#i couldn’t go this last year either cause a city way up north had their pride celebration briefly ambushed by pride boys

[plinkcat-gif]

happy pride to everyone who isn’t having their pride in fuckin september

[stopeatingwhales]

football hysteria x damon albarn

I LOVED THIS SM LMAO !!!!!!!! football obsessed damon is so cute

Pairing: 90s damon albarn x reader

Warnings: noneeee

Word count: 2.281

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

"Who you supporting?" Graham asked me, handing me a beer as he sat himself beside me on the couch next to me in the middle, Damon sat on the opposing side. Damon had dragged me over to Graham's house to watch the Man City and Chelsea game tonight, and knowing just how competitive Damon came to football, I knew it was better that I simply went along with things rather than moan about how much I really didn't want to spend two hours watching two teams pass around a ball for entertainment.

"Erm, Man City." I replied, quickly flicking the can open to taste the bittersweet barley flavouring of the heineken beer as it embellished the walls of my mouth.

"You don't support Chelsea?" Damon questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

A small chuckle left my mouth. “Of course I don't, they're shit." I sneered, aware of the havoc that my statement was going to cause. Immediately, Damon's mouth fell agape; stunned by my malevolence, as well as partial shock from the new-found information surrounding my opinions on football.

Graham's laughter rang through the room and my ears as my eyes continued to burn into Damon's piercing gaze, him just as amused as I was. Nobody was as big a football fan as Damon had become. "They're anything but shit," he continued, eyebrows now raised as he scoffed. "You're telling me that you support Man City? Gallagher-brother-Man-City?"

"Okay I'm going to sit between you both,'' Graham announced, swiftly standing up, shoving my body to the side he had just accompanied, placing his body between me and Damon, a blockade to prevent either of us going at each other's throats. "Just so we can all be alive by the end of it."

“Well I wouldn't have fucking invited her over if I knew she supported those manic twats, Graham."

"Piss right off Damon, we're in Graham's flat, not yours." I bit back, completely unphased by his childlike behaviour. It had been made quite apparent to the media that Chelsea were indeed the band dominated by the south, as well as Blur, and Man City were celebrated in the north by Oasis. However, it was quite comical noticing the immediate flush of anger that filled Damon's face after my sly comment. Leaning back into the loveseat, my back adorned the soft feel of the cushion behind me. "Graham, who do you support?" I asked, curiosity laced in my words as the football pitch came into view on the television screen - initiating the beginning of the match.

My eyes were focused on Graham as I watched him toss his glasses onto the coffee table in front of us, which had been cascading with countless bags of crisps and other treats to keep us stuffed as the ninety-minute match played through. "In all honesty, I'm not that phased with football," he began, reaching over to open a bag of crisps. "It's Damon here who's completely obsessed with it."

As the match began, tensions were already built to a high degree between the three of us. Small but meaningless comments had been thrown into the atmosphere of the apartment, merely portraying our silliness and how neither of us had seemingly outgrown the competitive side of our personalities, something that would be more apparent during teenage years. Unfortunately however, very early into the game, Damon's supporting team had decided to skillfully snatch the ball from one of the players, eventually managing to get it into the goal - portraying the first goal scored subsequent to the game's start.

Damon instantaneously rose at the goal, shouting loud enough for the neighbours to hear every single word that rumbled out of his throat. "Told you we were bett-" he said, smugness intertwined between his words so effortlessly, though shamefully his words had been cut off by the sound of the cushion, once placed behind me, now hitting his face. I couldn't help but allow a tiny smirk to illustrate itself on my facial features as I admired his face dripping in absolute bewilderment towards my actions. “What the fuck was that for?” he scoffed, falling back into his side of the sofa, as I sustained the grin on my face, watching him. The atmosphere that was once overflowing with hostility was now completely serenaded with Damon's egocentric giggles, forcing my body to hunch into a sulk at how quickly my team had been warranting for a loss so early into the match.

Mid-way through the game, Graham had decided to go to the corner shop by his apartment to get more beers for us to share, due to us having run out to share between the three of us. I dreaded being alone in the room with the game ongoing with Damon present, full-well knowing that his upbeat jolliness would attempt to torment me upon the fact that he was winning, which, to my demise, was exactly what had occured. The air fell still in the room once the sound of the door slamming etched through the flat walls, my gaze focused entirely on the match following on the screen, attempting to focus my mind on anything but the room that I was currently occupied in - though my peripheral noticed Damon's head almost instantly turned to look in my direction once it was made evident that Graham wasn’t inside the flat anymore. As if reading my mind, he decided to shift his body weight, which was once adorned to the other armrest of the burgundy couch, right next to me, where he attempted to wrap his arm around my shoulders, warming me into an embrace. In spite of this, I could feel his intense stare on my features. Using all my strength to avoid connecting eyes with him, I wasn’t going to admit defeat so easily, my stubbornness proving a point.

Once Damon realised, he carried on watching the game, however his body had continued it's embrace with mine. At one point, I was thinking that the match was going to be a lost cause from the performance shown by Chelsea, However, things began to turn around, and Man City managed to score a goal, to Damon's consternation. The sudden win resulted in me lunging from my seat, swiftly detaching myself from Damon, my whole body cheering towards the goal as it replayed on the screen. What was amusing was that, after I had finished my applause, I noticed that Damon had moved back into his seat by the side of the couch, distancing himself from me. "Aw, you don't want to sit with me anymore?" I sarcastically questioned, not waiting for an answer as a small smile crept on my lips. It was very amusing, pissing Damon off. I must say, watching his ego deflate into nothing but a simple sulk at the corner of a room was really the sight.

"What did I miss?" The sound of graham's voice sounded through the room, paired with the clank of multiple beer bottles as he reached into the plastic carrier bag to place them on the table. Each and every one had an individual water-streak pattern, indicating that they had just been chilled - when they taste best.

"Man City scored!" I exclaimed, reaching out for one of the glass bottles as I got the bottle opener to unfasten it from its metal clasp, promptly taking a swig from the beverage. The intent was, of course, to provide Graham with the extra knowledge upon the events that occurred during the match whilst he was absent, however knowing myself, I had also wanted to remind Damon of said occurrences, to surge him to the edge of his frustration. Exclaiming it at the top of my lungs held just enough power to do just that.

A chuckle immediately left Graham's mouth from my enthusiasm. "Need me to sit between you both again?" He jokingly asked, yet an element of seriousness was laced between his words.

“Depends if Damon's gonna stop sulking or not.” I replied, focusing my view on the game playing on the screen.

"You're the one who was fucking throwing the cushions!" Damon shouted, reaching over to grab himself a beer.

"Because you were pissing me off!" I answered, shifting my gaze onto Damon, who was, to my surprise, staring directly at me. There was a certain look of annoyance glazed on his features, though the agitation seemed to subside as soon as we locked stares, as if he was longing for my eyes to bear their sight toward him, as if it was an examination, an analysation to confirm whether we were still on good terms or not; of course we were, while conflicting preferences drew evident tears between us during that moment in particular. After a few seconds had passed, Damon leaned back into the cushion, carrying on watching the game unfold, satisfied with his response from my eyes. Switching my gaze over to Graham, I took notice of a look of question illustrated on his features, to which I decided to mime that it was alright, in order to move myself next to Damon once again. It would've been a lie, and a mere understatement, to say that I hadn't missed his arms around me.

Bunching up next to him, enough space was made to allow graham to sit himself down next to me, though that thought was the last passing my mind; my body was shivering from nervousness, the close proximity between us, regardless of our romantic acquaintance, never failed to bloom butterflies at the pit of my stomach. Due to my body's weight pressing down onto the cushion next to him, it was obvious that he was aware that I moved to sit next to him - but at a cause of his stubbornness, him averting all his attention onto me, admiring me as if I was the only living being in the apartment, a home that hadn't even belonged to me, would never happen - it would take much more to result in his feign of irritation to melt away. Placing my arm around his shoulder, I granted my hand to reach up to his beautiful head of hair, my fingers caressing his strands gently as I brushed any parts that were sticking out on the sides of his head. His arms were wrapped around one another, like a child encompassed in an angry stupor at their parent due to them not allowing them a packet of sweets from the grocery store, though I was playing at his heartstrings, aware of just how much he adored me playing with his dirty blonde locks.

For a short sum of time, we both sat there, my hands never halting their actions. The next few minutes of the game played out of continuous dribbling and passing to other teammates, oftentimes resulting in the other team taking hold of the ball and running around with it for a while until their attempt to score. Randomly, Damon's arm had released itself from its shared embrace with the other, engulfing my body with his as he encased his left arm around my shoulders. We were in a sense of comfort with one another, though from Damon's avoidance of my stare it was made obvious that he was still in the least carrying a small element of annoyance, nevertheless, as I allowed my eyes to linger onto his delicate, paradisiacal features, holding back a grin was seen much easier said than done, a small curvature sneaking itself on his lips.

"Look who's won." Graham mumbled, his voice detaching me out of my trance that I was enamoured in.

A laugh rang itself out of my throat as I admired the lengthy team cheering as they enveloped one another in a massive embrace. "Told you they were better!" I grinned as I diverted my gaze onto Damon, the same look of frustration painted on his demeanour, still avoiding his eyes on me. "You want a kiss?" I asked, tilting my head in order to make sure I was the main thing in his sight, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep up his facade so easily. "Kiss kiss?"

I continued until his eyes met mine. It was as if, for a short segment of time we were frozen in place, momentary seconds passing of us merely marvelling at the view illustrated forth one another, my hands snaking their way around his neck as I leaned in slightly, noticing his blue orbs fall onto my lips, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his mind wandered through fields of appraisal. It was then where I couldn’t hold resistance for any longer, and I doubted that Damon could, bringing my head forward as I let my lips latch onto his, allowing time to flow as they lingered still before he kissed me back with gentle force, enough to notify me of his desire that encompassed him just as much as me. The kiss held innocence, portrayed adoration in its true beauty, nevertheless, also embodying eagerness, a yearning of lust.

"I'm going to be honest," I mumbled, removing my lips away from his, panting as I attempted to recollect my breath. "I don't actually support Man City."

"Of course you fucking don't." Damon laughed, our lips connecting once again as he perched his head forward, intoxicating me with the very thing that I desired most in that significant moment.

"If you're gonna shag, please go home." Graham groaned, causing our bodies to jolt at the sudden awareness that we weren’t alone together. Pulling away instantly, a wave of embarrassment covered my cheeks as we looked at one another, infatuation the single thing flowing out of our eyes.

“Sorry Graham.”

[amymel86]

Bitches keep starting new Jonsa fics!

I’m bitches.

Shit. It happened again. Sansa really doesn’t need to be thinking about this on the day before her wedding but it happened AGAIN. The Red Keep Hotel’s 400 thread count, Braavosi cotton sheets are still balled up in her clenched fists. Sweat still dampens her brow.

A quick look over at the heavy blackout curtains shows no hint of daylight peeking from around the drapes. And stretching over to unplug her charging phone confirms that it is not yet dawn on this – her ‘Wedding Day Eve’ as Beth had coined it.

Should she make a call to her therapist once the world starts to wake up? She won’t go into great detail this time of course – but Sansa had thought that these dreams had stopped. It’s been ages since he’s featured in them and tonight-

Tonight...

Tonight he’d fucked her in her wedding dress.

Oh, Gods! How awful is that? Sansa is due to get married in under 48 hours and she’s dreaming of having sex with her groom’s brother?!

Deep breath.

Sansa closes her eyes.

In.

Out.

What was it that Brienne had suggested during their last session when she’d brought up the dreams?

“You may be manifesting these kinds of dreams because Jon is one of – if not the only – person that, outwardly, doesn’t show that he likes you. You’ve admitted yourself that you are a people-pleaser, Sansa, and I can imagine having someone in your life that you can’t seem to please would frustrate you very much.”

She was right, of course. It did frustrate her. Sansa was good at getting on with people – with everybody.

Except for Jon.

Even when they were younger, back in the north. That was before his dad had made contact with him – back when all he was was Miss Snow’s boy – the boy next door – the boy who was Robb’s best friend. He was always at their house but Sansa had little to no interest in him at the time and she was sure he had felt the same.

They were just too different.

The only time she really remembers having any kind of connection with him was when she’d hugged him for beating Joff’s ass when he’d hit her. But even that – she’s sure he’d only stepped in out of a sense of loyalty to Robb. The rest of the time he hardly acknowledged her beyond a bored looking grunt.

He’d gone away to college and Sansa had heard through Robb and Arya that he’d later dropped out, tried his luck down in King’s Landing at one of his father’s many, many investment businesses.

That hadn’t worked out either.

Sansa had just about forgotten all about Jon Snow – the boy next door – when, just three years ago, he’d contacted her via her old email of all things – couldn’t he have slid into her DMs on one of her socials like a normal person?

After short chats back and forth for a while – honestly, Sansa hadn’t been aware that Jon even knew how to hold a conversation until then - she’d found out that he had stayed down in King’s Landing and owned his own tattoo parlour now – a far cry from the respectable suit and tie gig that his father had envisioned for him.

He knew she was desperate to visit the capital and invited her to do just that.

That had been the first time she’d met his brother, her now fiancé, Aegon.

... and now she can’t seem to stop having sex dreams about a man who is decidedly not her husband-to-be. Honestly, he’s not even nice to her half the time and she doesn’t even know why – what has she ever done to him that was so bad? Aegon says Jon’s just too used to living and working in Fleabottom now – that the rough side of the city has rubbed off on him and caused him to forget his manners.

Sansa wonders if he ever had any in the first place?

Then she remembers how his lack of manners had made her react in one of those dreams and she can feel her whole body flush from her head to her toes.

“Mmm, fuck! You all wet for me, Princess?” Jon rumbles, his strong hands pinning her wrists back into the bed as he fills her. She whines before cutting off the noise with a bite to her lip. “Oh no, none of that,” he nips, teasing out her plump bottom lip with his own teeth, “I wanna hear aaall the noises Little Miss Perfect makes when she comes.”

Her heart is hammering in her chest as she stares up at him above her, a devious smirk on his face while he fucks her slow and measured.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth, Jon Snow,” she hisses.

His smile doesn’t falter, his hands tighten around her wrists above her head. “I think you like my dirty mouth.” His hips halt their torturously drawn-out movements and he stills, his cock completely buried inside her. He kisses Sansa with more force and desperation than she’s ever experienced, all while his body lay heavy and still above her. She squirms and whimpers – she wants more. Jon lets a self-satisfied chuckle escape their kiss.

“I hate you!” she pants when he finally releases her from his lips. His tattooed arms skim down her frame and then faster than is possible, he flips them so that she now straddles his hips. Sansa braces herself on his chest as he grins up at her.

“That’s right, baby,” he coos, voice rough, hands smoothing up and down her thighs, “show me how much you hate me, sweetheart.”

“Christ,” Sansa curses, falling back against the sheets at the memory. She stares up at the ceiling for two, maybe three seconds before rolling to her side. Huffing, Sansa shoves a pillow between her legs and prays for more sleep – preferably dreamless.

***

Fuck! Jon wants to throw something – his phone, a pillow – something. He can’t because Ygritte is asleep beside him, here in this swanky hotel bed in the middle of the night. But Jon can’t sleep. He doesn’t know why he can’t sleep – well, that’s a barefaced fucking lie but Jon refuses to look too closely at it because if he does, he’ll get mad all over again and even further from drifting off.

The night is dead still and heavy as he sits up, letting the fancy, soft sheets fall away from around his waist. Briefly, Jon considers waking Ygritte up and offering to go down on her – that always led to sex and if he got some, maybe he could sleep? Urgh – no. That was pretty fucking selfish. Plus, his girlfriend has been in a mood with him since she’s not keen on weddings, nor his family and Jon is kind of forcing her to go to this thing anyway.

There was no fucking way that he was gonna show up alone to watch his brother marry Little Miss Perfect. The only way he managed to sway her was by revealing that his father had already paid for their suite for three nights and that there would be a free bar at the wedding.

Sighing, Jon scrubs his hands down his face and reaches for his glasses. His phone tells him that it’s 2am.

The en suite bathroom light flickers on and the extractor fan kicks in instantly. Jon cuts the noise as fast as he can by flipping the exterior switch. Ygritte turns over in bed but doesn’t wake.

Closing the door with a soft click, Jon lets out a breath. The light overhead hums quietly and the reflection in the over-sink mirror is a sorry and accusing one. Bracing his weight on the porcelain sink, Jon glares at himself. His eyes catch on one of the first tattoos he’d ever gotten; a dragonfly in flight over his heart.

“Fucking hell, you’re pathetic,” he whispers to himself.

Maybe he just needs to jerk off and then he’ll be able to sleep?

Jon snorts snidely at himself. Yeah, ‘cause that’s not pathetic at all. Christ.

He almost walks out the bathroom but then stops, coming back to the basin and opening his phone. It’s not pathetic. He is a man – he has needs, dammit! As long as he’s just looking at generic porn and doesn’t open up that hidden file he has that contains images and videos from a certain person’s social media, then it’s fine – it’s all fine!

His traitorous thumb hovers over that file none-the-less.

Oh, so we’re just gonna jerk off to pictures of the bride on the day before her wedding, are we?

“I can’t handle this,” he grumbles - grinds the heels of his palms into his eyes until he sees sparkles.

Standing in the doorway, the light from the bathroom behind him floods in and lands upon one of the little amenity tables backed up against the adjacent wall. On top had been an expensive looking vase of fresh roses and a professional brochure listing all the important information about the hotel and their stay. It had boasted a long list of facilities – including a 24hr gym.

If Jon’s feeling too guilty to see to his frustrations one way – perhaps he should try another.

[missymurphy1985]

Out of the Blue

*This was a request*

Warnings - smut / unplanned pregnancy / talk of abortion

I've used a fictional family for Cillian for this, names have been changed.

"That's it then," Cillian sighed, reading the letter from his solicitor, his friend Adam sitting opposite him in the kitchen of Cillian's new apartment in North Dublin. The Decree Nisi, his divorce from Kate now final. He felt a tinge of sadness, he couldn't help it, they'd spent most of their lives together and shared two teenage boys, but he couldn't forgive her cheating on him while he was away filming, the trust had left him completely.

"To a fresh start, Cill." Adam raised his bottle of beer to Cillian's pint of Guinness as they toasted, Ada ln trying to lighten the darkness in his best friend's eyes. "You're better off without her - now you can move on."

"Yeah no thanks, I'm done with women for a LONG time Ad, they're all the fucking same!" Cillian smiled, almost a laugh. "All I'm interested in now is the boys, they've been through one hell of a rollercoaster this last year."

"When are they coming to stay?"

"Tomorrow afternoon, I've got them all weekend."

"Then tonight Mr Murphy I am taking you OUT! Come on, we can go check out that new bar in the city, there's a band on!" Cillian groaned, that was not his plan for this evening. All he wanted was his pyjamas, a good book and an early night. This wasn't lost on Adam. "I'm not taking no for an answer here, come on! It's been months since you went out, let's do this!"

"Adam please... Not tonight yeah? Maybe next week, or.."

"Enough! No! You're not moping any more, I'm taking to out and that's the end of it." Cillian rolled his eyes. Fuck it, arguing with Adam was pointless, he'd known this since high school.

Within an hour they were ready, both of them in jeans and Timberland boots, Cillian in a blue striped t shirt and Adam in a green one. Hair fixed, they headed out to the waiting taxi outside.

"The first sign of someone trying to take my picture, I'm out of there Adam..." Cillian dreaded the thought of being papped out on the town following his divorce. The papers just wanted a scoop on who he'd be sleeping with now he was freshly single and available. Adam nodded in agreement a deal, as the taxi pulled outside the bar.

******************************

Y/n woke up, her head pounding. Opening her eyes she looked around at her surroundings, not recognising a single thing.

"The fuck have you done this time y/n..." You groaned, rolling your eyes and sitting up gingerly, trying to stop the contents of your stomach from evacuating violently over the unfamiliar bedsheets. Glancing at the alarm clock, you groaned again. 8am... Why the hell was it so damn early.. and where the fuck was she?? She heard a door downstairs open and close, and froze. She wasn't alone. Footsteps up the stairs, she quickly hid back under the covers pretending to be asleep as she heard the bedroom door open and the pressure on the side of the bed as someone sat down next to her sleeping body.

"Hey.. you awake?" An Irish voice filled the silence, as the smell of fresh coffee found its way under the duvet you were hiding under. Clenching your eyes tightly together, you slowly pulled the duvet back and opened them, seeing the man you clearly spent the previous evening with. Your eyes found his.. my god they were so blue.. he was handsome.. bit older than you, maybe? You couldn't tell for sure. You definitely recognised him from somewhere other than last night though, maybe he went to uni with you?

"Um... Morning.. I uh -" you sat up, taking the coffee from his hand, thanking him.

"Did we -"

"Did we.."

You both spoke at the same time. Clearly neither of you remembering the night before. You smiled, he smiled, before you both burst out laughing.

"Fucking hell, how wasted were we? We can't even remember if we had sex or not? I've NEVER been that drunk.. listen I'm sorry, this isn't exactly a great morning after huh?" He took a sip of his coffee, blushing slightly.

"Hey this is not something I do regularly okay.." he shook his head agreeing, neither did he.

"Cillian." He offered you his hand to shake, still smirking. "Listen if you can't remember if we had sex, you definitely can't remember my name..." Your turn to blush now.

"Y/n. And no. I definitely don't remember. But if it makes you feel any better, I'm still fully clothed? I don't think we had sex then redressed, do you?" You laughed, showing him you were still wearing the top and jeans you had on last night.

The pair of you laughed in relief.. eyes meeting again as the tension finally left the room.

"I can drive you home whenever you're ready y/n. If you need to get back?" Cillian offered.

"Erm.. oh yeah.. that'd be great, thank you.. listen, would it be cheeky to ask for a shower, or..."

"Hey, no not at all! Just through there," he pointed to his en suite. "I'll fetch you a towel, take your time."

You smiled. Those beautiful blue eyes were captivating you completely, you couldn't drag your own eyes away. He couldn't take his own from yours either, that tension was back, but it was a different kind of tension this time. Neither of you could remember how you got here, but neither of you minded that it had happened.

"You.. I'll go have that shower, yeah?" You moved to stand but stumbled slightly, landing closer to Cillian. He didn't move. Your face was now a mere few inches from his. Those eyes, once again never leaving yours. Your core burned, glancing down you saw the obvious excitement in his trousers, causing you to groan quietly.

He leaned in slowly, lips brushing yours carefully. You couldn't stop yourself kissing him back, within seconds the kiss becoming heated, tongues colliding. He leaned you back down onto the bed, moving his body to cover your own. You couldn't stop yourself, it was as if you were moving in autopilot, everything inside your core was on fire, demanding more of this incredible man immediately.

He stopped kissing you and hovered over your face, rubbing his nose against yours.

"Are you sure about this y/n?" You nodded, and kissed him again hungrily, parting your legs as he fell between them, grinding his own hips against yours. You could feel his hard-on, and you bucked your hips against his.

"Please... Don't stop now... I need this.. even if I never see you again after this Cill, just let me.."

"Baby I don't do one night stands... I'm taking you for breakfast as soon as we're done. Deal?" You smiled, no that was probably a grin. Breakfast sounded damn good right now, but not as good as he'd feel buried inside you.

"Deal. Now fuck me.. please?"

"Your wish is my command." Clothes removed, he grabbed a condom from his jeans pocket (Adam bought them the night before, he remembered that part at least, him slipping a couple into his jeans pocket as Cillian protested he wasn't going to sleep with anyone that night anyway...) Slipping it on, he pushed himself inside you, filling you completely.

"Fuck... Cillian that's fucking it..." You raised your hips with each thrust, he buried his face into your neck, biting the skin and sucking it slightly. You could hear him moaning into your collarbone.

"Shit you feel good... So fucking tight y/n..."

"Harder... Cillian, harder..." Your nails scratched down his back - if he was marking you, you were absolutely marking him in return. His thrusts now came hard and fast, as your walls clenched around him, your body finding that sweet release you needed, you hands pulling his hair hard. He came immediately after you, with a low moan into your hair as he pulled it in return, both of you panting trying to catch your breath.

"Shit me... I wasn't expecting that.." Cillian eased himself out, catching the condom before throwing it on the floor by the bed. Collapsing next to you, he turned to face you.

"I'm sorry... I don't even know you and I'm fucking you.. this isn't me y/n, I mean it, I don't do this, I've NEVER done this before."

"Hey, you've never had a one time thing? Seriously?"

"I was married for 20years until last night y/n!" He laughed, causing you to smile too. Suddenly your smile dropped a little.

"How old are you? If you don't mind me asking.."

"42. You?"

"If I tell you, don't freak out yeah?"

"Y/n I know you're younger okay, just tell me. It's okay."

"24." His eyes widened, was that in horror? Shock? Disgust? You couldn't tell but it didn't look good...

"24?? Shit me... The press are gonna have a field day with this..." You sat up, suddenly extremely self conscious. Age was never an issue for you, you actually preferred an older man, but it clearly bothered him.

"The press?" You asked, confused. "Why on earth would they be bothered?"

Cillian looked at you. You looked back at him completely deadpan. Shit, you were serious.

"Google me. Cillian Murphy." You reached into your jeans pocket for your phone and typed his name.

"Oh shit..."

**********************************

"Y/n, you still with me?" Cillians voice floated through the screen, knocking you from your daydream. Filming over in England for Peaky Blinders, Skype calls were your norm now.

"What? Shit sorry, baby, I was in a world of my own then! What did you say?"

"I asked if that delivery had arrived from Amazon, those books I ordered? You ok?"

"What books? Oh, those.. erm yeah I think so, something arrived for you earlier anyway, I left it on the kitchen side for you for when you get home next week. At least I think I did..."

"What's going on with you? Are you okay? You haven't been yourself for a few days now, forgetting things? You left your keys at work the other day, your phone in your friend's car.. what's going on?" Truth be told, you had no idea. Since your chest infection four months ago, you'd lost the ability to adult. You and Cillian had moved into a new home on the outskirts of Dublin 4 months ago, that morning after being the start of a blossoming romance, that led to you moving in together within the space of 6 months. Everyone had something to say, especially his ex wife who was still telling everyone who'd listen that you were obviously sleeping together while Cillian was still married, obviously he traded her in for a younger model, obviously blah, blah, blah... Never mind the fact that SHE cheated on HIM, no mention of that... Luckily your friends and family saw past all of it, and welcomed the new relationship - seeing how good you two fitted together, it wasn't hard to see why. You were the gin to his tonic, exactly what you both needed without you knowing you needed it. But these last few months, you'd felt completely spaced out - not even you could deny it.

"That chest infection really knocked the wind out my sales Cill, I haven't been right since! My mind's gone to absolute mush! Maybe I'm just run down, I've got the rest of the week off now so I'll get some rest, I promise."

"Maybe book a doctor's appointment y/n, you should be over this by now, you took all your antibiotics, yeah?"

"Yep, every one, right on time. Babe I'm so tired! I can't explain it!"

"Hit the sack babe, get an early one. I'll call you tomorrow. Don't forget to make that appointment okay?" You agreed, eyes growing heavy. You told each other I love you before closing the call and heading straight to bed.

You left the doctor's appointment the following day with tears in your eyes. This couldn't be happening... You took out your phone to call Serena, your best friend.

Approaching her front door, she opened it and immediately held you as sobs racked your body. Taking you inside away from any prying paparazzi, she put the kettle on.

"He's gonna kill me Serena... This isn't supposed to happen! We agreed - this wasn't part of our plan!! What am I going to do? How could I have been so stupid?"

"This isn't your fault y/n.. and he is not going to kill you, okay?" Nausea overcame you and you ran to her downstairs toilet, your breakfast evacuating violently into the toilet bowl. Serena made you a glass of water. Your phone vibrated, Cillian's name appearing on the screen. You ignored it. Again. Three times he'd called, three times you ignored it.

"You have to tell him sooner or later, y/n..." Serena was at the door, glass of water in hand.

"How? How exactly do I tell the man who is adamant he wants no more children that I'm fucking pregnant Serena? And I'm already 13 weeks gone? How did I not know?" Sobs overcame you again, your phone vibrating a fourth time. This time, a voicemail was left. Shakily, you listened to it.

"Y/n what the fuck? Call me. Call me right now." He didn't sound happy - from just a few missed calls, that was a bit extreme! Once you'd calmed down, Serena left you alone in her kitchen while you called him back via WhatsApp, hands still shaking.

