#i could just…get behind the idea of getting a mild pleasant high with someone I love

[bigothteddies]

first 4/20 where I do kinda wish I was getting high :/

[qfzeeph]

Wanted to share my goofy ah crossover oc x canon ship today because why not!!

excuse the slightly older art I don't have the energy or time to draw at the moment Characters: Chere Altridge [OC], Byakuya Togami Ship Name: Chergami Going to keep this mainly to fluff! But there will be mentions of both SA and extremely mild spicy talk within, so tread with caution if need be. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

So I actually have one of those "Get to Know My Ship in 5 Minutes" things I made awhile back but never posted wehhhhhh- but before that I want to share some general stuff. I haven't posted too too much of my character's backstories and lore here just yet so I probably won't go too too deep into what I have planned for these two (I actually have a whole sheet for Chere but it hasn't been updated in awhile!) Lore Related Stuff: The continuity in which Chere and Byakuya are romantically involved is entirely an AU of both plotlines respectively. This AU also crosses over both my Final Fantasy continuity and Danganronpa (obviously.) In Chere's story, Byakuya takes the place of a different character that Chere develops a relationship with (to be fair - said character is based off of him as well and pretty much exists because I like the idea of Chere being able to heal through a relationship very very much! Being able to heal without a partner is all part of my other character Zephyr's plotline.) I write Byakuya in the non-despair setting, and having just recently graduated college. During his college years, he's become significantly more mellow behind closed doors, but has to keep the rich asshole mask on in public. He's getting ready to inherit the big family business, and he's under extreme pressure from his elderly father to start producing heirs. Most of the time, he's not interested in the women being placed in his bedroom by their parents hoping their daughter will get to bear a Togami child, and will either pay her to leave and not say a word. At first, he'd indulge his suitors (safely of course) but quickly learned he wasn't enjoying having one night stands with rich girls who just want to get laid and bear the child of someone with status. Byakuya isn't opposed to being in a relationship, he just wishes he could be in one with someone who isn't following him for his money and he wants a strong partner who can hold their own.

So, How Did These Two Even Meet!? Byakuya and his father attended a high end Chocobo Racing event in Chere's home country (Grimore.) Chocobo Racing is seen as an exotic sport to those who are outside of Grimore since the birds only have a population within the country boarders. Chere and Byakuya are around the same age, Chere has some sort of status due to her respect as a high ranking Chocobo Jockey (though far lower than anything the family would settle for.) His father sees this as an opportunity to try and introduce magic-bearing Grimorian genes into the Togami family, and with the help of some of the upper management of the event a "date" was planned between the two without either party knowing. The plan was to tell both of them that the other was interested in meeting and potentially hooking up. Chere wasn't on board, but decided she'd humor her suitor and refuse him as soon as she was bought to the bedroom. Byakuya had started preparing to pay another greed driven woman to stay out of his room. When the time came, neither party cooperated. Chere cursed him out for trying to court her, and Byakuya angrily declared he'd never settle for someone that low in society. They had a pretty viscous argument, but things came to a standstill when the two reached a mutual "Oh, you actually didn't want to be here either. We were tricked." Apologies were dished out (though Byakuya's wasn't very concrete, he's Byakuya after all. Man can't apologize to save his life but boy will he learn!) and the rest of the time spent together was fairly pleasant albeit awkward because of how they had just been fighting. They left on mutual terms, but didn't intend on hanging out anytime soon because of how terribly things had begun. Fate would have other plans, however, as Byakuya would continue running into Chere throughout the duration of the event. Between playing pool in the venue's game hall, jockey meet and greets, and corporate leisure events the jockeys had been invited to, they tended to gravitate toward one another just because it had been a familiar face. Through this, they learned more and more about one another, how the other felt about the world, and general, non trauma related talks of each other's backgrounds. By the time the event had ended, they had become good friends. Byakuya even bet on Chere in her headline race and won a huge sum of money after she won!

Well, When Did They Hook Up Then? Things really began to snowball after the event, when they had to split ways and were countries apart. They stayed in contact, both having very easy ways to see the other (Zephyr makes a pretty good taxi in pegasus form and Byakuya has his rich boy means of getting to Grimore.) They realize they miss the other person and have a hard time accepting their feelings towards one another. Byakuya, still clouded by his status and upbringing is mortified of the consequences of breaking the family tradition and having a partner rather than sleeping around. Chere's discomfort with her feelings is rooted in her abuse, she doesn't want to put faith in someone despite trusting them greatly because, at least in her mind, there's still a chance she could be hurt again. She decides to be strong and confess to him, which was against her better judgement, only to find out Byakuya had also fallen for her and was having the same amount of difficulty accepting his feelings.

What's Their Relationship Like? Very much a learning experience for both parties, but in the best possible way. Chere begins to grow comfortable around someone for the first time and learns that she can trust other people with her feelings. Byakuya learns how to care for someone other than himself and that he isn't bound by the path preset for him by his family. They have their tender moments where they learn what each other likes and dislikes, and have moments where they must put their familiarity aside to truly understand one another. Byakuya also gets to experience the hardships of falling for a magical girl and that her world is very, very different from his. Many people ask Byakuya how he ended up becoming the way he was, and many people ask Chere how she puts up with someone with that much status. Both always answer with "To love is to be changed." Over time, they learn they have far more in common than they thought and it just brings them closer. Later in life, they do end up marrying and having a child on their own terms. This pisses Byakuya's father off to no end, but that's a story for another day-

Alright, Just Post The Damn Chart! There's TONS of more lore I have for these two but as I mentioned a lot of it is based on Chere's lore which I haven't really posted about hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh I've also started taking certain things (hint hint) from project raincode and working it into how their relationship functions... >:) But for now, here's this thing. I made it awhile ago when the post was going around but then forgot to post it whOOPS.

Hope ya enjoyed watching me yell about this!!! Maybe I'll post more sometime weheheheheh

[marvellovegalore]

Hurting you

Chris Evans

Part Une - Loving You

Synopsis: You encounter your lost love Christopher and you talk about how you've done something awful.

Word Count: 1,954

Author note: This part is the follow-up to my latest write up, which I realise didn't garner much attention, but a second part was requested. Strongly advised to read part one.

Warning: Explicit Language, Mention of Drugs

Champagne showers your throat, its cool bubbles rippling inside you and all the way down your body. Your hips sway as you make your way through the tightly packed group of people. Laughter surrounds you as you re-join the dancing fray. A green-eyed model grabs you around the waist, his hands grabbing the thin material of your dress. The end of your dress dances over your high-heeled feet, you twist in the model’s arms and sway against him. Your back presses against him and he holds you tighter.

He whispers something in your ear, something or another about leaving with him to ‘fuck’ on the beach. You barely hear it over the music. Your eyes scanning over your friends that are sprawled around the room, all of them dressed in their finest threads. You would have taken him up on the offer, had it not been for the fact that you have been dating a particular Hollywood leading actor. You’d rather not have any outright fight at a party you’re enjoying because of ‘cheating’.

You move away from the model’s tight hold; you can almost hear his sigh. You dance over to a friend who beckons you to come with her to the bar. You gladly follow, reaching the bar takes a few minutes due to the crowd clambering over their drinks. You finally reach the bar; you lounge on the mirrored countertop. The barman approaches you, “Death in the Afternoon.” You wink at him, he smiles politely.

You turn and scan the room your eyes glazing the room, you catch sight of your date, hiding in a nook. He raises a glass to you, and you turn away from him. Drinking the sight of the partying people fills your stomach, many of them can’t help but stare at you, your presence like a diamond in the rough.

And there he is.

Your breath catches in your throat.

His arm draped across the shoulders of a tanned brunette; her eyes unmoving - glued to his. His lips ghost over hers, they way they used to do to your lips; giggles are whispered through her lips. Wearing a full suit with an undone bow tie strung around his neck - he looks like a drunken dream.

You want him.

He hasn’t noticed you. Or is pretending that he hasn’t.

It’s been six months since that night. You barely remember it; you were so intoxicated - on alcohol and Diazepam. An entirely irresponsible mixture, you try to pretend to yourself that you don’t know why you took what you did; but you know why. It was the only way that you had the courage to do what you did. Otherwise, you’d be with—

“One Death in the Afternoon.” The muscular barman places the crystal flute in front of you, you let a smirk grace your lips. If you weren’t in the same room as your date, you’d fuck him. But you’re trying to change.

You turn back in his direction, your friend also spots him, she promises that she’ll do everything to keep you guys apart. Your friends and family were informed of an amicable break-up with tears shed on both sides - by him. The media reported something similar - both PR teams sending well wishes to the other party and asking for privacy for those involved.

You weren’t aware of the amicable breakup until the email was forwarded to you by your PR head. You had blocked his number, but he had blocked you in every other way possible; you won’t pretend that it was unwarranted. Nor will you pretend that it didn’t hurt, but you couldn’t begin to imagine how much he was hurt.

You’ve done worse, but you don’t think you’ve ever done it to someone you actually loved.

You find yourself back in the folie of dancing, your dress billowing around your legs, its silky touch caressing your skin. You catch sight of the tanned brunette entering the dance floor; he’s following her, his hands toying with her waist.

They dance closely, his eyes roaming her body hungrily. You feel like vomiting. This isn’t fair. You close your eyes and knock your head back, willing the horrible sight away. The songs change twice before you open your eyes properly, your eyes immediately lower to where he is. Their lips are locked, their eyes shut off from the party, his hands dance on her arse.

You are most definitely going to throw up.

You rush away from the crowd, attracting concerned gazes, brushing off the offers of help, you finally manage to leave the house. You edge towards the pool and double over, you dry heave over the grass. You will the vomit up, but it is to no avail. You move away from the tennis style grass and make your way through the garden. Your walk leads you to the sea just beyond the expansive garden. The sky is a warm umber, the setting sun barely visible.

You don’t know how long you’ve been stood there, but you feel a presence behind you. You pray it’s not your date - demanding you keep him company.

You turn and feel your heart stop.

He looks beautiful. It’s the most undeniable beauty you’ve ever seen. He makes your heart throb.

Your heart swells, a feeling you’ve only ever felt once blanketing your heart.

Longing.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to trust someone so much ever again.” His voice is husky, his accent very noticeable. “I couldn’t figure out whether speaking to you would be a good idea, but I really wanted to understand,” he sighs deeply, his fingers whisking out a pack of Marlboros out of his pocket, “even a slither of your psyche.” He lights one cigarette and exhales.

You watch him intently but divert your gaze when he looks at you. “What do you mean?” You whisper. Your courage has left you, and your confidence has set itself on fire.

He nudges the cigarette towards you, “I know you’re more of a vogues girl, but you’re going to have to forgo that right now.” You take the offered cig and pop it in between your lips. It tastes of him somehow and you want to die. “I’ve been fucked up since I left Massachusetts, unbelievably so. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way.” He takes a tremulous breath.

You’re frozen. The cigarette needing to be ashed, he takes it from your fingers. He takes a swift inhalation. “I may have developed a mild dependency on alcohol… and on you. I can’t go to parties without thinking of you. I can’t get out of bed without thinking of you, I can’t breathe — without thinking of you.” His breathing is steady, his words stronger than the wind carried by the sea. You can’t breathe, his words taking the majority of your oxygen, he hands you back the cigarette.

“If I hadn’t done it then, you would have done it first.” You shiver with the cold breeze from the surf. If you could choose between kissing him or dissipating, you would choose to dissipate right into the sand.

His eyes flash across to you, his irises seething with anguish and droplets of anger. “It’s not a race, it never should be.” His hiss cuts across your chest, almost shattering your pearls. “I loved you, like I’ve never loved anyone.” His words make you look at him. The eyes that haunt your dreams are there, right there, less than a step away. The wind brushes his tendrils of golden hair across his face, he looks like a kaleidoscope manifested into flesh. “But I hate you now, in ways I have never hated someone.”

You feel like you’ve been stabbed in the neck.

You can feel a tear slip past your eyelashes, and you almost curse the skies. “That’s fine.” You choke quietly, your voice on the cusp of being drowned by the waves.

“I’ve moved on. I’m happy.” He sighs, he dashes the cigarette stub into the ocean, his hands going back into his pockets. His eyes don’t shift away from yours. “But you haunt me.” He looks away, towards the darkened horizon. “If I could choose between you dying or the Boston bomber - I would choose you.”

Your eyes widen with horror.

You’ve never been confronted with the pain you’ve caused. It’s never bothered you that men would desperately try to tarnish your image in salacious magazines. But this, this hurt you. Finally.

You can’t stop the tears now. You sink into the sand. The water washes against the borders of your legs. You choke a sob back.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice is small and dejected.

“That’s alright.” He’s lit another cigarette. He sits down next to you, offering you a toke. You take it, peaking at him from under your eyelashes.

Looking up at him, you’re met with a longing gaze.

You’re going to wonder forever what’s possessed him, but his lips find yours. They’re the light at the end of the tunnel and following the path to it guarantees his survival.

The embrace is bittersweet, sprinkled with pleasant familiarity. The taste of smoke tendrils dances between your tongues. His fingers swim in your hair, greedily pulling you deeper into his kiss. You want to die in his arms, it would be indeed the heavenliest way to die. You grab his shirt and hold on for dear life, his wine-soaked tongue intoxicating you further. Fireworks explode behind your eyelids and you sink further into him.

He breaks away from the kiss. His eyes riddled with unspoken secrets.

He stands up, his hand extending towards you. Lifting you to your feet and taking your hand in his, he begins to sway with you to the muffled music coming from the house. His hand rests above your bum, comfortably leading you in this dance. You lean your head against his chest, inhaling the smell of cologne and Marlboro Reds. The smell that used to wake you up on holiday weekends. A tear slips from your eye, a manifestation of your longing and your need for him.

Why do hurt people, hurt people?

You recall the day your father left your mother for dead.

“Where’s mum going, daddy?” You look up at the towering figure of your father.

His stern gaze remains on the distressed woman being handcuffed to the gurney. He brushes off your question with a glare embalmed with stone. You gulp and return your stare to your screaming mother; you rush to her, but a paramedic stops you in your tracks. Your mothers begs your father to let her go, her cries echoing around the front garden. Her roses seemingly wilt in sympathy for their weeping creator. She screams and fights against the paramedics, your father doesn’t wait until the doors of the ambulance have been closed before he closes the front door.

You rush to the living room window, standing beyond the curtain with your face pressed against the glass, you watch your mother being driven away.

You’ll never see her again and never know where she took her last breaths; and you’ll be transferred to board at your school. You see your father annually and eventually he leaves you for retirement in South Africa, you’re alone and unloved.

So, you steal hearts so that your own can heal.

Chris breaks your dance, his hypnotising spell diluted by the distance imposed by his now hardened glare. He turns and leaves, his shadow furthering away from your own. You watch in astonishment as he leaves you, cigarette smoke billowing away from his receding figure.

You can’t help the stream that washes your cheekbones.

He’s done the impossible - broke you.

-

Part 3 -

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

tuxedo iv, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your life? Oh, it’s normal. Your cat turned into a man yesterday and you just now humped his leg to orgasm. Sorry, what? That’s not normal? O-Of course, it is! It’s like... having a roommate! You argue because you recorded him without his consent. You eat noodles that he’s trying not to bat at all meal. There are skeletons in your closet. Your fingers get stuck in a Chinese finger trap and then you get fingered. Totally normal, by the way!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi LOVES his box; smut (fem reader, mild restraint, penetrative sex, forced orgasms, intentional voyeurism (tsk tsk, Shooky), fingering); domestic and soft moments with your cat-man; non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft shy boy Jeon Jungkook (gasp!!!) POV and bestfriend!Kim Seokjin POV; breaking of the fourth wall; you ARE a furry, oh well

yes, I reference Jin’s iconic Billboard interview answer, The Lion King (1994), Yoongi’s BTS café cereal milkshake, Bill Nye the Science Guy, PENTAGON’s ‘DO or NOT’ / ‘Shine’ / ‘Humph!”, “you got no jams”, The Addams Family (1991) – also there’s a bit of a meme scavenger hunt, I reference too many to list XD

–

part i | part ii | part iii

-

So.

You kinda.

Humped your cat-man’s thigh to orgasm.

You animal.

“Ah… Yoongi,” you started as your cat… man tilted his head, blinking slowly. Unnerving. Why was he staring like that? It reminded you of his previous cat self, where Shooky would watch you with his minty-green eyes, cat face expressionless, whiskers unmoving. What were cats thinking about all the time anyway?

Better yet, what the fuck was Min Yoongi thinking?

You knew what you were thinking. You were thinking that you couldn’t stare at you cum stain on his pink silk pajama leg all day, because that was a master yikes. He had tons of clothes still piled next to the front door of your apartment. All you had to do was convince him to change his outfit. Simple. Easy. Don’t make this weird. Be casual. Be cool as a cucumber. Chill out.

“Um… You should… take off the pajamas… so I can wash them… there are still more clothes you need to try on from the order, right…?”

Your dignity threw up their hands. Why do I even bother being here? I get ignored, the brain in here is smoother than KY Jelly on glass, and you would know, wouldn’t you, you–

“Take them off for me.”

“… P… Pardon?”

“I’m joking.”

He raised an eyebrow, glancing down at your raised hands. You abruptly dropped them, shoving them behind your back. When did that happen? Why did you make grabby hands like that? Surely not because you were expecting anything, right? Definitely not. Not you.

You need help. 

Yoongi turned around, black fur tall swishing, the back of his pink silk pants half-lowered. Your jaw went slack, only to forcefully shut back into place as you realized he was still wearing his black boxer briefs since you had spent yesterday sewing tail holes in his convenience store underwear. Of course, he was still wearing them. There was no reason to take them off.

What, did you want to look at his booty again or something?

(Yes.)

He went through the doorframe of your bedroom without saying a word. 

Hold on a second.

Did Yoongi let you ride his thigh to orgasm, be sweet to you for two seconds, only to fucking bounce without a peep of acknowledgment? Just fucking yeet? Act like that was totally ordinary behavior and saunter off?

Say sike right now.

A millisecond of bravery shot through you and you bolted out of your chair, your desk rattling with your sudden action.

"Yoongi–!"

You nearly collided into him. You weren’t expecting him to be facing you and you yelped in surprise, skidding on your heels. His hands stopped your hips, freezing you in place so you didn't barrel headfirst into his chest. You flailed about, struggling to regain your balance. All this happening while he continued giving you that deadpan stare. Did anything faze this (cat) man? Shit, you were too close to his face. So close you could feel his breath on your nose. 

"You should change too."

Brain malfunctioning at the softness of his tone.

"... W-What?"

Then your neck, ears, face, even your past and future self, the whole timeline became hotter than a supernova, brain erupting into nuclear fusion as Yoongi's deft fingers slid up to the waistband of your leggings, hooking underneath, stroking your skin. He leaned forward, dark eyes out of your vision, chin hovering above your shoulder. 

"Urk?!"

He started pushing your leggings down. 

He started.

Pushing.

Them. 

DOWN!!!

"You can't stay like this all day, right?" Yoongi murmured gently, voice so deep it was resonating in your empty brain, completely clear of all thoughts except those cool fingers pushing your black leggings down, the skintight fabric catching your soaked panties and taking those on the path to hell too, which was probably where you were headed at the rate this was going. "It would be a good idea to change clothes, I think."

You think, Yoongi?

Not you. 

You don't have think. 

A shrill barrage of low meowing cut through the silence.

Your phone was ringing violently in your room. Yoongi paused, backing up with a frown.

"Why is your ringtone a cat chattering?" he asked, tilting his head quizzically. The continuing sonata of cat chitters escalated before his dark eyes narrowed in recognition. He glared at you and pulled his hands away from your hips, snapping you out of your daze.

"You recorded me?"

"What, what, what?" You blinked rapidly, hearing the familiar sharp chirps and barks of Shooky the cat yelling at birds outside the window. "Oh! Well, yeah... it was funny," you explained weakly, trying to shake out the fog of your horny brain. 

"There's nothing funny about trespassers," Yoongi hissed, turning his heel and swiftly marching away. 

"Trespassers?" you echoed, blinking in confusion. That’s why he yelled at them as a cat? Did he think he owned all the land the sun touches or something? The sound was getting louder and louder, indicating the call was about to be missed. No time to think about it. You rushed back into your room, nearly half tripping with your leggings only partway on your ass, scrambling to answer your phone. There was an uncomfortable squish between your legs. Yikes. You did need to change. 

"Hello? Oh, yes, the video? I'm putting it in the Dropbox right now," you babbled, clicking out of a bizarre pop-up ad with some brown-haired guy in a sienna floral shirt and a boxy smile before placing the exported video in the shared Dropbox folder. 

"Sorry, yeah, I know I usually have it done earlier. It's been a weird couple of days..."

-

Kim Seokjin was furious. 

Furious! 

His best friend ignored his face. His beautiful face! How could she! He fumed, deciding to instead spend his time wisely, as he always did.

He stared at his reflection and nodded, stroking his chin. Yes. A true winner. Look at that brilliant smile. Perfect. He looked great today, as he did every day. Seokjin looked away from the mirror on his desk and went back to his MapleStory life.

-

After a quick change and final edits of the completed video sent off to the client, you left your room to find that Yoongi had stacked his new clothes on the coffee table. The brown cardboard box was on the sofa with him (???), as if it was a human being instead of an ordinary box. He had neatly folded the plastic packaging and placed it on the kitchen counter so you could sort it into the correct recycling. 

"Oh... thanks."

He was now wearing a white t-shirt and black pants that actually seemed like they fit, the back of said pants halfway down his butt to accommodate for his tail. He was watching that historical drama; eyes glued the television. The dark brown orbs were hidden by his curtain of black hair. His pointed black ears were turned away from your direction, as if he had no desire to listen to anything you had to say.

As usual.

Yoongi's response was grunting disapprovingly at you. 

You sighed, feeling a little guilty.

"To be fair, I couldn't really ask your consent when you were a cat."

Your cat-man appeared to be out of fucks to give. "You should do laundry," he huffed gruffly. 

You scooted away awkwardly. "Er... yeah. Let me order some delivery for lunch first..."

-

"Yoongi."

"What?"

"What are you doing?"

He stared at his chopsticks, holding them up high. 

"Hmm..."

His pink lips twisted, narrowing his eyes. The fingers in his other hand twitched. He had been staring at the noodles in his ramen for the past five minutes. They were probably cold now. You were getting a bit worried that he didn't like carbs or something. But then you realized that wasn't the case.

His fingers twitched again. 

"They're noodles. Not string."

Yoongi didn't reply, itching to bat at the long noodles. 

"Just put them in your mouth."

He gave you this look. As if to tell you, you don't usually say that. Usually someone else tells you that. 

You thinned your mouth into a line. 

"I know you're admiring the skinny legend that is noodles, but, yes, they're edible. Need I remind you that you used to eat string and I had to pull it out of your mouth when you choked on it?"

Yoongi scowled. Apparently, he did not like being reminded. It wasn’t that pleasant for you to remember either. At least you never had to wait until it passed through his body and never had to pull it out of the other end (ew). He peered them for several more seconds before putting them in his mouth. You noticed his ears perked up as he ate. 

"You like them?" you asked.

He hummed, not looking at you. Was Yoongi still angry about the recording thing? You weren't changing your ringtone regardless of his dissatisfaction. It was cute. You liked it. And he was being a drama queen, acting all catty.

Hold on. 

He was a cat. 

(Man.)

-

"What is this?"

"Dessert."

You took a sip and choked a little at the grainy taste. 

"Is that cereal?"

"Yeah. It's too hard. Better this way."

You gawked at him, holding the weird cereal milkshake with one hand and his half-sewn pants in the other. Was Yoongi being serious or fucking with you? You couldn't tell. His expression was completely neutral. His cat ears were straight up, trained in your direction, judging your reaction. He lifted his free hand and dropped a handful of rice crisps on the top of the thick white drink.

Well. 

Not your preferred thick white drink. 

(You nasty.)

He nodded sagely and sat down beside you. 

"Show me how to sew."

-

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program for you to, please, consider the following. 

See, by all recommendations of building healthy relationships, you should have been a responsible human being and had a serious, but necessary, conversation with your (new?) cat-man. 

Hey, Yoongi, I find you quite physically attractive and we had that moment in my bedroom, so maybe there's some chemistry and, oh, I don't know, maybe you could stick that prefect looking dick inside me because I've been thinking about it nonstop since (checking watch) the literal second I realized it existed, not to be too forward or anything, you know?

That kind of speech could get you a quick restraining order in most cases, but this was your cat (man) who had lived with you – maybe against his will but, then again, he got fed regularly and when you were previously a stray you can’t complain.

So. 

Do or not?

Hmm...

You could have admitted these things, but, alas, this was not the way. No, the way was to remain an absolute fucking mess every time Yoongi leaned over your shoulder to inspect your needlework, nearly stabbing yourself in the finger, your heart leaping your throat, strangling yourself with anxiety. 

Fun!

Could everything be quickly solved by telling the truth?

Debatable. Yoongi didn’t seem like the kind of (cat) man to give you a straight answer. Not because he couldn’t. Mostly because he seemed to enjoy watching you struggle. Were you picking up on that? 

No. You were too busy thinking about dick. 

His dick. 

Honestly, don't know if you should laugh or cry right now. 

-

Jeon Jungkook flipped his phone around and around in his hand, scrunching up his face.

Should he say something?

Yes. No. Yes? No. Yes… No, no, no.

He sighed and threw his phone onto his bed.

He missed and it slid off, hitting the floor. 

That was a bad sign.

“Shit.”

He dived onto the bed, scabbing around on the hardwood to pick up the fallen device. Ah, how come he was thinking about this now? He knew why. He had watched a funny cat video of a tuxedo cat and it reminded him of a certain naughty little fluffball always following around a certain owner. Jungkook hadn’t contacted said owner in nearly a year. Wouldn’t it look bad if he said anything now? But he couldn’t not think about it either. That smile was on his mind all the time now. That feeling from back then, floating around in his head. He sighed again, followed by inhaling with his upper teeth pressed against his inner lower lip, creating a loud sucking sound that no one else could hear because he lived alone.

Alone.

Jungkook lifted his phone, dying sunlight reflecting off the screen, a shine that blinded him for a short moment. He clicked his tongue, squinting as he spied the number still on the screen.

“Ah, why am I always a loser in front of love?”

He wasn’t really saying it to anyone in particular. No one could reply to him anyway.

He tossed the phone carelessly on the pillow and it slid behind it, falling in between the mattress and the bedframe.

“Shit!”

Jungkook spent five minutes fishing his phone out of the narrow crevice before firmly placing it on the bed beside him, pointing at it angrily, glaring at it.

“No! Bad.”

The phone did nothing. It was not sentiment.

Humph! He let out a frustrated puff of breath and flopped down on the bed.

His phone flew up from the force of his flop and smacked him in the nuts.

“SHIT!”

-

“Huh, you pick up things so fast. So meticulous.”

You watched as Yoongi brought the needle through the fabric in slow but clean strokes, following your previous demonstration. For someone who only had opposable thumbs for less than two days, he was surprisingly dexterous. Seemed like he could do a lot with his hands. No. Stop that. Stop being weird.

“Are you a genius?”

Yoongi didn’t hesitate, not looking up.

“Of course.”

You regretted asking. He continued, oblivious to your annoyed expression.

“I’m a cat.”

“All cats are geniuses?” you retorted disbelievingly.

“Most of them are.” His eyes flickered to you, eyebrows raising. “Compared to humans anyway.”

Was this a dig at you and your missing brain cells after running into things chasing after him and your brain exploding at his hotness? Which he wasn’t, by the way. Yeah, that’s right. Take that, Min Yoongi! You’re being mean, so therefore your attractiveness points are going down in this brain, yes, they are and there’s nothing you can do about it, yup, absolutely NOTHING–

He held up the pants, showing off his handiwork.

“Did I do a good job?”

His voice was soft, unsure, head slightly tilted, velvety ears eagerly perked to listen to your response.

Oh no.

Oh nooo.

Oh nooooooo.

He’s cute.

“Yeah. That looks amazing, Yoongi,” you heard yourself saying, smiling at him.

His fair-skinned cheeks flushed pink, lowering the pants quickly to snip the excess thread off, placing the needle in the cat-shaped pincushion like you had done earlier so he could carefully tie a knot to seal his hard work.

Shit.

You were whipped for him.

Damnnit.

To be honest, nothing had changed. You were whipped for him as a cat too.

“I’m going to clear out some space the closet so you have somewhere to put your clothes, okay?”

“A-ah… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking up another pair of pants. Jeans this time.

“Oh, with these you can simply cut the hole. No need to sew because this type of fabric won’t fray too much. Ah, but not directly on the seam. Maybe here?” You pointed slightly to the right of the back middle seam. Your mouth kept talking despite not having any more instructions for him. “Did you know the butt rip was fashionable among women for a little while? Under the pocket though, not the center. That’s just weird.”

Yoongi tilted his head the other way.

“Women are weird,” he said in a deadpan voice.

You narrowed your eyes. “Oi.”

He picked up the scissors, raising an eyebrow at you. “Are you not weird?”

You opened your mouth to reply, but nothing came out. He’s got you there. Shit. You puffed your cheeks and turned around, stalking off to your bedroom. Why was he always right? One day, he won’t be right and you’ll mark it on your fucking calendar. Humph.

You slowed at your doorframe, remembering his sheepishly proud face as he showed off his sewing. Crap. What was Min Yoongi so cute for? And how were you supposed to look at other guys after knowing your cat (man) was so damn adorable? And observant and diligent? And driven to be independent, asking questions and trying to do things on his own not even forty-eight hours after becoming human? Cooking, sewing, folding his own clothes… what’s next, playing the fucking piano?

Yeah, right.

You snorted and went into your bedroom.

-

“What’s this?”

You looked up, half-buried in idol merchandise you didn’t even know you had. How long had these sweatshirts been sitting here in their plastic packages? And these posters left in the tubes at the back of your closet? You shouldn’t own so much stuff. You should sell it. You weren’t going to, because these were limited edition items and you would have to be crazy to sell stuff with the cute faces of your favorite idols. You stuck you head out of the closet to see what Yoongi was referring to.

“What? Oh, that?”

You wheezed in embarrassment, ducking back in the closet, pretending to be busy.

“Uh… so… YouTube and Twitch had a crackdown on using copyrighted music and I thought, well, maybe I could maybe make my own, so I brought a keyboard but, uh…”

You rubbed the back of your head sheepishly, trying to figure out how to say you had no musical inclination and only had the ability to appreciate it.

“Basically, I got no jams.”

The keyboard was still in its box. You had opened it and attempted to learn piano, but well, you were shit. Also, you gave up pretty quickly. It was embarrassing considering you had spent so much money on it and were all confident when buying it, only for it to become a hidden occupant in the back of your closet. This was before Shooky – er, Yoongi – had come into your life. Yes. It had been there for literal years.

“I was going to donate it,” you added with a sigh.

You suddenly noticed something out of the corner of your eye. You frowned and reached in, grabbing the thin, hard object before pulling it out.

A…

Skeleton in your closet.

A long-lost Halloween decoration? Why was this here?

“Can I have it?”

You looked up, holding the mysterious plastic skeleton like a small child. “What?”

Yoongi pointed to the keyboard box, black tail swishing rapidly. There was a liveliness in his dark brown eyes and his pointed ears were sticking straight up. You narrowed your eyes.

