of its presence—including the occasional flower crown waiting for him. By the third, he finds these little gifts not at all annoying, often pressing them in books kept on a shelf in the greenhouse.

              As for the ribbon, Marluxia keeps it—something about the strip of material compels him to. Hardly a day goes by without it on his person. It reminds him of his precious garden and the little gardening creature in it, but at the same time, it reminds him of his task. He can’t exactly say why, but that piece of fabric pushes him towards his goal.

              Even if it completely consumes him, there will be no stopping Marluxia until he reclaims what he’s lost.

[goldenponcho]

A Cruise Fit for a King Chapter 5

Hugo tries to find help while his own funeral is being held across the sea.

Previous | Chapter 1 | Next

Kipo’s shoulders shuddered as she ascended the steps, regal skirt lifted to her ankles, to take her place at the pedestal on which sat Scarlemagne’s grand piano. She cleared her throat shakily as she approached the microphone there.

“Thank you all for being here with my family today,” a soft huff of laughter escaped her at the sight of what must have been nearly every, if NOT, every mute and human in Las Vistas congregated along the polished floors of Scarlemagne’s palace, “Most of you, I know, have terrible memories of the place we stand now. If you hadn’t wanted to be here, none of us would have blamed you in the slightest…and neither would Scarlemagne…”

Kipo’s throat constricted, and she swallowed hard as her eyes moistened, “But you did. You all had it in your hearts to return to awful memories for the sake of forgiveness and compassion that the Oak family couldn’t hope to repay you for in a million years. And I wish so much-” she choked through an involuntary sob, “-that we could express to you how much we appreciate what you’ve done for us…for ALL of us.” She looked to the front row, where her friends and family stood. Mom and dad…Wolf, Mandu, Dave, Benson, Troy…Doag, Dahlia, and Asher.

“Scarlemagne…” her voice cracked, and she bowed her head, several seconds passing in silence before she let the tears flow freely, “HUGO…my FRIEND…my BROTHER…was one of the BRAVEST people I will ever know. I can only imagine the dark places he’s been. The things he had himself convinced he had to do to survive…

“But I was lucky enough to learn who my big brother really is! And that selfless act on that night?! That’s who he truly was inside!” She inhaled sharply and paused to ride out her emotions, “And it saved me…it saved US…”

She watched through bleary eyes as every person also had tears in their eyes, human and mute, and Kipo smiled through her own, “I won’t give up on him. I don’t think he��s gone! But…if he truly is…I want him to be remembered just the way he really was. And that’s why the Newton Wolves have been kind enough to offer a place in front of their observatory for a statue in his honor!” She motioned to Billions, who gave a humbled nod, wiping a tear from his muzzle and stroking the fur of his cured brother next to him.

“Thank you…SO much!” Kipo grimaced, wiping the back of her hand across her eyes, “I know we’re all hurting, but I want this to be a time of celebration of Hugo’s life. I know it’s what he would have wanted,” she looked to her friends again with a sad smile.

“Thank you.”

~*~*~*~

Hugo had been combing the sands through the evening and well into the next morning and hadn’t found anything even as good as the tiny handful of shell he had started with. As the sun rose, he had come to the infuriating conclusion that he was going to have to work for the currency he needed.

So as soon as mutes were up and about, he started asking around. One horseshoe crab heard him out for a short time before quickly explaining that he didn’t need any more help running the arcade he owned on the pier. Another elephant seal couple turned him down at the snow-cone stand. The angler fish at the fishing dock, which puzzled Hugo in particular, was especially snappy and rude, telling him to go inland if he wanted any help at all as a land mammal.

But after rejection after rejection after rejection, it was becoming clear that going inland was his only option, so that’s what he did. He felt the old thrill he had used to in his less virtuous days when he snagged some hotdogs and cans of Explosion Berry soda from the food stand run by three sea cucumbers who had previously sprayed him with sweet relish when he had asked if he could play the old calliope on top of their wagon in exchange for shells.

Hugo wrapped his provisions in his blanket and tied it to the end of a bamboo shoot, adding a couple of red hibiscus blossoms he had found to the knot. As soon as he was set, he was off to a more centralized part of the island.