"Baby, what's going on?? Paul's just shown me a photo on Twitter of you leaving the doctors with tears in you eyes, what the hell is happening?" You cursed yourself.. fucking photographers everywhere!

"Babe, are you alone? And sitting down? Put your phone on video call." He did as you asked and you saw his panic-stricken face fill the screen as you settled your phone on the counter. He saw your pale, tear-stained face and turned a shade of white.

"Y/n what is it?"

"I went to the doctor's -"

"I know that, y/n..."

"Look, this is easier if you don't interrupt me, yeah?" He nodded an apology and sat back, arms folded. "So that chest infection.. I had to take antibiotics. And it would appear that antibiotics... Well.. they render the pill completely useless and -" his eyes widened as he listened to you.

"The fuck are you saying y/n?"

"I'm pregnant, Cillian. 13 weeks." You closed your eyes, waiting for him to scream at you. Shout at you. Curse you. But he said nothing. Silence. Complete radio silence. You opened your eyes, tears threatening to fall any second. "Well fucking say something Cill!"

"I... I don't... Fuck y/n... This is a joke, right? You're joking? It's April 1st and you're having me on, yeah?"

"No, Cillian, it's July 15th and I am not FUCKING JOKING!!" The tears fell freely now, how much of an arsehole could he be. You saw him stand up and walk across the room out of view and your tears fell harder. Serena re-entered the room hearing your sobs but you waved her back. Composing yourself..

"Cillian... Cillian are you still there? Cillian?!" He came back into view and sat back down, eyes wet. He was crying.

"I'm sorry.. baby I'm sorry I didn't mean.." choking his words, so many emotions running through his mind. Another wave of nausea saw you suddenly dash out of view to throw up in the toilet again. All he saw was you run.

"Y/n?? Baby?? Where you going??" Serena came into view.

"Cill she's fine - it's morning sickness. She's okay don't worry." Cillian breathed a sigh of relief seeing your best friend there, at least you weren't alone.

"Listen, go take care of her yeah, tell her to call me when she's feeling okay.. and tell her I love her. We'll be okay. Everything will be okay, I promise." Serena smiled, nodding her head, ending the call, making her way back to you, still wretching into the bowl.

*************************************

"How are you feeling?" Cillians voice helped to ease the pain. Your morning sickness had subsided, at least for the last couple of days. Your bump appeared out of nowhere once you'd found out you were pregnant, but with the sudden change in your body came changes you really didn't appreciate - your pelvis was agony. Since you hit the 7 month mark, it felt like it was on fire daily.

"Like dogshit. Like my hips want to cripple me. This is hell Cillian, I miss you so much!" You started to cry again, Cillian feeling completely helpless. He'd already missed so much of this precious time filming, neither of you able to come home or visit due to Covid restrictions and y/n having a high risk pregnancy. Severe morning sickness, coupled now with severe pelvic girdle pain, doctors had signed you off on sick until your maternity leave kicked in in 6 weeks time. You couldn't walk now without crutches, relying on friends and family to bring you groceries. You were beginning to resent your own baby, which made you feel even worse.

"I'm on the first flight home tomorrow morning, we wrapped filming up a month early so I could come home sooner. I wanted to surprise you, but I'm shit at surprises!" He chuckled, causing you to giggle too. You perked up, still lay on the sofa like a bloated whale but at least you were smiling now.

"Really? You'll be home tomorrow?"

"Flight lands at 7am. I'll be home by 7:45. And I'm not going anywhere, y/n, I've cleared my schedule. Nothing coming up, no press, no interviews, I'm completely yours and the baby's for the foreseeable future. I promise." Tears fell again, but this time, happy ones. He'd be home in less than 12 hours. One more sleep, and he'd be home.

*************************************

"Come on y/n... You can do this!" You gripped Cillians hand hard as another contraction rippled painfully across your abdomen. Why the fuck did you refuse the epidural? What the hell were you thinking??

"I can't... I can't do it... Cillian I've been doing this for hours I can't..... Aaaaahhhhhh!" You screamed as your body took over and you bore down. The midwife ordering you to push.

"You can, you can baby, come on... She's nearly here! So close now, just a little longer..." He breathed with you, patting your head with a cold flannel to cool you down. Another contraction, another push...

Suddenly the room erupted with a baby's loud cry, swiftly followed by your own. Cillians eyes watered as your daughter was lifted in the air, still attached by the umbilical cord. Cillian cut it, taking your daughter into his arms. It was already decided he would hold your baby first, after all, you'd been carrying her for 9 months! You choked, seeing him holding your baby for the first time, as he carried her over to you to hold to your chest.

"She's here... She's beautiful.. look at her eyes Cillian!" Ocean blue, just like his.

"She has your nose y/n... My god she's perfect..." He kissed your head gently, openly sobbing now and not caring in the slightest. He thanked you. He thanked you for bringing his daughter safely into the world, for going through hell during the worst pregnancy you could've imagined..

"All worth it... Every second.. but I'm never doing this again Cillian.. I mean it, never again." You glared at him then at the scissors on the table, then down at his groin.

"Fuck off, y/n, I'm not having anyone snipping anything down there..."

"Looks like a life of celibacy then Murphy, that's the only logical conclusion."

"I'll book an appointment next week." You smirked. Very rarely did you not get your own way, and now he had two girls against him, he knew he'd never get his OWN way ever again.

And he wouldn't have it any other way.

Taglist:

@queenshelby @peakyscillian @ntmynouis @margoo0

[omg-imagine]

All We Are

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand x female!V

Summary: V is jealous after Johnny’s date with Rogue, which leads to an honest discussion about where they both stand.

Words: 1.7k

Warning: spoilers for Blistering Love side job, a little angst

A/N: Requested by an anon. This may be a bit different than what you were expecting, but I was in the feels™. Hope you still enjoy :)

Also, can we please talk about how adorable he looks in the gif?? 

The long drive back to the apartment was silent; the utter stillness in the car weighs heavily on V’s mind. Hands gripping tight on the steering wheel, she tries to ignore this unsettling ache she has, not allowing even an ounce of thought to pass. Though she chalks it off as a side effect of the pseudoendotrizine, this strange, hollow feeling of hers continues to stir deep inside, burning, burning and burning.

And so, she switches on the radio and focuses ahead on the stretch of road winding down the North Oak hills, the approaching lights of Night City glowing brighter against the inky skies. A fresh breeze flows into the open windows, dulling the tension for a moment.

A moment of tranquility that ends far too soon, yet it was a moment V’s at least grateful to have.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Johnny points out, the gruff baritone of his voice piercing the air. “An enny for your thoughts?”

Kicking his feet up on the dashboard, his aviators glint in the silver moonlight, making him appear impossibly more obnoxious than he usually is. He acts as if he’s not aware of the recent thoughts plaguing V’s head, but perhaps that truly was the case. If it were, then she would be surprised— Johnny often invades her mind, poking and prodding at things he shouldn’t be. For a while, she assumes he knows.

“Just tired,” V replies monotonously. Her answer was far from a lie; she really was tired. Exhausted, even. All she wants is to collapse into bed, pass out, and hope that for a few short hours, she can forget about today, about everything.

“Huh,” he breathes out, and V spares him not a single glance. “Pretty sure somethin’ was up. You’ve been actin’ weird since we left the drive-in.”

A chuckle rumbles through her chest. V still finds it unusual for Johnny to act so… concerned. Almost caring, if she had to be honest. She’s noticed a change in him recently, which became apparent after their conversation in the oil fields. He’s a lot softer now, sometimes sweet, both in his own unique way, of course. As if his rough edges were slightly smoothed out with sandpaper, enough that they no longer cut and make her bleed.

V would often catch him staring when he thinks she’s not looking. She also doesn’t fail to miss the small smile that creeps across his face as she talks. And in those passing seconds that lasts an eternity when the relic malfunctions, Johnny was there to offer her comfort. He’d kneel down to the ground while she coils in agony, whispering promises that this will all be over soon. That one way or another, they would get rid of that goddamn chip slotted in V’s head and ultimately save her life.

Life. Life has a funny way of unraveling itself. Fuck, this all seems like a cruel joke the universe is playing on V. Fate is rarely kind to her, a sad fact she’s accepted over the years. Never would she have imagined that after experiencing the pain of heartbreak and loss, she’d find herself falling for someone at the worst possible time.

And that someone is the imprisoned digital ghost of a rockerboy-turned-terrorist studying her from the passenger seat.

But V’s adamant in denying it. Her life was too fucking complicated for this right now.

“Are you capable of shutting the fuck up for two seconds?” V bitterly snaps, the hands on the wheel clenching stiffly as her jaw. “You got what you wanted tonight. Finally got your dick wet after fifty years, so leave me the hell alone, would’ya?!”

She doesn’t mean to act on her muted anger, but it manages to get the best of her. V knows why, and because of it, she crumbles. She crumbles like the walls she’s built around herself. Like the facade she’s been hiding behind for the past couple of months. Because underneath the dirt and grime, V was just a poor, tragic soul, more worried about losing the man she couldn’t have than her awaiting death.

“Really think that’s what happened?” Johnny asks, pushing his shades up to his head as he shifts to sit up straight in his seat.

V grits her teeth, eyes remaining locked on the road. She had woken up an hour or two after Johnny took over, finding her lips still warm, still swollen. Her hair was tousled, and she had been stripped off of most of her clothes; the scent of Rogue’s perfume lingering on her skin. She didn’t need him to recount; it was all clear to her what had transpired. It was what she agreed on to make him happy, a date with the Afterlife fixer and whatever it could lead up to.

In the end, V regretted it, not because Johnny used her body to sleep with someone. But because even after the rollercoaster ride, the dog tags, the private concerts, and the heart-to-heart they had at his gravesite, she still wasn’t his. He was too hung up over Rogue, and she couldn’t blame him. Having shared a lengthy history, there was no doubt Johnny wouldn’t snatch up the opportunity to win her back.

But then where does that leave V?

“The fuck is wrong, V? Don’t make me figure it out by myself.”

Biting the edge of her lip, she ignores Johnny’s latest question and contemplates swallowing an omega blocker. She doesn’t even care that he’s threatening to search for the truth without her permission. Choosing not to do so, he keeps pressing on regardless, and V was getting pissed off. When he doesn’t stop, she loses her temper and slams on the brakes, the Porsche coming to a screeching halt on a dead street.

Huffing, V pulls over to the side, shutting the car’s engine as Johnny is left bewildered by her actions. Peace and quiet. She yearns for peace and quiet, and the pills would do the trick in an instant. Her hand reaches for the bottle in her jacket pocket, the pounding of her heart echoing in her ears. Popping the cap open, she turns her head to the side, unable to help herself. She sees the tenderness etched in his features, a wordless plea shining in his dark eyes.

“V… Tell me.”

V’s gaze slowly falters, her consciousness at war with itself. The storm of anger in her calms, yet she needs to know what her next move is. She’s always been terrible at this sort of thing, dealing with her feelings and shit. Growing up in the streets of Heywood, she’s learned how to shut people out and keep them out. Biggest rule she had imposed on herself was to never, ever fall for a choom, but this time was different. Despite him being a mere figment of her imagination, she feels safe around Johnny, appreciated and content. The two understand each other on a level nobody else has done. They’ve been through literal hell and would only sink further into it to find a way to survive.

A chrome palm comes to rest on V’s cheek, the sensation oddly warm, oddly familiar. Her attention flickers back to Johnny as he strokes her weary face. His touch was delicate, movements careful and controlled. He treats her as if she were porcelain, afraid that his metal hand would cause her to crack. V exhales deeply, relishing the feeling she’s longed from the moment she had broken that dumb rule of hers.

“Go ahead,” she mumbles, giving Johnny consent for him to read her mind. It only takes a second, maybe even less. V half expects his shit-eating grin to make its appearance. She couldn’t forget how cocky he was, and she thought this would certainly rub his ego.

It never comes. Instead, Johnny’s lips turn up into a genuine smile, one softer than the way his black hair falls to frame his face. V swears she was floating; this doesn’t feel all that real to her. It couldn’t be real. But as the first faint slivers of sunlight appear on the horizon, she starts to believe that she isn’t dreaming nor hallucinating. She was still very much wide awake.

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Johnny quips as he leans closer. “You had no reason to be jealous, princess.”

“Why not?”

“Nothin’ happen between Rogue and me,” he clarifies, his fingers pushing back her locks. “Yeah, we made out a little, but I couldn’t go through with it. Wanna know why?”

V nods.

“’Cause I realized that ship sailed a long time ago. We’re too different people now; she’s got her own life, while I got mine sittin’ right here.”

“Johnny…” she murmurs his name as he brings up his other hand to cradle her face. “I wanted to have what you and Rogue had, minus the shitty things you did. But I could feel how much you loved her, how you basically worshipped the ground she walked on. Then I thought, can’t compete with her. She’s a livin’ legend, a badass. Meanwhile, I could be dead the next minute or two, either by this fuckin’ relic or a bullet.”

“Trust me, V, you wouldn’t want that,” Johnny returns, resting his forehead against hers. How could he feel so real? “What you and I have is special. Ain’t felt this way before, not even with Rogue or Alt. Like I said, you’re the fuckin’ closest to me. These feelings you’re afraid of? Shit, I have them too, and I’m fuckin’ terrified. But knowing that you’re here and we both share them, it makes things a lot less scary.”

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

Johnny laughs softly. “Gotta spell it out for ya, huh? Well then, here it goes; V, I love you. I don’t throw that word around randomly, but know that it’s what I feel whenever I think of you.”

V doesn’t waste a second longer. Her lips meet his for a kiss that is gentle and bruising, all at once. They hold one another close, their grasps taut so that the other wouldn’t slip away, not wanting to lose what they’ve gained. Time goes by, ticking in the background as they kiss again and again, but to them, it’s slow, nearly everlasting.

And when it was over, when they finally had to part, they were breathless, panting.

“Love you too, Johnny,” she murmurs into his skin, tone dripping with affection as he hums in response.

Night melds into day, and the city comes back to its fullest life. V kisses Johnny a final time before driving back to the place she calls home, even though she’s found her true one in his heart.

—

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[witcher-and-his-bard-archive]

Good as Gold pt.23

[part twenty-two] | [part twenty-four] [prostitute!jaskier masterpost]

thanks for all your patience and support guys, this chapter was a menace. 

As soon as the snow starts to melt, Geralt itches to be on his way. The others must notice it, but the only one who brings it up is Lambert. He's constantly smirking and asking what's so important back in the real world, despite knowing exactly why Geralt is so eager to leave.

He holds out until it's warm enough to sleep outdoors, but he's still the first to leave and it doesn't go unnoticed by the others. Geralt doesn't mind much because Lambert is, again, the only one who speaks of it and Aiden smacks him on the arm when he does. Geralt says his goodbyes to his family and heads out onto the Path once more.

As soon as he reaches the end of the valley, Geralt makes for Hagge.

He makes good time, travelling through the night whenever he's able, and he gets to the city much sooner than expected. It's early evening when he arrives, still early enough that he doesn't feel bad about visiting Jaskier. A little voice in the back of his head reminds him Jaskier is usually happy to see him whenever he visits, but he's still relieved that it's not too late. He's certainly not patient enough to wait until morning.

His stomach churns and his skin prickles with anticipation and the only thing that keeps him from bursting apart completely is the knowledge that he has to apologize to Jaskier. Even if he doesn't share Geralt's feelings, Jaskier deserves better than his behaviour before he left for the winter.

He's nervous for the first time as he steps into the brothel.

immediately, he's approached by Vivienne, hands on her hips and the scent of fury surrounding her. He can't even blame her; Jaskier told him he was important to him, Geralt knew that and still left for almost five months without saying anything. Five months when the longest it's been in over a year was weeks and then Geralt just... disappeared.

"Oh no," Vivienne laughs humourlessly, "you're not welcome here."

"I just want to talk to him. Briefly." It's not all he wants, but it's the least Jaskier deserves.

"You're not seeing him ever again if I have anything to do with it." she stares him down, hands firmly planted on her hips, and it's easy to see why she and Jaskier get along so well. He tries to apologize, but he's interrupted as the madame comes over, clearing her throat pointedly.

She's never been happy to see him and she takes delight in kicking him out now. The worst part is, he can't even blame her. If someone had treated his brothers the way he did Jaskier, Geralt would be furious with them.

He walks aimlessly through town because it's too early to turn in for the night, but he doesn't want to leave, either. Roach is stabled and fed and she'll be fine for the night now, so he has a lot of time to think about what he wants to do. And what he should have done already, all the things he should have said. He's not about to give up just because they won't let him into the brothel, but he does wish things had been different, starting with the way he left.

Firstly, he wishes he'd told Jaskier he was leaving, that he wintered in the north, anything. It seems so easy with time and distance between now and then.

He wonders if Jaskier thought about him.

As he considers and regrets, Geralt wanders, and it doesn't take him long to wind up at the field Jaskier took him to before. It's not an intentional choice, but he's not disappointed either. The sun is beginning to set and Geralt has spent enough time in Hagge to know the locals don't take kindly to people out and about after sundown, so he climbs the fence and plops himself down in the middle of the field to watch the sunset. He'll still have to return to the inn later, but for now, he can relax in peace.

He lays his cloak out on the grass and lies down with his arms folded behind his head and he considers how to fix this. The easiest option would be to go to Jaskier's house, but he's not sure Jaskier would even want to see him right now and he understands that. So he sits and contemplates and just before the sun slips behind the mountains, he hears footsteps coming toward him in the grass.

Geralt looks up with a sigh, expecting someone coming to shoo him away, but as he turns his head, he catches a whiff of perfume - Jaskier’s perfume - and his heart stops. The scent is suddenly overwhelming and he wrinkles his nose against it as Jaskier approaches. At first, the intensity of the scent was confusing, but when Jaskier gets closer, Geralt realizes the perfume is a mask against his own scent. But Geralt can still pick it up, even smothered in lavender.

Jaskier drops down on the grass a couple of feet away and Geralt’s fingers twitch against his stomach, eager to reach out to him, but Jaskier is justly angry and he holds himself back.

"So," Jaskier says slow, short, "you were just going to stop by to what? say hello and fuck off again? Pretend like nothing happened?" Geralt winches at the sharpness of the words, but he knows it's what he deserves. He doesn't know how to respond, so he keeps quiet. Evidently, it's not the right choice because Jaskier lets out a heavy sigh. "Right," he says, "guess I'll be doing all the talking then."

"You left me here," Jaskier says, "and I know you've said again and again that it's too dangerous or whatever, but you didn't even-" he pulls in a breath and Geralt clenches his hand to keep from reaching out to him. As much as he wants to comfort him, he's sure it wouldn't be appreciated. "Fuck, Geralt, I thought you were dead. You couldn't have even mentioned the last time that you wouldn't be back?"

"I'm sorry," Geralt whispers. It's not enough, not nearly, but he doesn't know what else to say.

"Yeah. I just-" Jaskier pulls his knees up to his chest and Geralt hates himself for doing this to him. The scent of anger dissipates, and Jaskier's pulse quickens as he speaks, the mingling scents of fear and anguish rolling off of him. Geralt grits his teeth against it. He owes Jaskier a chance to speak - among other things. "I thought that I- I thought that this-'' he inhales sharply and Geralt feels very small. Jaskier has a way with words unlike anyone he's ever met, so for him to not be able to finish a sentence is... worrying. "If it wasn't worth coming back, If I wasn't- Geralt, what the fuck?"

"You are," Geralt says quickly, "I didn't intend to hurt you. I don't deserve you."

"For fuck's sake, Geralt," Jaskier snaps. He shifts and turns his body to face him and for the first time, Geralt brings himself to look at him properly. Jaskier's only in his robe and smallclothes, presumably having left the brothel in a rush. And he looks sullen. His skin is pale, his eyes dull and yet too-shiny - the cause of which Geralt hates to even acknowledge. "I thought you knew that I want you? That this is more than just a godsdamn transaction for me. So what if you don't think you deserve me? You had me anyway."

Had. Geralt winces at the word. He sits in silent contemplation for a moment before Jaskier lets out a shaky breath.

"Geralt, the least I deserve is a godsdamn explanation. I didn't know where you were, if you'd been hurt, or-"

"You're right," he breathes and Jaskier seems a little taken aback at that. His eyes go wide, but he remains quiet, expectant. Geralt sits up and shifts over a little, making space on his cloak for Jaskier. Surprisingly, Jaskier gets up and comes over to join him.

"I'm sorry," Geralt whispers. He wants to touch, to feel, to hold Jaskier and promise him everything will be okay from now on, that he'll never hurt him again - but he doesn't think he's allowed. "We- my brothers and I winter up at Kaer Morhen, a keep in the mountains northeast of Kaedwen. It's where I was trained, where I grew up. I- I should have told you."

"Why didn't you?" to his credit, Jaskier doesn't sound angry any longer, only disappointed or maybe sad.

"I was afraid." Geralt hesitates, hating the way the words feel on his tongue, but he doesn't know what to follow them up with. "I didn't think you'd really want me coming back."

Jaskier sighs softly and shifts to settle on his side next to Geralt. "You're an idiot," he says softly, his tone just edging on fond. Geralt's heart soars, but he tries not to get his hopes up.

"I know."

"And a dick."

Geralt huffs a laugh and when he turns, Jaskier is looking up at him, a faint smile on his face. "And a dick," Geralt agrees. Jaskier's eyes drop to the space between them and he picks at the hem of his robe.

"I was afraid you were dead," he whispers, "I didn't know what to do. I had no one to ask, no one to send word, to make sure you were okay-"

"I know," Geralt says and he can't help but lean forward, cupping Jaskier's face in his hand.

He runs his thumb softly over his cheekbone, relishing the softness of Jaskier's skin under his palm. He's missed him desperately and now he aches to think he ever could have jeopardized this.

"Whatever it takes, I'll make it up to you if you'll let me."

"They won't be happy to see you back at the brothel," Jaskier mumbles, "but I'm sure I can sway them. Viv’s overprotective and she’ll get the others on her side, but she'll get over it. And the madame will let you in if I ask her to-"

"I don't care about them," Geralt interrupts, "just you. If you'll have me."

"Geralt," Jaskier breathes, low and exasperated, "of course I'll have you. You did a stupid, thoughtless thing and scared me half to death when you didn't show up for months but that doesn't stop me from caring about you. I was only worried because I do care about you."

Geralt shuts his eyes against the ache in his chest, wishing there was some way to make everything better. "I'm sorry," he whispers, brushing his thumb over Jaskier's cheek. "I never wanted you to suffer."

"I know, love." Jaskier leans up, pressing a soft kiss to Geralt's forehead before settling down against him. "Let's not talk about it any longer, alright?"

"Jask-"

"I'm glad you're back, Geralt and I'm happy to see you again. And I don't have the energy to think about the rest of it any longer. Why don't you tell me about your winter?"

"Okay," he says slowly, considering his words carefully. "But it's just the four of us most of the time. There's not much to tell." Not, at least, that he would be willing to share just yet.

"Sounds lonely."

"It's not that bad. No lonelier than the Path."

"Geralt," Jaskier huffs, "I'm sure you can find something interesting to say. You were gone for five months." There's a humour to his voice, but the wariness hasn't subsided and Geralt hates it. He'd do anything not to hear it again, but he doesn't know what else he can say.

"I..." he shuts his eyes and lets his fingers press into Jaskier's skin. "I thought about you while I was gone."

"Oh? Tell me?"

"I dreamt about you."

Jaskier hums and when Geralt opens his eyes, he's wearing the first genuine smile he's seen tonight. Jaskier props himself up, running a hand up Gerslt's chest, fingers slipping under the fabric of his shirt to trace along his collar bone. Geralt drops his head back and relaxes into the touch, relishing the soft brush of Jaskier's skin against his own. He's missed this, missed him, more than he should.

It's not until Jaskier's leaning into him, nosing against his neck, that Geralt comes back to himself. He gently curls a hand around Jaskier's wrist, lifting it off of him.

"I can't," he says, "I don't have the coin."

Jaskier doesn't hesitate, even for a second. "I don't care," he breathes and when Geralt meets his eyes, there's nothing but soft sincerity and something that looks like hope. "Geralt, all winter all I wanted was just for you to come back. Don't think I'm going to let anything stop me from being with you now."

Jaskier shifts and Geralt can't take his eyes off him. He knows he doesn't deserve any of this, but he wants it and he wants Jaskier to know that. Without thinking, he reaches out, curling his hand around the back of Jaskier's neck and tangling his fingers in his hair. Smiling softly, Jaskier shuts his eyes and leans into the touch.

Geralt draws him close, pressing their foreheads together and Jaskier hums softly. The overwhelming scent of perfume has partially worn off and Geralt can better detect Jaskier's natural scent beneath it. He focuses on it, breathing it in as Jaskier's hand slides up his chest. He can feel his own heart thudding heavily and Jaskier's is just as frantic and Geralt tips his head, lightly brushing his mouth against Jaskier's.

He stops breathing entirely but it hardly matters because as soon as Jaskier's realized it, he’s pushing him over onto his back and kissing him hard. Jaskier shifts so he's above him and Geralt's free arm slips around his waist, pressing him against him and Geralt's entire world narrows to Jaskiers lips on his own, just the soft press of his mouth and the little moan that escapes him as Geralt deepens the kiss.

His lips are soft and taste of wine and something sweet and Geralt commits the taste to memory. He tries to focus on everything, but it's too much all at once. Jaskier shifts to straddle his hips, reading his elbows on the grass and pushing his fingers through Geralt's hair. He grips tightly like he's afraid Geralt might pull away, but Geralt is just as unwilling to let go.

Geralt raises one knee, sliding one arm around his lower back as his other presses upward, fingers tangling in Jaskier's hair. I love you, his body screams, but his mind isn't cooperating and his mouth is otherwise occupied.

Jaskier only breaks away to breathe, holding himself up on one hand as the other continues running through Geralt's hair. He's flushed a deep red that carries on all the way down his chest and he's entirely breathless, but to Geralt, he has never looked more beautiful than he does now.

He's overwhelmed by Jaskier's scent, the thick spicy sweet of his growing arousal but there's something else there, too. It's a softer scent, sweet and flowery and it’s somewhat familiar, but Geralt can’t place it.

He lays panting for only a moment as the realization of what he’s done settles over him and as Jaskier's lips curve into a smile, Geralt drags him back down. There's a soft groan of surprise, but Geralt nips at his bottom lip and Jaskier goes limp against him, the scent of lust erupting like a cloud.

"Oh," he breathes, muffled against Geralt's mouth, "oh, Geralt." His hips give a little twitch Geralt slips his hand lower, coping Jaskier's ass and encouraging the gentle roll.

Any misgivings he may have had about fucking Jaskier outside at the edge of the forest are silenced with a quick flick of Jaskier's tongue against his own. He feels it all the way down to his toes and his responding whine only encourages Jaskier further.

When he shifts forward into Geralt's touch, Geralt can feel the way Jaskier swells against him, pressing his hips down against Geralt's. He gets a knee between his thighs, steadying himself as Geralt's hands pull back to cup his face.

Geralt kisses him again, quick and hot, but even as Jaskier rocks against him, it turns slow and heady. His eyes drop shut as Jaskier's weight settles against him, his fingers running lightly over his skin before tangling in his hair once more.

They find a steady rhythm and Geralt's body sings with lust and relief and love, his skin tingling with every minor touch. And Jaskier barely takes his hands off him for a second. He's aware of his own arousal - and of Jaskier's - but it's almost a background thought to the warmth of Jaskier's mouth on his own, the absolute thrill of it after what feels like centuries of deprivation.

When Jaskier moves, he has to stretch to keep from breaking the kiss, lifting himself off of Geralt and settling between his legs instead. He keeps one arm on the ground as the other slides down Geralt's chest, eventually reaching the hem of his shirt and slipping beneath it. Jaskier's hands are warm and he maps out Geralt's body like it's the first time, fingertips sliding into the valleys of his chest.

Jaskier hums against him and his fingers slip downward, fiddling with the buttons on Geralt's trousers. It's only playful, but when Jaskier's knees nudge under his thighs, he presses up close and Geralt can feel the thick line of his cock pressing into him. All at once, he's overcome by the need to have him closer and he wraps his legs around his waist and hauls him closer.

Jaskier is jostled in the process and he laughs lightly as he presses his face into Geralt's neck. Soft kisses are pressed into his skin and Geralt squirms, far more affected by it than he reasonably should be.