“You don’t want that skinny box for some reason, do you?” you accused.

He pursed his lips at you, scowling. “No, you can throw away the box. I want to keep the keyboard.”

Huh? “Uh… okay, I guess. More space in the closet, I suppose. Oh, wait…” You stumbled into the back of the closet, feeling around. “I brought a stand for it, hold on… fuck!” You jammed your finger against a metal pole and howled, quickly retreating your hand to massage it. Fuck, that hurt! Scowling, you reached back in to grab the metal keyboard stand and yank it out from between your tightly packed clothes.

“Are you dead?”

“Shit!”

You jumped nearly ten feet, almost banging your head on the clothing rail if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s swift movement of grabbing your shoulders, pulling you to him. He didn’t have to pull far, because he was right behind you. How did he always sneak up on you when he wore a damn bell around his neck that announced his presence? Sorcery. Aliens. Voodoo witchcraft. Now you were convinced these things existed.

(Your cat turning into a man wasn’t enough for you to believe in magic? What’s wrong with you?)

“You’re really clumsy,” Yoongi remarked.

No, you’re spooky, you thought. One of your hands was on his chest. Instant heart palpitations. And handsome. Crap.

“Are you going to do something weird again?”

Weird? You were never weird. What was this man going on about? You needed to reprimand him. Put him in his place! Enough is enough, Min Yoongi! You can’t win over me every time! You raised your head to face him, opening your mouth to give him a piece of your mind.

Yoongi was centimeters away from your face.

You froze.

Ice effect overlapping your whole body.

You dropped the keyboard stand.

Thankfully, it simply fell against your clothing, leaning against your sweatshirts. It stayed upright, held up by the clothing. You didn’t have to worry about it for the time being. It was perfectly fine, unlike you. You were not fine. Not fine at all, staring at Yoongi’s upturned upper lip and unreadable dark brown eyes, slowly blinking at you. Hands on your shoulders, holding you close to him.

Not letting go.

!!!

-

Jeon Jungkook placed his phone on his desk and chopped the air, threatening it.

It wasn’t sentient.

He still didn’t trust it.

He glared at his phone angrily and shuffled back to his bed to have a nice, calm rest that didn’t involve his nuts getting destroyed. Ugh. He was bored. He had plenty to do. Schoolwork. Studying. Cleaning his room covered in clothes. Attempting to cook.

Jungkook made a face at the ceiling.

The last time he tried to cook some glazed sweet potatoes they had been glued to the plate somehow. A neat magic trick, but not edible. He couldn’t get them to unstick, much less be eaten. He had to order out that night. Come to think of it, he spent most of his money on ordering out. Maybe that was a bad habit.

He ran a hand through his bleached, blond hair that had too much toner in it so it had turned slightly silvery-purple. An at-home experiment. Another bad habit.

Jungkook groaned, rolling onto his face.

“I need someone older to take care of me,” he mumbled into the sheets.

Someone older… with a certain tuxedo cat, perhaps? He pouted even though no one was there to witness his cuteness.

“Ahhhhhhh…”

He yelled quietly into his bedding, letting go.

Finally thinking about you.

In front of you, he could tease. He could poke fun. It was easy. You were just so flustered around him, not really trying to hide your attraction to him. The first time he had met you was when he went bowling with Seokjin-hyung (he won, much to the disdain of his hyung). You had stopped by to say hello and Seokjin had introduced you two. It had been a fairly innocent meeting, mostly because for a long time Jungkook couldn’t open his mouth to say anything at all. You were wearing a huge white t-shirt with a colorful strawberry graphic, a wide-brimmed straw hat, and white sneakers with black laces. It had been a hot summer day, he remembered. You were already pretty simply by standing there, chatting animatedly with his hyung. Jungkook tried not to look too closely, sneaking glances in between your conversation.

Seokjin had absolutely no qualms about shitting on your outfit.

“Yah, grandma, you’re off to pick some strawberries in the field or something?”

You had shoved him, rolling your eyes. “You’re a grandpa too! Look at you, losing to kid.”

Was that referring to him? “Ah, I’m not a kid.” Shit. His Busan dialect slipped out a little in his nervousness, deepening his voice.

Your cheeks had peppered pink. “A-ah… right…”

Oh?

Oh!

Oh!!!

You shook your head abruptly and reached into your tuxedo-cat-printed tote bag. “Here’s your freaking hard drive, you monkey,” you had said to Seokjin, handing over the small paper bag.

“Did you manage to restore all my files?” Seokjin asked worriedly, completely ignoring your insult.

You shrugged, looking rueful. “I don’t know how many you had, but I did the best I could.” You leaned forward, eyes narrowing, whispering in his ear. Didn’t matter. Jungkook was close enough to hear.

“Stop downloading porn!”

Jungkook snorted.

Seokjin glared at you. “Excuse me, I am living a healthy lifestyle, do not judge me!” he hissed. “And not in front of the child!”

Yeah, well, Jungkook didn’t let you think he was a child for long.

He wasn't really sure why he was attracted to you. It wasn't only because you were pretty. He just had a strong urge to get a reaction out of you. Ah, maybe that was it. He liked seeing your reactions to things and did everything he could to get more and more interesting reactions out of you. You never told Jungkook to stop. You told Seokjin to stop all the time.

"I swear if you make one more pun, I'm going to tie your tongue into a knot!"

"Then I'd really be tongue-tied, eh? Eh?! WAIT, NO, WATCH THE FACE, NOT MY FACE!!!"

Jungkook couldn't help himself. He had to mess with you. 

Fuck. 

(Yes, actually.)

He couldn't stop. It was too fun. It didn't help that you had a cute surprised face. Didn't help that you had a great smile. Didn’t help that you had an amazing body under your clothes and knew exactly how to use it (Jungkook wouldn’t admit it, but he learned a lot from you). Didn't help that you would chase after your tuxedo cat and scoop up that furball even after getting railed by him, which Jungkook found very impressive. 

"Shooky, you loon, I told you to stop running on the counters..."

And you would cradle that cat to your chest, petting his head and waiting for him to purr and lick your nose before releasing him, satisfied that he was no longer going to be a menace. He still was though. He was a cat. You forgave Shooky every time. 

Just like how you let Jungkook get away with everything. 

Present Jungkook frowned, rolling onto his back, frowning at the ceiling. Maybe you thought he was a fuckboy and had a negative image of him. He scratched his head, tongue in cheek, thinking hard. No. You didn't seem like the type. You were never angry at him, not really, not even when he interrupted your work to mess around in bed. Exasperated, maybe, but it never seemed like you were holding an internal grudge or upset at his nonchalant actions. Ah, but he hadn’t tried to talk to you in almost a whole year. Would you think he was a dick if he tried to contact you now? He couldn’t ask you. He couldn’t ask your best friend. Seokjin-hyung still had no idea. 

Jungkook laughed to himself. 

He kind of went behind his hyung's back, whoops.

He looked to his left side, the side you used to fall asleep on when he spent the night. He could imagine it, your past self and his past self, your hair on your pillow, blankets loosely over your chest, his hand on your breasts as you slept. 

A pair of mint-green eyes glaring at him from the left side of your body. 

Jungkook remembered poking that pink nose with his index finger, the rest of his hand still on your tits. The tuxedo cat had given him a very displeased look. 

"Are you mad?"

The cat didn't reply. He was a cat. 

"You're really lucky. You get to be with her every day," Jungkook had whispered, not wanting to wake you up. "She takes good care of you, you know. I see how much she loves you."

The cat closed his eyes, resting his furry head on your arm. 

"Do you love her back?"

Maybe. Maybe not. Jungkook didn't know. He wasn't a cat. He couldn't ask in cat language. He let go of your breasts for a second to scratch the top of Shooky's head, right between those velvety ears. He began purring like a little motor. 

You continued your adventures in la la land, oblivious to this interaction. 

"I guess cats are kind of simple, huh?" Jungkook mused, smoothing out the black fur on top of that little head. "You don't have to think about much. You don't have to get a job, plan for the future, or worry about being a good husband."

His hand lowered.

"But I do."

You breathed softly against him, nuzzling closer to his body. Jungkook put his hand back on your breasts and you stilled, lost in your dreams. He breathed out, warmth against your skin. He saw the side of your lips twitch ever so slightly upwards, but maybe it was only his imagination wishing to see what he wanted.

Only a wish.

He had placed his nose by your cheek and breathed in, losing himself in dreams as well. 

-

Yoongi looked into your eyes. 

Then both of you turned to opposite sides and sneezed loudly.

"Fuck–"

"That was horrible," Yoongi hissed, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand and backing up. "Ugh, human bodies are awful."

You shook your head roughly. "Someone must be thinking about me... and you, I guess..." you mumbled, clearing your head before prodding him in the chest. "Also, last time I checked, now you're human too, so jokes on you. Hope you enjoy the suffering!" You stuck your tongue out childishly.

Yoongi gave you an annoyed look, reaching over you to grab the keyboard stand. You stiffened at his closeness, but he quickly withdrew, taking the metal stand and leaving you disappointed, but not surprised. Couldn't even pretend to be shocked.

He lifted it up so it wouldn’t drag on the floor and began to walk out of the room, ignoring you.

Classic. 

You thinned your mouth into a line and picked up the white plastic skeleton. What to do with this? Fuck it. Back into the closet it goes, along with your winter wardrobe, summer wardrobe, and other knickknacks.

Well. 

Maybe you could donate a couple things to charity. 

Like this Chinese finger trap. Why was this here?

You stuck your fingers in it. 

S... shit!

Yoongi reappeared to grab the keyboard. You opened your mouth, about to ask for help, looking up to see your cat-man standing in the doorframe of your bedroom, glaring. Very displeased and disapproving, reminding you a whole lot of a certain tuxedo fluffball.

"I'll say it again."

Huh? You gave him a confused look. 

He pointed to his pointed, velvety black ears. 

"I'm a cat, duh."

And then he walked out. Fuck him. You didn't need his help. 

-

You couldn’t get it off.

Panik!

Yes, you can. It was just a finger trap. You were smart. You graduated university. You had been a human for many more years than Min Yoongi. He had been human for two days! And besides, Yoongi was mean. You didn’t need a meanie to help you. You were a strong, independent woman who didn’t need no (cat) man.

Kalm.

You…

You…

You couldn’t get it off!!!

PANIK!!!!!!!

-

“… What are you doing?”

You were the epitome of the emoji holding back tears.

“Y… Yoongi…” you whined.

He blinked at you, holding the manual of the keyboard upside down. The keyboard was already set up on the stand, pushed up against one of the walls of your living room. He was using the cardboard box that his clothes came in – he really loved that damn box – as a makeshift seat.

“Are you dying?”

You held up your hands, pouting. The bronze dragon Chinese finger trap was still stuck on your index fingers. It had been roughly twenty, maybe thirty minutes.

Your cat-man just blinked at you and it.

“I… can’t get it off… Help…”

He raised an eyebrow and put the manual on the keyboard before walking over to you. He placed his chin in between his index finger and his thumb, frowning. Looking this way and that. The realization was slowly kicking in.

Yoongi wasn’t hiding his smirk very well.

“You know how to take it off!” you howled, smacking him in the chest.

He cackled, backing up as you repeatedly whacked him with the back of your hands, furious because it was obvious that he knew what to do and was simply not doing it to piss you off, his grin getting wider and wider, still not saying anything, this little shit, backing up into your living room as you chased him, stupid cat-man was fucking fast, dodging you easily, your joined hands and annoyed demeanor making you a bit wobbly.

“Min Yoongi, I swear I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he teased, raising his hands in mock innocence. “Maybe I don’t know?”

You scowled at him. “You definitely know.”

He smirked.

Shit.

It was sexy and you were supposed to be mad!

You were next to the keyboard now. And a certain something. Hm. You jerked your head to the cardboard box. His eyes widened.

“You wouldn’t do such a thing.”

“I would.”

“You wouldn’t, you heathen.”

“You better fucking believe I would!”

(You’re threatening to recycle a cardboard box to force your cat-man to get you out of a metal finger trap that you put yourself in. Um, are you okay? Better yet, are both of you okay???)

He marched over to you, relenting with an angry huff, yanking up your hands.

“There’s a trick to it, of course.”

He pressed the dragon’s horns in tandem with the dragon’s beard on either side and the trap released your red fingers, making you gasp at the sudden freedom. Holy shit. You stared at your freed index fingers. You had two hands. Wow. Amazing. Show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique…

Yoongi placed the finger trap on the coffee table.

“Hmph. This thing is probably only worth three dollars.”

You poked your index fingers together, suddenly ashamed. “Sorry I threatened your box.”

Yoongi grunted, cat ears flicking back and forth in annoyance.

You poked his stomach with your index fingers. “Er… I just… wanted you to help me...”

“You weren’t going to do it anyway.”

You puffed your cheeks, narrowing your eyes, irritation flaring back. “Well, maybe I was! What were you going to do, leave me like that, unable to use my hands for the rest of my life?” You jabbed him repeatedly in the chest, driving your point home in between your snappish words. “Hmm? I need hands to do things! Important things!”

Yoongi suddenly grabbed your wrists and held them up over your head.

(Aw shit, here we go again.)

“Y-Yoongi?!”

He raised an eyebrow at you.

“What important things do you need to do with your hands?” he asked.

Oh shit.

Oh no.

Why was his vice suddenly so deep? Did he even know???

Your eyes widened, brain malfunctioning, your last two working brain cells rushing to the library to find the book titled ‘things you can do with your hands’, opening it, reading, handsy things. That was it. That was all you had at this moment. Why was it that your brain had the memory equal to the RAM of a fucking Tamagotchi every time your cat-man touched you?

Oh, yeah, that’s right, because he was a cat literally two days ago and you never thought about fucking your cat because that’s just fucking weird, but now he’s a man, so maybe it’s okay, unless it’s not, and then what does that make you? FUCKING WEIRD, THAT’S WHAT.

You yelped as your back collided to the wall. When had you walked that far? What was going on? What was life??? You were yanked back to reality as Yoongi leaned down, tilting his head, eyebrow still cocked, dark eyes darker from his fluffy black hair falling over his eyes.

“I hear you don’t always like being able to use your hands.”

Holyfuckingshitcrap.

Instantly, your cheerful brain decided to play the memory of you begging Jeon Jungkook to hold down your wrists so you couldn’t stop him and his relentless assault on your pussy, one hand grasping both your wrists and the other rubbing two fingers on your clit, thrusting his hard cock in and out of you as he abused the sensitive bundle of nerves, pinning you to your bed, panting in your face.

“You like this, noona?” Jungkook had purred.

(Respectfully.)

Voice low, deep, and sexy, driving you insane, waves of pleasure crashing into you over and over, pussy throbbing with repeated orgasm.

“F-Fuck, yes, oh fuck, Jungkook, yes… don’t s-stooop…”

Shooky had sat on the highest level of his cat tree, glaring down at you two.

Shit, shit, shit…

Yoongi leaned in even more, eyes disappearing, lips next to your ear. You felt him transfer one of your wrists to his other hand, now holding both with one hand as the other fell against your body.

“In fact, I’ve seen it firsthand,” he whispered, low, soft, dangerous.

Your brain ended the film reel in your head, giving you two mental thumbs-up and beaming happily at you as if it had done a great thing.

No, brain.

You’ve fucked me over and now I’m horny as fuck!

A needy whimper popped out of you as Yoongi’s free hand slipped between your bodies, fingers dancing deftly across the fabric of your sweatshirt, following the rhythm of your racing heart as it went down, down, too fast, sanity unable to keep up, you rising into his touch, his fingers sliding underneath the waistband of your leggings. This pair wasn’t as tight as the previous pair, but the fabric still clung to your skin just as tightly.

Wait. Is that you? Moaning?

(Yes.)

He dragged them down your hips, having to let go of the waistband for a moment to push them past the sides before resuming, you moaning in the space where he should have a human ear, but he didn’t, because Yoongi was a cat-man and his pointed furry ears were at the top of his head.

“Y… Yoongi…”

“Hm?”

His soft lips lightly pressed against your ear and you shivered. His grip on your wrists wasn’t very tight. You could break out any time. He was only loosely holding you.

“I… I am…” you quivered, voice shaking.

“I want to make you feel good.”

His murmur was so gentle, so calm, so quiet that it almost didn’t feel real. Almost a purr.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?”

Thump.

Thump.

Thump.

“Yes.”

You said it.

Your panties were leaving with your leggings, shoved down mid-thigh. Your name in your ear, spoken by Min Yoongi, his body hovering over yours, black hair against your cheek, his fingers slipping between your legs, your heart slamming in your chest, thighs squeezing his hand.

“Feels nice here,” Yoongi mumbled, breath feathering on your skin. A single finger grazed your wetness and you gasped, his raspy chuckle in your ear. “Wet.”

Your eye twitched, slightly annoyed. No, really? Thanks for letting me know, it’s not like I can fucking feel it myself or anything, I absolutely need your riveting play-by-play–

“Urk!”

Yoongi scooped two fingers into your pussy and felt around inside, rubbing his fingertips against your throbbing walls.

“Ah…” He was breathing hard, pushing them in joint by joint, his own inhale shallowing. “Fuck, it’s so tight in here, are you alright?”

Oh, my fucking God, Yoongi, just fucking destroy me, I’m not a virgin!

You sucked in a shaking breath, mentally beating your inner thot back down. “F-Feels really nice, Yoongi… just… a little more…” He sank his fingers all the way to the knuckles. “Fuuuck, yes, oh, fuck yes…”

You rocked your hips into it, moaning, eyes closing, building up a pace, not really waiting for him to figure out that he could move his fingers too. It didn’t matter though, because Yoongi was highly observant and diligent, and, as much as you avoided to admit it, he had seen you get fingered hundreds of times, all over the apartment, in all sorts of embarrassing positions and with plenty of visible, graphic, high-definition detail, better than any porn video.

By – yup, you guessed it – Jeon Jungkook.

Yoongi began his own pace to match yours, thrusting his two fingers in and out until you were a hopeless mess, whining and bucking against his touch, your juices coating his hand, staring up at the ceiling with the tips of his black ears in your peripheral vision, tilted towards you to listen to every single one of your sounds. His heavy exhale invaded your head, lost in Yoongi’s rhythm that was uniquely his, only able to cry out, harder or faster, losing yourself in him, his scent, the smell of your vanilla body wash, and the rapidly strengthening sweetness between your legs rising up despite it dripping down your thighs.

“Yoongi… oh, fuck, Yoongi…”

It just felt too good, speed, strength, sound, wet messy squelches of his fingers entering you over and over, your pussy responding in kind, shuddering around them, clenching tight, hips rocking into every plunge to deepen the stroke, prolonging your own orgasm, savoring the moment.

“You feel so good…”

That wasn’t you.

That was Yoongi.

Whispering in your ear, probably not even realizing his own dirty talk.

“So fucking wet and warm,” he murmured, the rumble purring in his chest, soothing but also far too sexy. “Sucking my fingers back in, fucking me back… You really like me this much?” His lips brushed your ear, chaste kisses compared to the rough fingering of his slippery digits pushing into you repeatedly, the sounds getting louder and lewder because you were getting wetter and wetter. “Am I really that good-looking to you?”

Yoongi, are you BLIND, DEAF, or BOTH???

“Fuck yes, you are, what the fuck?” you gasped out, turning your head slightly, one of his dark brown eyes locking with yours, your jaw clenched with the effort of you holding back your orgasm to respond to his ludicrous question. “You are so fucking handsome I couldn’t even last two days of being in your presence, thirsting after you!”

You heard Yoongi chuckle, the sound resonating and teasing your ear.

“Actually, you couldn’t even last one, remember?” he drawled slyly.

His knuckle grazed your throbbing, aroused clit.

“Fuck!”

Your body twisted, whining wail torn out of you as you came, pushing your head and hands against the wall, nerves sparking and shaking, intense pleasure flooding all over your senses from holding back, breathless whimpers of Yoongi’s name, grinding into his hand. He let go of your wrists. They prickled with pins and needles of lost circulation, but you didn’t give a shit, grabbing his hand between your legs and shoving it back in you before it could retreat, riding out your orgasm, milking it for every single gram of ecstasy, cherishing every single second of another’s hand inside you, not just another but your disturbingly attractive man who was previously a cat sleeping in your lap exactly forty-eight hours ago as you innocently watched American Horror Story.

“Y… Yoongi?” you panted, orgasm petering out, trickling waves subsiding.

“Y… Yes?”

He wasn’t making fun of you. You could hear the nervousness in his voice.

“Can I kiss you?”

His face appeared in front of yours.

“Yes.”

You didn’t think twice.

You closed your eyes and leaned forward, lips on his, your satisfied sigh tickling his skin, kissing him hard, the intimacy you desired for so long, moments you spent all year trying to keep it at bay, no one to show your affection but tiny kisses on Shooky’s furry head, but now one of your hands was cupping Yoongi’s cheek, deepening the kiss, him pressing back against you, sandwiching you between the wall and himself. You let go of his hand between your legs and held both his cheeks, peppering light pecks against that lovely mouth. You wanted to kiss him over and over, so nice, so lovely, his barely-there gasps drifting on your lips with every kiss.

His fingers slipped out and touched your thigh.

You drew back, heart thudding, still holding his face, his round cheeks a little squished in your hands.

He raised his hand and put his pussy-soaked fingers in his mouth.

You jerked your hands back. “Y-Yoongi!” you exclaimed, shocked.

His pink tongue slipped around his fingers, tiny kitten licks to slurp it all up. He hummed, small smirk playing on his lips. You gawked at him.

“Y-You don’t have to–”

“You like it, don’t you?”

You shut your mouth, cheeks burning with heat.

Yoongi smirked wider, nimble tongue slipping around and around, your eyes glued to the movement, brain already dreaming up lecherous scenarios. His dark brown eyes flickered to you, eyebrows rising.

“Hmm…”

“W-What?” you snapped, trying to collect yourself. He was giving you that look again. That enigmatic expression of maybe-maybe-not. Yoongi shrugged, taking his fingers out of his mouth.

“I think we should do that again sometime.”

Your mind went blank.

Again? Now? Later?

Next Tuesday?

WHEN, MIN YOONGI, WHEN?

“… Urk?”

Those cunning dark brown orbs sparkled with mischief. “Hmm, then again, maybe we’ll do something different next time,” he pondered out loud, taunting you with the suggestive depth of his voice. He backed up, tail swaying from side to side, his grin widening, turning into an open-mouthed smirk that showed off his pretty teeth and devious expression.

His next words were the verbal equivalent of pushing your full glass of brainpower right off the table and sending it crashing to the floor.

“I have a lot of things I want to try.”

-

part v

--

masterpost

[ibijau]

How to Woo a Lan pt3 / on AO3

The issue with getting Nie Huaisang’s assistance in seducing Lan Sizhui was that Nie Huaisang wasn't an easy man to get a hold of. Except for conferences, or to go beg for help from his brother's sworn brothers, he rarely ever left the Unclean Realm. The second reason wasn't going to ever happen again, and Jin Ling wasn't in the mood to wait for both of them to attend the same conference.

That meant he had to invite Nie Huaisang to Jinlin Tai (an invitation he was almost sure would be refused) or invite himself to the Unclean Realm. He'd need a decent reason for that, or else the Nie wouldn't allow him inside their fortress, sect leader or not. He also needed an excuse to give the Jin elders and Jiang Cheng, who might not want him anywhere near Qinghe at the moment… but that part would be easy enough, when he had a lifetime of experience in dealing with overprotective relatives. He’d just say he had been invited by… well, not the Lan, that’d be too odd when he’d just been on a Night Hunt, but Ouyang Zizhen was always up for some mischief, and he was weak to a good love story.

Or a bad love story, for that matter, but Jin Ling knew his future romance with Lan Sizhui was definitely going to be a great one.

So he’d tell everyone he was going to meet up with Ouyang Zizhen for a made-up Night Hunt, and they’d head for Qinghe together, and… and it wouldn’t be difficult to dig up some official sounding business that he’d need to urgently check with sect leader Nie.

It would be easy.

It was easy.

Ouyang Zizhen loved the idea, especially since he’d had yet another argument with his father and wanted some space. That seemed to happen every other week, and Jin Ling suspected that his friend spent more time away from home than with his family. He suspected, also, that sect leader Ouyang wasn’t quite the tyrant that Zizhen made him out to be, but rather a grumpy old man who didn’t know how to deal with his emotions, much like Jiang Cheng.

The two of them, after meeting in the place they’d decided, headed for Qinghe together. Ouyang Zizhen stayed behind at an inn, so he wouldn’t get dragged into a bad situation in case sect leader Nie didn’t take too well to having his past affair with Lan Xichen thrown in his face. So it was alone that Jin Ling made his way to the high gates of the Unclean Realm, alone that he faced the guards standing at the entrance, alone that he announced he needed to urgently meet with Nie Huaisang on important business.

The guards, quite predictably, refused to let him in so easily. They insisted on being given details before bothering their sect leader, while Jin Ling absolutely refused to share any critical information with low ranking disciples. It was, quite frankly, a little insulting that people so low in importance could dare resist him in that manner, especially when Qinghe Nie hardly counted as a great sect anymore these days, but Jin Ling was starting to have some experience in dealing with obtuse underlings. He insisted, and insisted, and insisted some more until at long last the highest ranking of the guards gave in and sent someone to warn their sect leader he had a guest.

Jin Ling was allowed inside.

Not only was he allowed inside, but Qinghe Nie’s first disciple in person came in person to fetch him, and after he refused to talk to her about the business that brought him there, she promptly took him to see her sect leader. Everything was going according to plan. Jin Ling was starting to feel mildly nervous, especially as quite a few Nie disciples glared at the sight of an intruder wearing robes of gold… but that was to be expected. He’d known he wouldn’t be a welcome guest, and the Nie weren’t exactly warm people to begin with.

It came as something of a relief when Jin Ling realised that he wasn’t being led to the normal reception room to meet Nie Huaisang, but instead towards private quarters, most likely the sect leader’s office. It meant there would be no witness to their conversation. Then, just as quickly, Jin Ling panicked a little when he realised that meant he’d probably be alone with Nie Huaisang, a man who had every reason to despise him for being related by blood to his beloved brother’s murderer. It occurred to him that maybe this whole plan wasn’t the smartest thing he’d ever come up with, but at that point it was already too late: the door to Nie Huaisang’s office was being opened for him, revealing the man himself, sitting at his desk.

As he walked inside the room, Jin Ling thought there was something different about Nie Huaisang. Maybe it was just that he’d so rarely seen him in a state other than “drunk and making a scene” or “crying and making a scene” or even “just making a scene for no discernable reason”. Instead, Nie Huaisang looked calm and collected, a bit annoyed perhaps, but there was enough paperwork on his desk that the annoyance might not even have been caused by Jin Ling’s visit.

“Leave us alone,” Nie Huaisang ordered his first disciple, in a voice firmer than Jin Ling had ever heard from him. To the boy’s mild horror, the first disciple did leave immediately, closing the door behind her. “Well? What urgent business do you have to share with me?” Nie Huaisang asked, opening an elegant fan and using it to gesture that his guest was welcome to sit down.

Jin Ling took the invitation and knelt down on the other side of the desk. He realised, a little late, that he hadn’t really thought of something to say, having half expected he wouldn’t even making it this far. In the end, Jin Ling decided that the best way to deal with this situation was to be brief and to the point.

“I remember about your affair with Lan Xichen,” he announced. “And I want to talk to you about something regarding that.”

The fan in Nie Huaisang’s hand closed with a sharp sound, and for a brief moment the man glared at Jin Ling with such open hatred that Jin Ling shivered and unconsciously leaned backward. Then, just as quickly, Nie Huaisang’s expression turned so perfectly indifferent that Jin Ling might as well have imagined that brief moment of rage.

“So you remember that,” Nie Huaisang pleasantly mused, tapping his fan against his chin. “I suspected as much, but Lan Xichen seemed to believe you’d forgotten. He’s always been the hopeful sort. I must commend you for keeping that secret, Jin zongzhu,” he said, his smile turning sharper. “And for trying to blackmail me now. A very bold move certainly, though not exactly smart, I’m afraid. After all, you know what sort of things I’m capable of, and I doubt you told anyone you were coming here. I might well do something regrettable to protect Lan Xichen’s reputation.”

“Someone knows I’m here,” Jin Ling retorted, suddenly glad Ouyang Zizhen was waiting for him. “And anyway you’re not stupid enough to kill me. You know if there’s one thing that could make Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng reconcile it’s that, and if they’re working together they’d find out the truth for sure.”

Nie Huaisang’s smile became milder, yet somehow Jin Ling still felt half threatened. “You’re a smart boy. Smarter than I expected. Very well, I’ll listen to what you want, if only because I’m very bored lately.”

Jin Ling nodded, and took a deep breath.

“Right. I want you to help me court someone from Gusu Lan!” he said. “Because everyone else I could ask for advice is a damn idiot, and you at least had that fling with Lan Xichen, and I don’t know when the two of you broke up, but…”

Nie Huaisang chuckled somberly, reopening his fan and moving it in a lazy manner.

“Of course you know. You were there. Let this be a piece of advice for you, Jin zongzhu,” Nie Huaisang added with an innocent expression. “Don’t make your lover kill his best friend, no matter how just and deserved the death. It can put a strain on a relationship.”

Jin Ling gaped, and awkwardly stared at Nie Huaisang who placidly returned the stare. He had expected the break-up to have happened a while before all that business with Wei Wuxian’s return started. But if those two had been together, then…

“Why didn’t you get him to willingly help you avenge your brother, if he was still your lover?” Jin Ling asked.

“That’s none of your concern, Jin zongzhu,” Nie Huaisang snapped, before mellowing back into a pleasant, if insincere, smile. “So you have a thing for someone from Gusu Lan… I heard you’ve been very friendly to that loudmouth boy, what’s his name again?”

“It’s not Jingyi!” Jin Ling protested, offended at the very idea. “I have better taste than that!”

“Then my second guess is Lan Sizhui,” Nie Huaisang mused, his smile falling. “Hm… of course you’d have to make this complicated for yourself. It runs in your family, I’m starting to think. You Jin can’t ever do things the easy way."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Nie Huaisang’s fan stilled, and he glared at the boy.

"It means give up, Jin zongzhu,” he said coldly. “If I'm right about the object of your affections, he'll refuse you even if he likes you. Especially if he likes you,” Nie Huaisang corrected after a moment of consideration. “He was raised by Wangji, he'll be just as stupid. No, find yourself a nice girl who'll let you play under her skirts, marry her, have a few babies… love isn't worth it, my generation should have proved that."

“Well, my generation isn’t going to be stupid about it,” Jin Ling hotly retorted. “If I had problems, I would trust Lan Sizhui to understand, and to do the right thing about it, because he’s the best person in the world! I just… need to figure out how to let him know I like him, first. I’m making a bit of a mess with that so far.”

“Truly your father’s son,” Nie Huaisang muttered, appearing unimpressed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Nie Huaisang didn’t reply right away. Instead he resumed fanning himself and stared a long while at Jin Ling. So long, in fact, that it was becoming uncomfortable, and Jin Ling found himself wanting to shout at the other man for being a creep… but ultimately Nie Huaisang was his elder, and someone of equal rank, and Jin Ling was pretty sure shouting at another sect leader could get him in trouble if his uncle heard about it.