He thanked his lucky star blanket that his ancestors had been nomads, and thus he was suited to cover a lot of ground in very little time. And though it was still far from a vacation, it was better than being stranded on a car-boat at sea.

His suspicions were confirmed by plenty of old world signage that this was the main island of what was once the archipelago state of Hawaii. He had educated himself well on old world geography and had some idea of what life had been like here, but he could clearly see that just like Las Vistas, there were significant changes. Many palms which would have previously been as tall as fifty feet grew to three and four times the height, and most branched off into more than one trunk. While there were flora of old world sizes, plenty were large enough to fit even two of him in for a comfortable sit.

But as he encountered mutes along the way, he was met with much the same welcome as the ones on the beach. They quickly made it clear that his help was both unneeded and unwanted, and that he should look for help from mutes closer to his own species. This place was more segregated than what Las Vistas used to be. Some of the mega fauna were even worse than Las Vistas’s fair as well. His encounter with a mega centipede, which had a head with snapping jaws on both ends and a row of sharp, two rows of spindly legs along its sides, one row facing down along the bottom and the other inverted on the top, would be relived in his nightmares to come, he was certain.

At what was probably mile eight or nine of the hike, Hugo’s sleeplessness was really starting to catch up with him, and while the hotdogs helped hunger-wise, Explosion Berry was beginning to become less and less efficient at quenching his thirst. This was when he began seriously seeking water and shelter.

He pressed on for about two more miles, searching high and low for any kind of resources. He managed to find a couple of pineapples growing in the shade of some underbrush, which he took for later use. Soon after that, he caught a strange scent in the air that greatly reminded him of human industry. Or perhaps another mute. He had recalled the Scooter Skunks having produced a similar aroma when motoring by. Either way, it could mean shelter.

Hugo didn’t have to walk far before he caught a bright blue spot through the trees. He sighed in relief, “Water! Finally!”

Forgetting his fatigue, he ran on all fours to the beautifully gleaming lake, only stopping at the top of the slightly elevated hill it sat atop of.

He laughed with shrill delight at the vision of the brightest aquamarine he had ever witnessed in his life, “HELLO, GORGEOUS!” He continued without a thought in the world other than quenching his now raging thirst. Completely forgotten was what now should have been an unbearable smell of rotting eggs as he neared the electric shoreline, which was completely devoid of one bit of the dense plant life he had previously been trudging through.

And by the time he had even noticed his own labored breathing and feeling of lightheadedness, he felt a strong grip on his arm that spun him around just as he blacked out and collapsed. Through the haze, he registered something being forced over his mouth and nose, and when his eyes opened one final time before unconsciousness overtook him, peaking through the hood of a large cloak he caught sight of a red and blue muzzle.

[saniiieee]

Hope for Humanity

hi guys so this was actually the story that i submitted on the ateez board so i just thought i'd post it here for u guys to read :^) i hope u enjoy it!

word count: 2.1k

genre: sci-fi??? im not sure but it's something like that ㅠㅠ

warnings: kidnapping, near-death experience

After the catastrophe occurred, everything changed.

The skies never became blue again, the grasses never grew back to its green shade, the stars that were once twinkling brightly were nowhere to be seen, and even the sounds of the noisy cicadas at night were never heard from again.

A year passed by but nothing seemed to change.

Is all hope really lost for humanity?

--JULY 7, 2021--

The rays of the sun kissed his soft skin as the waves nearby crashed to the shore. Birds were chirping melodies that rang beautifully in his ears. A waft of the seawater brought by the winds caught the attention of his nose that calmed him down.

His body laid still, enjoying the warmth that the sun brought after a long year of living under a grey sky.

A long haired figure walked towards his direction and sat down beside him.

“Seonghwa-ya,” the figure whispered.

His eyes slowly opened and was met by a pair of brown eyes that belonged to a woman. Her scent reminded him of the freesia flowers that his mom used to gather from their garden back home.

"No matter what happens, you have to find mom. Okay?" She said in a gentle tone, her eyes welling up in tears as she took his hand and handed him a silver bracelet.

Lips quivering, she smiled at him one last time. She got up and slowly retreated, fading into thin air.