But that's Jaskier, isn't it? That's why he's here right now instead of on the Path where he was supposed to be. Jaskier is different. He takes things and flips them on their head without a second thought. Jaskier cares for him when no one else will look at him. Jaskier loves him.

The thought nearly breaks him and Geralt tugs him back up, kissing him deeply. When he pulls back, he's breathless and Jaskier is staring back at him with the softest, most beautiful smile Geralt has ever seen.

"I want you," he breathes and Jaskier's grin spreads as he leans up.

"Here?" he asks, "Geralt if I didn't know better, I'd say you were becoming a romantic, wanting to make love in a field under the stars." Yeah, he thinks, that's exactly what he wants, but he doesn't say it.

"Jask," he prompts and Jaskier smiles down at him, dipping to kiss the tip of his nose.

"Of course, my darling, anything for you."

He hovers barely an inch above Geralt's lips and knowing he's allowed to kiss him, the urge is too strong to resist. Jaskier laughs as he's tugged down again, but he quickly regains control, pushing Geralt's arms above his head. He draws back just enough to speak, the words a soft echo on Geralt's lips.

"Let's get this off, hm?" He curls his fingers around the hem, dragging his knuckles over Geralt's skin as he lifts the shirt up and over his head. It's tossed to the side, forgotten, and Jaskier returns to Geralt's neck. "I did miss you, you know," he breathes, lips dragging hot and wet against Geralt's skin, "when you were gone."

"I'm sorry," Geralt breathes, lifting his hands to tangle in Jaskier's hair. "I didn't want to leave you." Jaskier's only gotten as far as his collarbone when he stops and looks up at him.

"Then stay, next time," Jaskier hums, "if you need somewhere to stay, you can stay with me." Jaskier sits up pushing his knees under Geralt's thighs and he runs his fingers down Geralt's chest to the hem of his trousers. He gets them undone swiftly, tugging them open and folding the fabric back on itself to give himself room to touch.

Jaskier slips his hands down, pressing his thumbs into the vee of Geralt's hips and Geralt groans. He's been trying not to let Jaskier's touch affect him, but the lower he goes, the harder it is to keep from getting hard. After everything they've been through together, it shouldn't matter but this feels important somehow and Geralt isn't sure this is totally appropriate.

Not, at least, until Jaskier's fingers slip inside his trousers. Geralt gives in as soon as Jaskier's fingers brush his cock, groaning as they slip around him and tug gently. He drops his head back, looking up and as soon as Jaskier's eyes catch his, their mouths crash together again. Geralt grasps at him, pulling him closer as Jaskier strokes him.

The angle is awkward, but Jaskier shifts to make it easier for them both and when he's kissing him, Geralt can hardly think of anything else. He keeps his hands tangled in Jaskier's hair, keeps him close because he can't bear the thought of losing him, of even coming close again. The thought of it is too much to bear after coming so close already. Jaskier eases back, pulling from Geralt's mouth to kiss his jaw.

"Relax, my love," he breathes, humming against his skin. "I want this just as much as you do." Geralt tries to relax, but there's still the lingering fear that afterward, Jaskier will leave him here alone again.

Jaskier sits up and it's enough of a shock to bring Geralt back to his senses and he reaches for him again. Jaskier just smiles and dips to kiss his nose before shifting so he can tug Geralt's trousers down. As soon as they're off and out of the way, Jaskier pulls off his own shorts and slides back between Geralt's thighs.

He's hard already, his cock peeking through the split in his robe, and Geralt can't keep his eyes off him. Jaskier's hands smooth up his thighs and he presses closer until his cock settles in the vee of Geralt's hip. He rocks forward gently and Geralt's hips twitch up to meet him. It's been so long and he's wanted him so badly, but he doesn't want to fuck this up - not if Jaskier is willing to give him another chance.

Jaskier slips a hand into his pocket and produces a familiar corked bottle. Geralt isn't one to be presumptuous, but either Jaskier was anticipating this, or he always carries a bottle of oil around with him - he's not sure which is more likely. Geralt watches his hands as Jaskier pours a little of the oil into his palm, spreading it around with his fingers. He wraps the same hand around Geralt's cock, stroking him steadily. Geralt's head drops back against the ground with a dull thud as he groans softly as Jaskier's fingers curve around the head of his cock.

"Fuck," Jaskier breathes, "that's it darling, relax for me." The words have barely left his mouth before a slick finger presses back behind Geralt's balls, slipping between his cheeks. Geralt tenses for a moment, but as soon as Jaskier presses against him, he settles.

Jaskier's touch is warm and familiar and Geralt's legs spread involuntarily to give him space. Jaskier hums approvingly and presses further. His other hand moves to Geralt's hip, fingers slipping gently against his skin.

Under his touch, Geralt goes limp, relieved to know that for now, at least, Jaskier is still happy to be with him.

Jaskier presses into him tentatively and Geralt does his best not to tense up again. He needs this, wants this more than he ever has before and yet he's terrified of fucking it up. Jaskier's hand moves against his skin and Geralt's only half-aware of it until Jaskier is on his knees leaning over him, smiling down at him.

"You're in your head, love. Tell me what's bothering you."

"I don't want to fuck this up," he breathes, his words catching at the end as Jaskier brushes against that spot within him.

"Don't leave me again and we'll be fine." He smiles down at him and as Jaskier's lips brush against his, Geralt can't help the little smile that tugs at his lips.

"Never," he whispers. He groans as Jaskier presses deeper and Jaskier drops his head, bumping his forehead against Geralt's.

"Okay?" he breathes. Geralt nods. "You're very sensitive." He bumps his nose against Geralt's and shifts to breathe against his ear.

"Five months," Geralt mutters and Jaskier huffs a quiet laugh. He works into him, letting Geralt adjust to the intrusion before rubbing around his rim with a second.

Geralt rolls his head back, groaning at the stretch. Jaskier touches him gently, steadies him with a warm palm against his hip. Without it, Geralt feels like he might explode. He can't breathe with Jaskier's fingers inside him, can barely think straight. Somehow, over the winter, he'd forgotten how exceptionally talented Jaskier is with his hands and he's been missing this for months.

"Please," he whispers and he doesn't even know what he's asking for, but Jaskier crooks his fingers, rubbing against his prostate, and Geralt arches off the ground.

He's already pushing dangerously, embarrassingly close to the edge. Clearly, he's been more desperate than he thought. And he knows Jaskier can feel it, knows he'll do what he can to bring him off first, but tonight he wants Jaskier inside him, wants to wrap around him and never let him go. Not that he's going to argue with this, but-

"Not yet," he says, but his voice comes out rough and needy, clearly giving away his desperation.

"Oh darling, if you think you're only coming once tonight, you're mistaken," he leans down, letting his lips brush the shell of Geralt's ear. "It's been months for you and I've been stuck here with ancient farmers who can barely get it up and stable hands who come too soon and fuck right off. No darling, I think you and I are both deserving of a good fuck."

Jaskier thrusts into him again, shifting so his cock slides against Geralt's and all it takes is one well-aimed thrust before Geralt is coming. His eyes nearly roll back in his head and he bites down on his lip as he works through it, Jaskier's fingers still working slowly into him.

"Oh," he breathes, reaching up to lace his fingers through Jaskier's hair. He tugs his head up, earning him a cheeky smirk that's quickly wiped away as Geralt kisses him. Hard.

Jaskier moans into his mouth, slipping his tongue between Geralt's lips and dropping so he's pressed against his side. He doesn't let up, thrusting steadily into him even as his cock digs into Geralt's thigh. He's clearly wanting, and yet he's still giving Geralt pleasure first. Part of him wants to soak it all in, to bask in his continued affection, but he wants to give it more. He wants Jaskier to know he's repentant, to know exactly how he feels without having to stumble over the words to say it. Because words he's bad with, actions he can do.

Wrapping both arms around Jaskier's waist, he pulls him up onto him, lifting one knee to hold him in place. Jaskier chuckles softly, nipping at Geralt's bottom lip before drawing back.

"Impatient, darling?" he teases. Geralt just hums, reaching up to curl a hand around the back of his neck.

"Let me make you feel good."

"Oh, Geralt, you do." Jaskier dips, kissing down his chest until he's forced to readjust. He smiles up at him and Geralt grabs him again, hauls him down against him.

He gets a hand between them, wrapping around Jaskier's cock and stroking him gently. He's slow, steady, pressing his fingers into Jaskier's shoulder and squeezing around the head of his cock. Jaskier's breath is hot and wet where he buries his face in Geralt's neck and Geralt has fought soldiers and monsters alike, but he's never felt as powerful as he does with Jaskier in his arms, panting and moaning into his skin. Not as powerful and certainly not as wanted.

Jaskier shifts against him, bringing one hand up to tangle in Geralt's hair. He tugs lightly, apparently pleased with the guttural groan he gets in response, even if Geralt is embarrassed by his own neediness. Jaskier rolls his hips, pressing himself between Geralt's fingers with soft, muted moans. But when Geralt let's free his hand slip, cupping Jaskier's ass and encouraging the roll of his hips, Jaskier stutters to a stop. Geralt's head jerks up as Jaskier rises up off his chest, but Jaskier's expression is still soft when he looks down on him.

"Darling I appreciate that you want to make me feel good, and you do - gods, do you - but," he whispers, shifting onto all fours love him. Jaskier tips his head down, just low enough that his nose bumps Geralt's and Geralt could kiss him if he tilted his head just so. He doesn't, even when Jaskier's lips brush his own. "I want to fuck you tonight. I've been thinking about this for weeks and nothing is going to take you away from me now." He presses the softest kiss to Geralt's lips before drawing away and straightening up.

Knees press under his thighs and Jaskier lifts them, settling so Geralt's legs are draped over his own, spread wide and open for him. Even after so much time, he feels like he should be embarrassed to be seen like this, but Jaskier just makes him feel warm and safe and comfortable.

It feels like an eternity that Jaskier touches him, brushing his fingers along the insides of his thighs and slipping his fingers in and out, driving Geralt to madness. Then, just when he thinks he can't take it any longer, Jaskier relents. His cock is thicker than his fingers, smooth and hot and so fucking good after months of denial.

He presses in slow but steady, holding Geralt's hip with one hand and soothing him with the brush of his thumb against his skin. It's sweet and much-appreciated, but entirely unnecessary. Geralt is needy and wanting, desperate for Jaskier to just get on with it. His skin prickles as Jaskier sinks into him. He reaches up to him, wrapping his arms around his neck and drawing him closer.

As Jaskier settles, he shifts his hips, pressing against Geralt's prostate as he adjusts. Geralt's breath catches and there's a flash of something in Jaskier's eyes. He does it again. This time, Geralt groans loudly and when he arches off the ground, Jaskier slips an arm around the small of his back.

He lowers himself, holding Geralt close as he rolls his hips, slowly at first, but as Geralt reaches for him, grabbing at his shoulders, Jaskier picks up speed. He presses closer, kissing Geralt as he rocks into him and it's so good.

Geralt draws him close, hooking one knee over Jaskier's hip and wrapping his arms around him. Jaskier's body is warm despite the cool night air, soft under his hands, and Geralt's chest swells with an emotion he still barely recognizes in himself.

"Oh, love," Jaskier breathes. He kisses Geralt's jaw, nips at his lips. His breath is hot against Geralt's skin and it's what he focuses on to hold himself together. He feels like he's floating, so overwhelmed with emotion that he's not quite sure what to do with it. And when Jaskier whispers, "I've missed you," so soft and sweet and genuine, Geralt shatters.

He kisses him then, wrapping both legs around Jaskier's waist and pulling him against him. It doesn't matter if Jaskier can move or not, Geralt just wants him close, wants to be able to feel Jaskier's body against him, to know he's there.

They stay like that for some time, Geralt wrapped as tightly around him as he can be and Jaskier still rocking into him slowly. He's resting on his elbows now, fingers tangled in Geralt's hair as he kisses him all over. His cheeks, his jaw, his nose and, eventually, his lips. Jaskier moans as Geralt kisses back rough and desperate, the sound of which only serves to deepen his arousal.

He's already nearing the precipice again and when Jaskier pushes back up to his knees, the new position has him bumping up against that spot with every thrust. Geralt rolls his head back, hair tangling as he bares himself to Jaskier. He keeps one hand around Jaskier's neck, loathe to let him get far away and the other drops to clench around his cloak, groaning with each of Jaskier's thrust as pleasure zips up his spine.

Jaskier's fingers dig into his thighs and Geralt slumps back against the ground. Fuck, he'd forgotten how good it could be with someone you care about - not that he's been with anyone else. Jaskier slips one hand up, bracing himself on Geralt's chest with the other stays on his hip, squeezing and holding Geralt steady as he pounds into him.

He's mumbling, muffled by the way he bites at his bottom lip and drops his chin against his chest, but even through the buzzing in his head, he catches little bits of it. It's nothing out of the ordinary; just Jaskier telling him he's beautiful, that he missed him, that he's so fucking good, darling. But it hits differently tonight, knowing how close he was to losing this wonderful man and fucking up everything they've been through.

When he realizes Jaskier is close, Geralt reaches up to him, cups Jaskier's face in his hand with the last of his remaining strength. Jaskier lets out a little whine and turns into the touch, kissing the palm of his hand.

"Fuck," he groans and his hips stutter. Jaskier presses deeper, leaning over him, and their eyes meet for the briefest moment before he drops to kiss him.

It's rushed and sloppy and Geralt can feel the way Jaskier comes down from the rush as his kisses become slower, more precise. Geralt's fingers slip up through his hair and Jaskier hums as he eventually draws away. He settles against Geralt's chest, pressing his nose into his throat.

The warmth of his breath is calming and Geralt finds his eyes dropping shut. He slips an arm around Jaskier's waist, holding him a little more firmly against him. He won't let himself take this for granted again, he won't let himself do anything more to jeopardize whatever this is - even if it never goes further than this. Geralt is right on the verge of sleep when Jaskier slips away from him, chuckling lightly when Geralt groans at the loss.

"I know my love. As lovely as this is, the nights are still quite cold and the chill will set in soon." Geralt groans softly, making a half-hearted attempt to pull Jaskier back down. "Not yet, love. Come back home with me." He presses a kiss to Geralt's shoulder. "It's warm there and we can relax."

"You're not supposed to be back at the brothel?"

"I'm sure they'll get by without me for one night."

Jaskier rises up to his knees and Geralt shudders as the silk of his robe slides against his skin. His cock gives a twitch of interest and his eyes flutter shut again.

Despite his resistance, Geralt lets Jaskier coax him to his feet and he dresses quickly, picking his clothes out of the damp grass. Jaskier is already half-dressed and he watches Geralt closely as Geralt tugs his trousers up and struggles to get them laced up around his still-hard cock, the intensity of which does nothing to make Geralt's task any easier.

Once he's dressed again, albeit sloppily, Jaskier slips up close again, kissing him softly as he takes Geralt's hand. Jaskier leads him from the field through the streets, but Geralt could find his way around blind by now. He's spent more time in Hagge than any other city on the continent and he hardly needs to be given directions. But he likes the warmth of Jaskier's hand in his and he likes being able to step back and let someone else take the lead.

Jaskier is oddly quiet on the way there, but his scent and his demeanour tell Geralt that he's not upset, perhaps thoughtful. When the house rises up before them, Jaskier pauses and Gerlt halts with him. He waits as Jaskier comes around to face him, twisting the fingers of their free hands together.

"I want to make something clear," Jaskier says, meeting Geralt's eyes in a gesture that seems difficult for him. Geralt remains silent, fighting back a creeping fear that seeps into him. "I know you're a smart man, Geralt, but I also know that sometimes certain feelings stop us from thinking clearly. And after the winter, I-" he exhales slowly and looks up at him with more conviction. "This isn't about sex for me Geralt and it certainly isn't about getting paid. I- I've put aside every mark you've paid me. I haven't spent any of it in case you ever changed your mind about taking me with you."

Geralt's head swims. It's not about the sex for him, either. It hasn't been for ages if he's honest. He loves Jaskier, cares more deeply for him than he has for anyone in a long time. He wants to take him with him. But he doesn't know how to say any of this to Jaskier, so he lets his actions speak for him.

He surges forward, wrapping his arms around Jaskier's waist, and kisses the little oh of surprise from his lips. Jaskier laughs against him and winds his arms around Geralt's neck, using him as leverage to bring himself closer. He lingers for a long time before walking backward up the path and pulling Geralt with him.

They finally break apart just inside the door and Geralt's chest swells when he sees the flushed grin on Jaskier's face.

"It's not for me, either," he breathes and Jaskier seems to understand because his grin only broadens and he tugs Geralt close enough to shut the door behind him.

They stumble upstairs together, still wrapped up in each other, and the only reason Geralt lets go is because Jaskier's hands wander to his trousers and Geralt is eager to be rid of them again. He does his best to relax, but it's difficult with Jaskier's hands all over him. By the time Jaskier has him naked again, Geralt is fully hard again. He squirms as Jaskier presses up from behind, resting his chin on Geralt's shoulder.

"I hate to be the one to ruin the mood, darling, but I can't feel my toes and I'd very much like a bath right now." He kisses his shoulders and slips away. He shoves his shorts down over his hips tauntingly as he steps away and Geralt turns to watch him.

Jaskier is elegant, even when he's being a tease and he makes a show of filling the bath, bending low so that his robe slips up over his ass. It takes all of Geralt's control to keep from picking him up and taking him to bed immediately and he still finds himself drawn close before Jaskier is finished, winding his arms around his waist and bending over him. The robe has slipped from one shoulder and Geralt hums as he kisses the bare patch of skin there.

He moves one hand down, slipping beneath the hem of the robe to run up Jaskier's thigh and he gets a laugh in response.

"Okay," Jaskier grins, turning around to slide his hands up Geralt's chest, "come on then, impatient, let's get you into that tub."

Geralt doesn't need any more convincing than that and he climbs into the bath, sloshing the water as he sits down a little too quickly. Jaskier gets in after him, settling between his legs and leaning back against his chest. It's all Geralt can do not to rock up against him, especially when Jaskier leans back and kisses his neck, but he restrains himself. Instead, he slips his hands between Jaskier's thighs, running his fingers along the smooth skin there.

"I'm sorry I left you," he mumbles. "Really."

"I know," Jaskier says, "It took me a while to realize it, but when I saw you tonight... Don't leave like that again."

"I won't."

"But I suppose you'll be leaving again soon."

"Shortly, yes. I have to take care of something important for a friend. I'll be heading to Skellige."

"Oh wow, that's... far," Jaskier falters. There's a hesitancy in his voice that Geralt dislikes more than he should.

"Yeah, but I- I don't have to leave right away. If you like, I could stay? If you'd have me?" Jaskier pushes off of him and for a moment Geralt thinks he's overstepped, that he's said too much. But then, when Jaskier looks at him with big, shining eyes, he realizes that for once he might actually have done something right.

"My darling," Jaskier whispers, wrapping one hand around the back of Geralt's head. He tips forward, letting their lips brush just lightly before leaning into it and Geralt lets him despite his eagerness to know what he has to say. When he finally pulls away, he's smiling again. "My darling Geralt," he tries again, "it would be my absolute pleasure to have you stay with me."

[hollyhomburg]

Of Fire and Love (Pt. 3)

(Dragon! Yoongi x Reader) (Ft. Baby! Jungkook and Baby Dragon! Hoseok) (Dragon! Namjoon x Fairy! Jimin) 

Summary: When Dragon Yoongi finds baby Jungkook in the wreckage of a house he burned down, he can’t bring himself to kill the child. Months after someone drops a baby at your door, you start to notice something- or someone, lurking at the edge of your farm.

W/C: 9.3k

TAGS: anxious! hobi, Mentions of mates and soulbonds, Brief nudity, 

A/N: Hope you guys like this and are still interested in this story after so long between updates! the last few months have been kind of a struggle for me getting out of china during the coronavirus stuff, every single one of my family members was quarantined for 2 weeks besides me, but luckily none of them ever came down with the virus and they’re all okay! I hope we all are able to remain healthy in the next few months. 

Also, it’s worth noting that namjoon and Jimin's manor house is not on the map provided in chapter 2! That manor house is a different one! this chapter is a little heavier in the plot and family sweetness vs. the Yoongi x reader romance. hopefully, you don’t hate it! 

Part 1    Part 2 

- You have no idea what the dragon council will decide. If they’ll let you keep Hoseok or decide that it’s better if he remains with his own kind. and that- not the dragons you might meet or the thought of being in a city that hates your kind- is what scares you the most. 

- It’s a fear that Yoongi shares, but you try not to let it bother you- or to let Hoseok know that you’re scared. All of you ignore the possibility that Hoseok could be taken from you. But because of that, you also ignore the first missive summoning you to the council. 

- For the second missive, the council deemeds it best (given how Yoongi had received the first emissary) to send a messenger hawk. You ignore that letter as well, but the next one that comes delivered while the four of you are away for the day off to a nearby village for the few things that Yoongi can’t get via plundering, contains less than cordial language. 

- There is another smaller message tucked into the scroll, written personally for Yoongi and not ‘Yoongi windborne, commander of the western battalion’ or whatever title the council decided to give him after the last war (it hardly means anything- the dragon council’s garrison hasn’t been called in well over 100 years). 

- The note is small and in a scrawl he recognizes: Come and visit! Jimin misses you. I hear you have a son now? And a mate? We’d both love to meet them. Namjoon’s chicken scratch writing is still the same after all these years, Yoongi flips over the other side of the note. I’m trying my best, but I can only hold them off for so long – KNJ

- Though it’s been years since the last time they spoke, and even longer since they’d seen each other in person, Yoongi’s heartstrings tug uneasily as he thinks of Namjoon sticking up for him in front of the other councilmembers. Once upon a time, Namjoon had been one of Yoongi’s lieutenants, though they’d been much more than that, the horrible business of war binding them closer than friends and more like family. 

- He, Seokjin, and Namjoon had all found each other during the last war. yoongi had been without his family by that point, and searching for a cause- anything really- to occupy his eternity. Yoongi had been appointed as a commander after he’d been successful in a few minor battles. Namjoon had been assigned to his battalion, a dragon from the north with no formal training come south to prove himself.

-  Seokjin brought to the same place as a medic who owed allegiance to neither side and only wished to make the war less bloody. Yoongi was the only commander that allowed Seokjin into his camp, as he was stalwart about treating both sides, enemy and friend alike, and yoongi was the only commander who would support him doing both. They’d been fast friends, outcasts among the ranks, and they were friends still. 

- After the war they’d all scattered to different parts of the globe, Namjoon- because he had a dream- a dream to make the world better, and like all fools, had decided to go into politics. A mixture of grief and hopeful sorrow (and love- endless love) had driven Seokjin north.

- Yoongi still remembers it, the day that they’d paused on their march to join another battalion settled in for a warm afternoon in the human kingdom. the world so flat deep into orchard lands and taken refuge in peach fields that had turned to ashes in the coming months as the war had ravaged the countryside. He remembers hearing the shout, Seokjin leaping up from where he’d been reclined against Namjoon’s cool side, the dragon barely shifting let alone actually shifting. 

- Yoongi runs with Seokjin, seen the teen- the young man sitting below a ladder, a knife meant for cutting peaches from their tree embedded in his arm. he’d seen the way that Seokjin had looked at the man as he pulled it out, the wide boxy smile as the human marveled at Seokjin’s magic.

- There is a reason why Seokjin never comes south anymore, the peach fields remind him too much of Taehyung not to hurt.

- But maybe Taehyung and Seokjin’s story is better placed for a different time. 

- Yoongi like Seokjin, hadn’t wanted to go back to the city, too used to being on his own at that point. And still- the guile of war hadn’t ebbed the grief of losing his own parents. It’s rare now, that Yoongi thinks of them time finally healed those old wounds. When he looks at you- he knows he has a new family now, and this one he’s determined not to lose. 

- They’d lost contact mostly because of Namjoon’s appointment to the dragon council- a feat in its self for a lowborn tundra dragon from a tribe like Namjoon. Yoongi hadn’t bothered pushing the contact- knowing that they’d remain friends no matter how much time separated them. He’s glad that’s still true even now. 

- Over the next few days, Yoongi mulls it over, but he knows he can’t outrun the council forever. Fall has already gripped the mountains by the time Yoongi finally takes the four of you to the dragon city to meet with the council. 

- Both you and Jungkook greet the awaiting hundreds of thousands of dragons with something like mixed trepidation on your part and wonder on Jungkook’s. Hoseok is another matter: he clutches at your hand the whole flight to the city, both he and Jungkook tied tight between your legs for safety. And though Jungkook might nod off most of the time lulled to sleep by the gentle up and down movement of Yoongi’s back in the sky. Hoseok curls close to you, nuzzling into your shoulder periodically. Glad to be so close. 

- He can’t fly yet, but you know from the way his wide red eyes look at the puffy clouds that he’s feeling some sort of call to the wind that both you and Jungkook are immune too. 

- Well... maybe Jungkook feels it too in some way. When he’s awake and not curled up, he and Hoseok shout into each other's ears over the sound of the wind, sometimes holding out their hands in mock flight. 

- Your hands remain firmly around either of their waists, holding on harshly to a support rope in front of you. Somehow you don’t think you’re ever going to get used to flying, your stomach dipping with every new headwind. 

- The journey is long and hard- but you couldn’t imagine making it on foot if flying takes a week. The first two days you don’t escape the frozen mountains; you’re lucky for Yoongi’s warm back between your legs to keep you from really feeling the cold. You keep your same old shawl- the first one that Yoongi gave you wound tight around your neck. 

- before you’d left Jungkook had found his old baby blanket shoved deep in an old chest of Yoongi’s with a few old storybooks, It had surprised both you and Yoongi when he’d found it- and started wearing it much like you wear your shawl. “It has my name on it- so it must be mine” he’d said, proud over the fact that he could read. 

- Hoseok had looked a little shy and unsure, fingering the red scarf whenever he can, until you’d gone to the nearby village to get some supplies for your journey and gotten him a matching one. Though his is blue so dark it’s nearly black, and has a hood that he can tug up to hid his horns if he ever needs too! 

- He’d hopped up and down when you’d given it to him, wanting you to scent it before he put it on, snuggling down into in and hiding his mouth in it with a little happy dragon noise. He and Jungkook look like quite the pair, Jungkook’s black hair and red shawl, and Hoseok with his red hair and black shawl. 

- You pass over woods on the other side of the mountain range, dotted with waterfalls and visible streams that grow over the next few days into rivers that wind in and out of view. You start to spy hollows and carefully carved out dens in the few mountains you pass, or even nests. You pass over tall hills dotted with red poppy fields and farmland, and even camp in one late at night. 

- The tall blooms hanging over your heads as you sleep in your sleeping bags. you wake at first light with red petals dotting your hair, Jungkook and Hoseok sleeping on as Yoongi slowly picks them out, giving you a kiss to your face and chest for everyone. Ending his morning kisses with a scalding one just over your heart. 

- When the little settlements that dot the countryside start to grow more numerous, more like large towns, Yoongi flies higher just to stay out of sight of the others of his kind.

- He doesn’t know how your and Jungkook’s presence so deep into dragon lands will be received, especially out here in the country where many are loathed to forget any of the wars in recent memory or the one that’s currently blooming. The citizens of the dragon city, on the other hand, are far more accepting, even overly curious if Yoongi remembers well- it’s been about 100 years since he last set foot in it, things could have changed. 

- But Yoongi is still a little too worried for comfort, the last time that you land to make camp, everyone can feel how tense it is. It must be the hardest for Hoseok, already wound tight by anxiety and further stressed out by Yoongi’s off-putting scent of discomfort. The youngling spends the whole night shifted and scent marking both you and Jungkook, huffing every time either of you try to move away from him.

- There are some precautions that they have to take before you enter the city limits. Both you and Jungkook are carefully scent marked and each given something of Yoongi’s to wear as claiming items. Yoongi gives each of you a bracelet made from one of his shiny black scales that he made a few weeks ago. Any dragons that see you will know you’re claimed and spoken for- even if he turns away for a moment and you’re caught without them.

- In the end, it’s only the curiosity of what Yoongi is doing that makes Hoseok shift. Hoseok sweetly makes both of you one too- though his are rougher and not quite as elegant- a simple twine necklace with one of his red feathers for each of you to wear around your necks- that way everyone will know you’re apart of Hoseok’s family too. 