Then again, just being there at all would get him in trouble if Jiang Cheng heard about it.

“I don’t suppose people have told you all that much about your father, have they?” Nie Huaisang asked, something going softer in his face. “A good man. Not the smartest, terrible with people, but… yes, a good man. A kind man, even. Bit of a prick when he was a teenager, but we all were, and he grew out of it in time. We had good fun together, back in the days.”

Jin Ling stared right back, and nervously pinched the hem of his sleeve.

“I didn’t know you were his friend?”

In truth, he didn’t know a lot about his parents, aside from a few basic facts. Few people had actually known them well enough for that, and those few people hadn’t been very willing to talk. Even Jin Ling, capricious as he could be, had quickly figured out how unkind it would have been to ask Jiang Cheng too many questions about the family he’d lost. But if Nie Huaisang had known his parents too… well, Nie Huaisang didn’t deserve Jin Ling’s pity, did he?

Nie Huaisang shrugged, and looked away.

“Zixuan and I got along pretty well, but I’m not sure I would have called us friends.” He sighed, and turned silent for a moment, before a half smile crept on his lips. “Well, I might have, I’m just not sure he would have agreed. But I helped him write poetry to woo your mother, back then. Heavens know he needed the help. Lovely, wonderful man once you knew him, but he had a gift for always saying the worst thing possible, no matter how well he meant.”

“Everyone told me my father was a perfect young master,” Jin Ling protested, fidgeting harder with his sleeves while heat creeped up his face at the insult, however slight, “and that he was well liked everywhere he went!”

“Oh, they said that when he was alive as well,” Nie Huaisang said with a short laugh. “People always find something nice to say about rich young men. No, your father was a disaster, and it’s a miracle your mother ever gave him a second chance.”

“A second chance?” Jin Ling gasped. “What’s that supposed to mean? They were engaged from birth, and they fell in love over the course of that engagement, and then they got married, what second chances were there to be had?”

It was the story he’d always heard. Even Jiang Cheng hadn’t ever said differently, on those few occasions he’d agreed to talk about Jin Ling’s parents. Their story had been beautiful, and romantic, and…

And come to think of it, Jiang Cheng had always firmly been opposed to any efforts by the Jin sect to pick a fiancée for Jin Ling, insisting that it should wait until he was old enough to have his say in the matter. Jin Ling had thought it was just his uncle expecting him to be a confirmed bachelor as well, or guessing that he usually liked boys more than girls, or…

Nie Huaisang grimaced, and closed his fan so he could toy with it.

“So you really don’t know the whole story, hm? You should ask…” he trailed off, and frowned. “Ah. Well, I suppose there’s not really anyone you could ask, so that’s the problem. Guangyao’s dead, Wanyin can’t stand speaking about his sister… I’d suggest you turn to Wei Wuxian, but quite frankly he’d already ran off to the Burial Mounds for the truly fun parts of the story. Of course I could tell you about your father’s great effort to seduce your mother once he realised that she was, in fact, the best woman in the world, but… I don’t particularly feel like it,” Nie Huaisang admitted with a disdainful smirk. “Nor do I feel like getting involved with any of your family’s problems. So shoo, off you go,” he ordered, chasing Jin Ling away with a gesture. “You’ve come to make a request, I have refused it, now leave me alone.”

“But you have to help me!” Jin Ling protested. “If you don’t, I’ll have to ask Wei Wuxian! Do you want that to happen?”

“Or you could just give up,” Nie Huaisang retorted. “I’ve told you, even if he likes you, that boy won’t… It would be a bad idea.”

“And it wasn’t, when you got together with Lan Xichen?” Jin Ling asked, slamming his fist against the desk, earning an unimpressed glance from his fellow sect leader.

“Of course it was a dreadful idea,” Nie Huaisang replied. “It’s a choice I’ve regretted almost every day for the past few months. Every day since I’ve discovered what was done to my brother. And now, the man I loved is in seclusion because I kept secrets from him and turned him into a murderer, almost ruining his reputation. If I could go back to the past…” Nie Huaisang paused again, his face tightening. “I should never have become involved with him. Love is a mistake, Jin zongzhu. Look at me, look at your parents, what good did love ever do anyone?”

“My parents were happy, before things went bad,” Jin Ling retorted, getting annoyed by all the self-pitying happening before him. Maybe Nie Huaisang really was as pathetic as he’d seemed to be, in the end. How disappointing. “Jiujiu doesn’t talk much about them, but he always says that: they were happy. Even after my father died, my mother said she didn’t regret that she’d at least had a little time with him!”

Nie Huaisang blinked at him, his expression softening.

"They were happy," he said. "Your parents. Out of everyone I’ve met from our circles, they were… I remember when your father told me your mother had agreed to marry him. I've never seen a man happier than that, except for the year after when he told me that they were expecting a child."

"I want to be happy like that, too," Jin Ling said. "And I know if I could just convince Sizhui… and I'd make him happy too! I'd do anything to make him happy! I just… I'm not sure how, because he's so perfect, and I'm me!"

Nie Huaisang blinked a few times, and put his chin on his hand, resting his elbow on the table.

"Oh dear, you have it bad, uh ? Ah, you remind me of… well. Nevermind that. And I suppose I'm the last person who could blame you for falling for a Lan. You are really sure it has to be a Lan, and that Lan in particular?"

Jin Ling thought of Lan Sizhui, kind and strong and unwaveringly good, and nodded firmly.

"Yes. I love him, and I'll court him, with or without your help!"

Nie Huaisang grimaced, but this time it looked almost like a smile.

"I see. Well, I suppose someone needs to make sure you don't cause a diplomatic incident like your father almost did a few times. I'd like to go a few years without Lanling Jin causing any trouble, if that's not too much to ask. Fine. Fine! I'll help."

"You will?" Jin Ling gasped, trying to restrain a happy grin.

"Sure, why not. I'm bored enough," Nie Huaisang sighed. "Fine, let's just… Tell me about Lan Sizhui."

"But you know him already. Better than me, probably."

"Oh, without a doubt I know him better than you," Nie Huaisang agreed. "But I want to hear this from you. I have to figure out how serious you are about this. Yes, yes, very serious,” he said, raising his hand to stop Jin Ling from protesting. “I remember being fifteen, thanks, and I thought I’d die if he didn’t look my way for too long. But he was a few years older than me, and there’s a lot I didn’t understand at the time, so I want to see how much you understand.”

Jin Ling opened his mouth to answer, than closed it again as he realised what Nie Huaisang had just said.

“You were already in love with Lan Xichen at fifteen? How long…”

Nie Huaisang raised a hand again, a severe expression on his face.

“Let’s establish something right now,” he said. “I am helping you, out of pity toward you and because your father was, in fact, one of very few people I’ve ever considered a friend. Aside from this, I still consider you an annoying brat, and the grandson of the man who had my brother murdered. Just because I’m willing to help you doesn’t mean I intend to confide in you, least of all on the subject of Lan Xichen. In fact, I’d appreciate it if you never mentioned him again in my presence.”

Jin Ling grimaced, but nodded anyway. Nie Huaisang, however, wasn’t done.

“And let’s be clear on something else,” he said, slowly, as if to make sure Jin Ling wouldn’t miss a single word. “If you ever tell anything, to anyone, about his relationship with me, nobody, not even Jiang Wanyin and Wei Wuxian, can save you from my wrath. I will not let anyone ruin Lan Xichen’s life, least of all another Jin. Do I make myself understood?”

Jin Ling shivered at the threat, which he felt to be a very serious one. Then, because he just didn’t know when to shut up, he said: “Oh. You still love him, don’t you?”

It was the wrong thing to say, and Nie Huaisang startled at the accusation, tensing like a wounded animal cornered by dogs. Of course it had been the wrong thing to say. Otherwise, Jin Ling wouldn’t have said it.

“I’ve just said I don’t want to confide in you,” Nie Huaisang hissed, but he couldn’t quite make himself feel scary again, and instead just looked again like the sad, pathetic man Jin Ling had known all his life.

“Have you told him that you still feel like that?” Jin Ling asked before he could stop himself. “Because I think you should. Maybe you can still mend this! I mean, if Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji got together, then anything in the world is possible. You should…”

“I should kick you out of my house and let you deal with your boyfriend alone,” Nie Huaisang snapped, his face redder than cinnabar. “Now tell me why you love that damn Lan kid, and stay out of my business.”

Jin Ling pinched his lips, annoyed that yet again, every adult around him was apparently determined to ruin their own life by refusing to just talk. First there had been his uncle with Wei Wuxian, now Nie Huaisang… Apparently, growing up made people stupid. Jin Ling could only hope he wouldn’t end up like that, too stubborn to do the right thing.

He was sure he wouldn’t, because Lan Sizhui wouldn’t let him.

Ultimately, though, Nie Huaisang’s private life really wasn’t his problem. So Jin Ling dropped the matter, and instead prepared himself to explain every little thing that made Lan Sizhui the most amazing person in the entire world.

[bluepenguinstories]

Remoras Full Chapter XL: Please Don’t Take My Sunshine Away

I

There’s that old saying: “things get worse before they get better.”

Perhaps that’s true. It is in most cases. But then there was also that one about calms before storms. Sometimes it could be hard to tell which phrase applied when.

Is it over? At last? I thought when the sky cleared and the frozen mashed potato landscape I came to know as snow lit up and an orange warm glow lit up in the distance.

I remember how I took what must have been the largest sigh of relief. For the rest of the day, even for a few days, it really felt like it was all over.

Scared refugees, people who once may have known a sense of normalcy, all huddled in fear. They too changed their tune once the beauty such a cold and barren place could bring. Less scared, more excited. Some were hesitant, yes, but a good few got up, headed for the door.

“Wait!” I snapped.

Two, no, three of them, looked my way. Both in confusion and horror at the sharpness of my tone. I too was a little startled even though I had grown used to it at that point.

“We don’t know how long it will last, or if it’s truly over,” I explained to them.

“Oh, come on!” An older man complained, thin gray hairs on an otherwise bald head. He looked grizzled, like someone who would have worked in a mine, or a construction site. Burly, with a wide stance, grit teeth.

He was the first, but the others began stirring up a commotion as well.

“We can’t just wait! If it’s going to get worse, we should go before it happens!”

“You can’t keep us here forever!”

Do you even think I want you here?

More was spoken, but each turn of phrase was drowned out by another. It turned into a storm.

“Go ahead and die, then, if you’re so eager to!” I was so tempted to say, but I hadn’t yet reached such a point. Instead, I turned to Wendy, who was seated somewhat toward the back, in the second booth. She looked listless, like she was staring off into space. From what I knew of her, it was more the opposite: she was gauging the situation.

“Wendy, can you take these people to the airport? After that, you can go wherever you want,” I instructed for her, as if it were some mission and I was the one at the helm.

Her face was still fixed on nowhere in particular, like it was focused on a speck of dust on a counter top. However, her eyes, ever slight in motion, turned my way. Then, a hint of a smile could have been traced upon her face.

“Are you sure that’s a risk you’re willing to take?” Her cinnamon-like voice rasped out the question.

Of course I’m not sure, but I don’t want to live without taking risks.

“Yes. If it gets bad again, I’ll reach out to you,” I answered after a moment of silence.

“How will you reach out to me?” Her voice was less husky that time, more absent, like one gets late into a tiring night.

I don’t know how. I’m in a constant state of not knowing enough and it’s too much.

“I’ll figure out a way,” I assured her.

She stood up and walked toward the door. Her arm raised and she made little waving motions in the air both as a playful gesture of goodbye as well as a motion for everyone who wasn’t Sunny, Tigershark, or I to head to the door.

“Bye sword lady!” Tigershark waved back to Wendy.

“Thanks for your help,” Sunny added in. Both of them stood beside me near the kitchen. For those precious few months where we had to scramble to deal with everything, it was Tigershark in the kitchen while Sunny and I took turns watching everyone in the dining area and passing around food. In a way, if not for the horrible circumstances, it would have been nostalgic. Like how so many years ago, I was in the kitchen while Sunny and Elodie, just a small creature, took orders and served the patrons.

It’s been too long since this place was an actual restaurant. And it may never be one of those ever again.

When everyone left, the three of us remained inside, hesitant. Even small Tigershark, with her joyous energy, was fixated on the window. None of us could pull ourselves away, and it made it hard to understand where to go from there.

Then, naive as we were, the next day came: clear skies once more. Sharp and coarse freezing air greeted us when we opened the front door and stuck our hands through as a meager test. It felt like the deepest layer of hell. In other worse, paradise.

Joyous rapture, Tigershark ran toward the back to grab her parka, then headed out the front door.

“Don’t stray too far!” Sunny called after her.

“I won’t! I just want to play in the snow!”

Again, we were so naive.

Sunny and I spent much of that afternoon in each other’s arms. Careless, we both fell asleep against each other at one of the booths, our faces pressed against the window. When we awoke, the fog had returned. At first, we thought it was just our breaths and condensation. But then we saw that void, that vapid nothingness. Neither light nor dark. Just inescapable gray blurs spilled over the sky.

We bolted out of our seats.

“Where’s Tigershark?” Sunny asked.

“Good question…” I squinted, then pulled my glasses from out of my lapel.

The two of us searched high and low throughout the diner with no success. The only place we avoided was the basement. Such a silly place to overlook, but as it turns out…

The diner’s front door flapped open and slammed against the wall adjacent. We ran in its direction and what burst forth from the door was the hooded figure of a redheaded devil, one who ran into my arms as I knelt down. There were cuts all over her face and she looked frostbitten; an uncontrollable stiffness covered her, almost blue in the face, and the only thing which helped animate her, brought her to life, were the tears which flooded her eyes.

“Where were you?” I asked, and by no means did I intend for my words to be harsh, yet the tone suggested anger rather than worry. All the same, I held her tight.

“I’m sorry!” She wailed and sniffled. I rubbed her back. “I ran off and before I knew it, the fog came back!”

“Don’t be sorry,” I tried to reassure her, “none of us knew it would come back.”

Although I had my suspicions.

“We were just worried, is all,” Sunny added, who stood beside me, and soon dropped to her knees as well. Within the minute, all three of us were huddled together.

Once Tigershark calmed herself down, as did Sunny and I, she explained everything:

“I wanted to run to Remora’s house. I thought maybe she was back there, you know, like how things were in the beginning when she would go back and forth. I know she said it burned down, but I found it, and yes, everything was burned inside, but it still stood.”

“I had no idea,” my words, a near whisper. I wonder if Remora ever revisited that house, or if she left it behind for good.

“There wasn’t a trace of her. There wasn’t much of anything,” Tigershark went on, a sniffle here and there, “I knew she probably wasn’t...but I just thought…”

“Why?” It sprung out. No elaboration. Tigershark broke away, looked at Sunny and I both.

“She saved me, right? When there was that blizzard that took my parents! So, maybe, she’d be there to save us again, and all I would have to do would be to tell her about the fog.”

I shook my head.

“I’m sorry. I wish it worked that way.”

“Hey, that was a dangerous thing to do, but I can see why you’d think that,” Sunny snapped her fingers, “now come on, try and give me a big smile!”

To demonstrate, Sunny smiled wide. Tigershark, well, she tried, but her lips shook, and it wasn’t for the cold, but for her emotions at play. When I thought she would bawl again, she instead sucked up some air, then let out a deep breath.

“I don’t remember everything and I don’t know if I ever will but I remember my name. I remember I’m Rotellina Littlewheel.”

It seemed so random for her to say, but when she told me her given name, it all clicked: the researcher couple, the Littlewheels. Mead and Ginny Littlewheel. Mead had hair like honey, always wore those stiff scrub-like lab coats and had a drunken posture to him. He always ordered the usual: turkey leg, scrambled ostrich eggs, and buttered brioche toast. Then Ginny, a sweet woman who had a preoccupied mind. Always had research on the back of her mind. Always changed up her dish, but if I had to not a common food of hers, it would have to have been biscuits and gravy with chocolate potato cake.

Those two, while not eccentric, brought me a mild interest. Especially how they mentioned anomalies, like animals which shouldn’t have existed in this environment, or caves which seemed to have sprung up from thin air. I should have known something was up when they stopped showing up, but I just figured they were busy. Maybe there was a partial truth to that, at least up to their deaths.

“Yes, I’ve met your parents before,” I told the child.

“You have?” Tigershark’s jaw dropped.

Sunny nodded and added:

“We both did. I was always just passing by, but they were neat people. I remember them mentioning having a daughter, but they never showed any pictures.”

“Indeed,” I corroborated Sunny’s explanation, “I told them they should bring their daughter sometime and Ginny would tell me that they’d love to, if they could ever find a break from work.”

“So we could have still met!” Tigershark’s eyes lit up.

“Yes, if only under better circumstances.”

She shook her head.

“Still. I’m glad Remora found me. I’m glad I found all of you. She probably didn’t think about it. I know she wasn’t my parents, she wasn’t even much of a sister sometimes, but I still care about her and I still miss her.”

“We all do,” I assured her.

“Can you guys keep calling me Tigershark? It’s important to me,” she seemed to change the subject just as fast.

“Of course, dear,” Sunny and I spoke in unison.

It’s funny to think that even that was a pleasant memory compared to what was to come. I wasn’t sure, it must have been gradual, but it didn’t feel that way. My reaction to the change in environment felt like a shoe which I already knew would fit without even having to try it on.

We went now, more than a year after such a mess. Almost a year and a half had passed and I grew to resembled what lay outside the diner. I found myself shattered, fragments, glass shards of whatever it was I once was.

Tigershark, herself, came to understand the importance of staying inside. Her injuries that day had been all the proof she needed. Ever since, she kept herself laser focused on cooking and baking in the kitchen for all of our inhabitants.

I tapped the door to the kitchen with the back of my hand. Those days, I was a man of few words, save to complain about how my life had ended up.

Tigershark stood on a stool, stirring a giant bowl of mashed potatoes.

I wished to wave to her, say something, anything, but I didn’t. I just let the door close and walk past.

“Order up!” She yelled, and even with the incessant chatter from those who took up residence, her voice rose past them all.

As I looked out among the crowd with their concerns and uproar, I wondered what kind of role I had put myself in: was I really to be a leader when I couldn’t even keep my own morale high? Sunny continued to be in high spirits, her laughing and telling stories to the folks beside her. But it must have been forced, right? There was no way to be in denial of such a situation, yet I had succumbed to the pressure of trying to keep everything together while she was her usual self. I didn’t hate her for it, but I could no longer envy her either. Like it or not, I had to be the person I became, because the one who tried to be a ray of sunshine was as good as dead.

There went Astraea, the mysterious child-like figure with the spider-silk hair which seemed to take on a life of its own with the way it flew back in every direction as she walked. She walked past me, not even commenting on my blank stare, and went into the kitchen to get the food from Tigershark to take to the others. While there was always something off about her, both in speech and action, I allowed her to work as a waitress. Child labor laws aside, it could have been a sign of either my passivity or my desperation to have something resembling a functional system.

Beside Astraea, followed the sister of silence, Sister Cecilia. Another mysterious force to which I just didn’t care enough to look into, let alone give her much thought. She insisted on working, but I couldn’t imagine why. If I was someone seeking shelter, wouldn’t it have been enough just to know that I was taken care of?

Then again, everyone is different and I can’t expect to understand the perspective of everyone I meet.

That was the first thought. Then came the second thought:

Nor would I want to know everyone.

Despite that thought, there were things that I wanted to know. Things which refused to make themselves known to me. Long hours I spent at my desk in the back, just pondering, and trying to piece together a puzzle with nary a clue in sight.

First the strange things in the arctic, then the trap in the mansion. Remora suspected it to be a cosmic entity before her dismissal. Wendy later claimed it had to be the work of a cosmic entity once she saw the fog. But she also said they had to represent an emotion. So then, what? Every act that could have been linked to this possible ‘entity’ has been random. With the mansion it was ‘consume others and drain them of their sense of self’, with the beasts that looked like an amalgamation of various animals which shouldn’t fit together, and then this fog, a still nothingness which injures anyone who walks through. If one were to stay in there long enough –

I’d shake my head at my desk.

If it was just the thing with the mansion, I’d ask myself, “is hunger an emotion?” True, hunger is a feeling, but so are other physiological responses. With all the things that don’t add up, however, it does bring to mind cosmic entities, but not the kind Wendy described. When it came to things like Cthulhu or Yog-Sothoth, the whole point was that they were beyond comprehension, beyond understanding. But in that sense, wouldn’t the thing at the mansion fit, or at least fit the idea people have when they think of such things? Some incomprehensible beast with infinite knowledge? It was like how some would perceive such a being to be.

So maybe it all came down to perception: the mansion itself was perceived to be haunted, when really there was something far worse. That there would be penguins appear in the arctic is like how some might mistake the arctic for the antarctic region. Those creatures? It was like a mash up of what was ‘supposed’ to appear. Then, the fog...maybe like a blizzard without the winds and snow, but the danger that comes with a blizzard?

Gah. That didn’t quite add up either. I thought I was on the right track, and maybe I was, but it was still just a little out of my reach.

Something that is perceived to be, but off.

There was that other thing Wendy said, and when I thought about it, something clicked: they usually possessed a human host, and that everything that happened seemed deliberate, targeted, even, then it must have been someone under its influence.

If not for their deaths, I would have suspected that ‘Cronus’ fellow, or whoever it was Remora encountered and fought in the cave. Maybe they were hosts, in their own way, but it could have been that they weren’t the main one. So if there was a main one…

There were two immediate suspects.

She appeared a few weeks after the activity picked back up and more strangers had taken shelter. It was early spring and not long after I explained the situation to Cybele. There was no warning, and in fact, she showed up with a bubbly sing-song expression and a wide grin upon her face. It would have been normal, even welcome, if not for the danger which lurked outside.

“Astraea has arrived!” She announced herself and strolled through the dining hall. Odder still was her attire: a plain white T-shirt which stretched past her knees with the characters ‘せいそ’ written in the middle and a fashionable pair of skinny jeans. She had a brown bag with a strap over her shoulder, and a plush toy of some character from something poking their head out from the bag.

One patron, despite their mortified expression from what might have been terror at the thought that leaving the door open could ‘let in’ whatever was outside, got up to close the door that Astraea had left hanging open. For her part, she turned around and swayed her head across the room.

“Wow! There are many humans here!” She remarked. Then, she turned back to face me. “And, who might you be?” She stood on her tiptoes and looked up. In turn, I looked down, scratched my chin, and grasped at straws for an answer.

“I’m confused,” I replied, “where are your parents? Why did you come alone?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head, though continued to look up.

“I have been told about those, but have none. As for why I came alone, it’s because I did not come with anyone else!”

That’s too obvious of an answer. Like asking why something was round and being told “because it’s not flat.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have come alone. It’s dangerous out there.”

Maybe that should have been a sign. Others have come alone, yes, but…

“And why is that, Confused? By the way, you have an interesting name. I have never thought to be an adjective before, let alone a mood.”

“Uh, no. My name is Ray Sunshine.”

“Ah –” She let out a sound, sure to have had more to say, but Tigershark ran out at full speed.

“Astraea!” Tigershark yelled and her arms were raised high.

“Me!” Astraea replied, and the two embraced for a hug.

“Right,” I adjusted the cuff of my suit, “I’ll leave you two to your reunion.”

“Ray! This is Astraea!” Tigershark let go and turned to me. “I told you about her, remember?”

“Yes, and now I’ve met her.”

“What have you been up to all this time?” She turned back to Astraea.

“Well...I walked to this place called Japan and I tried singing some songs and then these guys in suits found me and recorded me doing karaoke and people started calling me an ‘idol’ and some even said I was their goddess, and I think they were a little confused, so I went on record and told them: ‘There has been a mistake. Astraea is not a goddess, Astraea is a human. Therefore I am leaving. Bye.’ After that, I decided to walk around a bit and now I am here.”

“Wow! How much of that is true?” Tigershark’s arms were pressed together in joy as she stood in awe of such a tale.

“Yes,” Astraea replied.

“I’m really happy to see you, but I won’t have much time to spend with you, I’m afraid,” Tigershark broke the news.

“Why?” Astraea tilted her head and looked puzzled.

“Because I have to cook for all these people!”

“Why do you have to?”

“You don’t,” I cut in, “your friend’s right. You’re free to enjoy yourself if you’d like. I can take over.”

“No! I need to help too! I like cooking and I don’t want you to be stressed about everything!”

I took a step back and my head jerked back as well. My eyes widened, and for a second, I wanted to thank her. Instead, I pressed my glasses up, then cleared my throat.

“I see. Very well.”

“So it has come to this,” Astraea closed her eyes and smiled, then pointed at Tigershark, the tip of her finger almost at Tigershark’s nose, “if I wish to spend the most time with you, how may I do so?”

“I’ve got an idea! You can be a waitress!” Sunny got up from whatever seat she had been at. “Sorry! I couldn’t help but overhear the whole thing!”

“She’s a kid,” I pointed out, “besides, does she know how to do that?”

Astraea shook her head and smiled wide.

“I do not know how to do a waitress,” she stated, her breathy words floated out from her.

“Then I don’t see a point,” I concluded.

“I can teach her,” Sunny was insistent.

“Fine, do what you want,” I waved off, then began to walk to the back.

“Hey!” Sunny called after me.

“What?”

“You’ve got people helping out. I know this is difficult to deal with, but you’re not alone. There’s Wendy, Tigershark, and I. Hell, there’s even Aurora. Yes, our resources may slowly deplete and we didn’t expect to deal with such a thing, but isn’t it more manageable with others helping out? So one more person should be fine, yes?”

You don’t understand. I’d rather have been alone.

“Sure,” I shrugged and walked off.

Nothing has changed since then. No, that’s not true. Little has changed since then. Wendy returned once to take some people back to wherever they came from. It was a little after Astraea had arrived, and Wendy left just as soon as she arrived. It should have been a relief to see more people go, return to the safety of their homes.

It wasn’t.

More people came in, from where, I didn’t know. It filled me with questions, filled me with dread. Why? Why didn’t they take heed of the danger? What led them to wander inside? Was it of their own volition or were they just puppets and props? Unreal, yet life-like.

While things remained hectic, I persisted. We did, I meant. Or maybe I didn’t know what I meant anymore.

Toward the tail end of spring and summer crept up (seasons were used as a unit of measurement, and didn’t reflect anything on the weather we experienced), I received a call from a number I didn’t recognize. I was seated in the back, at my desk, and as usual, lost in thought.

“Who is this?” I answered, against my better judgment.

“Unblock Demetria’s number, you coward,” of course. That sly hiss mixed with an equal measure of dead seriousness and the pitch of a blue jay.

“Wendy? Why are you calling?” I replied, a little miffed by the suddenness of the situation.

“To tell you to unblock Demetria’s number.”

“OK. Why?”

“You need a way to keep in contact with me, right?”

Yes, but why do you have her phone? I felt like that was a vital question that was left unanswered.

“Fine,” I sighed, “I’ll play along.”

I scrolled down on my phone and unblocked Demetria’s number. I still didn’t really understand why.

When I went to put the phone back to my ear, it was silent. I checked, and she hung up. Then, my phone rang again. This time from Demetria’s number.

“Bitch,” she rasped.

“Is that all you called to say?”

“No,” her voice changed to that hiss she had when she sounded more playful, “but it needed to be said.”

“OK. I take it you met up with her?”

I reclined in my chair. I could have really used a smoke, but I resisted the urge.

“Yeah, you could say that. Her tracking skills are impeccable, it’s rather frightening.”

“What did she want with you?” I felt a hint of disappointment and dismay on the tip of my tongue. Not from Wendy, but from myself at the thought that Demetria could return, despite my worst wishes.

“She wanted to get away from home for a while, figured it would be a good idea to crash with me.”

“You didn’t tell her about the situation up here, did you?”

“I didn’t,” she stated, as simple as that.

At least I can ease my mind in that regard.

“So why do you have her phone?”

“You know how those types of girls can get: she’s at a point in her life when she keeps thinking she has to start over, be a new person. So she had it in her head that if I held onto her phone for her, it would be easier to do just that.”

Was that right? Well, I suppose from what I knew about her from her time here, it would track.

“That’s unfortunate. I hope she figures herself out one day.”

“Yeah. In a way, I think she already has, but you know, it’s like she’s always changing. Taking on a new image. I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a chameleon one day. Anyway, if you ever want me to come back to the diner, just give this number a call. I figured it would make things easier for both of us.”

“Yeah. I guess. I’ll call if I need you back.”

“Good. Hey Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“Any new ideas? Anything come to mind lately?”

“Hmm...Astraea is a bit weird,” I mentioned.

“Ah, yeah, but what kid isn’t?”

“True. In that case, no. I’ve got nothing.”

“That’s a shame. I was hoping we’d have some kind of progress.”

“It is what it is. Hope’s in short supply these days,” I couldn’t help being dour.

“Hey. Short supply doesn’t mean no supply. Talk to you later, Ray.”

Indeed, short supply doesn’t mean no supply. It means that it’s soon to run out.

There were times when I would forget Aurora was still around. Or times when I wondered if they had all but died out. Such wonders were put to rest one day when she entered the diner, not looking so proud or manic, but instead as weary as I had been. By then, it was near winter, and it wasn’t the cold that made people stir-crazy, but my adamant stance that no one was to venture outside.

So then when Aurora walked in, I knew there would be some people pointing her out, as if her entrance was a slight against them.

“Why does she get to come and go as she pleases while we’re stuck in here?!” One man roared.

She ignored his complaint and walked up to me. As for me, I leaned off to my side and addressed that man.

“Her and her crew live in the train right beside this diner. If you want to join them, you’re free to, but you probably won’t enjoy it any more than you do here.”

“Actually, Ray, that’s what I’ve come to talk to you about,” she didn’t look too pleased to be making any requests, but I could already tell what was coming. Rather than speak it into existence, however, she turned her attention toward Sister Cecilia, who happened to have been wandering around.

“First, who is that?” She pointed her thumb back.

“Some nun. I don’t pay her much mind.”

She squinted her eyes, her face turned to a scowl, then she put two fingers in her mouth and whistled.

“Hey girlie! Nunny!”

Sister Cecilia turned around, knowing that she had been addressed, and walked up to us.

“You’re a nun, huh?” Aurora scratched her chin.

“That’s correct,” Sister Cecilia wrote down and held up a sheet of paper to Aurora.

“I had someone in my crew who used to be a nun. What kind of nun are you? My crewmate was Buddhist. What about you?”

“Catholic,” she flipped one of the sheets. I take it she’s been asked that before.

“One of those, huh? So what kind of vows have you taken? Simple? Solemn?”

“Why does any of this matter?” I asked.

Aurora held her hand up to my face.

“I’m just asking questions. Don’t read into it. So, what is it?”

“I’ve taken a vow of silence,” she flipped to another page. Already written.

“What would that fall under? Solemn?”

“Nun of your business,” she wrote down and showed Aurora. That only made Aurora stare with greater intent.

“Is that so?” Aurora seethed.

“Won’t you just tell me what you came here to tell me?” My annoyance couldn’t be held back any further.

“Yes, but this is important too. Why don’t you know everyone here?” Her vitriol was now directed back toward me.

“Why do I need to?”

“It’s about trust, Ray. How can you trust anyone you don’t know? Any one of these people could double cross you. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?”