Noona. His eyes shot open as he came to his senses, a stray tear falling down his eye. A cold object was clasped in his hand--his older sister's bracelet.

Even though it was a dream, the scent of his sister still lingered near but slowly faded away.

Seonghwa was separated from his sister back in the rescue camp when they had to segregate the men from women.

As if having an amnesia, he doesn't remember her name, but he knows it was her older sister.

He scanned the place and realized that he was alone, sitting up on a couch, inside his friend's cabin.

It was the usual quiet night with the cold breeze of July brushing on his cheeks, sending chills down his spine.

Standing up while rubbing his hands together to make his hands warm, he freshened up and tidied his outfit before heading outside to see if the others were there.

He stepped out and admired the view of the campfire in the middle of the forest, surrounded by carved logs for people to sit on.

"Hyung!" A voice called out. He looked at the source of the voice, sitting on one of the benches.

"Oh Yeosang! I didn't know you were here too!" He joyfully replied back. 

Yeosang was one of his best friends. They met at a rescue camp after the pandemic died down a year ago.

He has blonde hair that matched his complexion and brown eyes that always had a sparkle in them.

"Do you know where everyone went?" Seonghwa asked, walking towards his direction.

The blonde boy shrugged and replied, "I just got here a while ago but I heard that something happened to Yunho's brother so he told me to stay here until you wake up."

Seonghwa nodded in agreement and looked up to the sky only to be met by darkness--no stars; just a dim glint of the moonlight. It was as if he was staring at a blank canvas.

With a lamp in hand, Yeosang offered Seonghwa to take a stroll in a nearby logging area to get some wood for the campfire; and Seonghwa gladly agreed. 

As they were walking, Seonghwa asked, "Did you know that if you looked at the one of the brightest stars at night and make a wish, it will come true?"

The blonde boy looked at the sky for a while and replied with a shrug. Yeosang was legally blind since he was little.

He cannot see anything far away from him so he didn't know what stars really look like except for the ones he saw on story books.

"It's kinda sad because there's not even one star right now and I wanted to make a wish so bad," Seonghwa sulked as they walked quietly to their destination, Yeosang looking at the ground the whole way there.

At the logging area, there was a comfortable silence looming over the two boys while they were picking up wood for the campfire.

The silence was then broken by a sound of footsteps, someone huffing and puffing as if they ran a mile.

"Seonghwa, Yeosang!" The person called out with their shaky voice.

The two boys looked at the source of the voice and it was a woman.

"Haneul noona!" Yeosang exclaimed.

They two boys ran over and helped her sit down on a log. Haneul looked disheveled as sweat ran down her forehead, her eyes swollen for crying so much.

"Please help me find San. We were supposed to go back to the cabin after getting some things for the camp when suddenly someone took him to a truck and fled away," the woman said between sobs, wiping her tears away with her trembling hands.

"Did you see where the truck was headed?" Seonghwa asked as he pat her back to calm her down.

"They were headed northside." Yeosang and Seonghwa looked at each other and helped her up to take her back to the cabin.

3 Hours Ago

"Choi San! I told you to help me pack up food and water for the camp. What on earth are you doing?" San's sister, Haneul, said, clearly irritated by her younger brother's actions.

San was at the doorstep, sitting down with his hands on either side of his cheeks, contemplating his life choices.

Should I still go out with them? He thought to himself.

San stood up abruptly and went inside to help his sister with packing. 

After packing their things, San headed out towards the front of their house with a bag in hand, waiting for his sister to go out.

Suddenly, a truck stopped by and a man walked out heading towards San's direction.

The man's hand covered his mouth while the other hand took his bag and dropped it on the ground as he dragged him back to the truck.

San's sister got out and saw that San was getting dragged by an unknown man towards the truck. She dropped the things she was holding and ran for them but the truck already sped up.

She was left there, panic washing over her face, not knowing what to do.

The truck was speeding through the highway as hiphop music blasted out the stereo.

"Wooyoung! I told you to never to pick me up like that again, someone might have seen you!" San shouted above the booming music inside the truck.

"Yeah I'm sorry it's actually more fun that way," Wooyoung shouted back with a playful smile as they danced to the music.