- “Do you like it?” he asks after he steps up to where your legs are crossed around the campfire and puts the long string around your neck, you wrap your arms around him and pull him into your lap. Making him erupt into giggles “I love it Hobi I’m never going to take it off” he presses his cheek to the top of your head, scent-marking you before he darts away to give Jungkook his. 

- on the day you enter the city, Yoongi is careful to circle the city from above, you can smell the ocean even if you can’t see it yet high above the clouds. He’d warned you before- to hold on, that entering might require some fancy flying. When you first breach the cloud line from above- you’re shocked, what you first assume is a cloud of brightly colored birds grows in size as Yoongi falls into the steepest dive he dares with you on his back, gliding into a slow spiral down.

- You’re glad you’re a little too scared from the dive to even look around- or else you’re sure that the sheer number and dimorphism would scare you. you break through the second layer of clouds and the city rises up to meet you. 

- The city is in the center of a massive island miles across, on one side of it- the city rises up slowly to the edge of a cliff, a tall castle at the highest point. But even on the other side, you can see the cliffs are dotted with hanging buildings. On the less steep side of the city, tall buildings are wound through with canals, colorful ships docking to unload their wears from far off lands.

- You’ve never seen so much glass in one place, in the human realms, glass is costly and usually used sparingly- but this castle is nearly made of the stuff, piercing the sky like a faceted quartz crystal. The city it’s self-looks almost like a human city if not for the taller towers, landing pads, and wider roofs for sunbathing dotted with Jem colored scaly beings that look lazily at the sky when Yoongi descends. 

- You’d never realized how Yoongi might compare to others of his species, but even here- his black wings seem to block out the sun, he’s easily twice as large as the average size. luckily none of them fly too near to you- the thousands of dragons dotting the sky too preoccupied with their own destinations to wonder at yours. 

- You’re glad you’re a little too scared from the dive to even look around- or else you’re sure that the sheer number and dimorphism would scare you. 

- The entire fiasco of landing takes about a minute but feels longer.

-  When you land, it’s in a square in the shroud of the castle with steep walls and a large hall- faceted like a cut stone. The wide black landing pad is tiled with white stones in the shape of a coat of arms. The hexagonal black stones are warm underfoot as you slide off of Yoongi’s back the insignia- whatever it might be, indiscernible now that you’re at ground level.

- Attendants rush forward, some of them puzzled and others, who recognize Yoongi dropping into deep bows. 

- Though Jungkook had been excited when he’d first learned that there was a whole city full of dragons- now he’s shy, tucks himself into your legs when you slide onto the stone. Hoseok falls into a flurry of feathers, shifts halfway down Yoongi’s back and steps in front of both of you, his feathers raised and puffed up to make himself look larger. 

- It’s strange, you’d never imagined the different ways in which dragoness could present its self In human form but now you see there is some sort of dimorphism between shifting species. A young woman with wings rushes forward as if to take your bags, but halts when Hoseok hisses at her. There is even one with a tail poking out from underneath her skirt, and a group of small soldiers who look more dragon than human even though they’re still bipedal.   

- A pretty looking soldier with silver scales sparkling along his shoulders like the armor he also wears steps up, a spear held in his shaking hands not at the ready, but held almost as if he is unsure of the threat. Yoongi steps in front of the three of you smoothly- the shift ending with a flap of his robes, suddenly toe to toe with the soldier who looks like he’s about to faint, eyes widening at the sight of Yoongi’s human form. 

- He’s quick to drop the spear, and back up, you almost think you see Yoongi smirk. “I am Yoongi Windborne, victor to the battles of frozen fires, of tialug pass, the stolen city, Commander of the eastern battalion and victor to the 33 year war, I have come to the council when summoned, take me to them.” 

- A dragon woman with no visible mark beyond her slanted emerald eyes steps forward, the pin on her chest of a large fire-filled flower (what you decide you must have seen in the center of the coat of arms. Later Yoongi will tell you it’s the symbol of the council) she introduces herself as The main caretaker of the castle and drops into an elegant bow “I will take you to them master, follow me.” 

- The palace guards recede; Hoseok sifts back and straightens, Yoongi nods and then gestures with his hands for you to follow without turning from the woman. You would reach out and take his hand if it weren’t for Jungkook and Hoseok clutching either of yours. Jungkook is wide-eyed and a little bit frightened, but his wide brown eyes dart to take in absolutely everything he can. Hoseok is still and as tightly wound as a statue, his back rim rod straight holding your hand so tightly in both of his that it’s starting to hurt.

- “Your family may wait here,” the caretaker says, as you break out into a small antechamber. It’s a little enchanting, the open-air courtyard with a raised pool in the center pastel colored fish swimming lazily in the clear water. Great bushels of puffy pink flowers hang from the ceiling above- giving the whole thing an almost cloudlike aesthetic, small glass orbs hang periodically that seem to glow dully with muted light hang on unseen strings. 

- “I’ll give you a second to settle in,” the caretaker says then turns her back to the two of you, farther on down the hallway you can barely hear it, the sound of clamoring voices and a small shout, a loud booming laugh. You figure you must not be far from the council room.  

- Your boys look up at you, and you lean down, pressing a kiss to either of their for heads. “Would you give your father and I a minute?” they both nod, their mismatched black and red curls bobbing as Hoseok transfers his death grip from your hand to Jungkook’s and lets the younger pull him in the direction of the pool. 

- Hoseok holds onto Jungkook, smiling down at Jungkook when he says something about the fish, the elder trying to stop the younger as he tries to climb up and over the ledge and into the pool, laughing when Jungkook pouts, “Don’t let them take him Yoongi- please- I can’t- if they do-” 

- Yoongi shushes you gently, his wide hands combing over the back of your hair. He makes a comforting noise in the back of his throat. But his grip is tight, his body too tense to be entirely comforting. “I won’t let that happen, I promise” You nod, hold onto him extra tightly. Yoongi leans forward to scent mark dully against your cheek. The slow circles he draws with his nose tempting a watery giggle. 

- He leans back, pressing his forehead against yours hard, eyes opening, more resolved, a rage you’ve never seen in his eyes before. You imagine not for the first time what he must have been before you. You always see Yoongi so soft its easy to forget he once lived the life of a warrior. His eyes flash with a rabid hidden fire, something that flares to consume and destroy. 

- But it’s gone as quickly as it comes, his eyes softening once they focus on you. The giggles from Hoseok and Jungkook dancing along the tiled wall of the pool distracting him. 

 - “I’d burn down the whole city before I let them hurt you.” 

- Together the two of you walk towards your children. You pull Jungkook away to a corner, wanting to look out over the city and the wide windows. Leaving Hoseok and Yoongi to talk. 

- Yoongi crouches down to Hoseok’s level and hugs him tightly, the flechling holds back twice as hard. “My little flechling” Yoongi says, barely keeping his tears at bay. The words tugging out of him before he can think better on it…but there are some things that need to be said. yoongi might not have a chance after today. 

- He hopes, not for the first time- that he’s not fucking this whole father thing up. He hopes he’s Judging correctly that Hoseok even so small and young will be able to make this choice. 

- With everything he’s been through, he deserves to be treated like a grown-up but protected and cared for like the child he is. What Hoseok wants matters the most in this, regardless of what you and Yoongi want.  

- Yoongi knows that Hoseok hasn’t had an easy few months- not by a long shot, losing his family and the long months of healing had been hard. But yoongi hopes that they’ve done the best that they could.

- “You know how much I care for you, how much Jungkook and y/n care for you too, we love you and we want you to stay but none of that matters if you want-“ Yoongi’s voice falters, and he doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence before Hoseok is tugging back with a vice-like grip shanking his little head back and forth furiously knowing Yoongi’s words before he’s spoken them, little curls bobbing and flopping up to curl against his golden horns. 

- “I want to stay- I want to stay with you and them, please- please don’t let them take me away.” he cries, clutching onto the back of Yoongi’s neck. 

- Yoongi strokes down his back carefully, his arms a cage around his son to protect him from all that would harm the young dragon. Their horns knock together a little, as Hoseok scent marks Yoongi in the clumsy little kid sort of way that makes Yoongi’s heart clench painfully.

- “Of course not, I’d never let them take you from us hobi, i promise” from the corner, Jungkook giggles and calls for Hobi to come and see the view of the city below, oblivious, half hanging out of the window and probably in danger of falling if it weren’t for your hand fisted in the back of his shirt. Hoseok nods, and Yoongi knocks their foreheads together once before he lets Hoseok go, his hand lingering on Hoseok’s small shoulder for just a moment longer.  

- Yoongi is ready to face them. 

- The Dragon Council quiets when Yoongi enters, some of them even stand while the caretaker announces him by rank and title. Yoongi himself even rolls his eyes at a few of them- the council and their formalities must have anointed him with more than a few in his absence from the city. The council room is the same as yoongi remembered it. The sealing is hexagonal and faceted with glass like a jewel, the councils two dozen seats set up a few feet so that whoever remains in the anti-chamber below to meet with them needs to look up to make eye contact. 

- He spots his old friend in the crowd, Yoongi sees the ice drakes face breaks out into a happy smile at the sight of him. Namjoon’s chair falling back as he stands up too quickly at the sight of his long lost friend. A smile that Yoongi returns with barely a press of his lips- later, there will be time for a more solid hello. 

- The discussion and clamor is almost immediate. Yoongi quickly needs to reign in his temper. 

- “While it’s not unheard of for human’s to be apart of a hoard, it is a little unconventional. Are we certain Yoongi is the best caretaker for the flechling? Should he not be put with some of his own kind? Someone with more natural inclinations?” 

- Before Yoongi has a chance to growl out his anger at the impertinence and the disrespect they’re showing you- his mate- and not just a thing- Namjoon speaks up for him. The air chills in the wide throne room as Namjoon’s temper spikes. 

- “You seem to discount Yoongi’s loyalty to us, despite the fact that it’s not in his natural inclinations.” namjoon throws their words back in their face,  Namjoon is right, Most solitary species of dragons are more likely to tell the council to fuck off rather than follow their thinly veiled orders framed as requests.  

- “He’s never hesitated to come at your beck and call. If he wants to look after him and the flechling also wants to stay with his adopted family, I vote to allow him that, and transfer custody of the child to Yoongi.”

- Namjoon has gotten far more eloquent during his time as a councilman, Yoongi realizes. As he watches the way that Namjoon takes the room's attention and focuses it. There is barely a trickle of his northerner drawl left in his voice. He’s not the same rough winged and backwater hatchling Yoongi had first met- nor the battle-hardened soldier he’d left on the edge of the city limits all those years ago. Namjoon’s done well for himself. 

- “Also, he’s been verry clear during his explanation that the human woman is his mate Jaebeom- would you forgive such disrespect if the same indifference was shown to your mate?” the other dragon growls in reply and then mumbles something about Namjoon’s own choice of mate being unconventional at best and a conflict of interest at worst, but Namjoon is stalwart. 

- “There is another nuance to this issue as well, there are proper channels for this sort of thing, I for the life of me can’t imagine why Yoongi did not bring the child to us when he first found him and instead left us to find out that he’d been illegally harboring the child-“ 

- Yoongi’s voice is a growl as he interrupts, “my s- Hoseok was injured, councilwoman, I assure you legal formalities were the last thing on our minds when we first found him.”

- That prompts a whole other vein of discussion. “A human healing a dragon? how preposterous!” “How do we know that she even healed him well enough?” “The fledglings flight abilities could be at stake! We must have him looked over by the healers at once” “You definitely should have brought him here if he was injured- the only ones who could heal him properly is us.” 

- “I think we need to ask the child what he wants.” Comes the final vote, from an elderly woman in the back, she’s been a member of the council for most of her life and the wings that drag behind her when she stands are blown through with arrow holes and rustle like delicate paper. Yoongi wonders if she can even fly anymore. 

- Not too surprisingly, you refuse to let Hoseok go into the chamber alone, and Jungkook too because you won’t let Jungkook be alone in a strange place either. Your family files into the room, and though more than one of the council members seem to view your very presence to be an insult the rest of them seem to relax momentarily. 

- And of course, it helps that Hoseok enters the council room in his dragon form, makes them seem more at ease somehow, like they where worried he was being forced to stay in his human form (but come on really? You can’t help but be a little indignant at that.)

- At first, Hoseok will not step into the middle of the room, won’t leave your side by where you stand with Yoongi. you stoop to put a hand on his back, “Hobi it’s okay honey they just want to talk to you” Hoseok lets out a pained whine that makes more than one dragon in the room stiffen, you too, your hand smoothing over his feathered wing as they flutter a little agitatedly, snapping once. “I’ll go with him mom,” Jungkook says, tugging on the little mane of feathers on Hobi’s neck and leading him into the middle of the room.

- Hoseok goes, needing to be reassured every few feet by a soft word from Jungkook but he gets to the small raised circle, a podium just large enough for both of them to stand, without much fuss even though Hoseok looks like he’s about to bolt. 

- “They seem to have a close bond” one of the council members notes to the open room, the awaiting dragons appraise Jungkook and Hoseok with every step. Hoseok holds the end of Jungkook’s scarf in his mouth for comfort. 

- The closer they get to the Centre the more Hoseok shakes, his feathers standing on end making him look twice as puffed up. “We are! He’s my best friend!” Jungkook chirps, unbothered by the council members' scrutiny.  some seem to bristle at Jungkook’s enthusiastic response and Namjoon stifles a snort, raising his eyebrows in Yoongi’s direction. the look seems to say “a spunky one you’ve got there” Yoongi barely suppresses a grin. 

- “Will you be shifting any time soon?” a councilman snaps out when they’ve been hovering in the center of the room for a few seconds, Yoongi is careful to grab your arm tightly, making the snarky response die in your throat as a growl of his own ripples out of his throat. The look he sends you is apologetic, but you interfering will likely make it worse. Yoongi’s hand remains tight on your forearm, his thumb rubbing in soothing circles. 

- “Sorry, it will only take a second,” Jungkook says, answering for the two of them Surprising both you and Yoongi. Maybe it’s something in the way that Jungkook says the words you think. Maybe it’s the unwavering trust that Hoseok has in Jungkook or the fact that he was the first one to crack through Hoseok’s shell when he’d come into your care. You have to admit- you have no idea what’s happening, and neither does Yoongi really, as Jungkook cups Hoseok’s cheeks in his hands. 

- In dragon form, Hoseok’s head rises at just about eye level with Jungkook. The younger presses their foreheads together for a second the same way they always do. The council watches with confused looks at first and then wide eyes, the elder council woman’s eyes hardening and her hands tightening over her walking cane, her eyes bright as she looks down upon them. 

- The council watches with bated breath as Jungkook presses his forehead against Hoseok’s hard,  “Hobi, shift.” he commands, his quiet voice lingering in the dead silence of the chamber. By the time Jungkook pulls back Hoseok’s red hair is tangling with his black, and he blinks, suddenly more clearheaded as he peers up at the council. “Sorry, I can’t- I’m not so good at shifting still and Jungkook helps me when I need it.” 

- You can’t imagine when before you’d seen it and then you remember- months ago- when that dragon had almost attacked the three of you, you and Yoongi had been busy with your bruises while Jungkook had gotten Hobi to shift. You can’t imagine what just happened really, but there must be some significance, whereas before most if not all of the council had held ire in their gazes when they looked at Jungkook- now their eyes are wide with shock and curiosity. 

- You don’t like it, the way they stare at them like some sort of novelty. You watch from beside Yoongi, his hand fisted in the fabric at the small of your back, he can tell your whole body is fighting to go to your sons and put your body between the two of them, but he holds you tight to his side, knowing if you interfere you’ll only make it worse. 

- “Well that settles it,” the councilwoman says, and almost immediately the others try to jump in, she raises her hand though and they fall silent, “all of you know as well as I do, that to separate a soulbond could spell certain death for either of them, if the hatchling has chosen the human boy then we need to respect it.”

- A soul bond? What is that? You want to wonder out loud, but if the faint widening of Yoongi’s eyes is anything to go by, it must be a big deal. That you might not have understood but it seems mostly unanimous, the few dragons who seem displeased are overridden by the vast majority who seem to be in agreement. 

- As quickly as you’ve been summoned, you’re asked to leave, a little more politely albeit. Yoongi is asked to stay however, and he leads you to the door nodding that he’ll only be another minute or so before he can rejoin you. 

- “How do you do that Jungkook?” you ask as you leave, one of your son's hands in each of your own, Hoseok’s is sweaty. Jungkook just shrugs looking a little indigent in the way that only a 6-year-old can muster. “I don’t know? Do you think they’ll have food for us when we get back? I’m kind of hungry.” you give Hoseok a look and he shrugs his small shoulders, “it’s just easier when he asks, it’s like, I can’t do it when I ask my body too but it listens to him,” you make a noise in the back of your throat. 

- As it turns out, those few minutes really are a few hours, there is a fair amount to discuss. Despite the grumblings and arguing that extends well into the day, Yoongi is allowed to keep Hoseok as his charge as long as he agrees to yearly check in’s with the council, and quarterly medical check-ups to make sure his ability to fly is not impeded by his past injury as he grows into adulthood, and to introduce him to more of his kind whenever possible. 

- There is another matter too, most younglings go to some sort of vocational school if they live within the city limits, magic school (if they’re so inclined like Yoongi was) or at least flight school so that they can learn best how to control their larger scaly forms. Normally, if they live outside of the city limits, schooling is left up to their parent’s discretion, but Hoseok- with his injured wing- is a special case. 

- “The fledgling will be under mandatory schooling for 2 months out of the year, whenever his parents decide, during which time he will socialize with his own kind, and complete certain physical exams to ensure his body is developing correctly despite the injury, and learn to fight.” 

- The burst of flame is almost immediate, as well as Yoongi’s rippling snarl that seems to shake the walls and make the windowpanes of the room rattle in their casings. When the smoke clears, Yoongi is toe to toe with the old councilman who has spoken the final missive- or sentencing, depending on your viewpoint. 

- In the antechamber down the hall, you notice the glass orbs that hang from the ceiling swaying slightly though your children do not. You gnaw on your lower lip, sending the closed door, and the guard that's come to stand outside of it- with an anxious glance.  

- “My child will not- under any circumstance- learn to fight- just so you can make him some soldier in your armies the same way you did to me. That, over everything else I will not allow.” He spits, fire dripping from his mouth even in human form.

- The old councilman cocks an eyebrow in Yoongi’s direction, unperturbed by his show of aggression, “this is our final say, take it- or leave the child in our care.” the threat hangs in the air for a second, everyone’s hair sticking on end, Yoongi’s hands tighten on the edge of the podium, breaking the edge away from the rest of the stone the rest of the podium creaking under his strength. Namjoon at the far end of the table- even stands up as if to come between Yoongi.

- With another snarl, Yoongi hurls the stone at the nearest window, which shatters in a fantastic splay of glass, then turns and walks away from the council- knowing that really- he has no other choice. behind him, he hears someone say something that sounds suspiciously like “overgrown baby” and “temper tantrum.”

- Yoongi’s temper has barely dissipated by the time he reaches your antechamber but is immediately cooled into syrupy warm sweetness when he sees the sight that greets him.

- There is a small food cart in the waiting room where he left you, though it looks absolutely raided. The honey cakes and small sandwiches taken apart by little fingers. Another plate only holds crumbs now, a small pile of tangerine peals piled on the floor (where Jungkook and Hoseok had sat and played a game while you’d paced and worried over the fate of your family).

- The fish in the pool now firmly in hiding after the last hour of terror inflicted on them by the two boys that are now taking a rest on the padded chaise lounge in the corner. Jungkook is piled with his head on your stomach the lower half of his pants soaked to the bone, his sticky face pressed to your stomach. The 6-year-old is never one to forget a nap, especially on a mid-afternoon as warm as this. The light from the dying sun making the room rosy and golden.

- Hoseok, on the other hand, is stretched out lengthwise, his head rested on your shoulder while you recline propped up a little on the velvet pillow. His eyes are barely open as you stroke down his back and over his hair. You hum something soft and melodic and relaxing as Hoseok holds you tightly around your middle. Hoseok sits up at the sound of Yoongi’s footsteps, the softness of your lilting lullaby silences. And Yoongi finally lets his smile break out.

- He holds his arms open, “come here Hobi” he says, and the youngling breaks out into a run, fully waking Jungkook. All of you pile in around Hoseok, squeezing the life out of him as the words spill from Yoongi’s mouth “you’re ours- you’re ours” and Hoseok happily snuggling into your tummy, then Jungkook’s head.

- “Okay! I can’t breathe! Stop squeezing so hard!” he says eventually, and you all separate from him with a few lingering touches, and Hoseok feels snuggled down and happy like he’s safer than he’s been in the last few months. Hoseok holds on a tiny bit, pressing his cheek to the side of your leg and holding around your knee, unwilling to let go even now.

- Before any of you can talk even further about what you might do next, or where you might be staying tonight, long confidant strides echo down the hallway as the council seems to get louder, stopped for a break perhaps or adjourned for the day, and a massive man in a dark blue robe rounds the corner.  

- You barely catch the sight of his slicked-back silver hair- and his icy blue eyes before he swoops up your mate into a bone-crushing hug. Yoongi actually squeaks- though the sound is more of a result of all of the air being crushed from his lungs by those iron looking arms. “Min- fucking- Yoongi- you asshole making me wait that long” the much taller man starts talking a mile a minute before your mate has a chance to respond beyond a wide grin. The kind of look you thought was reserved for you and your family but- whoever he is they must be close.

- “You should have told me you where coming! And not just wiped into the council room like that- but honestly- it was worth it to see the looks on their faces- how are you? How was your journey? Jimin will be so happy to see you!” Namjoon withdrawals- knocking foreheads with him once and quickly before he pulls apart, though your mates face is equally as smiley, showing his gums and slight fangs “councilman Namjoon- who would have thought they would let a low blood like you join their ranks,” he teases.

- The grin Namjoon returns, looking down shyly- “it wasn’t easy- but I think I’m finally starting to make some headway with how they treat the lower races- oh!” he brakes off, suddenly looking down, “who might this be?” Jungkook peers up with him with wide eyes, still tugging on the long embroidered edge of Namjoon’s robes. 

- “Excuse me!” Jungkook chirps, “I was wondering how you got so tall?” Yoongi stifles a laugh, you smile, and you can finally see the small nubby horns poking out of the top of Namjoon’s head start to turn from their silver that blends in with his hair- to a slight pink. Namjoon casts Yoongi an anxious glance, both of you stifle your giggles. “Ugh? Vegetables? I guess?”

- Jungkook makes a scowling face. His nose scrunching up cutely. “I was hoping you wouldn’t say that” Jungkook grabs Namjoon’s hand, giving it a little shake, “I’m Jungkook,” Namjoon looks a little bewildered but gives it a shake back, prompting both you and Yoongi to fall into giggles. “I’m Namjoon?” his sharp icy blue eyes flicker from Jungkook to Hoseok, who gives Namjoon a likewise small smile and a handshake, his small hand dwarfed by Namjoon’s large one. 

- “You must be Hoseok and Y/n, it’s a pleasure to meet both of you as well” you hold out your hand and Namjoon stoops low to press his forehead against it- a strange thing- you’d almost been expecting him to kiss it. Later, Yoongi will tell you that it’s customary for other dragons to greet each other's mates that way, so as to not incidentally scent mark them with a hug, or a more familial press of a forehead to the others. 

- Eventually, the conversation shifts to your plans for the rest of the stay in the dragon city. When Yoongi lets slip that you haven’t found a boarding house for tonight yet Namjoon invites you to stay at his manor house as long as you need. He doesn’t take no for an answer either, no matter how Yoongi tries to back out of it. 

- The sun already set so you can’t exactly see everything but the moon hangs over the sea like an old friend, lulling the three of you on Yoongi’s back into the soft wakefulness that only a stressful day can bring. Yoongi and Namjoon are  two opposites, Namjoon’s wings taking in the moonlight and almost reflect it, whereas Yoongi is an unseen shadow as he follows the lighter colored and smaller dragon east until the city’s glow is faint on the horizon.

- The yellow light of windows dot the countryside along with other mansions, Yoongi tells you later that most of the councilmen prefer to live within the city limits, but Namjoon felt he needed a little more breathing room. 

- The manor house (or small castle really) is built for a dragon, tall windows with shutters and tall glass windows. it’s bricked not with red stone but smooth white river stones stacked on each other. It’s extensive gardens and pathways extend all the way to the edge of the Seacliff, the ocean turning below a spare 50 feet from the back patio. 

- a massive greenhouse swallows the western edge of the building, almost dwarfing the manor house, it’s so dark and dense with foliage that you barely see it until you land in the lawn, the grass tall and speckled through with wildflowers turned grey in the ample moonlight is soft underfoot. when you slide off of Yoongi’s back to land softly. 

- It’s late enough that neither Namjoon or Yoongi protest when you decide to turn in basically the second you make it into Namjoon’s entryway. The head housekeeper is a kind-looking woman with a cloud of curly hair that almost hides her dark brown horns, her eyes almost as orange as the candlelight, pressing you to take all of your things up to the guest wing while a youth helps her carry your bags. 

- Both of your sons rub their eyes sleepily, almost knocking into one of the tall vases full of flowers tucked into the alcove by the door. And the though Hoseok furiously apologizes no one seems too mad at him, the housekeeper seems to look at them with softness too, Hoseok basically holding Jungkook up, something else in her eyes as she looks to you and offers to bring up some soup and some warm milk as well. 

- Yoongi holds gently to your arm as an attendant helps Namjoon divest of his councilmen’s robes, your sons already trudging up the stairs after the woman who helped you with your things. “I think Namjoon and I have some catching up to do, will you be alright with the boys?” Namjoon chimes in “our guest suite is extremely comfortable- if you need anything please tell Muji and she’ll get you whatever you need.  

- You nod slowly at namjoon, Yoongi’s hand coming up to grip yours lightly on the railing of the staircase. “Of course,” you say, putting your hands on his shoulders, leaning in to give him a kiss that he returns soft, his hands splaying on your hips, hands twiddling with the lacing that sits on the small of your back. “Enjoy your talk you old lizards” you tease, making yoongi and Namjoon laugh. You head up the wide staircase, 

- Namjoon’s house is lit with enough of those glowing orbs that you don’t need a candle to see, and below you hear Namjoon mutter to Yoongi, “to think after all these years you’ve finally found one to make you soft” “oh shut it Joon- you’re twice as bad if not worse with jimin.”  

- The guest wing in Namjoon’s house is comfortable with a main bedroom, a secondary bedroom with two smaller beds, a study, a sitting room, a bathroom, and a balcony that looks over the ocean the door already open to let in the cool sea breeze and alleviate some of the balmy heat that lingers from the day.  Hoseok and Jungkook are a little more subdued in their exploring. Now that you think about it- you realize you’ve never stayed in a house this grand. 

- Your old cottage was a hovel, and your student dorm at the medical school you’d attended only slightly worse, even when you’d been a child, you’d been passed from relative to relative, always shoved in back rooms or closets for space. You’d never- not until Yoongi- really been given enough space. 

- It’s not that you were abused or mistreated, it just that having such a large family in such a world with so little hardly made it easy. You rarely think about your family now, or what little of it might remain. You hadn’t been well taken care of as a kid, left mostly to your own devices, and you don’t feel guilty- you never have, for suddenly disappearing with Yoongi a little over 3 years ago.  

- But oh, how different your life is now, how different a life you’re giving your children. Hoseok shifts and climbs onto the big bed in the main bedroom. “careful of your claws Hobi” you remind him as he settles with a humph in the generous display of velvet throw pillows perfectly arranged at the headboard. Jungkook beside you lists into your leg and you tug him up into your arms, nearly already asleep and relaxing against you fully.

- Hoseok only wakes when the housekeeper shows, plopping a bowl of soup and some bread on the small table and setting down a dish of warm milk on the bedside table. Hoseok’s snout pokes out from under the pillows and he hums in thanks, his tongue darting out to lap it up.  

- You thank her while you try to wrestle Jungkook into some pajamas, the youngers so uncoordinated in his sleepiness, you don’t realize until you’re in-between the rich sheets and pressed to the cloudlike softness of the mattress that it’s the first time you’ve slept in a real bed in a few years.

- You also realize you’d seen hide nor hair of Namjoon’s mate, but you guess that can wait for tomorrow. Yoongi’s told you more than a few stories about the dragon and fairy couple, and you’d begun to look forward to meeting Jimin a little bit.