No. It doesn’t.

“I think it would be idiotic for anyone to do that, seeing as they’d be stuck in the same predicament I am in.”

She must not have liked that answer as she lifted me up by the collar and dragged me up against a nearby wall, her other elbow against my neck.

“You know something? I make it a habit to know everyone in my crew. I’ve dealt with situations like this before: us stuck inside, rationing just to get by. I keep telling myself I’ve been through worse, and maybe I haven’t. Maybe this is the worst it’s been. But at least I’m struggling with others, at least we’re all still fighting, because lemme tell ya, I don’t want to be in this mess forever. What about you?”

Of course I don’t.

I said nothing, however.

She let go and I just about dropped to the floor. I knew I could have held up my own, fought back, but I didn’t.

“You’re not a leader. If you wanted to be one, you’d accept help from others. You’d put your trust into others. Not blind, but because you know who they are.”

“What do you think I’m doing?” I wheezed out.

“You’re being passive. Do you think that’s an honorable trait? Just letting everyone do what they want while you isolate yourself. Is that helping anyone?”

“Why do I have to get the lecture from you? You’re a ridiculous person most of the time.”

“And so are you. The difference is that I don’t have a magical weapon or any of that bullshit to help me and my crew out. We’re holding on by our pride alone.”

“That woman’s right!” Yelled that same guy who raised a stink when she walked in. “You do nothing while you tell us to stay inside. Why do we listen to you? You’re probably downplaying this whole thing right now!” He got up and in a huff, reached for the door.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I growled at him.

“Or what?”

“Leave it, Ray. If he wants to die, let him.”

“I bet I won’t! I bet you’re all just making shit up!” He continued to throw a fit, and as he was about to pull open the door, I darted for it and grabbed the back of his collar.

“You’re not leaving,” I ordered.

He thrashed about and then elbowed me in my stomach. As I reeled back, he turned and his fist flew into my face and all of the color around the room vibrated, faded, until black. I fell to the floor, my glasses shattered.

“I don’t know about any of you, but I’m leaving!” The man announced in a huff and jerked the door open, then ran off.

It was more than a simple injury this time; a few seconds passed, followed by a minute or two, and then echoes of screams could be heard in the distance, sounds of blades swinging every which way.

I pulled myself up.

“I’ll have to find his body and bury him later…” I muttered under my breath. Everyone looked out, and although they could see nothing, I heard collective gasps.

“You think I’m joking?” I raised my voice and looked around at everyone. I groaned my eye that got hit turned swollen. “Maybe some of us get lucky, it’s a few cuts. But that is also likely to happen. From the inside it may look like nothing, not a big deal. But it’s either be stuck in here or risk serious injuries, even death, just for the crime of walking outside. Do you think I like that either? Do you think I want to be stuck with any of you good-for-nothings? I don’t.”

My head swayed. I definitely needed some ice, or something, but I wasn’t finished.

“Maybe to you guys it looks like I do nothing. Even if that’s true, then that still puts me in the same situation as all of you. I’m just another good-for-nothing, myself. Not everyone has the strength to help out, and I don’t ask anyone to. I’m still going to take anyone in, they’ll still be fed, and I’ll tend to anyone’s wounds that I can, but if you value your lives, then you would stay inside.”

I was beginning to get a headache. I needed to get away. Astraea, for her part, started to clap.

“I didn’t understand any of that, but it sounded good!” She commented. Wendy put her hand on Astraea’s shoulder and I heard her say, “this isn’t the right time.”

As I began to walk away, Aurora put her hand on my shoulder.

“That’s what I came to tell you about: I want our crew to join you guys in here.”

I turned to her.

“Really? There’s already so little room as it is.”

“Yeah. I know. And a few members of my crew have died. Some of them we’ve had to bury twice.”

“What?”

“Yeah. The first time is hard enough, but the second time, when you have to put them down yourself, that just seems cruel. I’m not saying it’s a zombie situation, because even then, they’ve got some kind of life in them,” Aurora shook her head, “I had to bury Russell. We woke up one day, unable to find Russell until I looked outside, and there he was, on his back, torn apart. We suffered the injuries and buried him. There was also Chet, and Morgan.”

“My condolences,” I replied.

“Do you know what this tells me? This thing, whatever it is, doesn’t care if you’re indoors. It just can’t enter your place in particular. We’ll do whatever we need to. I just don’t want to suffer any more losses.”

I sighed.

“Very well. But understand that things aren’t as lax as I make it out to be. There are scheduled shower times. Scheduled eating times. You may not have much of a choice as to where you sleep, and it may not be comfortable.”

“We’re used to not sleeping comfortably.”

After that was settled, I went to the kitchen, grabbed a towel and a few blocks of ice, and pressed it against my face.

II

It was a few days later when I came back from burying the man who ventured out. He was more or less a mangled mess, chopped up, no delicacy to it whatsoever. While I was burying him, I received some scratches of my own. The sleeves of my suit were all torn up, yet I pressed on, digging up dirt, digging out until there was enough space. Once I laid his body in, I shoveled the dirt back over.

“For the record, I don’t hate you. You were an idiot, yes, but I don’t blame you, either.” I wanted to say more but winced as some invisible force cut into my side.

I gasped out and coughed on the suffocating air.

I better go. Shame I had to cut it short, but I shouldn’t have been performing any eulogies in a danger zone, anyway. Now, I better hurry or I’ll join his same fate.

By the time I returned to the diner, I was a bloody mess. But still alive somehow. If that meant anything. Sunny was seated nearby and gasped.

“Where have you been?” She asked.

“Mind your own business,” I groaned.

“I thought you said none of us were to go outside! You know how bad it is out there!”

“Damn it!” I snapped. “Of course I know how bad it is. I get myself hurt just so I can bury someone. It’s not the first time I’ve had to do that, either.”

“I never knew that. You never told me.”

“Why would I have? If I’m hurting, that’s on me.”

“It’s not just you. Whether you like it or not, we’re all hurting. You’re not alone.”

I huffed and shambled on past.

“And therein lies the problem,” I replied.

“You’ve grown cold!” She called after me.

“I’m this way because I have to. This situation hasn’t gotten any better.”

“But I have to have hope that it will,” her voice warmed up, and I couldn’t see why.

I just continued to walk into the back.

“You’re being a real asshole, you know that?” She yelled after me. “Come on, Sister Cecilia! Back me up here!”

Huh. That nun must be sitting across from her. No concern of mine.

I went into the back and knocked on the bathroom door in the hallway. No one answered. Usually that place was under constant occupation. I went to the sink and splashed some water on my face. I closed my eyes and refused to look at myself in the mirror. It was bad enough that my vision had become so terrible after my glasses broke. They were such an expensive pair, too.

From behind the mirror, I grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured it on my wounds. When the inevitable sting came, I bit down on my lips. It would pass.

I sat down at my desk and pulled out a cigarette from the drawer underneath.

If Sunny knew I was smoking...well, Sunny and I seldom speak these days.

I flicked my lighter and took a puff.

Out of the corner of my eye, the shape of Astraea began to take hold. I just about jumped from my seat.

“What are you doing back here?” I asked.

“No one’s ordering right now and Tigershark said I could take a break,” she explained.

“I see. Go on and take a seat, then. I’ve been meaning to have a talk with you.”

She sat as instructed.

I inhaled another puff, then blew out.

“I’ll cut to the chase: you’re the cosmic entity, aren’t you?”

“Ah,” she smiled, “so that’s what you’ve been meaning to ask. The answer may surprise you, as I am human.”

I shook my head.

“You don’t need to hide anything from me. Who are you possessing?”

She tilted her head from one end to the other.

“I don’t possess anyone. I possess a Nintendo Switch and a Sothis plushie.”

I really wasn’t approaching this well.

“Look, it’s fine if you are. It’s not fine, because if you are, then you’re responsible for the misery of many lives. But it’s fine, because if you are, there’s nothing I can do about it. Apparently your kind can’t be harmed.”

“Ah! But I can. If you want, you can punch me. I’ve seen other humans get hurt, so I know I can get hurt too. Amen,” she continued her usual mannerisms. It could have just been her form, but I couldn’t imagine myself punching a child. Then, she added, “also I wouldn’t want to cause misery for others. I don’t find misery to be very interesting.”

Ah. So that’s what it is.

“It was either you or Sister Cecilia. Those were my suspects.”

“Suspect of what?”

“Of being the entity among us.”

“Amog...us?”

She needs to work on her enunciation.

“I suppose when I think about it, Sister Cecilia, while mysterious, isn’t as unusual as you, so I figured it would have to be you.”

“Why would it have to be either of us?”

“Because both of you showed up here unharmed.”

“Wendy did too,” Astraea pointed out.

“Yes, well, her weapon apparently wards off the threat outside. As for you and Sister Cecilia...”

“Well, I know it’s not Sister Cecilia, because she has a mouth and humans have mouths!” She answered, all gleeful, too. Then, she put her hands over her mouth, “I wasn’t supposed to reveal that!”

“You have a mouth as well,” I pointed out.

“Yes. Because I am human.”

“Anyway, I don’t think that was much of a secret. Everyone has a mouth. Most animals, too.”

“Then why would she hide it?”

I shrugged.

“Beats me. Maybe there’s something she’s hiding on her face. But I didn’t once think she didn’t have one. Anyway, it doesn’t make much of a difference to me. I’ve got bigger things on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“Like what I’m going to do. Our food supply is starting to run low. Even if we combine with Aurora’s, we won’t hold out for much longer.”

“Oh!” Astraea shot her hand up. “I know what you should do.”

“What?”

“Apologize to Sunny.”

Even you would think so, huh?

“Yeah, you’re right. It wouldn’t really change the situation, but I still love her and she didn’t deserve that. It’s just...her and Sister Cecilia both have said that I’m not alone, but it’s like they don’t get it.”

“Get what?”

“I would rather be alone. Because then nobody else would get hurt. If everyone else could just stay away, I would be the only one that would have to endure this.”

“Mm...and you’re sure they don’t understand that?”

I took another hit. Maybe they did. It just didn’t make much sense to me why they would insist that, then.

“It sure seems like they don’t,” I replied.

“I don’t know, it sounds simple enough to me. If you’re the only one getting hurt, then others wouldn’t be. Still, I don’t know why others wouldn’t be. Humans are capable of being hurt.”

“So why do you think Sunny would insist to me that I’m not alone, like I don’t already know that?”

“Hmm...because it’s true? There’s other people around.”

I wasn’t sure why I thought I could take advice from her. Someone I was convinced was some all-powerful space alien.

“I wonder if things will work between us…” I leaned back. “You know, before Sunny, I only dated men. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to go back to seeing men.”

“Don’t you see men all the time, and women, and children, and dogs and cats?”

This child really is tiresome.

“That’s not really...not like vision, like, relationships. Like, romance. Love. Things like that.”

“Oh. Those kinds of things.”

“Yeah. You know, I used to have a curious mind like yourself. I used to wonder about all these little things and chase rumors. Now, it’s like I have none of that left in me.”

“That’s not true. You said you wonder about Sunny and wonder about men. Anyway, I’m going to go now. It’s almost time.”

“Time for what?” I was a little struck.

“There’s an event in Animal Crossing. That’s what Tigershark said the game is called.”

She walked off after that and into her room. Well, the room Tigershark slept in. It still felt weird thinking that she slept there. Maybe I still had some hope that all of this would be temporary.

I put out the cigarette and tossed the butt into the nearest trash can. I tossed a mint into my mouth and chewed down.

I guess I’ll take the kid’s advice, was a thought I never imagined I would have.

Still, I caught Sunny, still seated, and seated alone. I couldn’t really see Sister Cecilia anymore, either, but the place was so crowded that she could have been anywhere.

“Is this seat taken?” I asked. She seemed surprise, shivered in place, but then looked up and smiled.

“It isn’t.”

I sat across from her. It was easier to see her eye to eye that way.

“How are you doing?” I initiated.

“Oh, you know,” she smiled and moved her head about, all sing-songy. “It’s difficult, both dealing with such an adjustment, and watching you become like this. But I remain hopeful that it won’t last forever.”

“How do you remain hopeful? I’d like to believe that this will come to an end, but I don’t see any end in sight.”

“I never said it was easy.”

“So how?”

“Because I have to. If I have nothing else, I still have that.”

“So it’s like that, huh?” I nodded.

“You know, I went outside the other day,” she began to mention.

“What? Why would you do that?” I protested, but she put her index finger up to my mouth.

“I’m not the type to let a little bit of danger stop me.”

“That is one of the reasons I love you,” I couldn’t help but say.

“You do realize that getting into danger means risking being hurt, right?”

I kept my mouth shut. She chuckled.

“I went up to our mailbox. It’s still standing, intact and unharmed. Of course, there’s been no mail delivery, but that doesn’t matter much to me.”

“So why did you do it?” I asked.

“I wrote a love letter with no address. I wonder what those words will mean when the letter is returned to sender. It’s for that reason that I have hope. Because I want to know what kind of people we’ll be once you get a chance to read it.”

I spat out. Caught off guard, I couldn’t help but let out a little laugh. Even if my voice still sounded dry, void of passion, she managed that much.

“Why couldn’t you have just told me the stuff you wrote in person? Why do something so ridiculous?”

She laughed right back.

“It got a reaction out of you, didn’t it?”

“That it did,” I smiled. It felt unnatural, yet it wasn’t a conscious decision, either. “You know, when you would tell me that I wasn’t alone, I thought you were being ridiculous, because when the fog began, I didn’t want you to come back. I didn’t want any of these people here, I just wanted to take it all on and protect everyone else.”

She nodded.

“I could tell. It was stupid of you, but it’s not the first time you’ve done such a thing.”

“What? How’s it stupid? I would be protecting you.”

She grabbed a napkin from the napkin holder against the wall, folded it up, and hit my hand with it. It didn’t hurt at all.

“It was stupid. You don’t think I wouldn’t be hurt if you were the only one? I’d share that pain with you. In a heartbeat.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

“Nor should you have to keep it to yourself.”

I gazed down at the table.

“Maybe you’re right,” I muttered.

“Louder for the people in the back,” she cupped her ear.

I looked up.

“I’m sorry,” I said, since I couldn’t find any other words. “Everyone’s been trying to tell me, but I’ve just been so focused on keeping everyone alive, and I couldn’t even manage that.”

“But you’ve still managed a great deal, and you wouldn’t have managed nearly as much if you didn’t have help.”

“Yeah. You’ve got that right…” I looked around. Wendy was at the other end of the dining hall, chatting with the sailor. I could tell that sailor guy wasn’t a real sailor, but I didn’t bother to consider who else they could have been.

“Hey. Do you think that there could be someone here who isn’t who they appear?” I turned back to Sunny. Her eyes shimmered, so radiant to the point that I had to avert my gaze, lest I go blind.

“Maybe. Wouldn’t it be fun to think about?”

I shuddered.

“I’m not sure if fun is the right word…”

She laughed.

“Maybe you’re right this time,” her hand waved over her mouth, then she leaned in, her eyes fluttered, “you know, there would be times when I was on my adventures and I would wonder if you missed me. I know, carefree me, wondering such things. It was just how you would be so casual, and wave it off, it was like you didn’t mind me being gone.”

Maybe that was true in a sense.

“I do like my alone time, but yes. Always.”

“Really?”

“But that’s why I was okay with it, because whenever you returned, it was like I had found a treasure. So while I always awaited your return, I was at ease at the same time, because I knew wherever you were, you were smiling.”

“What about here? Right now?”

I pressed my palm to my head. I felt about ready to weep.

“I want to enjoy our time together. I just wish things were simpler. Remember when we used to take on requests? Now everything’s so complicated. I mean, there’s this fog, our food’s running low, and hell, even if by some miracle, this all gets solved or goes away, what then? I wish we could go back to how things were.”

“You can’t. Those times are gone. But they were fun while they lasted, right?”

I smiled and nodded.

“Yeah.”

“There’s gotta be some beauty in that. Yes, maybe it’s gone, and we can’t get those times back, but who’s to say something new won’t come from it, something similar?”

“You’re right,” I placed my hand over hers, “so, here’s to the unfamiliar?”

“To love,” she nodded, “and whatever form it may take.”

She leaned in and I met her halfway. Our lips were about to meet as well, the distance could have been measured with a microscope, but before they could join each other –

“Ugh, get a room you two!” Shouted a disgusted and squeaky voice.

We opened our eyes and looked around. That voice, it must have reminded us both of the same person.

“Did you hear that?” Sunny asked.

“No way…” I uttered.

“It sounded so familiar, don’t you think?”

We let go of each other and looked around. At first, nothing stood out, but then I saw someone with a black hoodie tied around her waist and wearing black slacks. Covering her face was a book, upside down which the title read ‘How to Sneak Into Diners For Dummies’.

“You know, I spent over a year away, and do you know what I learned?” She paced about and drew near us.

“Demetria?” I couldn’t help but ask. In response, she set down the book and that’s when I noticed her hair, shoulder length and wavy, dark green. She pointed at Sunny and I and shouted:

“I learned that none of us are smart!”

Sunny and I looked at each other, then back at her, and laughed. I couldn’t even be mad, as much as I didn’t want her to be in such a mess with us.

“That’s your big epiphany?” I asked.

“Yes,” she tossed the book behind her. “I had a whole hero’s journey while I was away. I went and got my degree which means I could be a marine biologist, but then I realized: degrees meant shit. I’m most likely to work at a coffee shop with such a degree, so I figured, you know what? If that’s the case, why don’t I just come back here?”

“Is that really your motivation?” I couldn’t say that I disagreed with such an assessment, but it seemed a little...out there.

“Not really. I also heard about what’s been going on. I won’t reveal my sources, but I can say that I know how to deal with it.”

“You do?” I didn’t believe such a thing, but who knows? I’ve been surprised already.

“That’s right!” She put her hands over her hips and smiled all proud.

“Demetria!” Tigershark just about tackled her as she ran and dived in for a hug.

“Whoa, there,” Demetria turned around. “Careful, you won’t believe how many knives I’ve got in my pockets.”

“You have knives in your pocket?!” Tigershark exclaimed.

“Yeah,” Demetria dug into her pockets and pulled out a couple of throwing knives. “This one’s named Hilda, this one’s Marianne.”

She then pulled out another, a black and gold switchblade knife.

“This one’s called Death Knight,” she held out. Tigershark jumped back.

“Why such a scary name?”

“What? Don’t like it? How about Mercedes, then?”

That switchblade knife, it’s just like...ah, I see. So that’s how she got in. I’m impressed.

“I missed you!” Tigershark cried into Demetria’s hooded sweatshirt around her waist.

Now that I think of it, that black hoodie…

“Aw, I missed you too. You know I couldn’t keep myself away for too long. You’re like family to me.”

“Yay! Speaking of family, while you were gone, I got another sister! Her name is Cecilia! I’ll find her and you guys can meet each other!”

“Uh, sure. Good luck with that, kiddo,” she snickered.

Tigershark ran off. That poor kid.

“So what made you reveal yourself now of all times?” I had to ask.

“Eh. It seemed you were starting to get back to better spirits, and to be honest, I was tired of keeping quiet for months on end.”

“Still, I’ve seen better days…” my right eye was still swollen.

“And you’ll see better days again,” she sounded so sure of that.

Tigershark ran back over, looking distraught.

“I can’t find Sister Cecilia anywhere!” She pouted.

Demetria whistled, or at least, it was an attempt at a whistle.

“I’m sure she’ll turn up. Let’s not worry about that right now,” she told Tigershark.

“Aw, but –”

The lights went out before the kid could finish her sentence. Soon we were met with pitch darkness, then gasps emitted from the crowds in their seats.

“I see it’s begun,” Demetria muttered.

Others’ voices flooded the room:

“What’s going on?” “Will we be OK?”

Were just a couple of things I heard among the commotion.

“Quiet everyone!” I raised my voice to a shout. “We’re going to go downstairs and check the breaker!” I couldn’t see her in the dark, but… “Wendy, Aurora! Make sure to protect everyone while we go down, OK?”

“Aye-aye, boss,” I heard from Aurora.

“No need to tell me,” was Wendy.

“I’m, uh, going to use the restroom,” chimed in Captain Acab.

“...OK? You’ve been here how long?” I didn’t understand the need to be told that.

“I swear, that sailor guy’s been giving off weird vibes ever since I’ve been here,” Demetria commented.

“Whatever! Let’s leave Captain Crunch to do his business!” Sunny’s cheer was unparalleled.

The four of us felt our way around to the kitchen, then crawled down on the floor until I found the hatch.

“Okay, down the hatch. Watch your step, guys,” I held open the hatch and the first to climb the stairs down was Sunny, followed by Tigershark, then Demetria.

“Why do you have your breaker underground, anyway?” She criticized on the way down.

“It was actually my idea!” Sunny answered. “I thought it would be neat!”

Once down, it was just a matter of feeling around on the wall until...aha.

I opened the door to the breaker box and flicked a flame on my lighter to help me see.

“Yep. Central lighting was tripped,” I noticed. I flicked the switch back and within seconds, everything lit up around us. All lights were blinding and it took several seconds of blinking before mine adjusted. Even then, my vision was blurred. How could it not have been?

Once I adjusted to the light, the shapes of the giant kegs of ale surrounded us.

“You know, I’ve never actually been down here before,” Demetria noted as she looked around. “It’s a little cold down here, actually,” she began to shiver, and so put her hoodie back on. It really did look more like a cloak than anything.

“Well, we got the lights back on, let’s head up,” I motioned for them.

“I just realized something,” Demetria walked forward instead, “it’s cold down here.”

“Yeah?” I wasn’t quite sure what the deal was, but then…

Wait. I get it.

“We can get everyone else down here and smuggle them out through the airport. There’s a tunnel down here and –” I began to formulate my plan, but Demetria stopped me.

“No. I’m sure the enemy knows about this path as well. I say we press on and end this, once and for all.”

“How can you be so sure?” I asked her.

“Because I’ve faced our enemy before. I’m willing to be this is no mere oversight. Hell, if we keep down this path, we’ll probably be in for a fight.”

Great. I was unequipped and in bad shape. I wished I had time to prepare.

“How fitting, too...a fight in a basement…” She scoffed.

It felt weird having her lead, yet she was so sure about moving forward. As we took a few steps, I stopped her.

“Wait.”

“What?” She turned back, a look of disappointment upon her face.

“Listen.”

There was a creaking sound from nearby, something like screeching metal. It must have come from the safe beside the tunnel.  Then footsteps.

“Be on your guard,” I advised everyone.

“Tigershark, get behind me,” Sunny added.

She nodded and we stood in place until the figure emerged into view from behind the last keg at the far end of the hall: someone tall, black form fitting clothes, and a with short, blue hair.

“Remora!” Tigershark cheered, but Demetria held her arm out.

“Not quite,” Demetria warned.

Whoever she was, she smiled and began to walk up to us, then waved.

“Hello. Nice to meet you all, I’m Rhea Flection.”

My heart thumped against my chest. There was no way. Of course not. It was all wrong. Even as her voice matched Remora’s, it still made little sense.

“Yes. Nice to meet you, as well,” I greeted her, or whoever she was. “But I heard you died.”

“That’s right. I faked my death and have been hiding out here, in your safe.”

Of course you have. Oooof course.

“Do you know what’s been going on?”

“Nope!” She grinned. “But I’m sure we can all figure it out together! Follow me!” She began to walk toward the tunnel and I looked over to everyone else. Sunny and Demetria alike nodded, and it was a sort of telepathic communication of “let’s follow for now.”

We began to walk toward her and Demetria shifted beside me.

“Remember, Ray: some people aren’t who they say they are,” she whispered.

“I know, but what other choice do we have at the moment?” I asked in turn.

Demetria scoffed, then let out a loud, audible groan.

‘Rhea’ turned around and beamed.

“Hm? Did you guys say something?”

“Yeah, actually,” Demetria spoke up. “I’ve got a question for you that only the real Rhea would know the answer to.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“What color panties am I wearing?” She asked, deadpan, despite the crude question.

“Demetria! You can’t just ask someone that!” Tigershark protested.

“Easy! Green!” The figure who was supposed to be ‘Rhea’ answered.

“Ah, that puts my mind at ease,” Demetria replied. “Thank you.”

“No pro –”

Demetria in one swift motion reached into her pocket and flung a knife the stranger’s way; the knife landed square in the middle of her forehead and blood began to trickle down.

“Demetria! You just killed her!” Tigershark flailed her arms about and began to panic.

“At this point it’s like beating a dead horse, isn’t it?” Demetria remarked, then turned back to the stranger. “The real Rhea would have answered something like, ‘how should I know?’ Or ‘why would you ask me that?’ I would have also accepted, ‘no clue. I don’t go looking at people’s underwear.’”

“That’s just common sense!” Tigershark scolded, still flailing her arms about.

“Yes, which is why I know you’re not who you say you are.”

Whoever, then, the stranger was, as blood ran down her face, she formed a crooked toothy grin which stretched her face wide.

“Clever,” the figure uttered in a low, guttural sound.

Demetria, meanwhile, slipped on a pair of fingerless gloves and brought her right arm forward, her palm spread out. Then she made a pulling motion and the knife in the figure’s forehead flew out and the hilt landed right back into Demetria’s palm.

“I had Hephaestus put magnets into my gloves. The blade of the knife is more dull, while the hilt is actually more metallic, and I’ve practiced with my aim.”

“Wow, magnets! How do they work?” Tigershark was astonished.

“Miracles, dear,” Sunny replied and pat Tigershark’s head.

Once the knife was pulled out, blood began to spray from the figure’s forehead, and then their head split in two, like a banana peel and hundreds of vines emerged and the flaps which made up the upper half of the creature’s body had rows of jagged teeth. The creature took a step forward and all of us stood back. Their arms changed into several thorny vines as well and spun in place in a circle.

“Any more bright ideas?” I turned to Demetria as we all continued to back away.

“In fact, I do. Lemme see your lighter.”

“Why?”

“I’m thinking I can throw one of my knives at one of the kegs, then when alcohol pours down on the floor, I take your lighter, strike a flame, then toss it into the alcohol.”

“No, no way,” I shook my head with a violent force. “You’d burn the whole restaurant down!”

“Damn it, Mr. Krabs! Is this restaurant more important to you than our lives?”

Are you really comparing me to a crab?

“You don’t get it! If the restaurant burns down, we’ll all go down with it. I can’t take that risk.”

“Oh. Yeah. I didn’t consider that.”

“Anyone else? Any ideas that do not involve arson?”

The three ladies shook their heads and I was a little disappointed.

As whatever it was that impersonated Rhea drew closer, I really began to think that the end might be upon us all. That was, until the crackle of a rifle sounded and I watched as a bullet flew into the creature and the creature’s parts exploded onto the floor.

I looked from the direction of the fire to see Remora, also with blue hair in much the same fashion, and wearing a sailor’s uniform crouched down in a corner of a hole in the upper wall.

So now they’re both here.

She swooped down and split her rifle into two smaller guns.

“So, you’re Rhea, huh? You have got to tell me how you do that thing with your face,” teased the coy voice of Remora, something I wasn’t used to from her.

Nearby, the scattered pieces of the creature’s form slithered around and piled up against each other until it reformed, back into the shape of a person.

“And now you’re here too,” the impostor Rhea creature snarled.

“That’s right,” Remora smiled a sinister smile as well. “John. Jacob. Jingleheimer. Schmidt.”

She did a flip in the air and blasted away with the two guns, then landed and took cover between the giant keg barrels.

“She always has to show me up,” Demetria scoffed. “I could do that too, if I wanted to.”

“By the way,” Remora turned to us and winked, “they’re purple, right?”

“That question wasn’t for you!” Demetria shouted.

“OK. But did I guess right or nah?”

“That’s not the point!”

“I’m pretty sure they’re purple.”

“I’m wearing boxer shorts!” Demetria was fuming in protest.

Remora whistled, then replied, “didn’t need to know that, but OK.”

Her face then turned more serious, much more like the Remora I was familiar with.

“Sorry to cut this reunion short, but you guys should go on ahead. I’ll take care of this fashion disaster.”

We all nodded, then ran on ahead. As much as I wished the five of us could go on together, I at least had confidence that Remora could handle such a fight on her own. Once into the tunnels, the light began to grow dimmer and dimmer, but I just hoped that we could all find a light at the other end of this tunnel.

[chockfullofsecrets]

The Mandalorian: The Puddle

(Read on AO3)

Rating: Gen

Summary: Mando’s helmet swept left. It swept right. Then, reluctantly, it swept back to her.

“It’s a puddle,” he said flatly.

Well. Yes, but rude. It was a favor.

Cara tries to make her new friend have a little fun.

Wordcount: 1934

A/N: Because I think it might need to be said -

My opinions of the character Cara Dune and the actress Gina Carano are very different - to be clear, I support the termination of Carano’s contract with Lucasfilm due to her antisemitic and transphobic comments. I think it’s both possible and reasonable to separate the character from the actor, but feel free to reach out off-anon if you feel different - I’m always willing to learn and improve in these matters.

“Where are we going?”

Ah, the suspicion. Cara had never met a Mandalorian before the Mandalorian, but judging from his everything the trait was inherited. She could hardly be offended when every scant bit of information that Mando revealed showed that distrust of the world to be completely justified.

Still, no reason to play nice. “Somewhere fun,” she tossed over her shoulder.

Judgmental silence radiated from the beskar helmet in her periphery.

“What, do you want me to tell you it’s going to be boring?”

“I want to know what we’re walking into,” he said, deadly serious. Clearly the man had never seen a pleasant surprise in his life.

Then, softer and distinctly not in her direction, “No, you stay in there.”

...Right. More than one reason for caution, then. “Hey, you know I wouldn’t let anything happen to the gremlin. Just trust me.”

The helmet made the concession of a slightly less judgmental silence. She rolled her eyes and picked up the pace for the last stretch of their short hike.

“Okay, here.” She gestured forward to their destination, stepping into the small forest clearing and sighing happily as a warm blanket of direct sunlight hit her in the face. Sorgan was a nice enough planet, given that her original favorite no longer existed, but especially in the heavily forested regions the atmosphere teetered towards gloomy.

Mando’s helmet swept left. It swept right. Then, reluctantly, it swept back to her.

“It’s a puddle,” he said flatly.

Well. Yes, but rude. It was a favor.

She crossed her arms. “You won’t let the kid anywhere near the krill pits, so he can splash around in here instead. Omera said the village knows about this place; they take the littlest ones here before they learn to swim.”

The kid in question, somewhat sulky for the past few days after being denied the right to chase frogs into the nearest drowning hazard, perked right up at the mention of krill.

Good work, gremlin. Now point that cuteness at your father.

They all watched the shallow pool lap harmlessly against its edges, blown by the gusts of mild breeze rustling through the trees. Mando took one look at the kid’s ears quivering in excitement and pointedly looked away. “He’s too small.”

Cara crouched down and slapped her palm against the pebble-strewn bottom of the pool, raising a doubtful eyebrow in his direction as despite the splash everything above the lower third of her forearm remained bone dry. “This thing is smaller. Just put him in, he’ll like it.”

Mando looked back at the kid, clearly poised to refute her size comparison.

Ba went said kid, right on cue, little claws scrabbling at the plastic of his carrier as he leaned towards the water.