Wooyoung is San's friend who happens to be a scavenger. He and his gang robs settlements for supplies such as food, water, and medicine--sometimes money if they are lucky.

San was forced to join the gang to pay back Wooyoung's boss who saved them after the pandemic died down. If it weren't for him, they wouldn't be alive and healthy.

San didn't really like the idea of robbing people so he ends up being the getaway driver instead of going out and fighting with the others.

On the way to the settlement they were about to rob, San's eyes were slowly shutting and without hesitation, he drifted into sleep.

San was tied up with chains to a chair.

He opened his eyes and all he saw was darkness. In the darkness, however, a man emerged, staring intently into San's eyes. His lips was sealed off with a chained mask, and an hourglass sat upright on his right hand.

"It's not the reality that makes you lose your dream, it is your decision. Choose well. Will you live like this until your last breath, or will you follow your dream?" The man said with his raspy voice.

All San wanted was to be free from all this mayhem. He wanted to live in peace without disrupting other people's lives.

He wanted to break free from the chains.

He was afraid that one day it will eat up his conscience.

"Choose well." The voice of the man rang through San's ears and he jolted awake, still inside the moving truck.

His heart was beating so fast as sweat dribbled down his forehead.

The thought of running off without anything but a switchblade in the back of his pocket made him ecstatic but nervous at the same time. 

"Hey Wooyoung I think one of our tires are flat, mind checking it?" The driver said as he pushed the hazard button, slowly parking on the side of the road.

I'm sick of this. Now's my chance to go back. San thought to himself.

As the car abruptly stopped, he jumped out of the truck and ran to the direction that they came from with great speed, as if his whole life depended on it.

The driver noticed San escaping and their other gang member tried to run to get him but it was no use, he was already meters away.

"Come on just let him be, guys, I bet he didn't even like this job anyway," Wooyoung said with a broken smile as the two gang members came back to him.

Hours passed, San was exhausted. He laid down on the side of the road, covered in sweat. His lips dry, his throat parched and in need of water.

Is this how I'm going to leave the Earth? Will I not see my sister again? Did I really have to leave Wooyoung behind?

All these questions were running in his mind, asking for answers that he hopes would be given to him.

Suddenly a beam of light came to his view, the purrs of a car engine made him come to his senses. He held up a hand as a signal, hoping for the people inside to see.

The car tires screeched to a halt and San sighed in relief, smiling as his eyes looked up to the dark  sky. Pairs of feet got off the car to go to where San was lying down and one of them was his sister's.

"Choi San! You idiot! Why would you leave your older sister like that?" His sister cried as she cradled him in her arms, tears flowing freely down her face.

San smiled at her and shakily breathed out.

A pair of hands offered to help him sit down and gave him water to drink. San gulped it down as quickly as he can because he craved for water after running for such a while.

Yeosang and Seonghwa were the other two people that his sister was with. Seonghwa took their village captain's car while Yeosang helped Haneul to get supplies for the long ride.

Thanks to them they got to San just in time before he passes out. 

The boys helped San up to walk towards their car to let him rest and get settled down, his sister taking out a blanket from the trunk of the car to keep San warm.

"Hey, we're moving to another settlement. It was raided by a gang and we got out of there just before everything turned into chaos," Seonghwa announced and they all nodded in agreement.

They all got into the car with Seonghwa driving, Yeosang in the passenger's seat, and the Choi siblings at the back. They drove off to another area in hopes that a settlement or village will let them stay.

A day of driving passed by and they stumbled upon the village where Yunho and his brother was living in. There were people guarding the gates in case scavengers try to rob them of their supplies.

Seonghwa drove the car near the gate and notified them about what happened to their settlement.

They were brought in and they were met with Yunho and his brother, welcoming them to their village. They lived there for good and it was a pleasing sight. Everyone was smiling despite the struggles that they've been through.

Yes, there might be some challenges such as shortages of food and supplies; however what matters the most is that they're together, living on and living forward to where life takes them.

Even if the skies will never turn blue again, if the grasses never grew back its green shade, if the stars will never show up in the night sky, and if the sounds of the cicadas at night will never be heard from again, atleast all hope is not lost for humanity.