- In your sleep, you dream you’re running through a garden, searching along the edge of a camellia path for someone, something, red and white and pink flowers leading the way. You hasten into a run and break out into a wide space, a dark curly colored head shoots up, hands hovering over a lily blossom, dark eyes on you.

- “You shouldn’t be here.” he says, voice deep and melodic. his lips purse, and he plucks one petal of the lily, you watch as the petal hardens to glass in his hands, shattering with a tinkle when he drops it. “but I guess I’ll be glad for some company after so long.”

- You wake with a start, the sun shining through the open balcony doors and the smell of lily’s stinging your nose, the sea ebbs and flows the lul of crashing waves clams your sudden panic. Yoongi’s face pressed into the nape of your neck. He grumbles when you sit up, pulling you back in close, “too early” he mumbles, pressing slow and sleepy kisses against your bare shoulder, the strap of your nightgown slipped down. You don’t remember when he came in, but you guess it must have been late.

- You turn to press a kiss to his sleepy face, eyes still closed, his mouth tugging up into the gummy smile that you love so much as you cuddle in closer. But your bed is suspiciously cold and absent of your children, and you know with a new place to explore they must have been too excited to sleep, you internally blanch when you think of the mischief they must be getting up to.

- but the bed is warm and even more comfortable When Yoongi grumbles and turns to scent mark you, and you hope that namjoon or the housekeeper is keeping an eye on them, at least for a little while longer so you can enjoy a quiet morning with yoongi. The events of yesterday come crashing down on your shoulders like a lead weight. yoongi stills by your throat, sensing your sudden discomfort. You ask Yoongi about the soul bond.

- he sits back against the pillows tugging you close to rest your cheek on his bare chest. his rough hands drawing aimless circles on the skin of your back. “It’s an old kind of magic Usually between two dragons not of the same family. it’s kind of an assurance to keep groups together really.  It’s been a long time since they’ve regularly happened- and usually- it only happens when dragons are under stress” he looks down at you where you pepper kisses on his chest. “Now that I think about it, it kind of makes sense that Hoseok would need one after losing his family.”

- “Is it usually romantic or platonic??” you ask, feeling something strange curl in your stomach, trepidation maybe “it’s not like a mating mark is it?” you can’t help but feel like you’re out of your depth here, there is so much information about dragon kind that you’d been unaware of. you hadn’t realized how little you’d known about their basic political system or even their education system until you came to the city and heard about the flying school and magic academy.  

- “No, it’s platonic mostly- it’s more like-” Yoongi gives a frustrated sigh “Namjoon has a soul bonded partner that isn’t Jimin- you know Seokjin-“ “your sorcerer friend that I haven’t gotten around to meeting yet? how many others do you have across the globe that you won’t introduce me to?” 

-Yoongi nips at your jaw playfully, “can you really blame me for wanting to keep you to myself my love?” he growls, suddenly flipping you over and pressing your back into the soft mattress, his hand riching up your thigh- taking your nightgown with it.  the pads of his fingers are careful and slow as they press in. 

- By the time you and Yoongi truly rouse to join the rest of the house for breakfast on the patio, your sons have absolutely terrorized the staff and Namjoon, who seems to eye them with something like appreciation, the book in front of him forgotten. Watching from the head of the table with amusement as Hoseok shifts to be able to reach across the table for more butter better and then shifts back. 

- The fresh bread smells sweet and cinnamony and Jungkook seems to already have eaten his fill with sweet elderberry preserve smeared across his face. Jungkook prattles to namjoon a mile a minute and asks about a billion questions about the ocean, mermaids, and pirates from the sound of it.

- He drops off abruptly and smiles when you and yoongi appear from the double doors. “mom you gotta try this it’s so yummy!”  Hoseok pouts back, “I’m telling you the strawberry is better,” he holds out a little peace for you to try and the lump of jam slides off the side and onto the table cloth. 

- You apologize for the mess but the same head housekeeper just gives you a smile and says that they’d both love to show you the ocean when you’re ready for some exploring today. They’d already made the climb down to the water's edge, and Hoseok tells you that there is a little private beach at the bottom and a set of stairs perfect for you and Jungkook to take. 

- Jungkook and Hoseok’s hair is already curly from the saltwater. as you comb through Hobi’s curls and sit down next to him, yoongi sits across from you next to Jungkook, already prepared with a cloth to wipe his cheeks. yoongi grumbles, “how in the world did you get it in your hair Koo?” he says as he dabs at Jungkooks black curls. 

- Both Yoongi and Namjoon are a little more subdued than the rest of you- having stayed up late into the night to talk, but you make polite small talk with namjoon about the book he’s forgotten about, and he promises to show you the library at one point “though really- Jimin’s the one who has a thing for collecting books” 

-“No wonder the two of them get along,” you say, nudging yoongi with your foot. and it’s true- a seizable portion of Yoongi’s hoard in the mountains back home consists entirely of books. rare ones, old ones, “do you hoard books or more of just- some of the usual stuff?” you don’t see any cases of splendor, fine fabrics or jewels, only the brightly colored roses that line the patio glimmer.

- Namjoon blushes, his horns- once again turning pink in his silver hair, “Uhm no- I hoard other things- you know I’m an ice dragon right?” you nod. Even as the sun starts to warm into mid-morning namjoon looks unbothered by the warmth. a gust of cold air coming from him whenever he shifts in his chair. “well- the reason why I moved south in the first place is because my hoarded object is plants and there aren’t very many that grow where I’m from.” 

-Suddenly, the variety of roses and the gardens that swath the property makes sense, as well as the greenhouse that almost dwarves it. “of course, I’m not that great at taking care of them- Jimin helps me a lot- really where is he- I should go get him or else he’ll sleep away the day-” 

- It's funny, one-moment Namjoon’s staff are setting you out some sandwiches, namjoon is just sitting up to go get jimin and the next moment a man, a very naked full-sized man, is falling down onto the table. His bare feet knocking the teacups over,

- You have a face full of very pert ass, nothing on him save for the lacelike wings spurting out of his back, his blonde hair curling at his nape. “you called for me? lover?” he purrs “I was wondering when you where gonna come back to bed-“ he starts, voice low and seductive,

- You barely get your hands in front of Hoseok eyes as yoongi smacks both over Jungkooks. Namjoon- sat on the other side of the table- gets the full view going bright red, his horns the same color as the roses behind him.   

- “Jimin!” Namjoon screeches, tone scalding. Yoongi starts to laugh.

a/n: A ‘hoarded object’ is the object that a dragon feels the instinctual urge to collect. there are four types of dragons, the type that does not hoard at all, the kind that dosent mind what they hoard as long as it’s shiny (Hoseok, though he does show a preference over gold things vs. silver), dragons that have a slight preference (yoongi- he’s not really sure if he likes books a lot, or if it’s his hoarded object), 

and the last type, dragons that hoard one thing and only one thing, this can be literally anything- lamps, pets, teacups, rubies, beta fish, or in namjoon’s case- plants, though he does have a preference for things that flower and bonsai cherry trees. 

If you liked this chapter please consider donating to my kofi! 

[angelsdevils]

Imayoshi x Reader

Title: First love 1/2 Fluff No Warning

Imayoshi never expected himself to fall hard for you, especially since he didn’t even know your name. It was kind of cliche if you thought about it because the moment you passed by him in the library, it was like flowers fell around you. Everything had moved in slow motion and he couldn’t focus on his studies. It was only when Susa had called you over and had a full conversation with you that he learned your name.

“How are you settling in (L/N)?”

“Call me (Y/N), I cringe when called my last name. I am doing okay though, its different my Japanese is not the best right now.” 

“Well, if you ever need help. I can help since we are in the same class. Plus English is my best subject.”

“That would be amazing~Susa right.”

“Yep, oh this is Imayoshi. He is the same year as us.” 

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.” Imayoshi cleared his throat, and gave you a smirk like smile.

“The pleasure is mine, did you want to sit with us to study,”

“Sure, I got nothing else to do,” you sat beside Susa since you knew him better than Imayoshi. Imayoshi couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous but it didn’t show on his face.

“Oh (L/N), you should come to the party tonight. I think that would help your social circle he~” he trailed off as you grimaced at the mention of a party.

“Social circle? I need one of those?” Imayoshi cracked a smile and Susa laughed slightly.

“Sorry, I just~”

“I will go as long as the two of you don’t leave me alone. Once my social battery runs out I poof into thin air.” 

“Fair enough, if you give one of us your address we can pick you up.” Susa said and you wrote down your address and number giving it to the both of them. 

“Just text me when you are here, don’t knock. For the love of all things holy do NOT knock. The last thing any of us want is my dad and brothers giving us the talk…” 

“Alright…” They said in unison, Imayoshi glanced at Susa, and Susa knew that Imayoshi wanted to pick you up.

“Well, I should go. I need to change out of this, and into something more comfortable.”

“Alright, I will text when I am around the corner.” Imayoshi stated and you gave him a thumbs up.

“Seems good to me.” You were then gone, and Susa turned his attention to his friend and teammate.

“You like her?”

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yeah, for a brief moment, I could sense you got jealous when she sat next to me.”

“Ah, sorry… it just it came out of no where.” 

“It’s fine, she oddly suits you.” Susa said going back to his studying and Imayoshi smiled to himself. 

You had decided to dress comfortable, which consisted of ripped jeans, a tank top with a flannel on top and converse. You added a beanie to top the look off, and as on cue you received a messaged from an unknown number. 

To: (L/N) (Y/N)

From: Unknown

‘I am around the corner’

You knew exactly who it was and messaged him a quick ‘k’ and grabbed your key before leaving.

“I am heading out dad.”

“Wait before you do…”

“Yes?”

“Your brother is staying at a friends house and I was called into work over night. Money for food is gonna be in your dresser, keep all doors locked and windows locked when you come home. If you need me call my work phone so I will answer immediately.”

“Alright love you dad.” 

“Have fun sweety… stay away from boys, they are disgusting little beasts.”

“Right, like you were with mom.”

“Exactly! So stay away from them!” 

“Alright, whatever you say. Bye dad!” You rushed out and jogged to meet with Imayoshi, and quickly pulled him so you were far away from your house.

“Why the rush?”

“My dad, that’s the rush.”

“Ahh…” He glanced down at your hand and he felt a tint of red on his cheeks. Once you guys were far enough you let his hand go.

“Susa said he will meet us there.” 

“Alright, so what is the occasion?”

“After midterms, just a small get together.”

“Makes sense.” You smiled at him and he looked ahead adjusting his glasses as he led the way to the house. Once you both arrived, he let you in first and Susa was by your side already introducing you to everyone. Your social battery was at about 3/4 so you hoped you could make it through the night. 

“Yo~” You waved and two dudes, one with red hair and one with a freckle under his eye came to you.

“You aren’t from here…”

“No sir I am not, what gave it away? My accent?”

“Yeah, I am Himuro that is Kagami.”

“Nice to meet you guys.”

“Where are you from?”

“Ohio, USA…” (if you aren’t just go with it)

“So the cornfields?” Kagami asked and you looked at him.

“Dude seriously? We have cities, its only when you go north that there are corn fields, why do everyone assume Ohio is out in the middle of no where.?” You said in English and you lost about half of the people there.

“Hey, I just assumed.” He replied and you rolled your eyes.

“Anyway, now that everyone is here. Lets play truth or dare!” Someone from a far said and you groaned. You hated games like this, but you didn’t let it show on your face. You sat beside Imayoshi, and Himuro. They went over the rules and put the bottle in the middle. 

The game was actually pretty fun, and there was a lot good dares. Luckily you didn’t have to do anything yet, but you knew you would do truth.” 

Kise, whom you learned the name of ended up spinning the bottle and it landed on you.

“(Y/N)cchi~ truth or dare?”

“Alright, I am gonna be lame… truth…” you said laughing causing several others to laugh.

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

“Are you single?” 

“As a pringle…” You spun the bottle and it landed on Susa.

“Truth or Dare, Susa?” 

“Dare?” You grinned and he paled slightly realizing he made a mistake.

“Great choice, I dare you too…. dance to APinks Nonono…”

“No…”

“Or, wear lipstick at school tomorrow.”

“Fine, someone play the song.” He groaned and you secretly got the camera and videotaped the entire thing. When he was done he groaned slightly hiding his face with his hands. You couldn’t stop the string of laughs that escaped your lips, while everyone else was laughing at him.

“I am so going to get you back…” He said and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Do your best!”

He spun the bottle and it landed on Imayoshi, and Susa groaned hoping it was you. Though a sudden idea came into mind and he smirked causing Imayoshi to blink.

“Truth or Dare Imayoshi?”

“Dare…”

“I dare you to kiss (Y/N), not a peck either. I mean full on make out,” Imayoshi actually opened his eyes to stare at his friend. Susa knew exactly what he was doing, and Imayoshi was about to object.

“I can’t do that, we just met today.”

“Either that or wear a cheer uniform tomorrow.” You grimaced, you kinda felt bad for Imayoshi. He was on the receiving in of what was suppose to be your punishment.

“First off, why are you punishing him?”

“Oh he knows why.” Susa said and Imayoshi shot a glare at the male.

“I will just~”

“Just kiss me dude, I have no problem with it.” You said and everyone looked at you surprised.

“I am getting disturbed at the thought of you in a cheer uniform. Plus seriously, how bad can a kiss be? We are just having fun…” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I see, you must want to kiss someone more your type… I understand.” You teased and he slightly panicked but you laughed and he realized you were teasing him.

“I am joking… so that cheer uniform or kiss me?” You asked and he leaned over and pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was gentle, he began to move his lips against yours gently. He bit your bottom lip slightly which you granted him access too, he gripped your chin slightly so you wouldn’t move away. Imayoshi felt his heart rate increase as the kiss continued. He hoped you felt it which you did because it felt extremely magical in your opinion. The kiss had lasted a few minutes, but when you both broke the kiss you guys were panting. His forehead was against yours, your noses were touching. 

“Well, don’t they make a cute couple?” You heard someone say but you ignored it and was about to pull away but Imayoshi captured your lips again. He didn’t want the kiss to end. He soon captured your lips and everyone realized that he wasn’t going to stop unless they made him. You gripped his shirt returning the kiss, but parted again shaking your head.

“W-Wait, that’s enough. We are in front of people,” this time you were extremely red. Imayoshi realized and couldn’t help his own blush dusting his cheeks.

“Sorry, I got carried away.”

[sprnklersplashes]

songwriter!janis fic (unrequited crush, no-very-happy-ending) 

also on ao3

It all started because she loved Taylor Swift when she was in middle school. Who is she kidding, she still loves Taylor Swift, but that’s where all this began. A middle school girl’s obsession with Taylor Swift. A confused, sad girl with a broken heart and smudged black eyeliner, finding refuge in lyrics about loneliness and anger and revenge. They became anthems for her, mantras to mutter when the warzone of middle school became too much for her.

“Someday, I’ll be living in a big old city, and all you’re ever gonna be is mean.”

“Cause I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“I can still see you, this ain’t the best view.”

It amazes her. It’s honestly as if Taylor Swift has managed to look into her life and given her a bundle of songs for whatever she needs. For when Regina has thrown her one too many snide looks, for when she’s standing at the door of North Shore High on her first day, for when she eats lunch alone, for when her mom is the best mom she could have asked for, for when she and Damian are lying on the grass in her backyard, staring up at the sky, laughing at absolutely nothing. The songs become the soundtrack to her life, the chords and those raw, honest lyrics an emotional outlet she so desperately craves. Taylor, and her songs, become a confidant, almost a close friend who always knows what to say.

With all that in mind, perhaps it was only a matter of time before she asks for a guitar for Christmas. She’s fourteen, braces and a slight lisp, and jumps up and down like a mad woman when she sees it under the tree.

She practices for three days straight, until her fingers bleed, but Should’ve Said No is the first song she learns off by heart. She yells the lyrics with maybe a little too much passion, but her parents applaud her nonetheless.

Like she said, that’s how it all started.

Because that same Christmas, she realises that screaming her feelings while playing guitar actually feels pretty cathartic. And that if it worked for Taylor Swift, it could work for her. So she writes stuff down, plays around with chords and strumming until the beat on the guitar matches the one in her head. She grabs a page and a pencil and writes and re-writes her innermost thoughts and feelings on the page until they sound the way she wants them to. She plays around with rhyme schemes and structure and everything she’s been taught about in English class, and a thrill runs through her as she does so. It’s the same breathless high she feels when she paints or draws, the rush that comes from creating something.

Her parents sit on the other side of her bedroom door, no doubt exchanging worried glances as she repeats the same verse, same chorus, with only a word changed. She watches them when they think she can’t see, peering through the crack in her door. The conclusion they seem to come to is ‘well, as coping mechanisms go, it’s pretty good, and she’s happy, so who are we to stop it?’.

It takes her four days to finish her first song. And it sucks. But she keeps it, writes down the lyrics and chords in one of the few empty notebooks she has, and there’s no going back from it now. She writes, and she writes, and she writes, near enough every day. She likes to think she gets better with each one. She learns more chords, buys a cheap ukulele the summer after freshman year, tries her hand at piano during a particularly difficult few weeks. She doesn’t plan on doing anything with them. They’re just her little pieces to hold on to. Her therapy sessions outside the carpeted office.

No-one knows about it. She has a reputation to keep up, after all. The loner-by-choice, too-cool-for-school, aloof art freak. Everyone has their roles to play in the ecosystem that is high school and, much as she hates the entire system, that is hers to play. And she plays it well, if she may say so. The fact that hardly anyone knows her past that facade suits her just fine. After all, if people think she doesn’t care, she can’t get hurt. No-one needs to know that Janis Sarkisian actually has feelings.

Even less need to know that she writes songs about said feelings.

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

By the time she reaches her junior year, she’s onto her third notebook. She keeps them tucked away in her sock drawer, expertly hidden so only she can find them. Damian teases her about it, calling her “the protagonist of a Disney Channel Original Movie”. She just rolls her eyes and reminds him that “if either of us is gonna be Disney’s first openly gay character, it’ll be you”. He can’t argue with that.

It should be noted that when Janis said that no-one knows about her songwriting, Damian was the obvious exception. He found out just weeks after she started. There’s no keeping secrets from him.

Between all her notebooks, she’s written around forty songs.

Then she meets Cady Heron one day. The human embodiment of a labrador puppy, complete with wide, lost eyes. She likes her instantly, decides to take her under her wing because Lord knows the girl needs it. Cady’s smile is infectious, her laugh like a summer breeze. She has dimples and caramel-coloured hair and really likes maths.

She meets Cady on a Monday.

By that Saturday, song number 41-titled “Dimples and Curls” is more or less complete.

She plays it for Damian, hands only slightly shaking as she changes chords, the strumming short and upbeat, the melody strangely happy for such a bittersweet song.

He applauds her, but the subject of the song hangs in the air even after she’s played the last chord and the music fades. Unsaid, but not unknown. Just like her songwriting, Janis couldn’t keep a crush from Damian if she tried.

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“Hey, check it out.”

Cady drops onto the seat across from Janis, the whole table shaking as she does so. Like a small meteor just hit Earth. Janis looks up from her lunch, pretending like she had been doing her own thing and not watching the door until Cady came in. Pretending like her stomach doesn’t do little flips at the sight of her crossing the cafeteria. She pulls the flyer towards her and hums in amusement.

“The winter talent show,” she reads before chomping off a carrot stick. “Oh, is it that time of year already?”

“Seems like only yesterday we was welcoming the young’uns into this brave new world during the harvest season,” Damian sighs, putting on a delightfully over the top Southern Belle accent, no doubt influenced by their reading of Streetcar Named Desire in English class. Janis cackles, and nearly chokes on her lunch as she does.

“And now the cold winds of winter are descending upon us,” she replies, her accent equally heavy. She bats her eyes for good measure, because she can and because it makes Cady laugh. “Oh but I pray the children will survive this season, it is often rough for them.”

“I am never showing you two anything winter related ever again,” Cady says.

Janis just shrugs and runs her hand through her hair before her eyes go back to the flyer. Clearly, whatever sophomore they got to design it this year did their best; found the prettiest looking snowflakes on Google Images to put on the cartoon stage, decided to write in some swirling, slanted font rather than the start-studded block lettering they usually went for. It’s still the same as it is every year, meaning just as mockable, but she’ll give them points for tying.

“Well, anyone here going for it?” she asks. She looks from Damian to Cady and back again, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Last year and all that.”

“Not sure I can,” Damian sighs. “I mean, I’m booked up with Spelling Bee rehearsals and spring cabaret auditions happening next semester.” He drums his fingers against his throat. “Gotta give the little vocal chords some rest, you know?”

Janis’ response is to sing the lowest note she possibly can before turning to Cady and giving her a pointed look, the corner of her mouth quirked up.

“Who? Me?” Cady’s cheeks turned crimson and she shakes her head so much that the caramel curls bounced around her shoulders. “No way. Damian can take the stage, I’m fine with my calculators and textbooks.”

“You could always solve equations in front of everyone,” Janis says. “I could call out college-level questions from the audience and you solve them in under 30 seconds.”

“I think I’ll pass,” she giggles. She leans forward slightly, eyes glittering, and Janis does her best not to squirm. The effect Cady Heron’s eyes have on her should be studied by scientists. “What about you, Janis?”

“I don’t know.” She thinks back to when she helped on stage crew last year, as well as helping out (or taking over) with the set design. It had been fun, the kind of challenge she needed to keep her mind off the slowly-going-off-the-rails plan. And she was told it looked good on her college applications, because all people can think about apparently is college, college, college. “Maybe. They might need another genius stage manager.”

“And you’ll step in if they can’t find one?” She digs Damian in the ribs for that comment.

“But not performing?” Cady asks, and Janis freezes. Performing had never even crossed her mind before. She’s used to backstage, hell, she likes backstage. It’s not that she has stage fright or anything, and if she had, her stunt at Ms Norbury’s little healing session would have squished it. She had just never thought about it.

But Cady had, apparently.

“I-No, I-I don’t think so,” she stammers out. “Um, I might do backstage again, but not actually doing something, you know, talent related.” She bites her tongue and clamps her lips shut before anything else can come out.

“Okay then,” Cady replies slowly. She gets up from the table, her little empty water bottle in her hands. “I’m going to go for a refill, save my seat.”

“No problem,” Janis says, but Cady’s already jogging away.

She doesn’t know if it’s good or bad that Cady’s known her too long to think of her as cool, and so this kind of awkward babbling isn’t really surprising to her. Instead of thinking about it, she just sets her head on the table and lets Damian rub her back.

“You were nowhere near as bad as you think you were,” he assures her.

“Title of your sex tape,” comes her murmured reply. Damian chuckles and runs his fingers through her hair, like she’s his pet cat. It helps.

“So you’re definitely not going for the talent show then?” he asks.

Her first instinct is to say no, because of course she isn’t, because she never has before and she sees no point in breaking a three-year streak, but the answer catches in her throat. At the same time, something begins forming in her brain, pieces of a melody she’s already known, words filling in blank spots in her brain, and her fingers twitch involuntarily, playing the chords on an invisible guitar. Without a word, she grabs a notepad and pen from her bag and scribbles the words down before she forgets them, quickly becoming breathless just by sitting there. She forgets, for a moment, everything else, the talent show, Cady, even Damian next to her, and just revels in the task and the quick buzz she gets just from writing. Just like that she has one eye on the clock, itching to get home and put her notes into the rest of the song.

But with those notes came an idea, an idea so completely out of left field she almost laughs at it.

“Janis?” Damian asks, just slightly unnerved by her. If anyone else were at this table, even Cady (especially Cady), she would have had to excuse herself and run to the bathroom, or just hope the words stayed in her head long enough for her to get a quiet moment. “Did the Goddess of Music just possess you again?”

“Maybe,” is her response. He doesn’t know it, but she answered both the questions he asked in the past minute.

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She sits on her bed that night, her homework half-done and strewn across the desk, abandoned in favour of the guitar sitting in her lap and notebook open on her bed. She’s been working on his song for the better part of a week, inspiration and motivation seemingly striking and then fading whenever she gets a free moment. Abandoning it has crossed her mind-she’s no stranger to abandoning things that aren’t working-but for some reason she hasn’t quite been able to shake this particular song off.

Maybe it is Euterpe, the Goddess of Music, descending upon her because this song has to be finished, it has to be, Olympus willing it so.

Or maybe it’s because this song is one of the most personal things she’s ever written, a love letter she’ll never send, and the idea of it sitting unfinished drives her crazy.

She plays another chord and sings the line again, changing the ending slightly, and makes the adjustment in her notes.

She’s crazy. This is already crazy, her secret double life as a wannabe T-Swift, but now she’s gone beyond that. Thinking of actually playing it. On a stage. In front of people. She doesn’t care what people think of her, she stopped caring about that a long, long time ago, but holy shit what will people think of her after she does this? Life isn’t like the movies, she knows that much. It won’t be some pretty, softly-lit moment where the crowd sits with teary eyes, Cady runs onstage and kisses her and she’s offered a deal by some big shot producer, and they all live happily ever after the end. What could happen is people think she’s even more of a weirdo than they do now.

Or she gets tomatoes thrown at her head and she’s booed off the stage. That’s a possibility.

She calls Damian, because that’s the only way she sees out of her little thought cul-de-sac. She puts the phone on speaker and props it up against a pillow, keeping her hands free for her guitar and her pen. He picks up on the third ring, just as she’s strumming out a G chord.

“Oh, is someone prepping for her Grammy?” he asks. “You’re still taking me as your date, right?”

“Only if my dog can’t go,” she replies. She taps her nails against the wood, the rhythm too fast and frantic to just be a habit. Yes, she can tell Damian anything, and being nervous in front of him is laughable, but sometimes her body forgets that. “So, I was thinking about the talent show.”

“Oh? You’re going for stage crew again? Cool.”

“No-not exactly.” She knows he can’t see the smile creeping across her face, but she’d wager he can hear it through the phone. A small swarm of butterflies flutters in her chest, leaving her just slightly out of breath. “I… I. think I’m going to try performing in it.”

A burst of laughter comes through the phone, slightly tinged with static, and Janis wishes he were here so she could slap him. Even if it’s not malicious in intent at all, and she’s laughing right along with him. Slapping is kind of a love language for them.

“Okay, okay cool. What’re you going to do?”

“I’ll give you a hint,” she says, and then she plays the opening chords to her latest experiment. She doesn’t add in the lyrics, not yet. Still, she sits back and basks in his applause when she finishes, cackling into her hand. He might be one person, but he’s got enough enthusiasm to match a packed auditorium. “What do you think?”

“I’m into it,” he tells her. “So… that’s the one you’re doing?”

“Think so.” She tosses the pick between her fingers. Like he could feel her smile, she can feel his raised eyebrow through the phone, the elephant in the room poking her with its trunk. “Yes, I know.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You thought it,” she tells him, and he doesn’t deny it. She looks back over the lyrics she’s written and re-written. Despite some adjustments, it’s still in essence the same. Still about a girl with pretty hair who smells like vanilla and cinnamon, who has a boyfriend and is unknowingly breaking the heart of a girl with black eyeliner and paint stained fingers. Because her boyfriend is pretty and clean and smells like soap and can do math, and how is the poor art girl even meant to compare to that?

“Yes,” she says after a while. “It is about Cady.”

“Aw, my poor lovestruck songstress,” he sighs. He shifts then, and the air shifts with him. “You sure that’s the one you want to sing? I mean you have dozens of other non-Cady related songs. I’m sure Mr Duvall would love to hear Angry Teenage Lesbian Anthem.”

“First off, I gave that one a title, it’s called Shattered,” she reminds him. “And-” She freezes, the rest of her sentence catching in her throat. He’s right. She could perform one of her other songs, that are already finished and therefore removing the pressure to have this one finished, polished and stage-ready. And of course, it would mean she wouldn’t be standing in front of her entire grade and telling them all how badly she’s in love with her best friend. Showing her deepest secret to the people who have already driven her out of school once. It’s a far safer, potentially less traumatic option for her.

But…

“No,” she says. “I know it sounds crazy but I feel like… I feel like I need to do this.” She swallows thickly and picks softly at the guitar strings. “It’s like… like this way at least I’m telling her, you know? Even if she doesn’t know it.”

Of course, Damian gets it.

“That’s beautiful, babe,” he tells her. “So you’re actually doing this?”

“I’m actually doing this,” she replies firmly. “And tomorrow, I need you to make sure I don’t chicken out before I sign up.”