She didn’t bother to bite back her grin as Mando’s aggrieved sigh filled the clearing. “I’ll be watching him,” he warned, lifting the kid to the ground and helping him wiggle out of his robes. “Or you’ll watch him, and I’ll make some rounds -”

The kid grabbed one gloved finger and dragged the sap attached to it all the way to the edge of the pool before deigning to toddle in on his own. His little white undershirt poofed out around his ankles, big eyes getting impossibly bigger with muttered aahs of glee.

Mando stayed hunched at the edge, hands held out protectively as the kid plopped down and started smacking the water with all the force his tiny, tiny claws could muster. Cara sat down too, pulling her boots and socks off and sticking her feet in the cool water. “You like that, kid?”

The kid purred distractedly, eyes flicking up to her before going back to his newest plaything.

Well, that had worked out great. Next target, then.

She turned to Mando. “You too, get in here. Boots off.”

Even balanced gracefully on the balls of his feet, the extra bulk of his armor and cape gave him the air of a giant bird whose egg had just rolled out from under him. “What?”

Wa, the kid echoed, blinking guilelessly up at them. Mando swiveled anxiously back to him and Cara took the opportunity to press her case. “Come on, if something attacks us I’ll keep it busy while you get them back on. And don’t try to tell me that your creed extends to footwear.”

“It doesn’t,” Mando said slowly. This appeared to be a source of some regret for him. Cara waited.

He took one last long scan of the treeline and then reluctantly sat down and started unstrapping the spare ammunition from his shins. Cara had no idea how he’d managed to stuff two knives of that size up against his ankles, but she refused to ask and risk reminding him of some time when having them had been crucial to his survival. She’d steal his boots later and examine them if she had to.

Footwear stacked neatly to the side, Mando scooted up to her and slid his feet cautiously into the puddle. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it still surprised her to see humanoid legs sticking out from rolled up fabric.

The helmet swiveled in her direction. “What?”

Don’t say it. Don’t say it.

Of course she was going to say it. At least she already knew he didn’t offend easily.

She gestured to the kid. “I kind of thought you looked like him. You know, claws.”

The helmet took on a distinctly amused tilt. She wanted to stick her tongue out at it. “Where did you think I put the ears?”

“Shut up,” she huffed, dragging through silt as she nudged the sole of his foot with her toes, and - oho, that was interesting.

Mando looked warily at her from where he had full-body-jolted almost a foot away. “It’s really not.”

There was a game of sorts that her shock trooper unit had played with its members unfortunate enough to react like that from a single poke. She hadn’t thought of it in years past the odd reminisce, but she, obviously, had been great at it.

Mando was fast, she’d give him that, but she already knew exactly what she was doing - he’d barely gotten both feet planted on the ground in preparation to stand before she grabbed the leg nearest her and yanked, sending him toppling backwards. “You ticklish, Mando?” she teased, bracing her arms as he tried to kick free.

The mockery made him kick a little harder, leg jerking frantically as he tried to pull it free, but at least he didn’t seem to be reaching for any concealed weapons.

“So,” she grinned, “how’s a rematch sound to you? We never got to finish that last brawl.”

“Dune, no,” he yelped. His fingers scrambled for the rifle strap on his chest as he tried to adjust it and get up, but she was already pulling his toes back so she could gleefully rake her fingertips over the exposed sole.

Mando’s ire crested abruptly into a bark of laughter as she made contact, coordinated attempts to escape replaced with outright flailing. She’d been expecting him to try and hide his laughter more, but there it was ringing out loud and clear through his vocoder. Of course, with his helmet on, Mando couldn’t cover his mouth with his hands or bury his face in his shoulder the way she’d seen people do before.

Which, in this particular case, let her hear her reticent Mandalorian breathlessly curse her out in what seemed like five or six different languages. Cute.

“Well, that’s not very nice,” she told him, tickling lightly over the top of his captured foot. “You going to apologize?”

Mando looked uninclined to do so, even when she found a spot on the inner curve of his sole that made his entire leg shiver when she traced it with her nails. His low laugh exploded into high-pitched, desperate giggles, and Cara realized abruptly that she couldn’t even tell if he was smiling under there.

A few seconds later, it became clear that he’d been plotting instead. The second he managed to kick hard enough to shift her fingers from that deadly spot, he struggled up onto his elbows and, bypassing the entire armory he was still wearing, wrenched his leg free and kneed her solidly in the chin.

Rude. Well now she’d just have to keep going, wouldn’t she? She caught the next attempt at kneeing with her shoulder, getting a vice grip on the back of his thigh to lever his leg back down.

Mando screamed.

Cara jerked back, convinced that she’d managed to dislocate something. “Shit! Okay, hold still-”

She pressed in closer to assess the damage and almost took another blow to the face as he flailed in panic. “No! Nononooo, dohon’t-”

Were. Were those? Giggles? Ticklish giggles from someone who definitely had just gotten their death spot exposed?

“Don’t what?” Recovering, she squeezed his thigh again and rocked back in smug satisfaction as his pleading gave way to another scream. “Of all the spots not to armor up, huh?”

Mando squawked indignantly at the suggestion that his shiny carapace was inadequate, then squawked some more as she pinched her way up the back of his leg towards his knee. “Aw, don’t be mad; you know you could use a good laugh. Hey, are you ticklish here too?”

She wormed her fingers into the back of his knee, which didn’t make him scream again but did force him all the way back down to the ground as his entire body shook with helpless laughter. One leg flailed helplessly behind her - Cara looked back quickly to make sure they hadn’t somehow hurt the kid, but he was still upright and conscious and splashy in the quick glance she spared for him.

She was pretty sure there was going to be water all over her back when they were done here, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Mando was laughing too hard to surrender even if he tried, and she was determined to keep it that way until she tickled the suspicion and anxiety right out of him.

It was hard to tell when he was running out of breath, but as his kicking and squirming petered off she let him go with one last squeeze just above his knee. She was breathing a little hard herself - she hadn’t realized that she’d been laughing along with him. “You headed out for that patrol now?” she panted.

Mando lay there like the dead, one arm thrown weakly over his face, the rise and fall of his chest the only useful indicator of life.

Negative, then. She was getting used to reading his silences.

Ba went a little voice behind her. She twisted to see the kid standing, both arms raised imperiously - in her direction.

She wasn’t much for kids, but even she wasn’t heartless enough to ignore him. “He’s just taking a second to catch his breath,” she told him, picking him up under the arms. “Let’s get you dried off - or wait, here.”

Triumphantly, she plopped the soggy bundle of child onto Mando’s stomach and watched cool water trickle through the edges of his chestplate to the flight suit underneath.

Accepting his defeat, Mando grumbled half-heartedly and he reached to tousle the kid’s ears. “You liked the water, huh? Maybe we can come back.”

Aaa, the kid told him, producing a palmful of water to spatter over his helmet.

Cara snorted and stuck her feet back into the water. If this was domesticity, maybe she could live with it.

[cerinefalls]

𝐁𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐭

(𝐴 𝐵𝑎𝑘𝑢𝑔𝑜 𝐾𝑎𝑡𝑠𝑢𝑘𝑖 𝑥𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟)

Category: Slice of life/Comedy

Here today we have UA highschool, a source of trauma for some, and a source of-

"Babies!" Ms. Joke exclaimed with a clap. "Today, hero courses from Shiketsu and UA will team up. You will each be put in pairs and assigned a baby to watch over."

Some students clapped and cheered at the announcement. Others... were not as happy. One of such students was Katsuki Bakugo, a fellow first year at UA.

You looked at him, his grumbles rather hard to ignore. He was exuding a tense feeling. A mix of fear and regret it seemed.

You couldn't stare too long, though. He'd noticed you, and of course this meant he'd have to assert himself.

"Hey, extra! Hell are you staring at?" His face appeared visibly annoyed, yet his hands were in his pockets as if this were second nature to him.

'extras'

A word he used often. This time felt more personal than all the others, though. He was singling you out from the crowd, and an unfortunate wave of attention was sent your way.

You didn't get much of a chance to reply, either. Bakugo was loud, and it seemed Aizawa wasn't up for the embarrassment from this problem child.

"You're with them, Bakugo." The tired man sighed, waving a dismissive hand at his explosive student.

Katsuki scowled, and in this situation, it's best to ignore him. Ignore him you did! Turning your attention back to Ms. Joke.

"And that's all you need to know, really!" The cheerful woman beamed. "Any questions?"

Thank the heavens Midoriya kept notes, otherwise no one wouldve asked for the recap of instructions you'd missed due to Bakugo's outburst.

"Partners will work together over the weekend and care for a robotic baby. It needs to eat, drink, be changed, paid attention to, and entertained the whole time." She explained simply. "This will take place in the UA dorms, and you'll be temporarily moved in with your partner."

Start digging now, because it seemed Aizawa had doomed you in his attempt to quiet the human grenade. Katsuki Bakugo was unwillingly your babysitting accomplice.

You turned to see how he felt about it. His face was unreadable. He wore a mild frown, evident of neutrality, but his eyebrows were raised in what looked to be either acceptance or... dread. It was genuinely hard to tell.

__________

Fast-forward to a few hours later and dorms have been set up. By some off chance, Bakugo chose to bunk with you. How fun! Except, there was a level of discomfort that came with it.

That became all the more obvious when the two of you sat in silence. Katsuki's mattress laid on the left side of the room, yours on the right. The robotic baby sat in a bassinet between the two of you, silent for the time be.

"Those bastards went all out with the preparations, didn't they." Bakugo sighed. He broke the silence with that sentence, leaving room for you to reply.

"Yeah, guess they did." You laughed awkwardly. The silence returned.

It seemed he noticed, because he sighed and stood up, walking towards you with an apathetic expression.

"Look," He began, keeping his eyes averted from you while he spoke. "I get that if we're going to practice taking care of this thing we need to get along, so..."

"Y/N." You introduced yourself. Bakugo was being nice, what a shock. Well, perhaps nice was a stretch, but he was showing a mature level of neutrality to reach a common goal. It was a pleasant change.

He began tapping his foot, pondering his next words when a loud cry erupted from the center of the room.

He jumped at the sudden noise, cursing under his breath. Bakugo attempted to play it off and turn around to look down at the bionic siren.

"What's wrong with it?" You asked, unable to see past his shoulders into the crib.

"Hell if I know-" He was going to continue that sentence, but soon you were both holding your breath. A putrid smell filled your dorm room.

"Oh no..." You'd slowly realized what'd happened. It had begun.

__________

After a long, painful journey through parenthood, the deed was done. Who knew a fake child could cause such real problems. At least you walked out unscathed. Bakugo on the other hand, was no so lucky.

"The hell did they feed that thing?" He grumbled to himself as the two of you walked to the washrooms. You kept the freshly changed baby in your arms while he went to wash his hands.

"It's not like there's real germs involved, Bakugo. Just a smell." You heard someone attempt to comfort your unhappy partner when he'd turned the corner.

"Shut up, shitty hair." So it was Kiri who'd attempted to calm him. Nice try.

Once Bakugo finished in the restroom and was no longer a danger to himself or others, you left the baby with him. It was your turn to wash up, and hopefully this time there would be no issues while you weren't paying attention.

You washed from your finger tips to your forearms meticulously. Why? Katsuki Bakugo despised filth, and he would surely know if you hadn't done as you were instructed.

It was getting late. Almost eight at night, and you just realized something. Earlier in the day, everyone was told to get ready. The washrooms were packed, and you'd had no time to shower. This would be no issue if you were teamed with anyone else, but because of who it was, you had no other choice.

"Bakugo?" You crept quietly out of the washroom, poking half of your body out just far enough for him to see you.

"What is it, Y/N?" He called back. Did he sound... sleepy? No, there was no way. No high schooler got tired at eight. Especially no UA student. The idea was too far fetched.

"Is it alright if I leave you with them a while longer? I need to shower." That came out quieter than expected. It was uncertain how Katsuki felt about children, let alone babies, so asking this was nerve wracking.

Bakugo paused, his face indifferent. It was clear he thought a while before choosing an answer to your question.

"It's fine. We're partners, so if you've got to shower... make it quick. I'm going to put this load of crap to bed." And with that, he got up and left. Bakugo headed straight for your room and shut the door behind him.

__________

'Make it quick' he said. Sadly for him, unless you consider half an hour quick, those were the directives that you didn't follow.

After drying off your body and patting through your hair, you slipped on some nightclothes and walked out of the room. The dormitory was pitch black when you came out. Everyone had a baby to put to bed, after all.

Slowly approaching and entering your room, you were shocked to see it was dark and quiet. Silent even, all aside from the snore of your partner. You giggled. They weren't joking when they said Bakugo went to bed at eight thirty.

The creak of the door as you pushed it further open seemed to wake him, though. He yawned and sat up, holding a finger to his lips. Why? In his other arm was the baby, it's bionic brain fast asleep. You tip toed closer to inspect the scene.

"The asshole wouldn't fall asleep until I laid it with me." Bakugo groggily complained, sitting up slowly as to not wake the uncomfortably realistic techno brat.

"Ah... should I take it so you can rest, then?" You asked a genuine question, but the face your co-parent made indicated he'd taken it as a challenge.

Of course. Katsuki 'don't underestimate me' Bakugo was angry with you for questioning whether he could do it or not. At least he had the head on his shoulders tight enough to remember he shouldn't scream at you. If he did, it'd be trouble for everyone on your floor.

"Since you don't think I can do it, you come join me. Watch this thing while I sleep." He retorted in a shockingly calm tone.

"What? With you? Why would I do that when they put your bed in here so we could have space?" You replied, a bit taken aback.

"So you can see I can do it with or without you. Can't move the damn thing, anyway." Bakugo groaned. He was clearly tired. Cranky may even be the word to describe him.

You shook your head, heading towards your own side of the room. You didn't get very far, though.

"Hey, that's not fair." The tired blonde hothead was clearly upset now, but for what reason was still a mystery. "If I've got to sleep with this thing and you're still gonna doubt me, you have to stay with me." Of course.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, lost for words. His logic made sense, but you weren't sure on whether it was a good idea. In theory, it was the perfect chance for him to prove himself, and for you two to act as a real couple would when caring for a child. On the other hand, this was meant to reflect hero work. Not a family scenario, but one where a child was being babysat. It was a hard call.

Bakugo could sense you were unsure about it, and questioned why in his head. After he finished thinking it through, it made sense to him why you'd hesitate. He turned over and laid back down. "Forget I said anything."

His words snapped you from thinking, and you felt as though he may have gotten the wrong idea. "Wait. I'll do it to watch them while you rest." It was past his bedtime after all, and if you admitted to doing it for his pride he would've chewed you out.

You dragged a blanket from your bed to his, laying on the other side of the baby. Soon enough, you heard Bakugo snoring again, and you were the only one awake in your dorm. Quiet and peaceful, as it should be.

You watched the baby as you said you would. It was merely eight forty five, and had you gone to sleep, the baby could've easily woken up moments later. You wanted to keep your word to him, so you stayed awake and watched over the baby.

Crickets and wind, a calm mix of sound flood in through the window. A sleepy combination of whistles and cool air. Your comforter sat over you heavily, warm and snug. That means when you felt something reach over and hug you, it startled you a bit due to the unexpectedness.

You remained calm. Waking the baby would be an awful mistake. This was confusing, though. When you checked, Bakugo was still fast asleep. This was an unconscious action.

Consciousness aside, it was cute. Did Katsuki sleep with stuffed animals? It would explain why he'd hugged you in his sleep. Regardless of the reason, this comfortable position lead to you dozing off. Sooner or later, silence was spread across all of the UA dorms. The babies had really tired out these young heroes. Perhaps tomorrow would be more peaceful.

____________________

A/N:

Hiya! Thank you for reading. If you don't mind, could you leave some feedback for me? I'd love to know what you thought.

[cardsthings]

The Kidnapping of Goro Akechi

The courtyard was bathed in a bright orange glow, so much so that the flicker of candlelight drowned out the stars. Goro stared up at the blank sky. In just under an hour, guests would start to arrive. He grimaced at the thought. A full night of mingling with nobles he didn't even know or care enough to recognize. It was a joke. The entire masquerade was nothing but an excuse for disgusting people to indulge in vices without causing a scandal.

"Is something the matter my Lord?" Goro turned to the masked woman in front of him. One of the many servants at the palace who was being forced to attend to the wretched event. He felt sorry for her, no doubt she would have a far worse night than he ever could. Dealing with entitled drunks who thought, no, knew they could get away with whatever they wanted... He suppressed the urge to tell her to run far away. No doubt, it would have ended poorly for both of them. "You seem... distracted."

"Oh no," He carefully smiled. There was no point in letting some random servant know his true thoughts. At best, having someone to listen would be a mild comfort, at worst, word might get back to his father. If he ever got the idea that Goro was ungrateful in any way, well, he didn't want to think about the consequences. "It's just a shame that you can't see the stars tonight."

The woman nodded with a clearly fake smile. Before she could continue the conversation with some meaningless platitudes, the sound of broken glass and his father's angry shouts drew her attention. She left in a hurry to placate the raging king. Goro turned to look, Shido's cheeks were flushed, whether with anger or alcohol he couldn't tell. At least four people were attending to him, trying to prevent an even larger outburst.

Goro quickly turned away when Shido set his eyes on him. He didn't need that sort of attention right now. He just needed to keep his head down and wait for the horrid night to be over.

*****

The hours passed by painfully slow. Even with the minor indulgence of wine, Goro's barely buzzed state hardly soothed how horrendously boring everything was. Maybe if he could let himself go safely... but as it was, every fake smile he had to give to some masked idiot just made him feel like he was dying inside a little more. At least the effect that the flowing booze had on others worked to his favor. The drunk crowd was more interested in gossiping among themselves and harassing the staff who hadn't yet managed to slip away instead of trying to get on the good side of the crowned prince.

Goro spent some of his down time scanning the crowd. He noticed Okumura however, his young daughter was conspicuously absent. Likely because even someone like him knew not to bring her to these sorts of events. Especially not when Goro had heard rumors of her engagement. Although, the other subject of said rumors was right at Okumura's side. Honestly, Goro pitied Haru despite having met her once. From what he could tell, she wasn't yet like the vile nobility that plagued the land. Of course, yet was the key term. No one decent ever rose to power.

As Goro continued to search through the crowd from afar, he caught sight of Shido. His father was predictably drunk. It's not like these parties served much other purpose than to allow him indulge in every vice he could think of under the cover of "high class mingling". When Shido suddenly turned to face him, Goro turned away, hoping that he hadn't been caught staring. It was unlikely he'd be punished for something so simple but still... When his father was drunk he could be particularly petty and unpredictable.

He sighed and gave up on looking at the crowd. Most of them were complete strangers to him anyways. Instead, he entertained himself with thoughts of Shido's downfall. The idea of slitting his father's throat and stealing his crown and throne while he looked on, choking on his own-

"Hellooo~" Goro took a deep breath. The person behind him absolutely reeked with alcohol. It was clear they'd been drinking all night. He pretended not to hear them, hoping that they would go away on their own. "Hey, hey!" The drunk grabbed his shoulder. If they stained the white shirt he was wearing with their filthy hands, he'd be pissed.

Goro turned around with a polite smile as he shrugged off their hand. "Good evening sir." He used a more pleasant voice to address them. What a night it would be if some random drunk ran off to his father to tattle that his son hadn't been the perfect little prince he was always supposed to be.

"You're a cutieee~" Goro tried his best not to glare at the man. He simply gave a polite chuckle.

"I think you're drunk sir." The man grabbed Goro's wrist as he tried to disengage. "Maybe you should have some water and sit down."

"Aww, that's no fun! Come on, why don't we go somewhere..." He leaned in. Goro wrinkled his nose as the smell of alcohol became even worse. "A little more private."

Goro leaned back. Did this man not know who he was? He certainly didn't know who the man was. "As... lovely as that sounds... I'll have to decline. Now, please let go before I-"

"Come oooon!" The man attempted to yank Goro forward but he resisted. Suddenly, the man's expression darkened beneath his mask. "What?! You think you're too good for me or something!"

Goro tried to push the man off him but his grip on his wrist tightened until it was painful. "I'd rather not cause a scene-"

The man yanked Goro in close again, this time succeeding. "Then fucking-"

"Excuse me." Goro craned his neck to see over the drunk man. A handsome young man stood behind him with a confident smirk. "I think you're bothering him."

The drunk whipped his head to see the newcomer, letting go of Goro's wrist as he did. Goro immediately put some distance between himself and the man. "Who the hell're you!?" Goro had similar thoughts. He didn't quite recognize him but he still seemed somehow familiar. Maybe it was the alcohol or the dimming lights that were causing such an effect.

The young man tilted his head with an amused expression. "I'm just a concerned bystander." He looked past the drunk directly at Goro. His eyes widened slightly beneath his black and white mask. "And I'd appreciate it if you left my friend alone."

"Go fuck yourself!" The drunk attempted a sloppy punch but it was easily dodged. The young man used the drunk's momentum against him to knock him to the ground. As the drunk struggled to get back up, the young man walked past him. He stopped in front of Goro and smiled.

"Are you okay?" The young man offered him a gloved hand for a handshake.

"I'm fine. And I had the situation under control." Goro turned away. "You have no idea what trouble you could have just caused for me."

"I'm sorry," Somehow Goro didn't think he was being genuine. "Let me make it up to you."

Goro turned to him with an unimpressed look. "How exactly?" He crossed his arms.

"I dunno, I guess you'll just have to find out." Ren reached out his hand again, a mischievous smirk crossed his face. "I'm Ren by the way, and you are..?"

Ren. Goro looked him over. The bright red gloves served as a pop of color in his otherwise black outfit. It seemed almost more suited to sneaking than to partying... Maybe it was the miniscule amount of alcohol or maybe it was genuine curiosity (Goro wanted to blame the alcohol), but he was tempted. It was something that would let him not focus on the horrendous party going on around them.

"...I'm Goro." He kept his expression even. "It's a pleasure to meet you Ren."

Ren smirked and gave a dramatic bow. "I wasn't aware I was mingling with the prince himself."

Goro huffed and turned away. A strange feeling made itself known in his chest. He really didn't know? Had he really helped without thinking that it could have gotten him a favor from the prince? Or was it that he was lying and simply waiting for an opportunity to use the whole event against him? "There's no need to make such a big deal out of it..."

"Of course not." Goro's eyes flicked back to Ren when he began to speak again. "Why don't we get out of here?"

"I can't exactly leave right now, if my father saw me..." What conclusions would he draw? Ren was about his age and he was undeniably handsome...

Ren smirked. "Not even for a second?" Goro looked him over once again. He looked harmless but looks could be deceiving. What did he want? What was his motive here? "I'm sure I could find a way to sneak you out if you really wanted me too, come on, I'm trying to make things up to you."

Goro sighed. "I suppose a few minutes couldn't hurt..." It was probably a stupid idea but he was curious. There was something strange about Ren and he wanted to know more.

Ren grabbed Goro by the hand. He quickly looked around the courtyard before he pulled Goro in a darker area. He kept Goro closer to the wall, using himself as cover to compensate for Goro's bright white outfit. It didn't take long for Ren to find a door that Goro hadn't even seen in the dimmed lights. He pulled it open and quickly entered right after Goro. After that, they made their way through the halls and out to the front of the palace.

Once outside, Goro took a deep breath of fresh air. He felt a smile creep onto his face as a nice breeze blew through the air. He took a moment to look up at the stars. The lights from the palace behind them still dimmed them but now they were at least visible.

"Much better." Goro turned to Ren. His mask was off and away. In the dim light of the moon, Goro suddenly realized why he had seemed so familiar. Before he could call for help or say anything, he felt a sudden horrible pain explode on the side of his head. He fell to the ground as black spots filled his vision. Vaguely, he could make out Ren walking towards him. Someone else grabbed him while Ren approached.

"Sorry your highness..." Were the last words Goro heard before the world drifted into darkness.

*****

A light breeze blew Goro's hair into his face. The smell of the sea surrounded him. In the distance, he could hear a few assorted voices. As he opened his eyes, he could see a blur of brown beneath his feet. His arms hurt but when he tried to move them into a more comfortable position, he met painful resistance from what must have been a rope around his wrists. His head was absolutely pounding.

"-ink he's awake." Goro looked up. A blurry figure stood above him, their bright yellow hair stood out. Slowly, they came into focus. A large grin was plastered on his face.

"Where-" Goro's question was cut off by a sudden sharp pain in his head. He winced as a shadow blocked out the sun. The sun... how long had he been out?

"Good morning, your highness." Goro's eyes shot up to the source of the familiar voice. Ren stood there with an annoyingly smug smirk. Immediately, Goro tried to lunge at Ren. He would have wrung his neck if he wasn't stopped by the stupid rope. "Nice to see you're doing well."

"Let me go you piece of shit!" He struggled against his restraints to little success. Either he was too weak, the rope was tied very well, or both.

Ren simply laughed at him. "I wasn't expecting the prince to be so vulgar." He leaned down so that he was eye level with Goro. "I think it suits you."

"Fuck off." Goro glared at him, if looks could kill he'd be dead a hundred times over. "Whatever the hell you think you're going to get from me-"

"Don't worry, I don't want anything from you." Ren smiled. "You should actually be back home pretty quick. We already sent word to the king that we have you, as soon as he pays the ransom, you'll be returned completely unharmed."

"You already attacked me last night."

"Mostly unharmed." Ren amended. "But don't worry, nobody wants to hurt you... again. As long as you don't try anything, you'll be fine." He flashed a smile and gave the same bow he had the night before. "You have my word, your highness."

Goro's eyes were drawn to the dagger that poked out slightly from Ren's belt. He struggled against his restraints one more time but found his hands thoroughly stuck in place. He sighed and hung his head in defeat.

"Glad you understand." Akira turned around and addressed his crew. Goro kept his eyes trained to the ground but strained his ears to hear what they were saying. Unfortunately, the sounds of the ocean drowned out their already quiet conversation. It was fine. Everything was fine. Goro could be patient. He could learn what he needed to know. It wouldn't be long before he escaped.

Crossposted on AO3, https://archiveofourown.org/works/32254492

[ironwoman359]

if you don't have anything for either of these yet: on the run/bounty on their head? roman's a prince, but there's some kind of uprising or assassination attempt and he and his most trusted guard have to gtfo. they're on the run, sleeping in shitty motels (with only one bed ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) ) and roman has to learn to live w/o 24/7 service. you can pick who the guard is.

Safe With You

@badthingshappenbingo

Prompt: On the Run 

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Summary: Prince Roman gains a new appreciation for his personal knight when he is forced into hiding to escape an assassination attempt.

Content Warnings: Mentions of death/violence, some mild bickering, prinxiety (can be platonic or pre-romantic), platonic moxiety

Word Count: 1,645

Read on AO3 here

Bad Things Happen Masterlist

Requests are closed

---

Roman had never been so exhausted in his life. His feet were sore, his muscles ached, and there was nothing he wanted more than to collapse into his feather bed and sleep for a day. No wait, a massage from the royal masseuse to ease his muscle tension. No, a massage then sleep for a day. 

Yes, that would be the dream. 

Unfortunately, Roman’s life had been more akin to a nightmare these past few days. He was a prince, for crying out loud, heir to the throne itself! And now he was being forced to sneak through the woods in the middle of the night like...like some common ruffian! 

“You said we’d be reaching real lodgings soon!” he whined. His mother would say that his tone of voice was “unbefitting of a prince,” but he felt that after three days of sleeping rough with no one but his irksome personal knight for company, he was entitled to a bit of complaining. Speaking of his knight...

“We will, highness.” Roman could never figure out how the formal address managed to sound so insulting when Sir Virgil Ellsworth said it. “We should reach it before daybreak, so long as you do not slow us down with any more of your griping.” 

Roman made a petulant noise (that his mother would also not have approved of), but Virgil just rolled his eyes and pressed onwards, slipping through the foliage with the ease of a practiced woodsman. Roman stumbled along clumsily behind him, trying to resist the urge to gripe (he was a prince, he did not gripe...he loudly protested) about the terrain.

He managed this for approximately three minutes, which he thought was a rather impressive effort, giving the circumstances. 

“If your plan was to hide out at an inn then I don’t see why we had to trek through the undergrowth like this. Would it not have been simpler to take the roads? You do know what roads are, don’t you Sir Ellsworth?” 

“You do know what caution is, don’t you highness?” Virgil retorted. “By all means, take the roads, if you want to be caught by the assassins in less than a day.”  

Roman opened his mouth to argue back, but Virgil shut him up with a scathing glare. 

“I know you’re used to being the one to boss people around, Princey, but we’re not in the palace any longer. It’s my job to keep you alive, and out here, what I say goes. Got that?” 

He turned around without waiting for an answer, a breach of protocol that ordinarily would land him in serious trouble, but even Roman had to admit that the systems of etiquette and protocol that he was used to didn’t matter much in the middle of a coup. And as much as Roman had whined and complained (and alright, griped) about their traveling conditions, underneath his brash facade he was just glad that Virgil had remained loyal to him, even after the people who paid his salary had been run through by assassins’ blades. 

Not that he’d ever admit that out loud to his knight of course. 

“Okay, we’re almost there,” Virgil said, pulling Roman out of his musings. “Keep your head down, and let me do the talking.”

Roman glowered at him, but he pulled the hood of his travelling cloak up to obscure his face and followed Virgil without further complaint. Roman wasn’t sure how Virgil knew where they were, the woods all looked the same to him, but one minute they were surrounded by trees and the next they were stepping onto a dirt road that led into a tiny village. Virgil kept glancing around as they approached a building that Roman would call quaint if he wanted to be kind...ramshackle if he was feeling more irritable, which tonight he was. 

“You’re sure this is an inn?” 

“What part of keep your voice down is confusing you?” Virgil hissed with perhaps a touch more venom in his voice than was typical, and Roman blinked.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he muttered, folding his arms with a huff. 

Virgil sighed and shook his head, then stepped forward and nudged the door open a crack, peering inside. Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he pushed the door open properly and gestured for Roman to follow him inside.

Roman didn’t have much experience with inns, on the rare occasion that he had to travel his entourage would usually solicit the hospitality of a local noble family, so he had no idea if the cramped space was typical of this more...rustic establishment. Still, the room was cleaner than he’d expected; the stone floor was swept, the worn wooden tables were wiped down, and a pleasant, homey smell wafted through the air. It wasn’t hard to imagine the room full of peasants after a hard day's work, enjoying hearty food and drink to forget their hardships for a few hours. 

For now though, the room sat empty, save for one man who was hunched over the fireplace, stirring something in an iron pot. He spun around when he heard the door close behind them, and his eyes widened behind a pair of round glasses. 

“Oh! I wasn’t expecting customers this early in the morning, I–” 

“Pat, it’s me.”

The man froze. 

“Virgil?” he asked, and Virgil nodded. “Oh my– what are you doing here? When I heard about the capital, I was afraid that–”

“I need your help,” Virgil interrupted, and the man nodded. 

“Of course, whatever you need!.”

“A room? And off the books, Patton, nobody can know we’re here.”

Patton’s eyes flickered to Roman for a moment before looking back to Virgil with a firm nod. 

“Of course, of course. This way.”

He led Virgil and Roman up a staircase and down a hall, ushering them into a room. 

“It’s not much, but it’s yours for as long as you need it. And once I’m done opening things up downstairs I’ll come up and bring you some porridge, you kiddos must be hungry.”

“I can pay you,” Virgil began, but Patton shook his head. 

“Keep your money. I have a feeling you’ll be needing it more than me anyhow. Just stay safe for me, okay?” 

Virgil nodded. “Thank you.” 

Patton smiled at him, then with one last glance at Roman, slipped out of the room and back downstairs. Virgil shut the door behind him, then quickly crossed the room and closed the shutters as well, blocking out the first few rays of morning sunlight. 

“Okay,” he said, a bit of tension finally leaving his shoulders. “We should be okay to rest here for a bit. 

Roman looked around the room, and tried not to grimace. It was tiny, barely big enough to comfortably fit the single bed, wooden chair, and side table. No wardrobe, no desk, no vanity, and no lavatory. Still, at least there was a bed. No matter how lumpy the mattress might be, it was sure to be more comfortable than the forest floor. 

“Will this suffice for you, then?” Virgil asked, raising an eyebrow, and Roman sighed.

“It will have to do, I suppose,” he said, and Virgil rolled his eyes. 

“It better, because this is the only inn this side of the capital that won’t sell us out at the first flash of some coin.”

“So that innkeeper, you trust him then?” 

“With my life,” Virgil responded immediately, and Roman blinked. 

“Well alright then,” he muttered. He looked around the room, then frowned as one particular detail stuck out to him. “There’s only one bed.” 

“It’s a roadside inn, Princey, it doesn’t exactly have suites.” 

“I know, I wasn’t exactly expecting the lap of luxury here, but–”

“Relax,” Virgil interrupted. He pulled off his cloak and bunched it into a ball before stretching out on the floor and stuffing it under his head. “I’m all good, see? No need to worry about sharing your bed with the measly common folk.” 

 “I’m aware you’re making fun of me,” Roman grumbled, and Virgil laughed. 

“Good, I’d be worried if that was lost on you.”

“You think just because the world is collapsing around us that you can mistreat me so? I am still your prince.” 

Virgil gave him an unimpressed look, and Roman swallowed, suddenly cognizant of the fact that the only reason he was still alive was because of Virgil’s interference. He’d taken it for granted, Virgil was his knight, after all, it was his job to protect him, but when the rest of the palace had fallen, there would have been nothing stopping Virgil from giving Roman up to save his own skin. Instead, Virgil had taken him to safety, and Roman felt his face warm in shame.

“I apologize,” he said quietly, looking down. “That was...not a very chivalrous remark. I do recognize that it is only because of you that I am even alive, let alone a prince, and...I am grateful for that.” 

He glanced up, just in time to see a strange expression flicker across Virgil’s face for just a moment before his familiar smirk was back. 

“Alright, Princey, don’t get sappy on me now,” he said, and Roman let himself smirk back. 

“Just covering my bases here, I can’t exactly have rumors start spreading that the prince of the land doesn’t appreciate when someone saves his life.” 

“Go to sleep, highness, your precious reputation is safe with me,” Virgil snickered, closing his eyes. 

Roman chuckled, but as he lay back on the lumpy mattress, he didn’t miss the way Virgil’s hand drifted to rest on the hilt of his sword, or how he adjusted his position so that his body lay across the doorframe, one final barrier between Roman and any threat that might dare to enter. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he said, letting his own eyes slip closed. “I know I’m safe with you.”

---

Bad Things Happen Masterlist Full Fic Masterlist Commission Info Ko-fi

Sanders Sides taglist:

@theinvisiblespoon,  @dreamsshadowwashere, @broadwaytheanimatedseries,  @bitten1ce,  @madly-handsome, @cats-with-blogs, @damienswifeolicitydallysgirl @fanderrawr,  @starjames-pma @crownswriter123 @stars-sunsets-and-oliver, @akiraaria, @thilb0burrit0, @dragonangel-funandfire, @painterman-bobross @galaxymindedindividual,  @sassy-in-glasses, @vergeangst, @iaminmultiplefandoms,  @thedundundunnnsong, @podcastsandcoffee, @bosmeri-alyd @anyay666,  @celinethotwrong,  @poorlittleanxiousbaby, @bibbidi-bobbity-booyah @chaloopa12 @lastbeginning @readeatfightlove13, @girlwthanxiety4ever @entpscarleharrrr @artistic-introvert54 @logically-emotional @punsterterry @fluidityandgiggles @gatlily @stupidfangirl107 @default-lesbian @sharkkittem @thesocialbookwormishere @amuthefunperson( @ @lunareclipse-524 @purplesoul-at-hogwarts @asymmetricalgarbage8888  @maxiswriting @bluebloodstains @savage-fox-cacti  @skitari  @iridescentglassflowers  @ultraviollettt @satanblessi @iloveeverytjing123 @the-average-loner @ahyeahisurehopeit-does  @theunoriginaldaisy  @para-keat @today-only-happens-once @03-30-am  @why-only-have-one-fandom @analogical-mess @twilight-trix @silverjay520 @purpleandblacknightmares @anxious-fander-bean  @felicianoromano @idioticsky  @storytellerofuntoldlegends @theymaynotbedenied @fight-or-flight-reflexes @brownie-aunt @sweetsmalldog  @chelsvans @sos-fandoms  @opaque-puppet  

@ninja-wizard101  @mklwritestoomuch @comicsimpson @muliphandomer  @thetruepacifist @hitmewiththatfanart33 @katie-the-noble-fangirl @yalltookmyurlideas @fearthepenguinboye @theunknoen69  @the-most-random-blog-on-ear-blog @evetheodd @fanartfunart @midnight-tragedyy @ymmm-someone @blep-blep-motherclucker @fandomloverangel @dorkoverse @imabad-b-youcantkillme @so-yeah-imma-witch @spinnerthedolphin @whenistheworldending @sardonicsquish @look-ma-im-on-tv @gattonero17 @yumi-bulan @averykedavra @sofiathehufflepuff @luella-the-homosexual @dwbh888 @underthesea73 @maestro-ofvillainy  @hold-our-destiny @apocalypticbekfastclub @5150brotherbear

@jimprotectionsquad, @somber-fae, @splatted-dragon, @simon-seppa-blog, @kinkiestcoconutaround, @nyxwordsmith, @hannahisnottalented,  @thefamouszombiebouquet, @jordandobbertin,  @la-fandom-freak, @freepaperie081, @tormentist, @mollycassmith, @pleaseletthisjimbetaken,  @littleteenblog, @of-chaos-and-flame, @monstermemories, @simplelittlestar, @sander-fander, @jenni-with-an-i, @superawesomeamazingname, @randomcrystals, @the-gilbird, @desolate-darlin, @alwaysmy-lilith, @look-its-meme, @sigma-time-lord, @toreen-m, @samthekoalabear98,  @thewinterunicorn,  @miss-meg1710, @itsjustkota, @justanotherproblem, @redone0-0dreamer,  @mltcp, @i-hyperfixate-too-much ,  @jse-fandom-protection-squad, @edible-napkin, @helpmeimjim,  @slim-jims, @didsomeonesayprince,  @fanofyoutubeandmore, @hexatrash

[feminaexlux]

Black Cats are Some Kind of Luck

Oh god this might just be a little bit of a crack fic but I had way too much fun writing this.

Rated M, probably? Iunno. LukaNoire!

∴

In most of the mornings Luka had in his life after toddlerhood he woke up alone in his bed. When Juleka was younger, maybe a toddler herself, she had dragged him out of his bed to hide under a blanket on the floor when she had nightmares. Anarka would find her babies in a tangled nest, since sleeping on the floor meant finding no monsters under the bed to very young imaginative minds.

This morning he woke up with… someone else snuggled next to him. Someone who looked a lot like Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He hadn't gone to sleep that way. Pretty sure of that. He was and had been sober.

He had no idea what happened.

Gently he pried himself away from her, extricating himself carefully from her grasp. He took a quick look around his room and yep, this was his room in his flat that he shared with his best friend. His guitars were hung up against the walls, his music sheet paper was on his desk in random piles, his hoodie was thrown over his desk covering his laptop.

But it was Marinette. In his bed. Oh god, he thought, HOW was she here? Somewhere deep down inside of him he didn't find the idea of him waking up next to her unwelcome but… there was a natural progression to things. Sure, he'd been in love with her for years but she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng the up-and-coming fashion star and personal designer for Jagged Stone. He was just Luka. He hadn't ever given himself even the slimmest of chances when she was Marinette and she had her eyes on Adrien Agreste, the supermodel and son of Gabriel, who ran the most prominent design house in France. She was probably 2 standard deviations out of his league.

"Shit," he whispered to no one in particular. He checked himself over and double checked that he was sober and dressed (oh god we didn't… did we?). She was wearing her pajamas and it didn't look like they did anything so that wasn't going to cause an immediate meltdown. He should probably wake her up and… figure out what happened. He knelt by the edge of the bed and gently shook her by the shoulder. "Hey. Marinette?"

"Mnnng," she groaned, eyebrows furrowing as she frowned. She grabbed at his blankets and pulled them in toward her, then started opening her eyes. "Hi," she said, lazily smiling up at him. She must still have been waking up, but if she smiled like that to whoever she woke up next to he'd happily have them both go back to sleep just so they'd wake up together again.

"Do you know where you are?" He asked. Maybe there'd been an akuma attack and she got teleported here? He wasn't sure. "You're in my room. Do you remember how you got here?"

"Yeah," she yawned. "I cam--" Her eyes shot wide open mid-word and she slapped her hands over her mouth. "Th-there was an akuma!"

∴

Oh god, she almost said she came here on purpose, and not because she'd been high as a kite on whatever kitty hormones had coursed through her veins while she was Lady Noire.

Well, she couldn't blame it just on the kitty hormones. Regular hormones were bad enough. And if she was even more honest with herself she had wanted to wake up next to Luka Couffaine, the gentleman rocker, ever since she found herself thinking about blues more than greens, distressed more than clean and crisp, shy but warm laughter more than confused smiles.

So basically for a couple of years now.

She should have seen it coming. When she and Mister Bug decided to swap permanently she'd been informed by Plagg that should she choose it, she'd be able to tap into some latent powers with the side effect of being more like the animal the Miraculous represented. She didn't think it'd be a problem so she chose it. Cats just slept all the time. If she didn't have to worry about being Ladybug anymore she could afford more sleep, right?

What she didn't really account for (and she should have after a facepalm worthy moment where she realized Plagg had been teasing it all along) was the heat. Or whatever it was that made her way more… touch-oriented, and way less inhibited than usual.

She'd been alright with napping more often. She'd been alright about unconsciously licking her hands clean. It was convenient that she was the daughter of bakers and helped out making pastries. She was practically covered in flour and sugar all the time anyway (regardless, she always washed her hands after). She didn't have a tail to swish around whenever she was annoyed so nothing about her was more cat-like than usual. Though she was annoyed more often now that she thought about it.

The cat-ness also severely affected her sense of smell.

She wasn't alright with how good some people smelled, especially near her period. When she and Kagami were having a juice date Marinette legitimately drooled at how vibrantly citrusy the fencer was. Alya, Nino, and most of Kitty Section smelled pleasant. Her parents smelled… well, familiar, which was to be expected. Adrien also smelled familiar, which was unexpected.

Luka was the worst. She couldn't place the scent but she kept thinking of blueberries, sea salt, chocolate, ocean waves lapping at her feet, the warmth of a crackling bonfire with the cooling sea breeze, and how badly she wanted to curl herself around him and take in his everything. It wasn't just near her period. It was all the time.

It seemed like after the late-night/early-morning akuma attack she had nearly gone ahead and wrapped herself around him in her kitty hormone addled brain. God, he had smelled so good and her brain had still been fuzzy at the edges when he woke her up, but she had quickly gotten to her senses after he had looked a little panicked and she had noticed that she was detransformed.

She couldn't blame him for being panicked. If the situation was reversed she might have screamed and tossed him across the Seine.

"I'm… I'm so sorry, Luka," she said in her own panic. She looked off to the side and nervously played with the rose-gold ring on her right hand, wondering where Plagg had gone. She looked back at Luka when he blew out a relieved sigh.

"Hey, it was the akuma," he laughed. "You alright? Not hurt anywhere?"

"I'm alright, yeah," she answered, then suddenly frowned. Plagg, that little shit, what the hell was he doing? She found him laying on top of Luka's head, smiling a wide Cheshire cat smile.

"I don't know why the miraculous ladybugs didn't drop you off back home," Luka said, sounding like he was talking more to himself than to her. "Maybe it works differently for Mister Bug?"

Marinette could definitely fudge it and say that the Miraculous Ladybugs kinda… skipped her. "Haha, maybe I was too far from them?" Marinette forced a laugh.

Luka shrugged. "Still, I'm guessing you'd wanna go back home, right?"

Hmm, not really. And well, her ride back home was currently lounging in Luka's hair. She reached out a hand to try to catch Plagg but the kwami slipped out of her grasp. She ended up just… petting Luka. "Oh! S-sorry you had something in your hair," she said quickly, trying to cover up her embarrassment.

"Thanks?" He said, a deep blush rising up to his cheeks. He swept his hair back after Marinette reluctantly drew back her hand and for a long moment Marinette just stared. The younger Couffaines had a mild tendency to hide behind brightly colored bangs when they were feeling shy, but Luka had as much unconventional beauty packed in his features as Juleka did.

And Juleka could very well be a supermodel if she wanted.

"I'll give you a ride back on my bike. Is that alright?" He asked as his blush faded. He still looked a little nervous with his hand on the back of his neck.

"I'd love a ride," she said absently, another yawn overtaking her. Ugh, his bed was so warm and smelled so nice and she would most definitely like to ride him--ride with him, WITH him, WITH him. Yeah, she should go home now before she ruined everything.

At least, that had been the plan. They had gone down to the garage and chatted lightly after getting geared up one after the other, both more than thankful that Luka's roommate was dead asleep in the other room. The ride was smooth and relatively short so she hadn't been thinking about how she wanted to feel him under her the whole time, no, not at all. He parked nearby as her housing complex had like, no available spaces, and walked the block and a half to her apartment with her so she could get out of the borrowed gear without going barefoot in her pajamas.

As he was heading out with the spare gear over his arms, she stopped him. "Thanks for getting me home and… for everything. I'm… I'm glad I didn't end up anywhere else," Marinette said with a shy smile. She got up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek.

"No problem," he said slowly, mostly surprised with a blush creeping over his face. "See you later?"

She had a giant yawn escape her after she closed the door and started walking back to her bedroom. Plagg zipped out of her pajama pants pocket to float in front of her. "Yanno you kissed him on the mouth, right?" he snickered.

∴

Luka slowly leaned forward and rested his head against her door. Had she just kissed him? Had she just kissed him and he said "see you later" like a dumbass? He tried to stifle a groan and pressed his head harder into the door when the door swung open away from him with surprising speed. Three things worked against him as he tried to recover from stumbling forward: being caught off guard, his arms already carrying stuff that made him unbalanced, and gravity.

Good thing Marinette was there to break his fall. The bad thing was Marinette had some really amazing reflexes and honed self-defense skills because she guided his momentum into throwing him onto the floor, landing him on his back. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands after realizing what she had done. "Oh my god! Luka are you okay?!"

"Don't know," he said, blinking up at the ceiling. He'd been dressed for the slide but definitely felt hit by a truck after she'd kissed him. "Probably," he said after a beat. "Was that an accident?"

"… Yeah, I don't usually throw you to the ground?" Marinette replied, confused.

"No, you kissed me."

She made a couple of noises that sounded like abortive starts at sentences. "I… guess I don't usually do that either," she ultimately sighed, pressing one delicate hand to her very red cheeks. She knelt down next to him and brushed his hair away from his eyes. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'll be okay if you kiss me again," he said, thinking he'd be able to get away with ha, just kidding if she wasn't into it but desperately hoping she would be. Something in her expression shifted and he almost felt his soul leave his body. He started propping himself up by his hands looking for the gear that got flung aside when he was pulled up the rest of the way to sitting by his jacket collar.

He got hit by another metaphorical truck. She pressed her lips to his, which was pretty great by itself but then it got more and intense and open and she unbuttoned his collar and zipped down his jacket. The temperature of the room instantly got stifling and he was sure part of his brain melted.

She pulled back a bit and they got a few breaths of air. He should have used that time to ask Can this be an every day thing but then she licked her lips and all coherent thoughts evaporated. He didn't notice that she successfully tugged his jacket off. Didn't feel it when he got pushed back down. Did notice when she sat on his lap and leaned forward to kiss him hard over and over again. He only heard the faintest buzz of his phone that had almost been drowned out by her tiny, breathy moans, and that had only sunk in and registered after she sat back up and growled at it.

She picked it up and nearly threw it against her couch except she caught a glimpse of something and said "Goddamn it."

It wasn't his finest moment. "Huh?"

"Akuma. Sorry, Luka!" She took his hands off of her ass and jumped up. Somehow she hauled him up to his feet and pushed him out the still opened door, pressing his jacket and phone into his hands. "I'll get the rest of the stuff to you later okay? I'm so sorry!"

"Wait. Hold on, what--" She cut him off by kissing him again, which was a surprisingly effective tactic.

"I'll meet you for lunch, but for now I gotta g--hide! Be safe! Sorry!" Then the door slammed shut.

The phone buzzed in his hand and he took a look at the notifications. They were all from his roommate, the bastard.

Just now Di © K: Hope ur ok where ever the fuck u r

One minute ago Di © K: Shit akuma

Two minutes ago Di © K: Oi whered u go

Three minutes ago Di © K: ? Di © K: Lulu Di © K: Heeeeey Di © K: Hey

… Didn't the whole thing with akumas mean he should have stayed indoors? With her?

He wasn't sure he could sit on his bike comfortably for the next little while anyway.

∴

Mister Bug swore almost every other akuma was some damned mind-control wizard. Of course it had to be one of those today, and of course today Lady Noire was especially pissed off so she was slightly more reckless than usual. Which was saying something, as Mister Bug had seen her go on a rampage not 8 hours ago and that had been one of the quickest akuma fights he'd ever seen. Seen and not participated in, as he'd been left nothing but cleanup.

Heatstroke or whatever had literally thrown the akumatized object at Lady Noire's feet after she had beaten and clawed the shit out of him. He was cowering in the relative security of a dumpster bin when Mister Bug found him.

She must have really loved her sleep. It'd been maybe 2am?

This latest akuma called herself the Directator. She'd been managing a movie set and of course something had gone wrong early in the day. So Hawky gave her the power to truly direct everything to her heart's desire or similar bullshit like that. Mister Bug and Lady Noire took maybe a few minutes to try to figure things out when Lady Noire skipped straight to the attack phase, beating Directator with the director's chair.

He should have noticed that she was ready to pounce when Lady Noire's ears were angled back and her electric green tail was whipping back and forth in a threatening fashion. She'd been way more actual-cat-like than he ever was as Chat Noir.

Directator panicked and commanded Lady Noire to 1) stop attacking her, 2) put the director's chair down gently, 3) be a nice kitty, 4) take off and go.

Mister Bug spent the next few minutes chasing after Lady Noire. When he finally caught up with her and stopped her, she put up her hands. He sighed with relief that she still wanted to work with him. He'd been relieved all up until she started slapping him with those hands and he fell back in surprise. She took off again.

It looked like she was heading in a particular direction so, after deciding to stay back a bit, Mister Bug trailed after her to see where she ended up. He didn't have to wait too long until she stopped running across the rooftops and dropped down to street level, where she seemed to chat up a dude in full riding gear next to a motorcycle. The next thing he saw was Lady Noire taking motorcycle guy by the waist and using her baton to propel them both to the roof of the tallest nearby building.

Maybe he should… do something about that? Especially since it seemed like Motorcycle Guy was screaming out a "what the fuuuuck".

Mister Bug went after them and found Motorcycle Guy sitting against the raised ledge of the building with Lady Noire curled up against him, sitting on his lap. Adrien coughed to hide and try to suppress his laughter. Motorcycle Guy raised his visor (oh hey, it was Luka) and asked "What's going on?"

Before Mister Bug could answer Lady Noire leapt up and stamped her foot in front of Adrien. "No! He's mine! Leave us alone!!" she hissed.

"I'm what?" Luka said incredulously.

Mister Bug backed up a few steps to placate her. "Yeah, okay," he chuckled. "You're being a nice kitty, right?"

She huffed and crossed her arms. "I'm always nice."

"You're right. So the nice kitty will let me talk to her friend for a minute, right? 'Cause you're such a nice Lady Noire?"

"Only a minute," she said unhappily. She was pouting.

"Great!" Mister Bug said cheerfully. He walked over to Luka and contemplated what to do on the way.

∴

(Just a bit earlier)

Where had Marinette disappeared to? Luka had knocked several times after she shut him out but she didn't answer. He pressed his ear against the door to see if he could hear anything but it was dead silent on the other side. She wouldn't have made out with him and thrown him out like this and ghosted him… would she? It didn't seem like a Marinette thing. Not that he was an expert in all things Marinette… one day he'd like to see if she'd let him become one though.

He had loitered around her place for probably 20 minutes trying to convince himself to not break in and find out what happened. He'd have to respect her privacy and he did, really, but the last akuma attack magically teleported her to his someone else's bed and his thoughts were slowly spiraling into dangerous territory, where he imagined her ending up in Adrien's bed and her realizing she had better people than Luka to roll around under the bedcovers with.

Be cool, man, he thought at himself. Not going to help anyone if he suffered a mental breakdown. There might be a non-zero chance that she ended up back at his place? Okay that seemed too optimistic but… he should probably let his flatmate know he was fine and that he was heading back anyway.

He walked out to his bike after putting his jacket back on and unlocked the rear seat off to get to his helmet. He'd been ready to get back on the bike and ride off when he heard more than saw someone plunk down next to him. He turned and Lady Noire was looking directly at him. "Hi Luka," she said. "I need you."

"For the akuma?" He asked. Maybe he needed to be Viperion again? "Okay?" She rushed in and threw him over her shoulder, then they were a hundred meters in the air. "What the fuck?!"

He got plopped down against the ledge of the building and then she sat curled up on him. It might have been his imagination but… she was purring? This was… not making any sense at all. Luka saw Mister Bug land on the roof and the spotted hero managed to get Lady Noire off of him for a minute.

Mister Bug walked over and sighed before talking with Luka. That was a bad sign. "I'm sorry to have to ask this, but could you… stay with her until I can deal with this akuma? I just needed to know she's safe and in one place."

"… What?"

"Mind control akuma. Lady Noire's been hit with some weird commands." Mister Bug paused and looked thoughtful. "Hmm, I don't know, actually. Seems like she's just doing whatever she wants to outside of being ordered to leave the scene."

"Can't you fix that? Or… maybe get me out of here?"

"It'll be fixed after I deal with the akuma. I don't know if you noticed but Kitty here has been pretty extreme recently. Might be safer for everyone, including both me and you, if she's here and not ordered to Cataclysm anyone or anything." Mister Bug dropped his voice to a whisper. "Never thought she'd be a loose cannon. She might just attack me again so I'm not going to tempt fate if she just wants to hang out with you." Mister Bug shrugged at Luka. "Hey, greater good and all that. I promise I'll fix this as soon as I can. Take care of her, alright?"

"Hey wait--" "Bug out!"

Mister Bug up and left them. Shit. Lady Noire came walking back and looked over the edge of the building to make sure Mister Bug was gone. She sat back down next to Luka. "Okay, good, it's just us!" she beamed, hugging him.

"Uh," Luka started uncomfortably. "Not… to try to make things any weirder, but… could you get off of me?"

She pulled back, looking hurt. "You don't like me?"

"I… don't know who you are. I mean as a person, not a superhero." Luka tried to say that gently enough to not set her off. "I might like you if I got to know you?" He backtracked, feeling unsure. "But I mean, I'm just not great with the touching. I'm… into someone and it feels wrong to have someone else be this close."

Her ears flattened out to the side. "Who's that?" she asked, half sad and half… bitter? He felt like he just waded into turbulent waters. He didn't want to throw anyone under the Lady Noire murder bus, least of all Marinette.

"I'll tell you if you stay here," he compromised, hoping that he didn't just sign any death warrants. "Besides, you know her already. She usually chases after you."

"Alya?!" Lady Noire was shocked.

"No, Marinette? She always runs out to--"

"But I'm Marinette."

"… You. You're Marinette? Marinette Du--"

"Dupain-Cheng, yeah. That's me."

Oh. "… I thought you weren't supposed to tell anyone who you were?"

She snorted. "I can do whatever I want!" She leaned in closer. "So does this mean I can touch you again?"

∴

It was just a few moments shy of Mister Bug letting the ladybugs set everything back to normal, so he ignored the notification on his yo-yo from Lady Noire. He checked it after and saw one line: "Taking Luka home now! ;)" Oh boy. Well, she should be relatively okay now. Luka would be fine.

Hopefully…

∴

Lady Noire started whining and that whine turned into a full blown scream in the middle of dropping from the roof, just as the Miraculous Cure worked its magic over her. Luckily she still landed softly enough while she held onto Luka, so it wasn't that she had lost control or anything. She immediately jumped away from him after setting him on his feet.

"Oh my god I am so, so, so, so sorry Luka," she cried, covering her entirely red face with her hands.

"Thank god you're back to normal," Luka sighed, leaning back against the building.

"Any chance you could forget all that?" Lady Noire asked nervously, dropping her hands back to fiddle with her baton. She looked like she wanted to leave Earth as soon as she possibly could.

All that included him taking his helmet off, her crawling back into his lap and grinding herself against him, her ripping apart his jacket and shirt (they were fixed now), peppering him with kisses and tiny bites everywhere, and doing all of this while she was Marinette Dupain-Cheng underneath it all. He did his best to keep up and reciprocate but she was superpowered. She barely let him breathe but he survived. And he'd enjoyed it. He had enjoyed the hell out of it. But at the same time he had gotten thoroughly overwhelmed.

He didn't want to forget all that, but… "I can if you want me to," he sighed. She'd been mind-controlled, after all. "It was all the akuma, right?" Too bad. "What… about earlier?"

She opened her mouth to reply but inhaled too quickly and started coughing. "Um, I…" She coughed again. "Er. Um…" She bit her lip and looked down, muttering something to herself.

∴

Goddamn it, Plagg. Plagg had mentally kicked her and the voice in her head said "Cat's already outta the bag, toots, you've been wanting to mount that guy for-e-ver. Don't you dare take it back." It startled her enough to cause her to choke on air.

"Um, I… Er. Um…" She kicked at the ground. She wanted this. She wanted this. No mind-influencing akuma had told her to kiss him, that had been completely her. "No, don't… don't forget anything. I wanted all that," she sighed. "It was all me."

He raised his helmet visor to get a better look at her. "Are you sure?"

She nodded and looked back up at him. "I'm sure. I… kinda want to continue, too?"

It sounded like he choked. "I… wouldn't mind that."

She glanced back at her apartment a few blocks away. "See you in a few?"

∴

(Some time later)

Luka hadn't completely gotten used to waking up with someone else in bed. He wasn't sure if he ever would, since every time he woke up next to Marinette it'd been nothing short of amazing and he'd felt like he was dreaming but no, she was actually there.

Occasionally he'd have to deal with waking up in the middle of the night because she'd leave for patrol, or had come back from it to snuggle back into his arms. It wasn't really a problem because they were together in the morning.

He didn't really miss waking up alone.

[fortunaaamajor]

The Ultracheese (Fred Weasley)

(This was previously posted on my old account that has now been moved here, sorry if anyone is seeing this twice.)

Fred Weasley x Reader

This story is based on one of my favourite lyrics at the moment. It’s a mainly fluffy, cheesy but angsty in parts story of Fred and Reader reminiscing on their relationship.

Reader is vague - gender not specified, no specific house mentioned.

Song Link: The Ultracheese by Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: Mild bad language, mentions of Umbridge’s Black Quill (torture)

Word Count: 2k

Although I am using the Harry Potter universe as a basis for this story I do not support JK Rowling or her views.

“Fred Gideon Weasley!” a piercing shriek from Molly erupted through the bottom floor of the Burrow, as Fred skidded into the living room where you were sitting. You gave him a pointed look as she followed him through muttering about “…making my life so difficult, can you just give me one moment to RELAX, you’re old enough to know better at this age - both of you!” her voice rose at the end of her rant so that George could also get the gist from wherever he had run off to in the cramped house. Fred was chuckling as he plopped himself down beside you. He glanced at his long suffering mother as she took a couple of deep breaths, turned on her heel and left the room, but not before spitting out something about he and his twin being “…inconsiderate, childish…”.

Lifting up the crochet blanket you were sitting under, Fred attempted to weasel his way in beside you. He looked slightly hurt at Molly’s last comment, you captured his jaw in your hand carefully and turned it towards you

“Go and apologise to her. Bonus points if you can convince George to join you.”

“But it was only a-”

“Uh uh! I don’t wanna hear it, you know I’m right. It’ll make all three of you feel better. Go.”

He hung his head, knowing you were right yet wondering how he’d ever ended up falling so hopelessly in love with someone who had a tongue almost as sharp as his mother’s.

When he returned the crochet blanket was being held open for him and there was space for him to curl up beside you. He rested his head on top of yours, kissing your hair. “How come you always know how to get me out of trouble?” he mused as his hand crept round your shoulders to hold you closer to him.

“I’ve been practicing, one day I’ll share all I’ve learnt with you Freddie boy.” you replied dryly, but with a peck on his cheek afterwards.

And practicing you had been, for four years. You had always known it would be this way when you fell in love with Fred - your second ‘date’ was in detention for Godric’s sake. He and George had roped you into helping prank Filch, being as smitten as you were for the older twin you had accepted. Unfortunately, as the three of you hid behind a suit of armour Fred had tried to be smooth and brought the whole thing crashing down (literally).

“Good job darling, you can definitely join us again” he had whispered in your ear. Then as he reached a hand round your waist he knocked the armour, which as if it had an occupant, had jumped away from the three of you - still intact. The clatter of the armour alerted Mrs Norris, and when Filch came running there was no longer anything hiding you all from his beady stare.

That was how you came to be sitting in Professor Binns’ room on Thursday afternoon, with Fred attempting to flirt silently from a few desks away. The clock was counting down until dinner, which couldn’t come quick enough. Not only were you starving but you knew that Fred would no doubt bound up to you in the Great Hall later ready to talk your ear off about his newest invention to try and impress you. It was sweet really, to see him like such a lovesick puppy who never wanted to leave your side - you might even have made fun of him if it hadn’t made your heart rate increase and your face flush with heat.

For now, under the (not so) watchful eye of Professor Binns, he had to stick with writing notes and placing them on the desk between you as silently as he could.

The first note appeared blank until his handwriting scribbled out his message…

UH OH, SORRY ABOUT THIS! HOW CAN I EVER MAKE IT UP TO YOU?

Looking over you saw him pouting, bottom lip jutted out. Blushing, you just shrugged, trying to play it cool. He frowned and sent another note your way…

SATURDAY NIGHT HOT CHOCOLATE IN MY DORM? I’LL SNEAK YOU IN X

The words scrawled in front of you caused your cheeks to burn and your palms to sweat. All you could muster was turning to him and nodding. His retort of blowing you a kiss had you reeling, so much so you didn’t notice Professor Binns coughing quietly at the front of the room.