“Got it. I’ll just order you to do it as Senior Co-Chair of the Student Activities Committee.”

“That’s an abuse of power.”

“Then consider yourself abused baby.” He laughs and she laughs with him, and then she hears something on Damian’s end. “I have to go. A certain little sister of mine has a princess costume that needs attending to. See you later.”

“See you later,” she replies before he clicks off the call. She looks down at her paper, then at her guitar, and thinks about what she just committed to. “I’ve got some work to do.”

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The song goes through four rewrites in the weeks leading up to the talent show. The whole first verse is changed, the chorus scrapped and replaced with a new one, then that one is scrapped and she goes back to the old one. She sits hunched on her floor with a pencil in her mouth, wondering if what she’s written is too personal or not personal enough. If it’s too obvious that Cady, smart cookie that she is, will work it out and that’ll lead them down a new, scary path. She cuts some lyrics that give the game away, opting to replace one about love for numbers with love for learning, because that opens up the pool to half their grade. She writes about Cady’s blue eyes rather than specifically those double dimples that make her melt. Maybe she’s compromising her artistic vision, but it might be worth it if it’ll keep her crush a secret. She keeps the old lyrics tucked in the back of her notebook, just to have them.

Meanwhile, she’s also dealing with the fact that people know she has signed up for the talent show. That Miss Too Cool For School Loner Art Freak Janis is actually performing at a school event. And she doesn’t even get extra credit for it. They’re surprised, and curious, and none more so than Cady. The other girl appears at her side almost instantly after first period, skinny little arms wrapped around her bicep and blue eyes alight.

Oh, the things those eyes do to her.

“Janis!” she squeaks. “I saw-on the sign up sheet-your name! Oh my God, is this a joke? Did Damian put you up to it?”

“No, no, I signed up of my own accord,” Janis tells her. That only makes Cady bounce more, ponytail bobbing up and down.

“Oh wow, that’s amazing!” she says. She stops then, her mouth freezing in its place and her cheeks turning pink. Slowly, she comes down to Earth, like a balloon that had the air let out of it. Janis can almost hear the wheeze. “I mean um, it’s pretty cool, I guess.”

“It’s pretty grool,” Janis replies, and just like that Cady bounces back up again.

“Oh my gosh, what are you going to do?” she asks. “Or do you want it to be a surprise?”

“You think I have some secret knife-throwing talent?” she grins. She hesitates for a moment, looking down at Cady’s excited face, because even if this isn’t telling her… it’s telling her. “I’m… I’m going to sing.” She pulls on the strap of her backpack and avoids Cady’s eyes. “Something I wrote.”

“Okay,” Cady says. “Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?”

“Hey!” she laughs. “I can write stuff. I can be deep.”

“Oh, I have no doubt about it,” Cady says, bumping her arm against Janis’. “But for real, Janis, I can’t wait to see it. I know you’ll be amazing.”

Warmth spreads across her pale cheeks, a pink blush no doubt colouring her face, and she somehow manages to choke out a “thanks” as her brain turns to static. Her only thought is ‘Cady thinks I’m going to be good’, and it’s written in glitter pen across her brain.

“This is going to be great,” she goes on. “Oh, wait until I tell Aaron. He’s got a break in his schedule that week so he’s coming up to see the talent show! Isn’t that great?”

And just like that, Janis’ good mood falls. Her face stays the same, because she’s trained to do it, but everything behind it crumbles.

“Yeah, that’s great,” she replies. Cady squeezes her hand, oblivious, and drags her along the hallway, chatting away about some lion documentary she had watched last night.

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She finishes the song that night. She arrives home with a heavy chest, so full of complicated, messy feelings, and her conversation with Cady still so fresh in her mind, her ears still ringing from the emotional whiplash. Her parents barely get a ‘hello’ as she enters and bolts up to her room, her hands shaking, the thoughts swirling around her brain desperate to be let out.

And let them out she does. She writes so quickly they look more like smudges than words, her fingers flying over rapidly changing chords, her voice broken and panting as she sings. The words almost write themselves, like the song has taken on a life of its own and she’s just along for the ride. She barely remembers to pause, to breathe, so wrapped up in the storm she’s created with just her guitar and pen.

It’s only when she finishes and falls back on her bed that she notices the tears in her eyes. She blinks them away and pulls herself up, her notebook in her hand. It’s done. The perfect blend of her own honest feelings and just enough smokescreen to keep people from knowing who it’s really about.

There’s no backing out now, she thinks. Her stomach drops, like she’s on the top of a roller coaster about to go down. A laugh bubbles up in her throat and leaves her breathless, her head spinning while she’s still laying there.

If holy shit were am adjective, she'd use it to describe how she feels. Because holy shit.

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Being backstage when she’s not on crew is a strange experience. She stands with her guitar slung around her body, in the middle of a current of students moving around her, half with the clunky microphones and walkie-talkies she’s used so many times before. She asks five of them if she can do anything to help-because they’re her people and she needs to do something to occupy her time-until she finally takes the hint and leaves them to it. Stagehands are the most efficient parts of any production, as she told Damian once. They’re a well-oiled machine at this point.

“Yo!” For a second, Janis thinks she imagined the whisper, just one in a jumble of backstage noises, until Damian appears at her side. A tiny ‘shit’ escapes her mouth, her body jerking. Barely anyone bats an eye at her, except him. “Sorry, didn’t mean to spook you.”

“Don’t worry. I think at this point a small breeze could knock into me and I’d crumble.”

“The great Janis Sarkisian gets nervous?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Only when she’s doing something incredibly personal and scary in front of her entire grade,” she whispers back. She swallows past the lump in her throat. “Aside from that I’m a beacon of confidence and unshakable will.”

“Hey.” He taps his knuckles against hers. “Remember how scared you were at Norbury’s assembly?”

“You mean after I had my picture all over the school with the d-slur written underneath it?” she mutters. “Yeah, I was shitting myself.”

“And yet, look what you did there,” he reminds her. “You were amazing. And you’re going to be amazing here too. Once you get on that stage, all those butterflies are going to make you fly, kid.”

She smiles, her heart warm, and pressed her face into the crook of Damian’s neck.

She doesn’t know how she got so lucky to have him, but she knows better than to tempt fate.

“Janis Sarkisian?” She lifts her head to find a freshman girl with a headset around her neck looking at her. “You’re up next.”

“Okay.” It’s only now she becomes aware that the last minute of Fairytale Of New York is playing, the notes will soon fade out, and that’s her cue. She turns to Damian and lets him straighten her black cardigan and fiddle with the collar of her shirt. “Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need it.” He drops a whisper of a kiss to her nose. “But good luck.”

She holds her half-heart necklace as he goes, the twin to the one around his neck. It’s as close as she can get to having him with her. Her chest tightens as she makes her way to the stage and she tries to breathe through it, because the next thign she knows, Mr Duvall is announcing her name, and she’s being greeted by a blinding spotlight that thankfully obscures most of her peers’ faces.

“Uh, hi,” she says into the microphone placed out for her. It’s just people , she reminds herself. Somewhere in that crowd, second row, seat 14, is Damian, and she breathes easier. And next to him is Cady, the girl this song is about, and for some reason that straightens her spine and irons out the shaking in her voice. She takes the pick out of its holder and tosses her hair back. “This is a song I wrote about being in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.” She blinks and hopes no-one sees the tears in her eyes. “So sing along if you get into it, because we all know it’s a shitty ass feeling.”

She plays the first chord, and then any and all doubts she had about this flee her. As cliche as it sounds, the song takes over her, and she blows through the nerves in the first verse. The experience becomes cathartic instead, like releasing a pressure valve on her soul. Even with the little diversions she threw in, she hasn’t felt this open and god damn free since last year, paraded on her peers’ shoulders with both middle fingers up. Except now she’s not flipping anyone off, or proving a point, she’s just finally telling someone how she feels, and holy shit, it’s amazing. Whatever the aftermath of this is, she won’t care, it’s worth it just for this feeling.

As she sings the last word, and that final note rings in the auditorium, her hands are shaking, her cheeks wet with tears and her hair sticky with sweat. She touches beneath her eye and her fingers come away stained black.  She hasn’t cried in front of people since middle school. She doesn’t care.

The cheers of her classmates ring in her ears, Damian’s whooping the loudest of all, and as she takes her bow, she hopes she’ll remember this moment for a long time.

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“Oh my God!” she’s barely into the auditorium when Cady launches herself at her, arms wrapped around her neck and legs circling her waist. Janis nearly topples over, digging her back leg into the ground just in time, and hugs Cady with the same ferocity. “You were amazing!” she yells into her shoulder, the sound muffled by Janis’ hair.

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” She sets Cady down, but the other girl keeps a tight grip on both her arms. Janis wonders if it’s to keep herself from flying away, given the amount of bouncing up and down she’s doing. “I can’t believe you wrote that! It was so good! You need to record it, Jan. Do you have any other songs?”

“Just a few,” she says. “And I don’t know if I’m in the business of making an album any time soon.” She swings her guitar case a little. “This might have been a one-time thing.”

“Well, even if it was, it was awesome,” she says.

“Thank you, Caddy,” Janis replies. “That means a lot.”

Her mouth runs dry as Cady smiles, all baby pink lipgloss and sparkling eyes and full cheeks. If this were a movie, she thinks, this would be the part where they kiss. No need for talking, or an explanation. Because Cady would have just known. The music would turn soft and twinkly, and the lighting would match it and it would look like they’re in a dream and they’d just kiss, and it will fix all of Janis’ problems. Maybe a single tear will run down her cheek. And then they’ll run off into their new lives as the end credits roll.

How sweet that would be.

But her life isn’t a movie. If she wants anything, she has to go for it herself.

And that includes-

“Caddy.” Her name is delicate on her lips, handled with care. Cady looks at her, giving a simple ‘mm-hm’ in response, and Janis’ heart beats out of control. “That song I just sang, it-”

“Hey, guys.”

Also if this was a movie, Cady’s sweet, lovely, nice boyfriend would not be barging in right now. He’d either be a douchebag who she doesn’t feel bad about hurting, or he’d be nonexistent.

Unfortunately, this is not a movie, and Aaron Samuels exists and is the human equivalent of a squishmallow.

“Hey Aaron.” He slings his arm around Cady’s shoulders, and she leans into his touch almost instinctively. “Janis, you were great up there. I didn’t know you wrote songs.”

“It’s a bit of a new hobby,” she says, her voice hoarse. She clears her throat, and finds a bottle of water being handed to-thrown at-her.

“Hydrate those chords,” is Damian’s greeting.

“This is what I get for being friends with a theatre kid,” she sighs before she takes a drink. She hadn’t realised how dry her throat was until now.

“Okay, so we’re all going for pancakes,” Aaron says. “I take it you two are coming?”

“How can I say no to pancakes?” Janis asks. “Uh, you guys go ahead, I have to get my stuff from the green room.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for you,” Cady says. “Aaron brought his car so he can drive us.”

“Grool.” Cady and Aaron turn around together, Aaron spinning his eyes around his finger and Cady lacing her fingers through his, talking about something she can’t hear. It’s like watching them through a sheet of glass.

Not a movie. Not unless it’s one of those really, really sad movies. Sad homophobic movies.

“You okay?” Damian asks. She snorts at the question. Nothing has changed, so of course she’s okay. But then, nothing has changed, so she’s not really okay.

“I did it,” she sighs. “It’s out there. I told her, unofficially. Whether or not she works it out…” She runs her hand through her tangled hair. “That’s something else entirely.” Damian hums in agreement, a sympathetic look on his face that soon morphs into a grin.

“Hey,” he says. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks Mom.” They snort, Janis caught between a laugh and a sob, and squeezes Damian’s hand. She’s not optimistic about any romance in her future, at least where Cady is concerned. She and Aaron are still rock-solid and she’s happy for them, whenever she isn’t angsting about it. It’s a weird combination to have.

And at least she’s done this now. Despite a future for her and Cady not being in the cards for now, she’s glad she did it. The secret isn’t out, not entirely. Just written on the walls in invisible ink.

“Come on,” she tells Damian. “I actually do have to get my bag, and you can use this as an opportunity to double check the ghost light is on.”

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Cady and Aaron keep their promise and wait for them, waving off their apologies as they jog across the parking lot. Cady lets Damian take the front seat with Aaron and slides into the back with Janis instead. Janis frowns, confused as to why she isn’t taking her normal seat up front, and Cady rolls her eyes.

“There was a draw on the way here, and we lost,” she explains. “And now Damian has control of the aux chord,” She gestures with her head to the passenger seat, and Janis turns just in time to see him open his Spotify and scroll through his playlists. As the opening notes to Waving Through A Window fill the car, it’s met with three loud groans. Damian only turns it up louder, and adds in his own backing vocals.

“So, that song you sang,” Cady asks, leaning back in the seat. “Was it about anyone in particular?”

Janis looks down, her hands pressed together in her lap. If this is the moment the universe decided to give her, it’s a really terrible moment. Not only is Cady’s whole boyfriend sitting an arm’s length away from her, but she left her nerve back in the auditorium. Clearly, her and fate aren’t on each other’s wavelength.

“You wouldn’t know her,” she says. “She doesn't even go here.”

“Oh,” Cady replies. Her face falls, but she’s not too put out by it. Why would she be? She nudges Janis’ shoulder, a proud smile on her face, and squeezes Janis’ hand. “Well, if she has someone like you into her and she hasn’t taken the chance yet, then she doesn’t know what she’s missing.”

Janis only thanks her, and quickly changes the subject.

Someday she might tell her for real, but for now she'll stick to the songs.

[free-pancakes]

A Fire in the Shadows

LeviHan - Avatar the Last Airbender AU fic

Characters: Levi, Hange, Erwin, Mike, Nanaba, Moblit, Kenny, Zeke, Sasha, Jean, Armin, Kuchel, Porco, Pieck

Summary: Levi, the nephew of a fire nation captain, stumbles upon a ragtag group of 5 known as the Scouts, formidably known for foiling the plans of local fire nation control, living in the forests a few miles north of Ba Sing Se.

Chapter 5: Interconnected Chapter 4: The Fire from the Shadows Chapter 3: Bonds  Chapter 2: Trust  Chapter 1: The Scouts

(crossposted to ao3)

CH 5: Interconnected

A 10 year-old Hange sat by the edge of the river running right outside her home, listening to the happy quacks of little turtle ducks swimming by. She smiled as she molded the fire in her palm into a small ball of flame, tossing and kicking it back and forth to herself. Erwin walked quietly towards the river, and stared at Hange from afar. He couldn’t help but watch, mesmerized at the finesse of her movements—she was a natural, more adept than even the adult firebenders he knew, at just 10 years old. She was just a kid, but she was skilled beyond her years. He was so proud of her, but admittedly, a little jealous. He looked down at his hands, sad that he wasn’t gifted with the ability to bend an element. He lowered them and shook his head—despite this, the pride he had for his best friend far outweighed any sadness he felt being a non-bender. He’d always stand by her side.

“Hange, I got the stuff you asked for.” He pulled off his backpack and shook its contents onto the grass—a metal funnel, metal clamps, and wax adhesives. Hange’s eyes glowed with fiery excitement as she squealed with joy. “These are perfect!” She gathered the supplies and ran towards the house. “Come on Erwin, race you back to my room!” She sprinted ahead, and Erwin laughed as he ran to catch up with her.

Hange ran into her home, tracking dirt all over the wooden floorboards. “Hange dear, come on, I just mopped the floor!”

She disappeared into her room and yelled, “Sorry, Mom! I got a super-top-secret-urgent project to work on!”

Before she could ask Hange to come back and clean up her mess, she turned around to find Erwin already sweeping up the dirt.

“Oh Erwin, you’re so sweet, you don’t need to do that!” She gently took the broom out of his hand and ruffled his hair. “Go join Hange, don’t worry about it,” she said softly.

“Thanks for having me, Mrs. Zoe,” he politely nodded his head and walked into Hange’s room, closing the door gently behind him. He looked down to find Hange busy producing a tiny fire at the tip of her index finger, welding the metal to the rest of her contraption. Erwin knew better than to talk to her while she was engrossed in conjuring up her newest invention, so he put his backpack down on the floor and sat neatly across from her. He stared up at the wall, at the same picture frames he always looked at whenever he waited for Hange to finish her latest project. The picture was that of a man who resembled Hange’s father, his arm around a young Avatar Roku and a few other people, all of them smiling together.

According to Hange, the bespectacled man in the painting was her great grandfather, a good friend of Roku. Beneath this was a picture of Erwin’s grandparents arm-in-arm with Hange’s grandparents and all of their friends. The picture below that was one from a few years before either Hange or he was born, showing his and Hange’s parents laughing together, and in the center, a beautiful woman with long, black hair and the most gentle eyes. Generations… lifetimes of the most powerful firebenders, yet the most kind people were displayed there before him, and it was almost crazy to think that he and Hange, along with their new friends, Mike and Nanaba, were probably next in line to join that wall—a wall displaying both genuine friendship and deep loyalty to the peaceful and harmonious land the fire nation once was. Erwin smiled as he remembered his father’s words to him one night not too long ago—“Friendships really do transcend lifetimes.”

“Success!” Hange held the contraption in her hand, a mess of metal tubes swirling into a metal funnel at the end. Before he could ask what it was, Hange was dragging him by the hand and climbing out the one window in her room. “Hurry up ya slowpoke! Before my mom or Moblit hears us!”

They ran towards the small barn marking the halfway point between their houses. Hange walked along the edges of the barn to a spot in the dirt marked with a small scarf of hers. “Here! Help me dig, Erwin!” They used their hands to scoop piles of dirt out, deep enough to fit the end of the funnel under and inside the barn.

“Ok! Can you stay right here and listen to me through the pipe? Tell me how clear the sound is.” Hange ran around the corner and into the barn, and began to speak and whisper, alternating between the two. Erwin’s eyes widened in shock at the clarity—even Hange’s whispers were audible through the pipe. “How did she even manage to do this?” he thought to himself. Now they could listen clearly to their parents’ secret meetings, and he was quite excited with their new tool.

“From the look on your face, I take it that the acoustics are perfect, no?” Hange smiled deviously, and Erwin returned it. The two friends happily bumped fists. “Now we can hear about their next mission without taking turns pressing our ears against the wall!”

Ever since she and Erwin stumbled upon a meeting about a year ago, their minds became hyper-fixated on discovering their parents' work and uncovering the secrets behind it all. Since they were probably the two most dangerously curious kids of all the fire nation, it was only natural that they’d figure it all out eventually. They had spent the past year trying to listen to the group meetings in the barn, and learned all about their missions. Ridden with curiosity, the two eventually found years of hidden documents containing information on their families, kept in boxes under faulty floorboards of their homes.

When Avatar Roku mysteriously died nearly 100 years ago, his group of friends awaited their friend’s reincarnation as a child from one of the air temples. But after the fire nation attacks on the airbender monks, they feared the worst. The world began to tip out of balance, and when no avatar seemed to appear in the earth kingdom, they wondered whether the avatar was gone for good. But among Roku’s friends, hope was not lost—they passed down their stories from generation to generation, and as the fire nation grew in power, the Zoe family was the face of those defending from the inside, attempting to do what they could to restore balance. They became the crux of movement within the shadows of the fire nation, thwarting plans of conquering villages and cities of the world, keeping as many citizens and innocent people safe from fire nation soldiers’ violence. Their numbers have dwindled over the years from fighting for their cause, and most of them eventually moved into the earth kingdom colonies to help out the villages more closely, though a few stayed behind in the fire nation to continue retrieving intel from the inside and kept correspondence with any information gleaned.

Hange was quite keen on listening for more every week, confident in her desire to follow in her family’s footsteps. As much as Erwin shared Hange’s excitement, part of him was deeply concerned about Hange’s safety. Out of the families that moved out into the earth kingdom colonies, she was the only firebender in their generation, and he was afraid that she’d have to take on too much responsibility and carry the brunt of the work in order to live up to their families’ names. But they were only kids, right? He waved away his own worries—it’s not like they’d have to join in on this right away. Their parents didn’t even know that we found out about all of this yet.

-------- When the sun just began to set, the two friends snuck their way back to the barn under the calm, orange glow of the sky. They crouched down at the spot where they lodged Hange’s invention through the ground and listened in—but to their disappointment, the adults were simply chatting and enjoying each other’s company. “Booooring,” Hange sighed. “Maybe we should just call it a night, huh Erwin?” As Erwin readied himself to walk Hange home, he overheard the quiet closing of a door and a new voice sound through the pipe. They locked eyes and quickly threw themselves down to press their ears close and listen.

“Kuchel!” Hange’s mother exclaimed, and they heard the soft sound of sniffles and happy cries of the reunion.

“KUCHEL??” Hange exclaimed loudly.

“Who’s Kuchel?”

“My mom’s friend! Her best friend!” Hange clasped her hands together and jumped around in excitement. “Oh I’ve always wanted to meet her, she sounds so nice and—“

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Hange and Erwin spun around to see Hange’s dad staring at the two of them and eyeing their little listening device. “Eavesdropping now, are we? You might have made something where you can hear us loud and clear, but did you consider the possibility that we could hear YOU loud and clear from the other side?” Erwin and Hange nervously laughed at his words—they really did forget to consider that. He bent down to look at Hange’s creation and his facade of playing “bad cop” parent melted away quite quickly, and he turned to his daughter and chuckled. “So how did you make it?” As the two Zoe’s babbled on about the intricacies of Hange’s ideas, Erwin continued to listen into the barn.

“Oh yes, Kenny’s alright, as annoying as ever, telling me we should give up on all this and that my son and I should just move out here with all of you. But how else would we get more intel without me on the inside?”

“But you can move in with us! We can adjust. Our plans can change! Kenny’s right, it’s probably safer for you to stay here. On top of that, I’m sure your son would love to meet Erwin and Hange,” Hange’s mother answered.

“I’m sure he would. He’s very quiet and doesn’t really have any friends. But I have no doubt they’ll all meet someday.” She smiled at the thought of Levi making new friends, but her smile slowly transitioned into a concerned frown. “It might have to wait a year or two, though. I don’t know if I trust Zeke anymore...”

“Well what do you mean by that? Hasn’t Zeke proved himself to us?” Erwin’s father asked.

“I’ve seen him spend some more time with Ozai recently. I can’t put a finger on it... but I think something in him has changed. I think we may be able to trust him for now, but we’ll have to see.”

The doors of the barn slammed open, revealing Hange’s father holding Hange in one arm and Erwin in the other. “I think we found our culprits!”

Mike and Nanaba’s parents burst into laughter, while Hange’s mother and Erwin’s father darted looks of deep disapproval at their children.

Hange’s dad playfully threw the two down into the pile of hay that the horses were working on, who seemed to neigh at them in disapproval. Hange and Erwin lost themselves in a fit of giggles that simply lightened up the room from the bleak conversation about Zeke. The rest of them began to catch up again and reminisce about the “good old days” while Erwin and Hange pet and fed the horses.

A few hours later, Kuchel made her way over to them, and the two suddenly felt shy, falling quiet.

Erwin’s eyes widened in recognition as she sat close to them. “You’re the beautiful lady in the picture,” Erwin accidentally whispered loud enough for Kuchel to hear.

Kuchel laughed, “You’re Erwin, right? You’re the spitting image of your father, and from what I hear, the only person smart and strong enough to keep this one under control right?” she said as she looked over to Hange.

“What, me?” Hange questioned. “Yes, you! Come here, dear,” she waved Hange towards her and gently pulled her glasses off, and wiped them clean with her sleeve, and carefully pushed them back onto Hange’s face. “And you’re the infamous, reckless Hange Zoe, correct?” She laughed, and Hange was simply mesmerized by her kind soul and the loving twinkle in her eyes.

After warming up to each other, Hange soon begged for stories from Kuchel about how all their parents became friends and both she and Erwin eagerly listened. The three of them talked for what felt like hours, until Erwin and Hange could barely keep their eyes open, their sheer curiosity and interest in Kuchel the only thing keeping them awake enough to listen.

“So that’s the sign of you all being undercover firebenders right?” Hange asked sleepily as she pointed to the little charm peeking out from pocket of her skirt. Kuchel was startled by her question, and sighed in defeat. “Well, neither of you should know anything about this until you’re old enough, but it was silly of me to think that you two wouldn’t figure that out by now being the nosy little kids you are,” she said with a small laugh. She pulled out the charm to show them. “When the time is right, we’ll all pass them down to you. It might not be as significant now—it was once used to prove that you were one to be trusted, but now that there’s not too many of us left...” Erwin noticed the hint of sadness that showed in her eyes.

“Well, it‘s still important, something to remember who you are and where you came from. Whenever you look at it, I hope it brings you peace and reminds you that it’s our responsibility to bring back stability and light to our nation, no matter how dark it may become. But who knows, it still might be important in recognizing who is a friend or foe someday. Whoever holds one is someone you can trust—I can promise you both that.”

Hange asked, “Kuchel, will we ever get to meet your son?”

“I have no doubt you will,” she said with a smile. “Hopefully soon. I think you both would be really good influences on him.” With a yawn, Hange asked one more question.

“What’s his name?”

But before they could hear Kuchel’s answer, both of them were fast asleep. Kuchel smiled lovingly at the two. She gently pulled off Hange’s glasses, pocketed them before picking her up. She chuckled at the sound of her snores as Hange’s face leaned against her chest— “Just like her mother,” she thought and suppressed full-on laughter. She then whispered quietly into Hange ear, hoping it would somehow register in her heart, despite her being asleep. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Hange. And.... I can’t wait for you meet Levi someday. Don’t let his little scowl fool you—he has a good heart.” Kuchel beckoned Hange’s mother over to pick up Erwin. “Come on, let’s go put these two to bed.”

-------- Levi could not believe Erwin’s story. But... there was no denying the description of his own mother.

He remembered the day before his mother died, and her words that morning echoed in his mind, “Levi, did you know that some friendships are strong enough to transcend lifetimes?” He wondered if that applied here—an explanation as to why his bond with Hange ran so deep, and why he felt like he’d known Erwin, Moblit, Mike, and Nanaba for much longer than he actually did.

They had been interconnected this whole time. As much as it frustrated him that knowing this would have made their meeting 3 years ago much easier, he felt a wave of happiness fall over him, and he was absolutely overwhelmed from head to toe.

“So, you’re Kuchel’s son.” Erwin remembered her kind eyes and gentle voice, and began to laugh.

“Oi, what the hell are you laughing on about?”

Erwin continued to laugh and started to wipe tears from his eyes. “I was just thinking about how you’re just...well let’s just say I never thought Kuchel’s son would turn out to be such a small, angry man.” He laughed, along with Nanaba and Mike. Levi grumbled but couldn’t help but let out a tiny smile.

After their laughter died down, Levi let the information sink in a little along with the situation at hand. “I didn’t know you met her...” he sighed. It seems there was a lot he didn’t know, and he wished he could turn back time and ask his mother everything.

Mike asked, “What did happen to your mom anyway? I know you said she was gone but...”

“She died after she saved a child from a house fire. My uncle and I were gone training for a weekend. I was only 12 at the time,” Levi said as he stared down at the ground.

“Since you and Hange are the same age... that must mean she died around the same Zeke betrayed everyone and had fire nation soldiers kill our parents,” Nanaba said quietly.

Each of them held their parents’ charms tightly in their hands. All was silent except for the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze and the crackle of logs from their campfire. Dusk quickly fell upon them, the glow of the moon peeking through the light cloud cover.

Erwin’s eyes softened as he looked at Levi. “Well, we got some work to do, don’t we? Hange and Moblit are in trouble—I can only imagine what Zeke wants to do with them.”

Levi looked up at Erwin, noticing a minuscule flicker of worry in his eyes. “My bet... is using an Agni Kai versus Hange as public display to destroy anymore hopes of internal rebellion.”

The other three furrowed their eyebrows at this, gritting their teeth in anger.

“And... killing the last firebending Zoe would be the ultimate symbol of crushing any hope that may be left.”

Levi stood up and looked out into the horizon, in the direction Zeke and Kenny escaped the night before. He had a good idea of where they might be, but the exact coordinates of that base was kept hidden from everyone except for high ranking officials. However, knowing Hange, he had utmost confidence that she marked a way for them to find her. They'd just have to figure that out—and soon.

Levi balled his hands into tight fists and fierce determination flickered in his eyes.

“Well, we’re not gonna let her face Zeke alone, are we?” he whispered, not taking his eyes off the horizon.