These shared detentions lost their appeal when Umbridge arrived at Hogwarts and started enacting her ‘stupid bloody toad rules’ as Fred called them. He worried about ever getting you in trouble with the nightmare clad in pink and  forbade you from joining in on any pranks, or even helping out with Weasley Products. Umbridge had it in for you because of your link with the twins, even if you were perfectly polite and pleasant she would nitpick or accuse you of things you hadn’t done. This broke Fred’s heart, especially after the three of you first experienced that damn black quill. From then on, Fred was on high alert, the idea of that monster getting her hands on you again made him want to scream.  Fifteen minutes into a dull Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson she had already pounced,“Weasley, see me after class.” she scolded, her tone clipped.

“But Professor I…” he had begun to exclaim, before she raised her arched brows

“Three of my second years this morning had to be excused due to illness… I know one of your ghastly concoctions was behind it.” she practically sang.

Fred knew the group of boys she was referring to, they had been saving up for Puking Pastilles in order to skive one of Umbridge’s lessons, and to be honest, he didn’t blame them. He said nothing, but a voice piped up from across the class. Horrified, he realised it was you.

“Professor, you can’t possibly blame Fred for that! What if there’s a bug going round? Or what if they bought the product from someone else?”

Umbridge tried to suppress a smile as she nodded along.

“I see, you can join Mr Weasley in detention, along with his brother. I’m assuming he is the ‘someone else’ you were referring to, Y/L/N?” she quipped, turning now to George. You groaned, looking over apologetically at George as that was definitely not the outcome you had hoped for. Fred had to clench his fist to stop from lashing out.

Back in the common room Fred was angry, the angriest you or George had ever seen him. “She’s a cow, a wretched cow. Y/N you shouldn’t have gotten involved, you know exactly what she’s going to do to you - do to all three of us. I can’t bear it.” This had you frowning, explaining you would rather go through that pain with him, and be there for him.

“NO! Don’t sacrifice yourself for me, if she hurts you Godric knows what I’ll do to her - and then what will happen? How can it possibly get any worse than bloody torture?”

All three of you were silenced by his outburst. He saw the stress in the lines in your forehead and the anguish in your eyes. Reaching out for you, he surrounded you in warmth. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I just hate to see you hurting, but I appreciate you always wanting to be there for me. I really do, love.”

The twins’ final day was one you would never forget. You’d only known about their plan for a few days - they couldn’t risk anyone finding out and putting a stop to it. Fred would definitely be happier away from Hogwarts and, more vitally, Umbridge. She would hopefully ease up on all of your unjustified detentions as well if they were no longer there to provoke her. In only a few short months you and Fred would be back to spending your days together, and he had big plans to save for your future away from Hogwarts. To him, this was simply preparation and planning (two things he excelled at if he did say so himself) for the rest of your lives.

The day arrived, standing outside the Great Hall you saw the excitement running through the twins. The morning had been blissful, Fred had snuck you both to Hogsmeade and you had relived one of your first dates. Then by the fire of the common room you had spoken about the future, and the plans that were just about to begin. After a bittersweet kiss, he had mounted his broomstick with George and kicked off the ground. Your heart soared watching him do what he did best, the chaos and joy of the scene surrounding you was enough to make you well up with pride. As the sparks rained down he caught your eye and winked. Umbridge’s uncontrollable fury was the perfect ending to your day as she stood seething amid the cheering, happy students. You made sure to describe it all in glorious detail in the owl you sent to Fred that same evening.

The worst ever trick pulled on you by Fred was the moment that you realised that sometimes fun and games weren’t always… well… fun and games. You two had spent the day together in the bedroom of the flat above the shop. In the morning he had a short meeting with George about work stuff. After that, he had returned to bed and the two of you had relaxed, sharing kisses, chatting nonsense and talking about life until you felt it was time to get up. Heading through to the kitchen you saw an unfamiliar potion bottle, “Freddie, what’s the new product?” you had shouted through before picking it up and sniffing it. Immediately your nose screwed up and you spluttered “eurgh, smells like Polyjuice potion!” turning to Fred, who was plating up breakfast using small flicks of his wand. “Are you allowed to sell this in the shop? Has someone tested it?” your brows pulled together. “Oh, love I must’ve forgotten to say - I’m testing it right now!”

“Freddie, what do you mean?” you looked over at him. That’s when you noticed, Fred’s small scar on his eyebrow was gone. In fact, upon closer inspection you weren’t looking at Fred, you were looking at George. As you frowned his eyes widened dramatically.

“Oh… its worn off.” whispered George as he stood infront of you, “We tried it out at the end of the meeting but it must have been an hour since then.”

“FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY YOU HAVE 5 MINUTES TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF BEFORE I BURN THE SHOP AND EVERYTHING IN IT TO THE GROUND!” you bellowed, rushing round the flat in an attempt to find the real Fred.

When you found him, he was doubled over laughing. “You can quit that! I’ve just spend the last hour cuddling your bloody brother you prick” you raged at him. He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and tried, unsucessfully, to pull you into his arms.

“No Fred this is not funny, you can’t just use me as a test subject, you don’t get to mess with me like that. Have some respect!” you continued to shout.

“Darling, darling. The thing is… you weren’t cuddling my brother. We just planted the potion for you to find and swapped when we went into the kitchen, babe, It was me earlier!” Fred wheezed. He looked over at George who was standing in the doorway, caught between a terrified sort of trance at your reaction and a chuckle bubbling from his lips.

“Brother of mine, this was all very fun but please remind me never ever to try and trick Y/N ever again, that was really…scary.” he admitted.

“I know,” smiled Fred “wasn’t it brilliant!”

Back on the sofa in The Burrow, Fred couldn’t believe his ears “What do you mean by practicing?” he asked incredulously. You scoffed “You’ve been getting yourself, and sometimes me, in bother for four years now Fred. I had to adapt to survive!” he chuckled at this. “Ok fair play…” he whispered into your hair, leaning down to hover his lips over yours, “I’ve done some things that I shouldn’t have done… but I haven’t stopped loving you once.”

A/N: Please let me know if you enjoyed this story, my requests are currently open but please read the guidelines on my page first. Thanks for reading.

[halothenthehorns]

All in the Family

Chapter 73: Beauxbatons and Durmstrang

"Holy hobknockers, this place is amazing!" Sirius couldn't stop the delirious burst of happiness that possessed him to start shouting and running around the deck. Of a ship. A pirate's ship! In the middle of Hogwarts lake?!

The air was fresh in his face, streaming his hair behind him as he whooped with enough joy to possibly even tantalize the mermaids at the bottom of the lake to come above and see. He began latching onto ropes and swinging about, trying to haul himself into a crow's nest, and then taking off down below to try and see through a porthole before anyone else could even get their bearings.

"Should we, stop him?" Remus asked in mild concern. "I certainly don't want to know what's going to happen when he figures out how to work a cannon."

"Why would they even have a cannon on here?" Alice asked in extra concern behind them.

"Why is it here at all?" Lily countered prodding the massive wheel in front of her, then flinching away as if fearing the slightest breeze would send the whole thing capsizing.

"Well obviously Hogwarts is going to be attacked by pirates, can't be the arrival of the other schools," Regulus rolled his eyes as he trailed up from below, rubbing his head.

They could all still hear Sirius shouting like a loon from below decks, but they all spread out regardless to find the book with extreme curiosity, not one of them had ever had this experience, and as nothing was trying to kill them, they'd at least enjoy it while they could.

Alice found Frank happily swinging from a hammock below decks, grinning with that smile she'd missed so much lately. He invited her up into it, and the two spent another few moments giggling at the feel of it, though unable to imagine sleeping in such a thing.

Peter had landed in what must have been the galley, sending a sack of potatoes rolling around and a half-eaten sandwich upon the floor. His stomach rumbled just a bit, and after only a few moments hesitation he shrugged and began collecting the fallen spuds and washing them in the basin.

James and Remus found Sirius in the cargo hold, which also seemed to be some sort of improvised classroom of sorts. Books were lined along the lower shelves, several instruments they could identify on the top portions. Remus glanced along the nearest paper, but frowned in confusion upon finding it in Bulgarian so had not a clue what could have been going on down here. The two exchanged a look before deciding to stay regardless, and instead waited patiently for Sirius to finish inspecting a porthole and the lake life beyond rather than acknowledge them.

Lily decided to stay up on the deck, shivering a bit at a gust of wind, but smiling regardless at the stars above and admiring a view of her school she hadn't properly seen since her first night here, riding across this very lake. Hogwarts castle was as imposing as ever, she could still flashback to riding that boat with Sev, the two in awe along with the rest of the first years at the sight. Out on the grounds, Hagrid's hut could be seen, and something odd in front of it. It almost looked like a carriage, and horses perhaps, but they must be quite large to be so easily spotted from so far away. She began pacing across the deck in fascination as she looked up at the sails and the wood creaking beneath her feet, it would almost be spooky if she were here alone.

Regulus found himself in what must be the captain's quarters. There was a grand bed in the corner and an open bottle of rakia half-drunk beside a book on the desk. Upon closer inspection, it was the exact book Regulus needed for this to continue, and with a curious enough feeling he flipped it open to find his chapter did indeed live up to his assumption.

"Beauxbatons and Durmstrang," Sirius nodded without surprise, finally turning around to acknowledge the two. "Want to take a gander who brought this?"

Remus rolled his eyes, of course Sirius hadn't taken a look at any of the papers or books with the language hinting at an answer.

They hovered in slightly awkward silence as Regulus' voice echoed around them of Harry writing a note to Sirius to try and dissuade him from returning to this very castle. Sirius was wrankled slightly Harry thought it a bad idea coming back, he would think it obvious he'd want to be around his godson to help and was more than pleased at James' reassuring smile saying he fully agreed with his best mate. Remus on the other hand looked very hesitant, and Sirius decided he'd rather have Moony get it off his chest now.

"Well go on Moony," Sirius sighed and waved at him. "I know you've got the reasons I'm an idiot listed alphabetically by now."

"And laminated," Remus agreed, ignoring his confused look. "I do wish you'd be more careful, I'm not going to deny that, but it's not as if anything I've ever said dissuaded you from doing anything regardless. Either of you." He hesitated, then added softly, "any of you."

Sirius and James flinched and didn't look at each other for a moment again, but Remus cleared his throat and continued with purpose, "look, you two need to work out what your problem is, then all three of us can go and talk to Peter. It's not as if we can avoid him the rest of our life because of this."

"I don't see why not," Sirius said petulantly, but for the first time not as if he meant it, the smallest kernel of pity finally lodging in him. He could still vividly recall how alone he'd felt when all this began, because he'd made a horrible mistake he still didn't know if Remus would forgive him for. Then, under the light of that Dark Mark, he could no longer deny it hadn't been entirely Peter's fault...he was at fault for the betrayal in some way...

"Well I do," James snapped back defiantly, and Sirius took a quick step back like he expected to be hit in the face again. His nose still looked a bit swollen from that. "We never even heard his side- our Peter's," James finished when Sirius opened his mouth. "That book, yeah alright that future guy said why he did it, but you know what our friend's been doing this whole time? Exactly what I asked, giving us some breathing space, just like you were for nearly a month Sirius."

Sirius winced and didn't deny that.

"I think it's high time we let him say his peace." James concluded.

"I don't know what you're hoping he's going to say, to make it better," Remus sighed. "Even if he promises he'd never really do it, how much can it mean? Now, well, we'll always wonder-"

"Are you going to spend the rest of your life afraid Sirius is going to send Snape into your den the next full moon?" James harshly shot back.

Remus answered immediately, "no, he clearly regrets that." He bit his lip for a moment before half lying, "that's, what we talked about back in the Leaky Cauldron. I forgive him."

"And Peter doesn't deserve the same?" He gently tried to cajole. "For a crime he hasn't even done yet."

The two exchanged an uneasy look, but Sirius would be lying if he tried to say he wasn't now looking for anger rather than feeling nothing but as he responded, "it's not the same Prongs! I didn't actually get anyone killed! He did, you!"

"You almost did though," James crossed his arms, but hesitated as he wouldn't deny, "you think I'm looking forward to talking to him? You think I've forgotten any more than you? I just," he swallowed uncomfortably as he heard the news Professor Moody would be putting the kids under the Imperius Curse for extra training, the miracle that was his and Lily's future child and what all he was having to survive through. "I'm willing to try."

With that he left, he couldn't force them to do the same.

Remus stepped closer to Sirius now that James was out of sight, hesitating only a moment before rubbing a hand up and down his back and leaning down to whisper for him alone, "I hope you really heard all that."

"Every word," Sirius sighed, shoulders still slumped in defeat, pressing his forehead into Moony's shoulder rather than having to look him in the face. "Prongs is too damned forgiving though," he muttered one last-ditch reprieve for getting out of this, he already knew it had worked. He'd...try.

"That's one thing he and Evans have in common, hell, it's why he continued to put up with you after the first day," Remus say with an almost cheerful voice. He stopped in surprise and sniffed curiously at the air. "You smell that?"

Sirius dragged his face away from the warmth, but did indeed scent the air, and wouldn't deny his grumbling stomach the pleasantness of it as he grabbed his hand and squeezed for a moment before dropping it and taking off.

They found Evans, Smith, Longbottom, and Prongs already in the galley with massive bowls of a hearty stew. The two were quick to join in, but the three Marauders were the quietest and slowest to eat, all eyeing the door and ready to drop the delicious meal the moment they saw a particular someone enter. They wouldn't deny this time they'd drag him off to finally have it out...whatever it turned out to be.

"There's stew down below," Peter told Regulus as he finally found him perched comfortably in a captain's chair, feet propped up on the table and a bottle of alcohol with a third of it missing.

"No thanks," Regulus shrugged without concern as he flipped the pages, finding in Harry's story the arrival of the foreign students was indeed upon them. He knew he'd regret this later, but he only had a mild appetite for now, it certainly wasn't enough to entertain all others who would be attracted to the same.

"Thought you'd say that," Peter shrugged, before setting down one of the two bowls he'd carried around. "Don't worry, I can eat both fine."

Regulus tried, and failed to hide a smile of delight. The only person who'd ever brought him food before was Kreacher. It didn't matter how sick he was, his mother had always fussed over his table manners during dinners more. He gingerly dragged the warm bowl to him and took a tentative slurp, then dug in with gusto while still reading with just a bit more of a quick pace now. He wanted to be done eating before Sirius or his rotten friends showed up to ruin this good mood he was in.

Peter ate quietly beside him, not adding anything, though he'd been all for laughing about all sorts of things Harry got up to when he'd been hanging around Sirius and their lot. Regulus still wasn't sure what he hoped to gain from avoiding them, but he couldn't claim to be any better as he was now doing the same. It was their turn to do something about this.

The two did exchange a very curious expression as yet another instance of the twins up to something was again passed along, neither of them would deny they were abundantly curious what those two trouble makers were doing, but neither still felt much of a need to speculate on it, the two redheads reminded them too much of James and Sirius, not a duo they wanted to linger on.

Regulus did stop in mild admiration of Hermione Granger trying to keep the attention of a whole house on the acts of what house-elves do. He liked the company of his own, more than most of the people in his home some days, and could almost see her point the ones at Hogwarts should be thanked more, but Kreacher loved his life and the family he served. This little Muggleborn was merely showing her ignorance of what she was trying to pretend they needed a better life, it's no wonder his mother and father thought ones like her shouldn't be associated with real wizards, they had no idea what a real wizards home was like.

Then Sirius wrote a reply back to Harry saying he was back in the country already and safe as could be, and Regulus couldn't deny the breath of relief. He chanced a side look at Sirius' friend who wasn't bothering to hide any such thing, pushing some now soggy potatoes around the bottom of his bowl and chewing on his lip. Neither of them still wanted Sirius dead after all the rotten things he'd done recently, but could he say the same about them?

Finally the chapter was reaching its end and the other schools were really arriving, Beauxbatons Academy of Magic landing first with apparently an impressive display. He supposed it might have been in person, but all he really felt was grateful they got to enjoy this cool ship rather than some smelly old horses for this experience.

He sat up properly in his seat as he reached the final section, and read rapturously of the magnificent boat arriving, and paused for several moments to wonder dreamily if this vast vessel could really take them away, anywhere they'd like. Sailing may even be better than flying...

He heard shuffling footsteps downstairs and rummaging around the deck and scowled, realizing the minute peace the two of them had achieved themselves was about to be interrupted, and he'd rather do that on his own terms as he hurried to finish. The last little shock indeed surprising that Viktor Krum the International Quidditch player had been aboard this ship and he hadn't even the chance to see his quarters before they all vanished.

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 5.5 - Stand By Me

5. SACRED COURT

Haijima talks about Yoyogi National Gymnasium similarly to how most kids talk about Disneyland lol

Translation Notes

1. A service ace is a point made on a serve that the opponent had failed to touch

2. A kei car is the smallest highway-legal car in Japan

3. Takeshita Street is a popular street in Harajuku known for its trendy fashion boutiques and for being very busy

4. I feel like this is a reference to something I don’t know, but the wooden fish is a fish gong that is struck while chanting sutras

5. Manuscript paper is the paper used in Japanese schools for compositions and stuff like that. It has boxes in columns to write characters in.

Previous || Index || Next

…Where am I again…?

When he woke up, he couldn’t immediately remember what had happened. The view around him was a hazy milky white, without a single distinct outline. It’s like I’m sinking into the bottom of a beaker filled with a mist of dry ice…it kind of smells like a science lab.

He felt something like a tugging in his left arm. There was a thin line connected to his body, pulling at him from above. The line was holding him back from sinking any further.

A blurry white ball with eyes and a nose was floating in the air.

“I got a text from Kou.”

The ball spoke with a familiar voice. The low-volume voice sounded pleasant to his ears as it seeped through the fog of dry ice.

“…Souta…?”

His consciousness was still fuzzy and his speech was slurred. The white shirt just blended into the background, and when he squinted, he found a proper body below the ball. A uniform…but not Meisei’s uniform. He had heard he went to a different high school.

“You really quit…? Why…?”

“Because I wanted to.”

He was a little surprised by his curt answer and closed his mouth. He heard a short exhale, and then his voice softened.

“…Ever since I entered middle school, I lost interest in volleyball. All I could think about was quitting, and it was getting harder and harder to go to club activities. Everyone entered Meisei, saying that we’ll do volleyball together, so it wasn’t an atmosphere where only I can say I wanted to quit…I was afraid that if I quit, I wouldn’t have any friends at school… I thought Minami-sensei would be disappointed, and besides, my mom’s the head of the parents’ association. I also felt like I had to be at the center of the team…I was tied down by so many things, and everyday was painful… So I came up with the idea that if I hated being in the club to the point of committing suicide, I could get sympathy and quit…That’s how I got involved in everyone’s plan. …I’m sorry.”

After everything that happened, he only has that simple “I’m sorry”?

However, when he learned the reason after two years, he felt like there were no words other than sorry… If you ask Haijima, it was such a trivial thing that he couldn’t even understand what was bothering him.

Was such a boring reason what was behind that incident?

Well…it’s not like I was the one who drove him into a corner…

“…You should have told me, normally.”

His mouth pouted a little despite himself.

“If it were you, you would’ve been able to say it. Well, I don’t think you’ll ever want to quit volleyball, even if it kills you. But I’m not you…I didn’t want to be the bad guy. I didn’t want to be hated by everyone.”

It’s not like I want to be hated…he wasn’t happy about that, but it was true that wanting to be liked by people wasn’t that high of a priority for him.

When he was in elementary school, the two of them would talk about high school and national team games after club ended. They could talk and talk and never get bored of it, and he wished the time when Yoshino’s mother came to pick him up would never come. Yoshino also had a lot of old video footage that only existed on videotape, and he was even more enthusiastic than Haijima about that kind of thing.

The shock slowly soaked into him at the idea that someone who was once obsessed with volleyball could stop liking it. Haijima couldn’t even imagine himself not being interested in volleyball anymore. It was the same as asking if he could imagine the afterlife. He couldn’t.

If there was just one starting point for his imagination—it was that on the third day of the Autumn Tournament, going to a game felt bothersome to him for the first time in his life. For him, it even had a feeling of dread. At that time, he had regained his willpower after sleeping a little, but if that kind of constantly continuing heavy mood was the “wanting to quit” that Yoshino experienced, then it might be quite painful to even live everyday.

“Souta, you…”

His brow wrinkled as he frowned, staring at Yoshino’s indistinct face in front of him.

“Nnn…?” There was nervousness in Yoshino’s voice.

“You got fat, didn’t you?”

The contours of his face were quite round. That was why it looked like there was a floating ball.

“…You’re as blunt as ever. Well yeah, I got fat after I quit the team.”

Yoshino’s voice lightened, like he was expecting something more. He didn’t seem to be offended. Probably.

“Are you in any clubs now?”

“Yeah. It’s not sports-related though. I’m in the science club.”

“Is that fun? More than volleyball?”

“It is fun, more than volleyball for me. There aren’t a lot of members, but they’re all good people. I have fun going to club activities every day. We go to the science lab every lunch break to collect data from our experiments.”

He didn’t like that he had affirmed it, but he could tell from the excited way he talked that he was doing what he really wanted to do now. Something fell into his chest with a thump, and he accepted that, Aah, the things that are “fun” for Yoshino and me aren’t the same anymore…

Even though their eyes sparkled at the same things, aimed for the same stage, and planned to do the same things, maybe that didn’t mean they were in the same story.

“Then, I’ll be leaving now.”

He could feel Yoshino standing up. Even though he had no intention of stopping him, Haijima immediately tried to reach out his hand. But his arm was pulled back as if it had been caught on a fish hook, and he was only able to move it a little.

Yoshino, who was about to leave, turned around. “…Take care of yourself. Don’t be too reckless.” Something soft gripped his hand along with a gentle voice. His fatty, plump hands were not bony and didn’t feel like they belonged to an active volleyball player anymore, but he could feel their warmth flowing into his wrapped-up fingers. It was as though the coldness of his fingers, which had been holding him captive ever since the day Yoshino didn’t come, was becoming undone.

Before he let go of his hand, Yoshino’s voice that had been mild and gentle took on a faint gloom.

“Chika, don’t be reckless, okay? You’re a true genius, not an ordinary person like me, and you probably can’t even imagine your limits right now…but I have a feeling that if you were to be betrayed by volleyball one day, you might be surprisingly fragile…I know it’s none of my business, but that’s what I’m worried about.”

***

“When did you get a fever?”

He seemed to have lost consciousness for a bit again until he heard the next voice.

The round outline of Yoshino, who had been by his side since a while ago, had changed into something more vertical and narrower. He looked up at the outline for a while, and then asked,

“…Are you angry?”

“Yeah. If you’re willing to work a little harder to read my mind off the court too, then that’s progress. Here.”

He held out to something to him. He tried to reach for it, but his arm cramped up and the thing was put in his hand instead. “I had them fixed at the optician across the hospital. They said that it would be safer to buy new ones, though.”

“Aah…thanks.”

“You really do have a strange way of getting into trouble during a game, don’t you?”

With his head resting on the pillow, he put on his glasses. For the first time in a long time, his vision was clear again. It was so clear that it actually made the world look distorted, which made him feel a bit dizzy. The lenses were in place on both sides, but there was still a sense of discomfort because the frame was still warped.

Kuroba was sitting on a chair beside the bed with a grumpy look on his face. Behind him, there was a partition with the curtains drawn. It looked like a break room-like space with a simple bed next to the examination room.

There was an IV tube connected to his left arm. Drops of water were dripping regularly from a clear pack that was hooked to a stand above his head. The liquid in the pack was down to about a quarter of its original volume. I was told to stay on the drip for about an hour…so I guess forty-five minutes have passed or something like that?

After resting, he was able to think more clearly and remembered how he had walked to the car by himself. By the time they had arrived at the hospital, it must have been 5:00 or 5:30, so outpatient consultation hours must have been over by now. He could hear the hurried conversations and footsteps of the staff, but they were far away, so it wasn’t noisy. In fact, it was rather isolated and quiet.

The final serve was done perfectly as he had imagined. Just as the gym was buzzing over the two service aces (1) in a row, the Meisei coach and captains returned after their meeting, as though they had timed it.

Although the second-year members were severely reprimanded for skipping practice to play an impromptu two-on-two game, the fact that a former Meisei Middle School student came to visit meant that Haijima and Kuroba didn’t get into much trouble. It was also thanks in part to Komukai and Ikawa coming forward and saying that they had an arrangement beforehand. Come to think of it, Komukai was the one who warned him just before the score board crashed into him…

The coach and captains asked him about this and that, but from that point on, Haijima was completely wobbling and couldn’t answer them properly. Right when he thought, Ah…I can’t stand anymore, he felt hands go around his sides and supporting him. “Sorry, he has a fever,” He heard Kuroba’s voice through the haze of his mind. So the advisor drove him to a nearby hospital.

“No wonder that you were sleeping like you were dead on the train. I should have noticed it earlier, but I thought it was strange how your face was kinda hot, but since it was right before the game began…Really, why did you decide to go to Tokyo in that condition?”

“I didn’t think I had a fever either. I’ve been feeling off since the end of camp, but…”

“What!? Camp was a month ago! Wait, was that why there was something off with you at the Fall Tournament? Why were you practicing every day under the blazing sun in that state, are you stupid!?”

“You’re too loud, shut up…”

He pulled the terry-cloth blanket up to his eyes and dejectedly slithered under it. If there wasn’t a drip connected to him, he would have covered his ears with both hands. He wasn’t happy with the feeling of being below someone and being ordered around by them, but he didn’t have the energy to fight back.

His mother, who passed away before he started elementary school, was a sickly person. Haijima inherited that, and although it wasn’t bad enough to interfere with his daily life, his body wasn’t strong either. When he was little, he would often have fevers of unknown origin that would last for about a month in summer and winter. However, ever since he started playing volleyball in the upper grades of elementary school, he had become physically stronger, and it had been quite a long time since he has had such a long period of discomfort.

It seemed that he didn’t like the words “feeling off.” He got angry.

“It’s not ‘feeling off,’ you’re in bad health. Don’t switch words and gloss over the issue.”

“…My play wasn’t off though.”

“That’s the problem in your case. It didn’t influence your play…in fact, you got even more agile for some reason. I really don’t get it. And when it’s over, look at you. You’re completely out of energy.”

You’re so noisy…If he said that, it seemed like he would continue to get lectured, so he endured it. He normally didn’t consciously hold back what he was about to say that much.

“…I hate it. I hate it when I can’t play volleyball even for a day. I feel sort of…impatient…”

He whispered on the other side of his blanket. Kuroba, who had been talking at great length, stopped for a moment, then sighed quizzically.

“I don’t know why, but it seems like you’re living too fast and recklessly…?”

He was relieved when he realized that his lack of concentration in the semifinals of the Fall Tournament was because he had a fever. The fed-up feeling on the morning of the semifinals as well…he wanted to get rid of that feeling as soon as possible before it took hold in him, and now that he thought about it, even though he felt off, he felt like he couldn’t take a break from practice.

But he was able to explain to himself that it was just the fever that made him sluggish, and he was relieved…but in the end, the desire to play volleyball again welled up within him. It was a waste of time to rest.

“Haijima-saaan?”

An elderly nurse knocked on the partition frame and poked her head in. Kuroba stood and opened up the place.

“You’ve just finished the drip. …Yes, if there is no blood coming out after about ten minutes, you may tear off this bandage. The doctor says that you should rest today and properly go have a checkup at the hospital after you go home. Did you contact your guardian?”

She quickly pulled out the drip and performed the procedure while speaking so rapidly and one-sidedly that he recoiled. “…Not yet,” he answered in a small voice and got up while staring fixedly at the small adhesive bandage that was pasted over the small needle hole. Kuroba, who had moved out of the way to the foot of the bed, looked between Haijima and the nurse like he wanted to say something.

“Then, you’ll have to call them.”

“Oh, thank you very much for helping us!” Kuroba hurriedly said to the nurse, who was pushing the IV stand away from the bed. He waited for the nurse’s figure to disappear on the other side of the partition before asking Haijima.

“Can’t you just call your home in Tokyo?”

“I got the keys. I’ll just go to pick up the train money. If we get on the eight o’clock train, we can return just in time, right? If I stop by home and head for Shinagawa right away, we can make it in time.”

“Why don’t we just stay the night instead of forcing ourselves to go home today? You have a house here.”

“If we don’t go home today, we’ll have to be absent tomorrow too. Get my bags.”

He did some quick stretches on the bed to loosen up his back. Although he still felt sluggish, he had recovered enough to be able to move on his own. He wanted to move his body because he felt like his body would get more and more sluggish if he stayed in bed. The arm that had been connected to the tube was now free, so he felt somewhat liberated.

The taping on both hands had been removed. He was pretty sure he did it himself, though he didn’t remember. He was soaked in sweat from the game and his T-shirt dried as he slept, but either way he had to change into his uniform if he was going back (Kuroba, who didn’t have a replacement T-shirt, seemed to be planning to go home with just his uniform shirt, but as usual he couldn’t tell if that was cool or tacky).

When he tried to take off his T-shirt, it got caught on his glasses and he couldn’t get it off his head, so he tried to take them off inside his T-shirt. As he was doing this, he heard Kuroba’s voice along with the sound of a bag being placed next to him.

“I’ve been wondering about this, but can I ask you something? You don’t get along with your dad, do you?”

“It’s not bad or anything…” He was answering from inside his T-shirt, so his voice was muffled and it sounded like he was hesitating to speak, but he wasn’t trying to hide anything. “…My dad’s like me. Do you think that if there’s two of me in the same house, and one of them isn’t interested in volleyball, there’d be anything to talk about?”

“Ah…haha. I think I can imagine that.”

He interjected like he accepted that easily. He felt somewhat annoyed by that.

His father still lived alone in the apartment in Tokyo where they lived together until the second semester of his second year of middle school. It wasn’t that he had a bad relationship with his father, but he just couldn’t carry on a conversation with him. It was especially difficult to understand each other when it came to phone conversations. He truly wondered how his father and him had become so similar. Since Haijima came to live with his grandparents, they had had very little contact, but his grandmother sometimes told him about what he was doing, so he thought that was enough.

“It’s not bad, and my dad agreed for me to go back to Monshiro, so…there’s nothing for you to worry about.” It seemed like he was worried, so he thought that it would be better to say that wasn’t the case.

“Haijima-san, there’s someone here to pick you up. You properly contacted your guardian, didn’t you?”

He heard the voice of the nurse from before on the other side of the partition again. He finally pulled his T-shirt off his head and put on his glasses, then said, “Pick me up?” and exchanged looks with Kuroba.

“Hello.”

A bright voice came from the other side of the partition.

A person who was tall for a woman, with her long hair tied back and dressed plainly in a simple blouse and slim jeans——.

“Minami, sensei…”

He stood up, the bed rattling. As expected, he got dizzy, as his body that had been receiving an IV drip until right this moment had suddenly stood up. He immediately grabbed the top frame of the partition and ended up looming over it. The other person’s eyes widened as she looked up at him.

“Oh? You got taller than me? You really have grown. Are you at least 180?”

“I…I am. I’m around 181, no, 2, no, 3, no, 4…”

Wait, why am I padding the numbers? Kuroba had a “Who’s that?” look on his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, you were changing. Have you gotten dressed yet?”

After being told that, his eyes dropped to the T-shirt in his hands in surprise. He turned around and jumped at his bag. “I’ll get changed in ten seconds.”