--------

As Hange’s screams grew silent, Armin breathed a sad sigh of relief—either they stopped torturing her or she finally just passed out from the pain. Either way, she at least had some respite. He looked at the thick wooden bars of their cell, cross hatched like a solid net, trapping them inside. He could only assume that at least one guard was standing watch outside the metal door about 8 feet away from their cell—the only exit point in the room. How in the world were they supposed to get out of this mess? And more importantly, why were they targeting Hange? Where were the rest of the Scouts, anyway?

He turned back towards Moblit, “Hey so... what happened? How did you get captured?”

Moblit used his sleeves to wipe at his tears, revealing his swollen eyes, filled with a terrifying swirl of anger and hopelessness. “They ambushed us, Zeke and Kenny. They set everything on fire and we didn’t stand a chance—and they told us...” He looked down, tangling his fingers in his hair anxiously, like he was trying to pry the memories out from his mind.

“Told you what?”

“That Levi led them to us, and...that he was a firebender and... that he’s Kenny’s nephew.”

Sasha and Armin’s jaws dropped at the news, and Jean looked away, as he knew Levi’s secret. He wrestled with the possibility that he might have made a mistake in trusting him. “No... there’s no way I made the wrong call,” he thought.

“I’m not sure if I believe it, though. Hange was very adamant that we should trust Levi.” Happy memories of his relationship with Levi came rushing relentlessly into his head. “No, I don’t think we should stop trusting Levi.” He paused. “After that, the next thing I knew, I woke up restrained on the komodo rhino, and then saw all of you.”

“Moblit, why did they only take you, and no one else?” Sasha asked.

“Well Hange and Levi were in Ba Sing Se that night. And I think they were just using me as bait.”

“But why not any of the others, why just you?” Armin asked. “It doesn’t make any sense. Couldn’t they have just taken Erwin since he leads the Scouts?”

Moblit sighed. “I guess I better just fess up and explain everything, right? All of this would be easier if we were just on the same page.”

He fished a small, metal keychain from his pocket, a fire nation emblem etched into it, matching the one stitched into the red tapestry behind him. He held it up for them to see.

--------

A dull pain ached against the left side of Hange’s face, the skin around her eye throbbing alongside her steady heartbeat. She felt a warm hand pressing a dressing over her left eye, and saw strands of black hair hanging over her. She blinked her right eye, confused as to why she wasn’t still in the barn back home, laying in the hay next to Erwin and Kuchel.

“K-Kuchel?” Hange croaked.

She was answered with a soft whisper, “No, I’m sorry, I’m not Kuchel. My name is Pieck.”

“Oh…” Hange sighed, wishing she could return to dreamland, back to her old, yet comforting memories.

A harsh, gruff voice sounded from the dark corner of the room, “Kuchel’s been long gone, dearie.” From the shadows, Kenny stepped out into the light next to Pieck. “My dumb sister died saving some stupid kid a long time ago.” He peered down at Hange and scoffed. “Didn’t think she’d go that way, to be honest. I thought she’d at least have gone doing the pathetic work your parents and her other friends got into.”

“…Sister?”

“Yeah, my dumb old sister. What, the genius Hange Zoe hadn’t figure it out yet?”

“Sister… then… you’re Levi’s uncle??”

He let out a chilling laugh and began clapping—pathetic applause at her realization. Kenny stepped closer and bent down, staring right into Hange’s face. “Zeke told Porco to do much worse than what he ended up doing to you. You’re lucky I happened to walk in and stop him—what kind of self-respecting uncle would let his wonderful nephew’s girlfriend suffer right in front of him?”

Hange felt her brain short-circuit at his comment. “Oh I know how my nephew works, I saw how he looked at you after your cute little group took down that fire nation camp in the forest. All of you trying to be like your parents—their work was pathetic and so are you.”

Hange tried to make sense of everything and it was difficult to concentrate against the throbbing pain in her eye, but she quickly focused on the situation at hand—no need to show him weakness at anything he decided to say to her. She wasn't sure if she could trust him, though his tone seemed genuine underneath the rough exterior. She laughed to herself--she knew how to read and communicate with Ackermans.

“Their work wasn’t stupid, you pathetic old man,” Hange retorted.

Kenny laughed. “I told my sister not to get into that business. World’s gone to shit anyway, why not just live for yourself at this point?”

Hange began seething at this response. The only reason why she didn’t burst out flames at Kenny was because she was completely disoriented to her surroundings. Sadly, she figured she’d kiss her left-sided vision goodbye. Plus, she didn’t want to injure the girl next to her, as she was clearly very kind, tending to enemy’s wounds. “Maybe if you actually joined your sister back then, you could have helped them!”

“Well maybe if they all just gave that up, none of them wouldn’t have died and left you all as orphans. Have you ever thought of that?”

She stared back at him and spat as she spoke, “Well if you’re arrogant ass is ‘living for himself’ then why the hell do you care about that, and why would you decide to lay your loyalty to Zeke?” Kenny stepped away to make sure no one was within hearing range in the corridor. He walked quickly back towards Hange and leaned down close to her face.

“Listen here, little girl. My loyalty is to no one but myself. Zeke is simply offering the best deal I’ve gotten over last few years—we’re protected among his crew, plus the money’s good. And don’t get all disrespectful now, you’re lucky I didn’t let Porco take out that other eye of yours!”

“Or maybe you did it to keep Levi safe too, you DO care about him don’t you?” Hange teased.

Kenny scowled and grumbled at her comment—Hange stifled laughter as she now knew where Levi got it from.

“You’re delusional, Zoe. You’re just like your parents.” He turned around and slammed the door behind him—the metal reverberating around the walls of the room, the force causing her sensitive eye to throb again. Hange winced in pain.

Pieck held a cold compress to Hange’s face, and she sighed in relief. “Thank you,” Hange breathed out.

“Of course.”

Hange looked curiously at Pieck—“So, why are you helping me, anyway?”

Pieck answered softly, “Hange, I know what Zeke wants to do with you. But I don’t want him to go through with it.”

Hange held back the fear in her heart. She abandoned her curiosity at Zeke's plans with herself for a second--she needed to clear up other information with Pieck first.

“Why?”

“We’ve been friends since we were kids, and… I think he’s truly lost himself. This isn’t him, and it hasn’t been him in a long time. A lot has happened, Hange, and I think you’re just unfortunately stuck in the midst of it." She peeked out the doorway for any listening ears, and sat back down, whispering to Hange.

"There are guards everywhere though, and I can’t just let you out, plus your friends are still trapped somewhere in the building, and I don’t know exactly where. All I know, is that we have a decent amount of time before Zeke returns. In the meantime, rest.”

Hange breathed a sigh of relief—she was ridiculously lucky, she thought. Her mind scrambled to put together all the information she’s gathered and started on mustering up a plan to get everyone out of here safely. But one thing was really bothering her—was being friends with Zeke enough for this girl to help her, a Zoe, a target of the fire nation? There had to be something else--could it be?

“Pieck, can I ask you one more thing?”

She nodded, inviting her to continue.

Hange nodded back, “Is there any more reason why you’re trying to help me?”

Pieck smiled—Hange was just as sharp as the rumors told. She reached into her pocket and held out a luck charm, identical to everyone else’s, the fire nation emblem shining brightly back at Hange. Hange closed her eye and laughed, feeling nothing but hope and happiness. She wondered if Levi felt the same way at this same moment--after all the events of the past few hours, she thought it'd be quite likely that Levi, Erwin, Nanaba, and Mike were likely revealing their charms to each other right around now. It was about time.

[athena-is-a-chaotic-lil-shit]

Of Ice and Blood

Part 2

Hello there! I present to you, part 2 of my orc x fem!human series!

I still don't know what to name this fic of mine

I should've thought about the title in the first place lmao

Anyways! I'll try updating constantly if I can. Enjoy reading!

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Pairing: Tai'chi Kashharzol (Orc) x Pearl Blackbell (Human OC/Reader)

Warnings: Cursing, lots of cursing. Mild violence and mentions of injury.

UD 01/10/21 : CLEANED AND PROOFREAD PROPERLY (hey I did my best)

(reference to the mask she's currently wearing //her hair is still braided// )

*

Even with the tedious introduction the professor was on about, I couldn’t help but pick up the whispers of my human classmates, and the unmistakable nasty odor they were giving off.

“Hey. Look at that orc over there.”

“Tsk. Beast. Why is it even here—”

“I bet it’s gonna get suspended from breaking someone’s arm.”

“It looks like he’s gonna kill somebody soon.”

Snickers and clicks of disgust went around the group.

The professor shushed them, not quite knowing what they were talking about before he moved on.

I cursed, feeling my blood boil from their words. The orc wasn’t even doing anything! And they slander him like that? I would love to break their fucking ne—

No, damn it! No violence! Mama will go crazy if she finds out I broke someone’s spine. Behave and endure. Remember your training.

...but seriously though, I'm going to fucking snap their legs. Nah, perhaps use pepper spray on their eyes until they go blind, even though the mixture inside my spray bottle wasn’t made to have permanent effects on someone, but it would still cause great discomfort.

I hugged my backpack, the thought of my dusters inside somehow comforting.

I didn’t notice Tai'chi was taking glances at me out of concern while I was imagining how I’d smash those jerks’ faces.

************************************

My mind wandered around the interaction by the gates earlier, and how... contradicting... it was when I entered the building.

Everything passed like a blur as I continued daydreaming about other things, hardly paying attention to what everyone else was saying. Plus it takes a lot of concentration to survive their pungent scents.

A bell rang, bringing me back down to Earth. It was lunchtime already.

Everyone seemed relieved as they started filing out of the area and headed towards the cafeteria. [a/n: Ooh that rhymed] I failed to see the lingering glances of barely masked distaste in our direction.

I glanced at the or— Tai'chi, whom I found out was looking at me already, stunning me at how he stared for a moment before I broke eye contact and stood up, which he also did. I almost fell back down my chair when I scented him.

Wha—

How the fuck did I not smell him before?!

I must’ve focused too much on the awful odor surrounding me that it didn’t register this—

This, oh my God.

To describe it, it was simply so— manly (or is it Orcish?). Like the scent of fresh earth and the warmth of a fireplace in the midst of a cold night. Embers crackling and sending sparks up into the sky.

He doesn’t smell one trace of a beast at all! In fact, I’ve never smelled someone so clean, so pleasant, all the while exuding masculinity, and was that a tad hint of vanilla?

For the first time in a while, I couldn’t place what the feeling was exactly. He simply smells so— good. Which is a positive sign?

I looked up to his eyes once more before I blurted out, probably a little too high-pitched;

“Lunch?”

Seriously? That’s what comes out of your damn mouth?

“I mean, do you want to go grab some lunch? At the cafeteria?” I clarified to sound normal and unaffected, (even when I clearly am).

Was the last part necessary? You’ve broken noses, dealt painful blows like a skilled warrior, but you’re embarrassing yourself.

I was busy reprimanding myself that I nearly missed what he said.

"Sure.”

He straightened up, and I was then faced with the reality of how damn tall he is. Or is it because I’m short? I barely reached over 5 feet, and he is standing there, almost three heads taller than me. Was he hunching for my sake earlier?

Wowie…

I scented a hint of pride, and was that a small quirk of his lips for a second there?

Huh. My mask is a lifesaver, or else he would've seen my jaw dropping.

I followed him out and headed straight for the campus’ cafeteria, all the while trying to converse here and there.

****************************

'Trying’ was not the right word.

Definitely not.

It was surprising, how easy and nice it was to talk to him. I could scent his apprehensiveness when I talked to him at first, but he relaxed not long after I introduced myself properly.

It felt... natural.

I learned that he came from the Northside of the country and moved to the city last year to pursue his dreams and to find a better future for his clan. I also told him about my family and home, along with my reasons for being here, leaving out the… violent part.

“My family and my entire clan wanted the best for me and my brothers. Up in the North, education is… very limited. Although ever since we were young, we were taught everything from our clan’s history, how to hunt for food, what herbs and plants were poisonous, what were medicinal and edible, how to stay alive, survive and so on.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“But we were cut off from the modern world. Times are changing, fast. Global warming being a major problem, leaving a huge impact on our living. So, when my clan heard about a school in the city, open to all races, they turned to us, the youth, and we took this chance.”

I looked down and thought about how disconnected the others were, only given the freedom to modern society eight years ago. Eight years is a long time, but I guess it’ll take more than that for everyone to get used to the change. That doesn’t mean they should treat them poorly!

As I realized I’ve been quiet for a while, I shot up and apologized for not replying.

“No, it’s okay. You looked like you were in deep thought. I didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Y-yeah… I was—”

“Thinking about how the majority of the human race still see us as beasts?”

There was a bit of spite in his voice, although barely noticeable. Or was it because I caught a whiff of it? No one was paying much attention to us while we were walking. But I noticed many of them hastily stepping aside and felt their glares at my back.

“How did you know?” I asked, curious.

“I could tell from your- I could tell, from the way you frowned earlier when one of those humans said something.”

Oh. He was looking at me that time?

“Frowned? But my mask—”

“It’s easy to tell if you are frowning when your eyebrows scrunch up like that. Believe me, my father does that a lot.”

“Ah. Well. It was just very rude of them. To talk shit about you and your kind like that, as if they were any better. You weren’t even doing anything, and they judge you based on your race. Orcs are civilized and intelligent just like any other, and I don’t understand why there’s still so much prejudice after eight damn years—”

I stopped and restrained the urge to go wild and curse every single human who smelled so foul every time we pass by.

“Sorry. I was...rambling.”

Was I this talkative? Maybe it's because I never had anyone to talk to.

He didn’t reply, which I found strange, so I glanced over at him and saw his eyes wide open and brows shooting up in surprise. It was almost comical.

“Uh, Tai'chi?”

Before he could even utter a word, we arrived at a huge hall where students were chatting and enjoying their lunch. Still, I noticed some humans were giving unkind looks to a gathering of goblins eating at the far left side corner of the cafeteria.

And of course, I didn’t fail to smell that wretched odor coming from a group of girls on my right when we walked in. I also recognized the one who pushed me, (No doubt it was intentional). I had to pinch my nose over my mask just but I could only block out half of it.

Ah shit, this mask doesn’t have proper air filtration.

I groaned as I tried to cut off the noise and thickened scents. For real, I wasn’t expecting it to be this harsh! I could literally smell discrimination and hate in the air!

Fuck. I should’ve worn my other mask. I swear I’m gonna burst if I stay and inhale more of that any longer—

“Pearl, are you okay?”

I groaned again and didn’t reply, busy controlling my sense of smell to even open my mouth. We were standing there like a pair of street posts, blocking a small part of the main entrance. That is if there was a 5ft- tall post. I’m more like that foldable caution sign.

“Pearl—”

“Hey, you there! Freaks! Move out of the way.”

Great. Another awful fucking odor. And what a coincidence! It was the one I smelled this morning!

“Are you deaf? I said—”

He shouldn’t have grabbed my shoulder, shouldn’t have tried to shove me aside, for the second I felt his hand reaching for me, and before Tai'chi could pull me away, my reflexes kicked in.

What did I do exactly? Oh, I simply grabbed that damned arm of his, threw him over my shoulder, and slammed him down on the tiled floor in front of me, finishing a one-arm shoulder throw.

The people in the area halted what they were doing and a short-lived silence came over, broken by whispers.

So much for keeping a low profile.

The guy I just performed basic self-defense on was spitting curse words at me. He was still on the floor, trying not to voice the pain in his back.

“Freak! You’re a monster, aren’t you?! How dare you do this to me. Don't you know who I am?!" he yelled.

Did he mean me or? Either way, what he said was not true.

I tried to calm my anger down and gave him a forced smile, under my mask, and mustered up the voice and tone I always used when I’m annoyed.

But right now, I am pissed.

“Now, dear, fellow, human, what you said was clearly untrue. I am entirely human and this person beside me is an orc. Or were you blinded by your overgrown ego and disgusting attitude to see the obvious in front of you? Surely that must be it. The entrance to the cafeteria is wide enough for two people to not serve as a hindrance to the ones coming in, but still, you chose to try and shove me aside yourself. Well, I won’t apologize but I’ve had enough pushing for one day. And lastly, no, I do not know you and I don’t care.”

I gritted my teeth, my face hurting from smiling forcefully. The cafeteria was quite silent enough all the while and no doubt they heard every word I said.

Fuck.

I twisted around and bolted out of the building.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck! I blew it! Fucking blew my chance to have a normal college life! Now everyone will think I’m some crazy person and would, without a doubt, avoid me forever.

I was too busy cursing and walking away, planning to hide in a hole for all eternity that I didn’t feel the presence of someone following me.

Without thinking much of where I was heading, my feet led me to a secluded part of the uni. Tall trees lining up before and around me looking like an entrance to a forest, and so I tried hiding behind one. Hoping that the guards wouldn’t notice and detain me or something.

I sat down between the great roots of an oak tree and rested my head on top of my knees as I took deep breaths and listened.

Nature always had a place in my heart. How could it not? When you can hear the chirps of little birds, the soothing sound of leaves rustled by the wind. And the peace that comes with it all.

Not to mention it smells so relaxing.

“Hello there.”

************************************

Haha! What will Pearl do next I wonder, and who is this person who followed her??

Had to cut it off at that part because my dearest self just loves cliff hangers—

And because I wanted to post something as soon as possible.

Hope you enjoyed! I will be working on the third part asap.

Tags: @kokokatsworld @crackinanutshell

[ren-c-leyn]

FNF Story: Betrayer

 Another tale for @promptsforthestrugglingauthor‘s Friday Night Fights event. This week’s prompt is here, additionally, I used these 1,2,3 other prompts from their collection, this prompt by @thependragonwritersguild, this prompt by @clean-prompts, and this prompt by @corvidprompts.

Warnings: This piece is a heavy angst piece that mentions death in passing, some alcohol use, a curse, fighting, some blood, but nothing graphic or in any particularly descriptive detail.

  “I’ll fix it, I’ll fix it!” I stumbled forward, the world wobbling around me. My companion lay on the ground, breathing in shaking, labored heaves and surrounded by so, so much red. “You have to be fine, you have to!”

 But he wasn’t fine. the crimson pool grew and grew as the breathing slowed. No matter how much pressure I put on the wound, it wouldn’t stop bleeding. All the while, I heard a chorus of whispers surrounding us.

 ‘Why?’

 ‘Why did you betray us?’

 ‘What have you done?’

 ‘Why did you do it, why?!’

 ‘We thought you were our friend.’

I blinked back tears, trying not to listen, trying to stop myself from shaking as I focused on him, focused on trying to save him. Both those pale green eyes were going glassy.

 “Please don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t!” I begged, but they closed anyways.

 The whispers burst into hideous laughter and then it all went dark.

 I jerked out of bed, drenched in enough sweat that I may as well have just been caught in the rain. I clutched my own arms, breath ragged, trying to expel what I’d just seen. His hands fell on my shoulders, touch gentle and light, reminding me I was not alone.

“You’re gonna be okay. It was just a dream. I’m here,” he said.

 And I froze. My mind reeled, trying to figure out exactly when this... this creature got in here. It was hard to think with the pounding headache and blurry tears, so I just shoved him away and stumbled out of bed and downstairs.

 Bits of memory faded in and out as I wobbled closer and closer to the bottom of the staircase. Right. I was drunk. He helped me home. I was sobbing, something about the curse.... The curse.

 I stopped on the last stair before sinking down onto it. There was the obnoxious pounding of footsteps as he came down after me. He sighed.

 “You’re not ready to be up, yet,” he said gently before carefully grabbing my arm.

 “Get your hands off me!”

 “You’re sick, I’m not gonna just leave–”

 “I would sooner crawl back up these stairs on my hands and knees than lower my pride enough to ask you for help–so, again–hands. Off.”

 He let go and held his hands up.

 “I don’t understand why you won’t just let me help this once.”

 “I don’t trust you.”

 “Good. I don’t trust me, either.”

 I groaned at the sarcasm.

 “Infuriating as ever.”

 “Guilty as charged.”

 A tense silence passed between us as he stepped passed me and sat down on the rug in front of the stairs.

 “It’s only going to get worse,” he ventured after a few minutes went by. “And alcohol isn’t going to help.”

 “Don’t lecture me, I know. And...” flashes of the dream danced through my head, “I know what I need to do to fix it.”

 “Do you?” he asked.

 “To undo what has been done, I have to undo my betrayal. And I don’t need you getting in my way.”

 His expression soured.

 “Your death won’t undo it if that’s your plan.”

 “I’m not planning my own death.”

 He sat there blanked faced as I stood and slipped around him, heading to the kitchen. It must have clicked somewhere between my first glass of water and the second because I heard him screech in a way only he could.

 “You can’t do this!”

 “You can’t stop me.”

 “It’s stupid! You’ll die before you kill him! And another one will just take his place, that’s how power vacuums work!”

 I listened to him rant and rave for a few moments. Ironic that the traitor who helped the Empire take over was being advised by a traitor to said Empire now. We were always enemies, always on opposite sides, no matter who we decided to serve we were always against one another. Even now, even after he decided to pity me, we were still on the opposite side.

 Around the third glass of water, I felt alive enough to pass by him again to collect my weapons and armor. He grabbed my wrist and I ripped my arm away.

 “Touch me again and see what happens,” I growled.

 He threw his clawed hands up in the air.

 “Fine. But please take a moment to stop and think about this, think about it seriously. He’s guarded, he’s living in what is essentially a fortress, there’s magic on his side, and he’s only half mortal. Half mortal. Killing him is damn near impossible for warriors who have kept up their training and aren’t being slowly consumed by a curse.”

 “Well, it’s a good thing I’ve been using my downtime to think of smarter solutions than a duel, then, huh?”

 He shook his head, white hair fluttering about.

 “You’ve always been impossible.”

 “As have you, my old enemy,” I mumbled as I resumed walking to my little armory. ‘As have you.”

 He stopped protesting after that, just sat sulking on the bottom step of the staircase. Instead, he merely watched through silted eyes and a stony mask. Gargoyles, didn’t they have anything better to do than sit and judge?

 It took me the better part of the day to finish preparations, but I had ample time before the main event. I paused by the stairs, meeting his solemn gaze.

 “I’m not changing my mind.”

 “You rarely do. Act impulsively, yes, but change your mind after deciding to do something?” he snorted before his shoulders sagged. ‘I wished you would, though. There might still be other ways. Ways that you might, I don’t know, survive?”

 I shook my head.

 “Tried already. No. They won’t forgive me, not while my betrayal still stands.”

 “And so you rush to your death. Go then, my old enemy. I will bury you when it is over.”

 I couldn’t find any words. Not a snarky reply or even a simple thank you. Instead, I gave him a nod and started walking to the door.

 It was my last chance to make things right, my last chance to be honest. Better late than never, I supposed, but given how slow traffic was, it was looking like it might be never. I had hopped onto the farmer’s cart, thinking it’d be a faster trip. Turns out, it wasn’t. Horses and wagons filled the road to the city gates for as far as the eye could see and showed no signs of moving forward.

 A sigh escaped me as I felt another throb in my bones, another pulse of a headache. I know, Renard, give me a little more time. I’ll avenge you. What I helped them do to you. It didn’t change anything, but I felt better for the thought.

 Slowly, I forced myself out of the back of the wagon and began making my way forward, cutting passed farmers and merchants and travelers of all kinds until I was up at the front. Looked like the guards and some foreign nobles we arguing. I didn’t have time for it. Any of it.

 So, with a light push, I started a distraction. A brawl between the noble’s guards and the city guards would get ugly, no doubt, but who would notice me slipping by? No one. That’s who noticed me slipping by.

 The palace, or perhaps fortress was a better description of it, was also fairly simple. I just stood slightly behind and to the side of the first official looking person heading inside, and pretended to be their guard as we walked in together. Then, I promptly slipped away from him before he could notice we were being followed.

  The palace was at half staff, thanks to battles up north, so now was the best time to catch him. Risky and probably going to get me killed, yes, but the best time all the same.

 Finding the evil son of a lake serpent that killed Renard, that caused me to be cursed, proved to be the actual challenge. I listened around the servants, eavesdropped on the throne room, and just wandered around, searching for him. Eventually, I came across the war room and heard the unmistakable, booming voice of the Emperor. Wonderful.

 Terrible, I corrected myself as I realized that this was where most of the palace guard had been hiding. And they had spotted me.

 “Who goes there?” the woman demanded, scowling at me from beneath her spiraling horns.

 I blurted out my name. My full name. And she stood there, staring blankly at me. I smiled.

 “I come bearing critical information.”

 She opened her mouth, but the booming voice echoed out of the war room.

 “Let the spy in.”

 She looked back at the door and then back at me before making a sweeping gesture towards it. Not questioning my good fortune, I made my way inside.

 He stood tall, a hulking figure over the rest of the forms in the room. All were armed, but all made a conscious effort to keep their hands above the table. It would be a bad idea to get into a fight here, I assumed.

 How unfortunate.

 I placed myself right at his side, craning my neck upwards to look at him. He was as captivating as he had been back then. Quietly fierce and striking. His armor shined in the light of the crystals above his head, and his green eyes glowed ominously as he stared down at me.

 “It has been a long time.”

 “Indeed. Seven years to be exact.’

 “They have not done you well,” he noted.

 “But they have served me well,” I replied with a dip of my head, “and you as well.’

 “The information?”

 I grinned with a nod.

 “Yes, allow me to get the point, then. You’re true enemy is not in the north.”

 There was a collective of whispers and snorts from around the table, but I kept my eyes on him.

 “Interesting accusations. Show me your proof.”

 I gestured to the table and watched him lean over it again.

 “Look at the table, My Emperor, and see for yourself. Notice something odd about the attack patterns? How they all seem to conveniently benefit one person?”

 I didn’t know what the sea I was talking about, but it certainly seemed to get his attention as he leaned further down, inspected the placements of their colored flags with more scrutiny. I could almost reach it, now, that fabled soft spot.

 I slid a little closer to his side, making a show of gesturing to the flags.

 “If you look at where the boards of these territories, and the placement of the blockades, you’ll see that it seems to greatly benefit you’re general over there, as anyone moving through his land has to pay the fee....”

 “How dare...”

 “Silence.’

 The general shrunk down as the Emperor leaned a little closer to my direction, paying closer attention to the general’s boarders. Slowly, I raised myself onto my toes and reached for the dagger in my sleeve. He turned his head to look to me, to ask a question, and that’s when I struck.

 My dagger found that soft spot, but his hand also found my arm. I had just barely, barely broken the skin. I shook. So close. I had been so damn close....

 There was silence in the room. A thick, suffocating one as all stared at me in shock. As I stood in front of him, barely able to conceal the tremble of my legs, I wondered what made me think I was strong enough to challenge him in the first place. I guess the gargoyle had been right. I had sentenced myself to death, not freedom.

 His eyes burrowed into me, staring with that same intense glow and power that had convinced me to switch to his cause to begin with.

 “I always wondered when you’d do it,” the emperor said at last. “I always wondered when you’d turn on me, betrayer.” He twisted the dagger out of my hand and it clattered lifelessly to the floor. “It’s all you are in the end, all you’ll ever be, a betrayer. No loyalties, not even to yourself. The first opportunity to drive the knife in, you’ll probably take it.”

 “I should have taken yours sooner,” I tried to snarl, but it just sounded hollow.

 “So you could avoid your curse?” He clicked his tongue. “Wouldn’t have worked. It wasn’t Renard who cursed you. Wasn’t any of your old allies. No. You are you’re own curse. You always have been, always will be. No one hurts you more than yourself, but you only care now because there’s a physical manifestation of your corruption inconveniencing you.”

 “Killing me,” I corrected.

 “Betrayer, you’ve sentenced yourself to death, not the curse.” He swung me around by my wrist, handing me over to the guards. “Take the betrayer to the dungeons.”

 I didn’t fight them, didn’t have the strength too. And as the iron door swung closed, the words echoed around the inside of my skull.

 It’s all you are in the end, all you’ll ever be, betrayer.

~

Story taglist (ask to be added or removed.):

 @nemowritesstuff , @likelyfantasywriterspsychic,  @hannahs-creations, @writer-candy, @kaylewiswrites, @tenacious-scripturient​, @ofinkblotsandscript, @mischiefiswritten, @kespada, @silvertalonwriteblr, @inspiring-prompts, @greenwood-writes, @elkatheinkstained, @n1ghtcrwler, @writingiswilde, @say-no-to-negativity, @wordshavings

[amymel86]

Hello! Do you have any bits of your awesome writing to share for WIP wednesday?😍

I just saw this anon!