“No need to rush. You just woke up, right? I parked my car in the parking lot.”

He shoved his T-shirt into his bag and grabbed a change of clothes. His shorts were halfway down his legs when he realized what he was doing and stopped.

Half-standing, he turned around awkwardly.

“Wait over there…Sensei.”

His mouth opened and closed, and then he heard his own tight voice.

***

“That’s right, when you were in elementary school, I used to tell you guys to change in ten seconds in front of me, but that’s no longer possible. Your body is completely a high schooler’s now. But you grew much taller than me. I’m a little shocked.”

Minami-sensei said with a happy smile as she turned the steering wheel. Haijima was seated diagonally behind the driver’s seat, hugging his enamel bag tightly and looking down. In the seat next to him, Kuroba was still looking between Haijima’s profile and the back of Minami-sensei’s head in astonishment.

The car was a small kei car (2), with the head of Minami-sensei crammed into the driver’s seat almost touching the ceiling in a few centimeters. When the three of them with their tall frames got into the car, it looked like a deformed car in a cartoon. The hair on the top of Haijima’s head just brushed against the ceiling, and in Kuroba’s case, he was completely stuck, so he sat so shallowly that his back sank into the seat, but then his knees ended up bumping into the driver’s seat.

“I’m sorry it’s so cramped. I never had two kids who were so big ride in my car before. You’re big, too. Are you a first-year? Center or wing?”

“I’m Kuroba Yuni. I’m a first-year. I play the wing position.”

He leaned forward and answered before she finished her sentence, then scrapped his head against the roof and lowered his head with an “ow.” Calm down, Haijima’s temple twitched, and he narrowed his eyes at him.

“You’re tall too, Sensei.”

“177 centimeters. That’s pretty tall for a woman, isn’t it? But today I’m the smallest, so my vision feels quite fresh.”

“Were you a volleyball player too, Sensei?”

“Yes. I used to play for a corporate team for a little while, but now I quit and teach at an elementary school.”

“You were the teacher at the club Haijima used to go to, right?”

“I was only a coach who assisted the head coach. The same year that Chika and the others started middle school, the school transferred me to a new position, and I lost touch with them.”

“Sensei, may I ask your age?”

Haijima silently pulled Kuroba’s back, who was clinging to the back of the driver’s seat and talking, back down onto his seat and made him sit. Watching them in the rear-view mirror, Minami-sensei grinned and said,

“Ahaha. I was twenty-eight when Chika was in the sixth grade. Are you fine with that answer? Chika, are you still not feeling well? You can go back to sleep. Or are you feeling carsick?”

“Ah…no.”

He hung his head and shook it while pinching Kuroba’s side. Kuroba tilted his head towards him and whispered into his ear.

“What’s with you? You’re suddenly so meek and quiet. Sensei’s worried about you.”

“Don’t call her Sensei. Why are you asking so many questions so over-familiarly?”

Haijima also kept his voice quiet as he and Kuroba pressed their temples together.

“Then what should I call her? Is Minami-san fine?”

“Stop…joking around. Minami is her first name. Her full name is Kashiwagi Minami.”

Minami-sensei said it was fresh, but it was fresh for Haijima that she was smaller than him. In elementary school, Sensei was like a tower, and her nickname was “Tower” (she seemed to have hated that nickname, and when some of the boys teased her with it, she would chase them around angrily). I had the impression that she had an overbearing physique…no, she has broad shoulders and is probably overbearing by average standards, but…she kinda looks more delicate than I thought she would be…

He was glad he was taller. That was a natural thing to think when you’re playing volleyball, and he knew that he still wasn’t tall enough, but he was confused at himself for being happy about it for reasons other than that.

“Yeah, but I didn’t think ‘Minami-sensei’ would be a female teacher.”

“I never said it was a man.”

The two continued to whisper to each other.

“Well, it kinda makes sense. I knew it wouldn’t be Vabo-chan, but I wasn’t entirely wrong either, was I? It’s not like a girl in your class or anything is going to catch your eye. A former athlete, a coach, and much older than you…Yeah, that’s just like you.”

“…What are you talking about?”

“The thing you said before about having a girl you liked, you were talking about Kashiwagi-sensei, right? Even you have normal emotions more or less. No, not even normal. I’m little surprised and shaken right now too.”

He walloped Kuroba on the side of the head with the bag he was holding, messing up his hair and causing him to scrape his elbow against the roof. He then pinned Kuroba down on his seat and pressed down on his face with the bottom of his bag. While they were silently fighting, Kuroba suddenly let out a big “Ah!” As he lied on his back, he looked up at the window and said, “I saw the word Harajuku just now!”

“Yes, we’ll be passing through Harajuku soon. Do you want to get out if I can park?”

Kuroba’s face lit up at the voice from the driver’s seat and he said, “Yeah, but it’ll be a lot of trouble for you if you do that.” “She can’t.” Haijima pressed the bag against Kuroba’s stupid face, which looked like he was quite seriously anticipating the possibility, one more time and got up, then pressed his face against the passenger window on his side and looked out. “It’s okay to sightsee around Tokyo just a little. We came all this way.” Kuroba also got up while muttering that, unwilling to give up, and hugged Haijima’s bag to his knees.

The roads in Tokyo were beginning to get congested as the working adults were heading home, but the cars were still going at a gentle speed. Under the gassy indigo-blue sky, streetlamps appeared at intervals and disappeared behind them. In front of Nanafu Station, where the school was located, there was not a single light on at night, but there were none even in front of Monshiro Station. All light and sound ceased to exist, and it felt like you had drifted ashore a small and isolated island. But no matter how far you went on the streets of Tokyo, the lights and sounds never disappeared.

As they turned onto a certain road from an intersection with a large overpass, he realized where they were driving to. What was up ahead was—.

He attached his hands and glasses to the window glass and fixed his eyes on their direction of travel. Finally, a large grey building appeared, on the other side of round street lights floating in the night sky like a formation of UFOs.

A large round building with a single dorsal fin-like projection on the roof. Although it was made of unrefined concrete, the gently curving form of the structure, like water eddying around, was so beautiful that it captivated his eyes—.

“Sensei, stop here!” While clinging to the window, he forgot himself and reached out to the seat next to him. “Kuroba, Kuroba!”

“Hmm? Is this Takeshita Street?” (3)

Kuroba eagerly said that and leaned forward. Haijima groped around to find his chest and grabbed it close to him.

“Let’s go see the best thing in Tokyo—Yoyogi’s first gymnasium.”

***

Thinking about it now, Minami-sensei must have planned to stop by from the very beginning. She wouldn’t have normally taken this route to get from the hospital near Meisei to Haijima’s home in Tokyo.

A little further down the road, she found an empty spot in the parking lot on the shoulder of the road, parked, and then Haijima dragged Kuroba out of the car and ran back to the admission gate of the gym.

“You’re too excited. I told you to calm down. The building’s not going to run away even if you don’t run.”

The entrance was closed, and the lights in the plaza from the gates to the gym’s entrance were off, leaving the asphalt to sink into the darkness. As it was located on a busy roadway, the noise of cars intermittently behind them.

The first gymnasium of Yoyogi National Gymnasium, the holy ground of the Spring Tournament. Most of the history of the Spring Tournament, which had been held more than forty times, had taken place at this Yoyogi venue.

“There isn’t anything going on today? They have concerts and stuff almost every day, not just sports tournaments.”

Minami-sensei, who came later, said as she peeked through the gaps in the gates.

The gates consisted of an iron fence about 190 centimeters tall. When Haijima gripped the rails and tested their strength, then lifted himself up vigorously with his arm strength. He leaned over the top of the gates and strained his eyes, but was disappointed to see that the building at the end of the dark plaza now only looked like a ruin. “That’s dangerous!” Kuroba grabbed the back of his belt.

“On the tournament day, there was this huge Vabo-chan balloon, and it was a landmark, and even though there was nothing cute about it, watching it bob around was kinda addictive…”

He desperately wanted Kuroba to also imagine that scenery, so he tried his best to explain it to him.

As soon as he enshrined that huge Vabo-chan balloon in his mind, bright line shone on that lonely indigo plaza as though blackout curtains were lifted at once. In the same way he could create a volleyball court around him without relying on his eyesight, the scenery of the day of the tournament was drawn with him as the starting point. Under the early spring morning sky, large crowds of people passed by them, who stood there blocked by the gates, and walked through the gates and into the admission gates.

The cheering squads of parents wearing matching windbreakers and carrying banners and drums. The concert band members in their school uniforms with mufflers around their necks and the cheerleaders in ponytails. The sports reporters holding equipment. And then there were the athletes of the competing schools, wearing their various team jerseys, each of them with feelings of tension, excitement, and fighting spirit in their hearts. Some of them were today’s high school students from vivid high-definition footage, and others were high school students he had seen in footage from a long time ago, with much frailer physiques looking at them now. High schoolers from various eras were mixed together, but the one thing they all had in common was that they were all volleyball players who had marched in carrying their prefectures on their backs.

Once he passed through the dark admission gates, his vision opened up again. In the vast circular space, illuminated by bright lights, was a spectator seating area with a capacity of over ten-thousand people, and in the center of that, there was a glossy sky blue and citrus orange volleyball court.

“The quarter-finals are on a multi-court, but the semi-finals and beyond are on the center court. There’s only court in the center of the arena, and it’s super fancy, and only the best players from the best teams who are capable of winning the title of the best high school in Japan can stand on it…”

“I get it, it’s an amazing stage. I know how much you want to be there, and I know very well that you’re a setter who can stand in the middle of that amazing stage.”

With a pacifying voice, he embraced his trunk and brought him down from the gates.

“That’s not what I meant, what are you talking about? I wasn’t talking about me?”

Haijima brushed off Kuroba’s arm in frustration and grabbed his collar just as he was turning around. Kuroba’s eyes widened as he clutched Haijima’s wrist and drew his chin in.

“Imagine yourself standing there. Try wishing for it seriously. More, more…You’ve got what it takes to be up there. And if you’re competing on that stage with a lot of people like that, you’re going to crave it more and more. You’re going to want strength and time so much that you can’t stand it. You’re going to be unbearably frustrated that there’s only three years of high school. That’s why I want you to be the ace…”

It was frustrating that what was inside of him wasn’t inside Kuroba. He wanted him to understand that somehow, and this might be the first time he had ever squeezed out words like that to try to convey something. He had often let things go, thinking that it was fine if he wasn’t understood. He had never been driven by the desire to actively share his values with someone before.

He let go of Kuroba’s chest, half pushing him away. He turned his back to him, who staggered slightly, and looked back at Minami-sensei.

“Sensei. I promised to go to the Spring Tournament with Meisei, but I’m sorry, I’m correcting that. I want to go there with Seiin…with those guys. That’s what I want now.”

Minami-sensei leaned her shoulder against the iron fence and folded her arms with a slightly scary look on her face. Thinking that she might be angry, Haijima waited a little nervously.

The ends of Sensei’s eyebrows lowered, and she let out a short sigh.

“You don’t have to apologize…am I that scary of a coach? Souta also came all the way to me to ask for permission with a teary face. He asked me if he could quit volleyball. You know, elementary schoolers become high school students, right? It’s not the same as me going from twenty-eight to thirty-one. It’s normal for friends and things you like to change rapidly. Because that’s how compressed the time all of you spent was.”

“Sensei, you spoke with Souta…?”

He hadn’t really thought about the extent to which Minami-sensei had heard about the suicide attempt, but then it occurred to him for the first time that she knew about the incident and the reason why Haijima transferred schools.

If Sensei knew that her students, who left her elementary school club happily and saying that they’ll all play volleyball together, became bullied or bullies in middle school and drifted apart, then she must be sad… 

“I’m sorry…Sensei…”

He lowered his head and muttered an apology again.

“You have nothing to apologize for. You were the one who was in a lot of pain. We should be the ones apologizing…the adults shouldn’t have been so unperceptive…”

Minami-sensei’s hand touched his arm. It was a gentle touch. On the day when their club had lost a match, he had been comforted by the same gesture, and he couldn’t help but hug her around the middle and cry. He had never lost or cried like that. Suddenly, he felt as though the time had gone back many years, and he had returned to the time when his teacher still looked as tall as a “tower.”

But he was already taller than the Sensei before him. He couldn’t hug her or anything like that. And he wasn’t as hurt as he had thought he would be when he found out what had happened two years ago that he didn’t know about.

In the end, Komukai and the others probably didn’t think it was such a big deal. They didn’t imagine that they would ruin their teammate’s life, and he thought that Komukai was saying what he really thought when he disappointedly said, “With just that.” They had done it with only the intention of making Haijima pay a little, and he repented, then they would be satisfied. They probably wondered what was going on with him when he stopped going to school and then transferred schools from the incident that had occurred from that simple intention.

But if Komukai and the others really didn’t have a goal to eliminate Haijima, then that was actually…a relief.

He wasn’t eliminated from that team.

Once he understood that, the fear of starting over somewhere else diminished considerably.

“I’m fine now.”

He thought it was good he knew about it now. He thought that was probably because he could accept it now.

“I didn’t come here alone…so I’m fine.”

He could hear Kuroba gasp from behind him.

“I see…” Minami-sensei looked at Kuroba and smiled, as though satisfied. “It was a good thing you went to Seiin High School, after all.”

“Huh…” “Kashiwagi-sensei, you know about Seiin?”

Kuroba’s voice overlapped with Haijima’s surprised voice. Seiin was just a local high school, not a nationally know school. It also bothered him that she spoke like she had known where he transferred to since before.

“Who do you think sent me to pick you up at the hospital? Meisei Middle School’s coach asked me to do it.”

“The coach…?”

Haijima learned that the coach of the Meisei Middle volleyball team had felt responsible for the series of events that had occurred in the second year of middle school and that he had been concerned about Haijima’s condition for a long time. He thought that by the time he entered high school, things would have died down and he could talk to the coach of the high school team and call him back to Meisei. However, when he had heard that Haijima went to Seiin High School, he decided to withdraw and leave him alone——.

“Seiin High School in Fukui has a famous coach, yes?”

Famous coach? He looked back at Kuroba, puzzled, but Kuroba also stared back at him with a puzzled look on his face. They recalled the dried up old advisor who looked like a scarecrow with a wooden fish placed on top of the head. (4)

“…Haa?”

The two exclaimed in unison.

He had heard from Oda that he had been a volleyball player a long time ago. However, the old man usually fell asleep when he came to watch club activities, and he had never done much as an advisor, let alone a coach. Their advisor at Monshiro Middle School, who was an amateur but showed a lot of motivation, was a much better advisor.

“Adults are connected in ways that children don’t know about.”

A corner of Minami-sensei’s mouth raised in a mischievous smile.

“That’s why, the teachers at Seiin High School are already informed that you two are here. I’m sure that your families have been contacted as well. I heard that your senpais on the team were also worried about you. The two of you did skip class and disappeared together after all.”

They both groaned and their faces stiffened. There was no way the school wouldn’t find out that they skipped, so they were prepared to be penalized for it, but if they knew that they were in Tokyo, then…

“I hope they’ll just make us write an apology.”

Kuroba sighed, but for Haijima, who found writing any essay more than two columns on manuscript paper (5) torturous, a written apology was more hellish than any penalty. “Don’t look so miserable. I’ll help you. It’s collective responsibility,” Kuroba said and clapped him on the shoulder.

Minami-sensei looked down at her watch and murmured, “We have to go soon.” When she looked up, she had a big smile on her face, as though she was taking out a special present she was hiding.

“There’s one last message for you. It’s from the captain of your volleyball team. He says, ‘You have club activities tomorrow, so go home.’”

Previous || Index || Next

[fortunaamajor]

The Ultracheese (Fred Weasley)

Fred Weasley x Reader

This story is based on one of my favourite lyrics at the moment. It’s a mainly fluffy, cheesy but angsty in parts story of Fred and Reader reminiscing on their relationship. 

Reader is vague - gender not specified, no specific house mentioned.

Song Link: The Ultracheese by Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: Mild bad language, mentions of Umbridge’s Black Quill (torture)

Word Count: 2k

Although I am using the Harry Potter universe as a basis for this story I do not support JK Rowling or her views.

“Fred Gideon Weasley!” a piercing shriek from Molly erupted through the bottom floor of the Burrow, as Fred skidded into the living room where you were sitting. You gave him a pointed look as she followed him through muttering about “...making my life so difficult, can you just give me one moment to RELAX, you’re old enough to know better at this age - both of you!” her voice rose at the end of her rant so that George could also get the gist from wherever he had run off to in the cramped house. Fred was chuckling as he plopped himself down beside you. He glanced at his long suffering mother as she took a couple of deep breaths, turned on her heel and left the room, but not before spitting out something about he and his twin being “...inconsiderate, childish...”. 

Lifting up the crochet blanket you were sitting under, Fred attempted to weasel his way in beside you. He looked slightly hurt at Molly’s last comment, you captured his jaw in your hand carefully and turned it towards you

“Go and apologise to her. Bonus points if you can convince George to join you.”

“But it was only a-”

“Uh uh! I don’t wanna hear it, you know I’m right. It’ll make all three of you feel better. Go.”

He hung his head, knowing you were right yet wondering how he’d ever ended up falling so hopelessly in love with someone who had a tongue almost as sharp as his mother’s. 

When he returned the crochet blanket was being held open for him and there was space for him to curl up beside you. He rested his head on top of yours, kissing your hair. “How come you always know how to get me out of trouble?” he mused as his hand crept round your shoulders to hold you closer to him. 

“I’ve been practicing, one day I’ll share all I’ve learnt with you Freddie boy.” you replied dryly, but with a peck on his cheek afterwards. 

And practicing you had been, for four years. You had always known it would be this way when you fell in love with Fred - your second ‘date’ was in detention for Godric’s sake. He and George had roped you into helping prank Filch, being as smitten as you were for the older twin you had accepted. Unfortunately, as the three of you hid behind a suit of armour Fred had tried to be smooth and brought the whole thing crashing down (literally). 

“Good job darling, you can definitely join us again” he had whispered in your ear. Then as he reached a hand round your waist he knocked the armour, which as if it had an occupant, had jumped away from the three of you - still intact. The clatter of the armour alerted Mrs Norris, and when Filch came running there was no longer anything hiding you all from his beady stare.

That was how you came to be sitting in Professor Binns’ room on Thursday afternoon, with Fred attempting to flirt silently from a few desks away. The clock was counting down until dinner, which couldn’t come quick enough. Not only were you starving but you knew that Fred would no doubt bound up to you in the Great Hall later ready to talk your ear off about his newest invention to try and impress you. It was sweet really, to see him like such a lovesick puppy who never wanted to leave your side - you might even have made fun of him if it hadn’t made your heart rate increase and your face flush with heat.

For now, under the (not so) watchful eye of Professor Binns, he had to stick with writing notes and placing them on the desk between you as silently as he could.

The first note appeared blank until his handwriting scribbled out his message...

UH OH, SORRY ABOUT THIS! HOW CAN I EVER MAKE IT UP TO YOU?

Looking over you saw him pouting, bottom lip jutted out. Blushing, you just shrugged, trying to play it cool. He frowned and sent another note your way...

SATURDAY NIGHT HOT CHOCOLATE IN MY DORM? I’LL SNEAK YOU IN X

The words scrawled in front of you caused your cheeks to burn and your palms to sweat. All you could muster was turning to him and nodding. His retort of blowing you a kiss had you reeling, so much so you didn’t notice Professor Binns coughing quietly at the front of the room.

These shared detentions lost their appeal when Umbridge arrived at Hogwarts and started enacting her ‘stupid bloody toad rules’ as Fred called them. He worried about ever getting you in trouble with the nightmare clad in pink and  forbade you from joining in on any pranks, or even helping out with Weasley Products. Umbridge had it in for you because of your link with the twins, even if you were perfectly polite and pleasant she would nitpick or accuse you of things you hadn’t done. This broke Fred’s heart, especially after the three of you first experienced that damn black quill. From then on, Fred was on high alert, the idea of that monster getting her hands on you again made him want to scream.  Fifteen minutes into a dull Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson she had already pounced,“Weasley, see me after class.” she scolded, her tone clipped. 

“But Professor I...” he had begun to exclaim, before she raised her arched brows

“Three of my second years this morning had to be excused due to illness... I know one of your ghastly concoctions was behind it.” she practically sang.

Fred knew the group of boys she was referring to, they had been saving up for Puking Pastilles in order to skive one of Umbridge’s lessons, and to be honest, he didn’t blame them. He said nothing, but a voice piped up from across the class. Horrified, he realised it was you. 

“Professor, you can’t possibly blame Fred for that! What if there’s a bug going round? Or what if they bought the product from someone else?” 

Umbridge tried to suppress a smile as she nodded along. 

“I see, you can join Mr Weasley in detention, along with his brother. I’m assuming he is the ‘someone else’ you were referring to, Y/L/N?” she quipped, turning now to George. You groaned, looking over apologetically at George as that was definitely not the outcome you had hoped for. Fred had to clench his fist to stop from lashing out. 

Back in the common room Fred was angry, the angriest you or George had ever seen him. “She’s a cow, a wretched cow. Y/N you shouldn’t have gotten involved, you know exactly what she’s going to do to you - do to all three of us. I can’t bear it.” This had you frowning, explaining you would rather go through that pain with him, and be there for him. 

“NO! Don’t sacrifice yourself for me, if she hurts you Godric knows what I’ll do to her - and then what will happen? How can it possibly get any worse than bloody torture?”

All three of you were silenced by his outburst. He saw the stress in the lines in your forehead and the anguish in your eyes. Reaching out for you, he surrounded you in warmth. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry. I shouldn’t have acted like that. I just hate to see you hurting, but I appreciate you always wanting to be there for me. I really do, love.”

The twins’ final day was one you would never forget. You’d only known about their plan for a few days - they couldn’t risk anyone finding out and putting a stop to it. Fred would definitely be happier away from Hogwarts and, more vitally, Umbridge. She would hopefully ease up on all of your unjustified detentions as well if they were no longer there to provoke her. In only a few short months you and Fred would be back to spending your days together, and he had big plans to save for your future away from Hogwarts. To him, this was simply preparation and planning (two things he excelled at if he did say so himself) for the rest of your lives. 

The day arrived, standing outside the Great Hall you saw the excitement running through the twins. The morning had been blissful, Fred had snuck you both to Hogsmeade and you had relived one of your first dates. Then by the fire of the common room you had spoken about the future, and the plans that were just about to begin. After a bittersweet kiss, he had mounted his broomstick with George and kicked off the ground. Your heart soared watching him do what he did best, the chaos and joy of the scene surrounding you was enough to make you well up with pride. As the sparks rained down he caught your eye and winked. Umbridge’s uncontrollable fury was the perfect ending to your day as she stood seething amid the cheering, happy students. You made sure to describe it all in glorious detail in the owl you sent to Fred that same evening.

The worst ever trick pulled on you by Fred was the moment that you realised that sometimes fun and games weren’t always... well... fun and games. You two had spent the day together in the bedroom of the flat above the shop. In the morning he had a short meeting with George about work stuff. After that, he had returned to bed and the two of you had relaxed, sharing kisses, chatting nonsense and talking about life until you felt it was time to get up. Heading through to the kitchen you saw an unfamiliar potion bottle, “Freddie, what’s the new product?” you had shouted through before picking it up and sniffing it. Immediately your nose screwed up and you spluttered “eurgh, smells like Polyjuice potion!” turning to Fred, who was plating up breakfast using small flicks of his wand. “Are you allowed to sell this in the shop? Has someone tested it?” your brows pulled together. “Oh, love I must’ve forgotten to say - I’m testing it right now!”

“Freddie, what do you mean?” you looked over at him. That’s when you noticed, Fred’s small scar on his eyebrow was gone. In fact, upon closer inspection you weren’t looking at Fred, you were looking at George. As you frowned his eyes widened dramatically. 

“Oh... its worn off.” whispered George as he stood infront of you, “We tried it out at the end of the meeting but it must have been an hour since then.”

“FRED AND GEORGE WEASLEY YOU HAVE 5 MINUTES TO EXPLAIN YOURSELF BEFORE I BURN THE SHOP AND EVERYTHING IN IT TO THE GROUND!” you bellowed, rushing round the flat in an attempt to find the real Fred. 

When you found him, he was doubled over laughing. “You can quit that! I’ve just spend the last hour cuddling your bloody brother you prick” you raged at him. He wiped tears of laughter from his eyes and tried, unsucessfully, to pull you into his arms. 

“No Fred this is not funny, you can’t just use me as a test subject, you don’t get to mess with me like that. Have some respect!” you continued to shout. 

“Darling, darling. The thing is... you weren’t cuddling my brother. We just planted the potion for you to find and swapped when we went into the kitchen, babe, It was me earlier!” Fred wheezed. He looked over at George who was standing in the doorway, caught between a terrified sort of trance at your reaction and a chuckle bubbling from his lips. 

“Brother of mine, this was all very fun but please remind me never ever to try and trick Y/N ever again, that was really...scary.” he admitted.

“I know,” smiled Fred “wasn’t it brilliant!”

Back on the sofa in The Burrow, Fred couldn’t believe his ears “What do you mean by practicing?” he asked incredulously. You scoffed “You’ve been getting yourself, and sometimes me, in bother for four years now Fred. I had to adapt to survive!” he chuckled at this. “Ok fair play...” he whispered into your hair, leaning down to hover his lips over yours, “I’ve done some things that I shouldn’t have done... but I haven’t stopped loving you once.” 

A/N: Please let me know if you enjoyed this story, my requests are currently open but please read the guidelines on my page first. Thanks for reading. 

[im-the-king-of-the-ocean]

Soft summer prompt #5, Nuts and Dolts?

(sorry for the absurdly long wait - hope you enjoy!)

(watching the fireflies)

takes place in my royalty/bodyguard au ;)

.

A pleasant summer’s breeze blows Penny’s curls away from her face.  The princess from the north is in awe of how much more mild the weather here in Vale is than back home.  Her cloak, sewn from a lighter fabric than all her heavy wool and fur ones made to withstand Solitas’s cold, is enough to keep her warm even during sunset, with night beginning to cool the air.

“Your royal highness?  Might I inquire what you are doing out at such a late hour as this?”

Penny jumps.  “Um, uh, nothing?”  Her voice squeaks in a way not befitting a royal.  She tries not to wince.  “Nothing, Stablemaster Port,” she tells the gray-haired man with one of the largest mustaches she’s ever seen, hesitates, and then hastily adds, “sir.”

Do Vale royal staff have a specific way to be addressed they prefer in polite conversation?  Back home in Atlas, Penny had to memorize all the proper terminology for each and every different ranking staff member at a young age.  It was considered a grave insult if the Crown Princess herself addressed someone incorrectly.

Before Penny can fully start worrying over whether or not she’s insulted Stablemaster Port by calling him simply “sir,” loud hoofbeats approach them.  They briefly slow when they reach the princess and the stablemaster.  Penny feels a hand close around the hood of her cloak.  She’s yanked off her feet and pulled expertly into the saddle.  She would panic, but there is only one person who would do such a thing.  Penny trusts her implicitly.

“Ruby Rose!  That is no way to handle a royal!”  Port shouts after them.

“You aren’t my teacher anymore, old man!”  Ruby calls over her shoulder with a laugh.  Her arms wrapped securely around Penny, she pushes the princess’s dapple gray mare into a canter.  Port yells something else, but Penny doesn’t catch his words over the wind.

Once they’re safely away from the stables, Ruby slows the mare.  She stops at the entrance to the riding trail they picked earlier, dismounts, and retrieves her own steed from where she hid the blood bay behind some shrubbery before doubling back to retrieve Penny and her horse.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” From still in the saddle, Penny admonishes her bodyguard.  “He’s going to get us in trouble.”

Ruby retorts.  “No, he’s not.”  She swings up into her own saddle.  Her horse snorts his protest. “Port owes me.”

“He owes you?”  Penny repeats incredulously.  She nudges her mare forward to stand by Ruby’s.  “What, pray tell, does he owe you that he won’t go telling on us for behaving in such a manner?”

“Oh, come on!”  Ruby pouts.  “Don’t get all princessy on me now.  This was your idea!”

Penny grins.  “My idea was to go on a pleasant evening ride.”  She pauses dramatically.  “Not that tomfoolery.”

Ruby sticks out her tongue at her.  Penny can’t help but giggle.  She loves this.  So much.  Back home, Ruby wouldn’t dare pulling off such a stunt like she had.  The pressures of being a Royal Bodyguard weigh on her too much.  Penny knows they do.  Usually, such a position is reserved for a highly regarded lord’s son.  Not some commoner girl poached from another kingdom’s academy.  Ruby’s arrival in Atlas and appointment had caused a stir among the nobility, to say the least.  There are many among them who are waiting for Ruby to make just the right mistake that they finally could consider it reason enough to oust her.

The situation tends to cause Ruby a lot of stress.  Not that she’s ever admitted to it anytime Penny has attempted asking.

Here in Vale, away from the prying eyes of Atlesian nobility, Penny noticed, Ruby is more relaxed, carefree.  She still takes her duties seriously.  She’ll always protect her princess, of that Penny has no doubt, but Ruby goofs off in ways Penny could have never predicted while in her homeland.

It gives her mixed feelings.  Penny loves seeing this side of Ruby.  She does.  It just kind of hurts knowing that when they go home, to Penny’s home, it won’t be the same.  Penny holds back a sigh.

They ride on, silent but the clip-clop of their horses hooves for a few minutes.

Penny sees the first bright green spot in the air.  Her breath catches in her throat.  The spot disappears quickly, but then another appears.  This one drifts over to her.  The little bug that caused the bright light lands on Penny’s horse’s mane, crawls around, flashes bright green again, and then takes off.  Penny watches it go.

“Are these…?”

“Fireflies?”  Ruby finishes for her.  “Yup.”  She halts her horse, dismounts, and ties her reins loosely to a tree.  Then helps Penny do the same.  Taking Penny by the hand, Ruby leads her princess to the center of the meadow they’ve come to.  All around them fireflies drift around, blinking their lights leisurely.

Penny twirls around in a circle.  She can’t take her eyes off the little bugs.  Solitas is too cold for anything like them.  She holds out her hand.  A firefly lands on her index finger.  Penny giggles, and turns to show Ruby, who’s grinning dopily back at her.

“I knew you’d love them.”  Ruby approaches Penny.

“I love you,” Penny answers without thinking, and then chokes on her gasp.  Oh gods.  Oh gods.  She just admitted—to Ruby—she just said…

Ruby’s silver eyes are as big as saucers, or the moon itself.  She stares back at Penny, her face gently illuminated by the fireflies’ lights.  Her mouth opens, and then closes, and then opens again, like a fish.

Panic rises in Penny’s gut.  She shouldn’t have said that.  What they have is special, but it’s not allowed, and they shouldn’t—it will be easier to not be hurt when they have to let go if they don’t admit like she just—and oh gods.  Oh gods.  Oh gods.

Ruby takes Penny’s hands in her own.  She kisses the backs of them.  Not in the reverential way reserved for royal and bodyguard, but in the tender way only a suitor is allowed to do for a princess.

“I love you, too,” Ruby breathes.

In that moment, Penny knows Ruby will never let go of her, and she’ll never let go of Ruby.

No matter what.