And thank you for asking <3

This is a bit more of this as yet untitled 'post-apocalyptic/fertility/modern arranged relationship???' fic. The first bit I posted on tumblr is here and as before, some things are not yet decided (like town names) and things may change...

“Are you sure this is what you want to do, darling?” Her mother’s voice on the telephone was a balm to her soul.

Sansa’s finger brushed the soft vivid petals of the small potted iris she’d bought at the store today. The iris symbolises hope, wisdom and courage among other things and she prays that the pretty purple and yellow bloom will lend her some of those. “I’ve got to try something, Mum,” she says, turning her attention to the two separate bundles of paper in front of her. Two men, two candidates, two different futures. Sansa had filled out all the matching service’s extensive questionnaires and scrutinised all the information she could find on the program. It seemed simple enough – you’re rewarded for helping to repopulate. In turn, the authorities help to pair you with someone who should be a good match dependant on all the information they have about you. The aim is that this new generation of children are raised in the traditional family unit. That had appealed to Sansa. “I can’t seem to find the right guy all on my own anyway,” she said into her phone.

“How do you know it will be safe, though?”

“It says here that my situation will be monitored by my own caseworker. I can call them any time I want. They’re not just going to drop me at the guy’s house and just leave us get on with it.”

“Hmmm... tell me about them? These men that they’ve narrowed down for you.”

“One’s called Waymar, he’s a financial advisor here in the Vale,” Sasna pauses, looking at the man’s photograph on his paperwork before fishing out the other. “And the other is called Jon, he owns a farm in the Reach.”

“None in the north then?” Her mother has been itching to get her back home. “I just wish there was a way to know that either of them were good men, Sansa. That’s all I want for you.”

Sansa put the two photos together. Two possible fathers for her child.

“That’s what I want too.”

***

“Shit! Holy fucking shit!” Jon says to himself, hanging up from his phone-call. “Mance!” he yells, bursting out of his trailer to find the old man. “Mance! It worked! It fucking worked!”

He’d relented. When Mance first put it to him that he should sign up for that weird government breeding program or whatever the fuck it was, he thought the old man’s last brain-cell must’ve fried up in the sun. But if they were going to make it easier for them and it meant Mance could keep the farm (and Jon could carry on living there rent free), then it was worth a shot. So he had relented. He’d filled out what seemed to be a gazillion and one questions about himself, his politics, his views on family and finances and education and fucking... art and shit. These damned government people wanted to know everything about him down to whether he scrunched or folded his toilet paper it seemed. He’d even had to lie. He didn’t like doing it, but there was no way that a fertile was going to pick him if he didn’t. So, he fished out an old photograph – one taken before the bar brawl that lost him his sight in one eye, and he’d also lied his asscheeks off by claiming he had ownership of the farm. He knew – he knew – that these lies are just more things that were going to trip him up one of these days but with Mance urging him on, he’d signed that damn form and offered himself up for the program.

And now a fertile had chosen him.

Him.

Fuck, he might throw up.

This can go one of two ways. Either completely up Shit Creek without a paddle – with his lies and reality crashing down on top of one another, leaving them exposed... or, his fertile somehow looks past his deceits and sticks with him and they-... well, shit, he could actually become a father. No-one becomes parents these days, especially not ‘round here. Fertiles flock to the big cities, to men with bigger pockets, or they work for couples who can afford to pay them off in exchange for a kid or two.

“It worked?” Mance asks, rolling out from under an old Ford pickup that needed a new exhaust. “They sendin’ us a peach?”

Jon shook his head. “They’re not sendin’ you anyone, old man. An’ don’t call her that – they’re-“ Fuck, what did the council call them on all that paperwork? “Reproductively abled.” He’ll have to remember that if he doesn’t want to offend her.

“Well, shit,” Mance grins. “What did I tell ya? Knew your pretty face was good for somethin’!”

Jon frowns. “Ain’t so pretty no more though.” He might have to go get himself a patch to cover his milky, sightless eye. It’s fine most of the time since Mance is the only one he sees unless he’s going to drink at Hobb’s, but he certainly doesn’t want to put off his ferti- reproductively abled friend who’ll be arriving in three weeks.

“She got a name? Your new peach?” Mance asked, earning him a glare.

“Sansa. Sansa Stark.”

Mance grunts and nods. “Sounds fancy.”

Yeah... It did sound kinda fancy he supposes. Jon’s first reaction had been that it was a mighty beautiful name, but now he thinks of it...

“Shame we can’t look her up – see if she’s a beauty or not.”

Jon can’t remember a time when that was an option. He was barely 11 at the highest point of the virus’s hold. Government officials had deemed certain channels on the internet were causing more harm than good by spreading false rumours, incorrect statistics and completely counterintuitive medical advice. The whole thing was shut down, now deemed illegal, only to be reconnected again three years later apparently looking like a foreign landscape from the one before. The internet was no longer a platform to socialise, only government approved informative sites remained. Mance says it’s better this way – that all people used to do was post vain images of themselves for attention anyway.

Jon wouldn’t mind seeing a vain image of Sansa Stark right about now though.

Not that it mattered terribly. As long as they get along and she decides to stick around she could be as ugly as sin. In fact, she probably will be, won’t she? Most pretty ferti- reproductively abled women stick to the cities and its high-fliers.

It doesn’t matter, he told himself. You just gotta keep her happy here and-

“Mance?” he asks, an issue coming to mind. The man grunts in acknowledgement. “Where the fuck is she gonna sleep? She’s not gonna want to stay in my trailer.”

The man grins in response. “I’m glad you asked, boy. I’m glad you asked.”

***

Her caseworker was meant to meet her at the train station. It was quite a drive to the farm and he was meant to pick her up, make sure she’s safe and happy and introduce her to Jon.

That hasn’t happened.

“Please accept my apologies, my dear,” Mr Baelish said down the other end of the phone. “There’s been a mix up with my schedule. We can set you up for the night at a local motel or ask your match to come and get you. Which would you prefer?”

Sansa eyes the dirty looking motel across the street from the train station. Everything here at [[INSERT TOWN NAME]] seems a little on the... rundown side. Maybe the sooner she gets to the farm, the better. Plus, her tummy is all a flutter with anticipation to actually meet Jon. She’d wound up swaying towards Jon as a match due to a few reasons; 1 – he does not live in, around, or anywhere near Harry or his crazy mother. 2 – he owns a farm, and that had conjured up hazy daydreams of idyllic country life. Sansa may enjoy big nights out in the city, drinking her dirty margaritas and feeling her bones vibrate against the base beat in a nightclub, but she knows that’s not what she wants to raise a child around. A child will want to run barefoot through wheat fields and chase chickens and milk cows and –

Let’s just say Sansa has a few ideas and that they all helped to sway her away from city pleasures and towards farmhouse life. And Jon

And last, but not least, reason number 3 – Jon himself. Put side-by-side, his and Waymar’s photographs looked rather similar if truth be told, but Jon won out on something that Sansa just couldn’t describe. Looking at his photograph gave her goosepimples along her forearms because it was like he was looking right back at her. There was something in the depths of his eyes – a kindness? A wit? A strength? She’s not sure, but she couldn’t find the same qualities when she stared at Waymar’s likeness. And his answers too. His questionnaire was full of how he’d like to teach a kid how to walk and ride a bike and fix a... a tractor for heaven’s sake! And so her head was flooded once more of this idyllic life where they got up to watch the dawn stretch over the farmland and they’d grow their own vegetables and she’d bake a pie every day and it would just be perfect.

Perfect, perfect, perfect.

Sansa glances around the near abandoned train station.

This doesn’t look so perfect right now.

“Could you please arrange for Jon to come and get me, Mr Baelish?”

***

It’s been an hour and fifty-six minutes precisely since Sansa last spoke to Mr Baelish to arrange her match coming to get her. An hour and fifty-six minutes of sitting on the curb, waiting, surrounded by her three suitcases. She’d started off by sitting at the nearby bus stop, purely because it was somewhere to sit and she had a clear view of the road, but after the rude bus driver insisted that if she’s sat there, she must be wanting to hop on his bus, Sansa decided to park her butt on the dusty, sun-baked curb instead. Her legs were beginning to numb and she was starting to get a headache from the sun beaming down on her head. The curls she’d styled into her copper locks have likely lost their hold by now. What a waste. Opposite, on the other side of the street, beside the dirty little motel, there was a tiny bar that advertised the fact that it hosted exotic dancers at the weekends with a blinking neon sign. Next to it was a hunting and fishing ‘emporium’ and beside that was a vacant store with an old dirty sign that read ‘Blouses & More!’. Presumably, the ‘& more’ still wasn’t enough to keep that fine establishment in business in this funny little town. At the end of the block was ‘Tarly’s Drugstore’ and Sansa had been debating with herself whether or not she should haul her suitcases over to go buy a drink and a magazine for about the last hour and fifty-five minutes.

But she hadn’t wanted to miss Jon Snow’s arrival.

Jon Snow, who seemed to be pulling up outside Tarly’s Drugstore in a dusty Ford pickup truck right about now. Sansa stood, expecting him to come right on over considering how long she’d been waiting for him, but she found herself wondering if she’d got it all wrong when she hadn’t caught a good enough look at him before he darted straight into the store.

Sansa is done with waiting. She grabs her smallest case and places it on top of her larger one, trying her darnedest to roll all her luggage across the road in a lady-like fashion. She could feel the eyes of several passers-by on her while her stiletto heels clip across the street. In turn, her own gaze fell to Jon’s cream-coloured truck. Its front bumper looked a little rusty and wonky too. There was a big gash in the leather of the bench seating on the passenger side. On the truck bed, there were a number of items, including a rocking chair that seems to have a couple of spindles on the chair-back missing, and a new double bed mattress wrapped in clear plastic. Sansa was almost done frowning at the state of the vehicle when the over-door bell of the drugstore tinkles.

“Holy shit,” he curses. And yes, it definitely was Jon standing right in front of her. Only... well... his hair was tied into a knot at the back of his head and.... and... he was wearing a black eye patch? “Uh,” he stood there, arms laden with bottles from the store as the gaze from his one good eye quickly darted down her frame and back up again. “You’re her, right? You’re Sansa Stark?”

Sansa found she could only nod, looking him up and down, like he was with her. He was in jeans with oil smears, some tough, heavy looking boots, a somehow pristine white vest and flannel shirt with the arms ripped off.

Speaking of arms...

Gods-damn! Sansa’s focus was momentarily derailed...

“Sorry, I-“ Jon starts before his grey eye drops to the floor and then returns to her, looking a little bashful. “I didn’t expect you to be so pretty.”

Oh boy. He may be wearing an eye patch right now but this man could win over a thousand girls with that smile, Sansa’s sure of it. She resists the urge to giggle like a schoolgirl. She’s here to find out if they’re well suited enough to start a family together – she needs to keep her head and think rationally, not allow herself to be swayed by his rugged country boy charm. It was Harry’s looks that enticed her in the first place – and look how well that turned out for her?

“Thank you,” Sansa says, blinking back at him before his words truly hit home. “Didn’t they give you my photograph?”

Jon shook his head. “No, ma’am.”

Huh.

“Did they show you mine?”

Sansa bites her lip and gives a nod.

Jon grimaces. “So I guess you weren’t expecting this?” He points to his patch.

Sansa shakes her head. “No... did you... did you do something to injure it?”

Jerking his head, Jon begins rubbing at the back of his neck with his free hand. “It’s a long story... but... it ain’t gonna get any better, if that’s what you’re askin’.”

“Oh.”

They stood, staring at one another for a heartbeat or five before Jon sucks in a breath over his teeth and glances down to the bottles he clutched to his chest with one arm. “I tried to get you some things to help you feel at home,” he says, “these are the nicest smellin’ soaps ‘n’ stuff from Tarly’s.”

“Thank you,” Sansa replies, knowing full well that she brought her Highgarden Floral Scents bathroom range with her.

Jon chews on his lip as he eyes her suitcases. “Lemme get those for you,” he offers before dumping the bottles in his arms into the truck bed and reaching for her luggage. Sansa’s heeled shoes seem welded to the spot. Jon notices. Scrubbing both hands down his face in resignation, he takes a step closer to her and Sansa realises for the first time, that he had dirt beneath his fingernails. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. “It was a shitty thing for me to do,” he offers, his words low and husky. Sansa feels the timbre of his voice set off a trickle of gooseflesh down her spine. “I’m sorry.”

She blinks at him, momentarily confused.

“About this,” he explains, brows high on his head as he points to his patch. “I shouldn’t have sent that old photo of before this happened, but – fuck – even my ex-girl won’t acknowledge I exist anymore with this and I knew I shoulda been honest about it but-“

“This ex-girl...” Sansa suddenly found herself left with a sour taste in her mouth. “... does she still mean something to you?”

Jon licks at his lips, his eye falling briefly to her own. “No, ma’am,” he shakes his head.

[aiikawarazu]

Hourglass Chapter #22

Title: Blue & Grey

Rated: M

Summary: Blue was the color of ocean. Grey was the color of sky in winter. In March of that year, before the cold winter melted into spring, these group of adolescents at the very center of this story experienced love, pain, heartbreak, and joy. Life was a series of choices, after all. And it was as mysterious as it could be.

FFNet here || AO3 here (AO3 is late update)

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin

In March of that year, Armin found a ring.

Ymir lost her job, while Historia got a letter.

In March of that year, Ayako finally fell in love, while Mikasa fell into despair.

But for a short while, in March, they had all experienced happiness in various sorts of ways.

March was the moment which witnessed many strange happenings. Some bonds were broken, while others were strengthened. At the beginning, no one could have seen how these seemingly random events were all connected, but then again, perhaps none of them were a coincidence.

Even months, and years after that, Mikasa still sometimes thought to herself – what would happen if she had chosen to do things differently?

If she had given a different answer, would things turn out the way did?

Or, was everything a predetermined setup from the beginning, flowing in one direction towards the inevitable outcome?

If only she had the answer to that.

It was a tale in the strange city of Shiganshina – when the weather was about to turn from piercing cold to warm, when the icy winter was about to give away into spring. Along with the coming of spring, these adolescents in the very center of this story had also melted away their youths into maturity.

It had all started on one chilly winter afternoon, when Armin picked up a lost ring.

- Winter Flower: Daffodil -

At first, Armin wasn't really sure whose ring it was. As usual, he was on his way home from school to the train station. Eren and Mikasa were off somewhere together that afternoon. They had been together a lot as of lately and to be honest, Armin knew what's going on between them. There was such subtle openness in the way they were casually behaving in one another's presence now – as though it was just natural for one of them to be with the other, just like the waves and the sea being of one existence. It was as if they had known each other for all their lives, even those hellish months full of fights and misunderstandings in September last year up to this January now felt like something that had happened a long, long time ago, probably from another lifetime. Indeed, life was as mysterious as it could be – a lot of things were set in motion after he met Eren and Mikasa, and the rest was history.

If only Armin knew, that him walking these streets today was also history in the making. Life was a series of choices, after all.

He was walking in a hurry in an attempt to catch the next train in five minutes – when suddenly he felt his foot kick a peculiar object on the side of the pavement. The small sound of metal clink brought the object to his notice. The circular thing glistened a little under winter sunlight, rolled half a meter away before losing balance and fell sideways, circling a few times before it finally settled down on the ground. Armin frowned. Carefully, he made a few steps to approach the object and slowly picked it up, feeling curiosity rising inside him.

A ring.

He turned the object in his hands. It was a modest ring, made out of metal and silver. Judging from the color, it was certainly not a new one. It had been worn out due to age – but at the same time, this ring was beautifully polished, proof that the owner was taking a good care of it despite of its age. If it was such an important thing – the owner must be looking for it now.

Armin ran his fingers on the outer circle. The size was small, the owner was probably a woman. He tried to turn it around for more clues. Could this ring belong to someone in Shiganshina North? It could be. After all, all the students had to travel past this road if they wanted to reach the station. And Armin knew that for a fact, a lot of students went to school by train.

If this belongs to a student – I could easily give it at school, Armin thought. He tried to look for name engravings, and his eyes glistened in silent triumph when he finally found it. There, on the inside of the ring, was engraved the name of a person, most likely the owner of that ring, in cursive letters.

Annie L.

"Annie…" Armin brows furrowed at the name. He was plunged deep in thought for a few seconds. The name seemed to ring a strange bell in his brain – he had heard that name somewhere… only he couldn't remember it.

Was there a student named Annie in their school? He couldn't recall anyone in his year – but she could be a first or third year. He stood still for a moment, the mysterious ring still intertwined between his fingers. Annie… What if she wasn't a student in his school after all? Shouldn't he be turning this to the police as a lost item?

He tried hard to remember. Every time it seemed like he was so close to remembering, his memories went up and over like thin smokes. He gave out a sigh of frustration. He couldn't let it go.

At that moment, Armin didn't know why he did it. He could have made a detour to the police before resuming his walk to the train station. He could have turned the ring in as a lost item – it was the most sensible thing to do. Armin was usually a pretty sensible person. But this time – just this time, something stopped him from doing it. Probably because he wanted to know who Annie was. Probably because he wanted to find out why exactly she took a really good care of such a modest, old ring. Or probably – because the image of this ring itself had made him curious about the owner.

Whatever the reason was, he squeezed the item carefully inside his hand and slipped it in his pocket. Then, he continued his walk toward the station, as if nothing happened. He had chosen to keep that ring.

- Winter Flower: Plum Blossom -

It was a chilly afternoon indeed. Even though it was March, the temperature was still freezing. Not a weather Jean would have preferred for this activity he was about to carry, but still he couldn't have chosen any other day.

He washed his face with the freezing cold water, turned the tap shut, and faced his expression in the foggy bathroom mirror. He looked scared. Scared, but ready.

"You got this," he said to himself as he slapped both hands to either side of his face. It was an attempt to bring him down to reality, a slap of truth on the face that he needed to have to perform this action. Swiftly he walked out to the bathroom, past the corridors, ran down the stairs, and finally reached the central courtyard.

And there she was, sitting on a bench at the far end of that courtyard. She wasn't looking at him, instead, she was looking upward toward the sky – it was almost as if she was waiting for the skies to open, and snow to fall.

Without wasting any chance, Jean drew in a deep breath and called.

"Mikasa!"

The girl turned to him.

"Jean?" she said, sounding both surprised and confused. He knew why she was behaving that way, of course. He would have to explain it to her.

"Ishijima told me you'd be here."

"Ayako..?" for a moment Mikasa seemed to be processing the fact, until she connected the dots together, and a hint of understanding finally passed on her face.

"She set me up, didn't she?" Mikasa asked, and Jean nodded, looking a bit guilty. "Yeah… I kinda… asked her a favor," he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Sorry for that."

Mikasa drew a long sigh and shifted uncomfortably on the bench, deliberately not looking at the boy standing before him. This air, this awkwardness and tension between them… she knew where this was going and she didn't like it. Damn it, Ayako. Why would she set her up like this? She already knew what's going to happen anyway.

"I just… I have something to say to you," she heard Jean say, and suddenly, her chest seemed to weigh a ton. She drew in another long, deep sigh and closed her eyes.

This was exactly the roots of all trouble, the beginning of it all. All the hurricane that seemed to turn her school life upside down had started from here. It was so simple really, just one event, and one wrong decision from her side.

But that one decision had branched into another mistake, and then another one, and… soon it had developed into a web caused by her series of bad decisions that slowly entangled her and trapped her inside. If there was one thing she did not understand back then when she rejected Jean, it's the fact that what happened between two persons were never only about the two of them.

She had thought that what happened between her and Jean was a matter between them both – but it was a clear mistake. It was not, and it never was. There will always be something, someone else – be it Nanako or other people, who were just as interested, as invested emotionally as both of them –in that relationship. These people's feelings would then become intricated, tangled, and as a result – all the emotions came together to cause complications that happened down the road. She was never an expert in interpersonal relationship – she didn't quite know how to deal with human emotions. A single mistake could cause a whole lot of chain reaction, which triggered the other events. But deep down, she might have known that this was an event that was bound to happen. Sh was going to have to face this, no matter what road she chose.

Slowly, slowly, she opened her eyes again to look at Jean. It took almost all of her to not run away from the spot. Jean looked conflicted, there was a lot of emotions on his face that she couldn't name. For a while, she thought of a way she should end this, in the least painful way possible, but then there was something on his eyes that just left her in a quiet reservation.

His sharp golden eyes spoke neither of hope nor anticipation. Those eyes just spoke of sorrow. They spoke of defeat. Somehow, it was the only emotion that kept her grounded. And in the next moment, she regained her senses back.

"What is it you wanted to tell me?" she asked.

She knew what was coming, she knew she might make another mistake here – just as that time when she rejected Jean but said that they could still be friends, when she accepted his invite but stood him up on their dates, twice – and when she decided to tell Nanako that she knew her feelings for Jean. She knew, and she wanted to offer her support, but Nanako just so mercilessly slapped her hands away, before proceeding to shatter their friendship to pieces. She had made countless mistakes back then – what would happen this time if she made yet another bad decision? When the inevitable happens, what then?

"I want you to know that I've given up on you."

Jean's words prompted Mikasa to look at him in surprise. There was a long silence when she gathered her thoughts, but Jean didn't interrupt her. He was looking at her, but he didn't say anything.

"What?" she opened her mouth, but that was all she could say.

"I give up," Jean repeated. "I give up chasing you, on liking you. I give up trying to make you look at me. I realize… that I am mighty stubborn at times. But I really… I want you to know that… it all ends today. I'm sorry if I ever made you feel uncomfortable before. Sometimes… I just cannot help it. I couldn't control my feelings and I caused you trouble. I'm sorry."

"You don't need to be sorry," she said before she could stop herself. "Jean, you're not at fault. I'm –"

"No, listen to me, Mikasa," he interrupted her gently, and she was silent, only her eyes imploring him to go on.

"I know I haven't got a fair chance on you. Even before Yeager came in… before all this shitstorm happened… I told you how I felt already but I got rejected. I should have given up then but I was too stubborn… I couldn't accept defeat, especially, my pride wouldn't allow me to give in. So… I kept going, over and over to chase you. I did like you but at some point…," he paused. "I realized, it might have been more about my pride than my feelings toward you."

His sorrow was replaced by something else now, a quiet, more subtle emotion. It was resignation.

"So… that's why I'm here today. To admit my defeat. Like I said… it all ends today."

"Jean…," she started, but then stopped. She didn't know what to say. She surely didn't expect any of this, but she was even more surprised that Jean would admit that the real reason he kept chasing her was because he didn't want to lose… because of his pride. For a while, she wanted to say sorry – sorry for all the things she did to him, for rejecting him and getting him entangled in her mess… It was almost at the tip of her tongue, but then, another word came up.

"Thank you, Jean," she said quietly. She could see his eyes widened in surprise. "For telling me this," she elaborated. "Thank you."

There was a speck of relief in his eyes. He was not sure how he expected her to take this – to be honest, he was actually prepared for feeling even worse, to admit a crushing defeat, but her words of gratitude set a huge burden off his chest.

"Well I guess…," he said to fill in the long stretch of uneasy silence between them, "I guess I should… thank you too." He shot her an awkward smile, which she returned just as nervously. Again, she heaved a deep sigh, and shot an upward glance.

"It's too cold here, we should –" but at that time, something caught her attention.

"It's blooming," she said almost in a whisper.

"Pardon?" asked Jean, clearly not following her. She pointed upwards, toward the tree branches that stretched above the park bench she had sat on earlier. "The flowers," she said. He followed her finger, and immediately understood what she meant.

When he found her earlier, she wasn't looking at the sky. She wasn't expecting the sky to open, or a heavy snowfall. She was probably looking upwards at these.

"Plum blossom," the said both in unison, and stared at each other in surprise.

"You didn't strike me as someone who knew about flowers," she commented, her surprised expression had changed into a somewhat soft smile.

"I guess… there are some things you might not know about me," Jean shrugged and answered rather bashfully. "I can see why you are excited, though," he shot an upwards glace again at the plum blossom buds, which had begun to blossom silently in the cold weather. "It takes a while for them to bloom this year."

"They bloom in the most adverse weather," he heard her say. "In the coldest winter climate – they survive and blossom. Don't you think it's amazing?" He stared at her face, which had softened considerably. She was still silently admiring the early blooms. He could sense a somewhat deeper meaning behind her words, but he couldn't dare to probe.

"I agree," he said finally. "People say flowers are weak because they live only for a short while, but for sure they're stronger than us. I mean… look at us now." He suddenly realized that he had been shivering. It was damn cold. "Listen, it's been a good talk, but we should probably go inside, yeah? Let's not catch cold."

Mikasa laughed. It was probably the first time ever that Jean was able to make her laugh, and he was taken aback.

"You were the one who asked to meet me here," she said. "Idiot."

Wow. That's two times she made him surprised today. The entire time he knew her, she never used any kind of bad words, even those that people normally considered as mild profanities.

"You have changed," he commented. Only after seeing her look of surprise did he realize that he had been saying it out loud… yet again. He covered his mouth in embarrassment. Him and his big mouth. One of these days, he should really learn to control it. But since he already said it anyway….

"Is it Yeager?" he asked. For a long while, Mikasa didn't speak. Her hand jumped to the red scarf she always had around her neck. It was just lately that she began wearing it, Jean had never seen her with it earlier, and yet, these days she was almost never seen without it. Mikasa tightened the scarf nervously, burying her lower face in it. Jean could still see her face glowing with hint of scarlet. Her reaction had said it all.

"Alright, I won't ask again," he said, sounding resigned. He was somewhat satisfied to have found his answer, though it did hurt a bit. But he had known this for a long while, so what difference did it make? He considered her again carefully, and speak, from the bottom of his heart this time.

"You look happier these days, Mikasa. I'm happy for you."

Beneath her scarf, Mikasa silently thanked him with a grateful smile.

***

"So? How did it go?" Jean just slipped his uniform open to change it with a T-shirt for a drama club practice, when a voice made him turn.

"Ishijima!" he yelled. "This is boys' locker room."

"You know no one cares about that rule," said Ayako, walking leisurely toward him and sitting on the bench nearby. "What did Mikasa say?"

"No – still, this is invasion of privacy, you know."

"What did Mikasa say?" Ayako asked again, more urge in her voice this time. Jean sighed.

"What else could she say? And just so you know, I did not confess. I went there to tell her that I'd give up on chasing her."

"Oh –" this came as a surprise to Ayako. Then, after a slight pause, "Jean… I'm so sorry."

"Don't be – it was my decision." He finished putting on a T-shirt and closed his locker with a clank. "And if anything… I was wrong about her." Ayako looked curious at this statement.

"About what?"

"Well," Jean sent her a sideways glance before continuing. "How should I say it… I think she's changed. The old Mikasa that I knew… she was beautiful but so cold, you know? It was like she never had life instilled in her. But these days, she's more… lively. I mean.. she called me an idiot for having her to meet me outside in the cold." Ayako burst out laughing.

"You probably deserved," she said. "Were you surprised?"

"Took the life out of me," Jean replied sarcastically. "It was Yeager after all… right?" he directed this question at Ayako, who only replied with a discreet smile.

"So you don't want to answer too? Damn it," Jean sighed. "Anyway, I'm over her now, I just wish her plenty of happiness." He shrugged, and began to walk toward the exit.

"You know, Jean..," he could hear Ayako call him from behind, but his words exploded before he could help it.

"I know… I sound like a loser, don't I?"

I wish you plenty of happiness was a bunch of bullshit. It took him a lot of courage to say that. To swallow his own pride, his own feelings for her, and to admit that he would bow out gracefully and declare defeat. It was a defining moment where he decided that he should never look at her again with a different feeling other than friends.

And still, in that damn little corner of his mind, there was a small voice that never wanted to shut up.

I wish you all the happiness. But when will I get my own happiness?

"Don't say that," said Ayako, rising up from the bench. She walked nearer to him, and sent a gentle squeeze on his arm. "How about… a consolation date?"

Jean turned, and regarded the brown-haired girl with a surprised look.

"What?"

"I'm free this Saturday," she said playfully. "So… let's have a date." Jean blinked a few times.

"Are you… are you joking, or…?"

"Really…. Are you seriously going to hurt a girl's feelings after I ask you out like this?" Ayako crossed her arms in front of her chest. "Are you free this Saturday, or not?"

"I –" It took a while for Jean to process her question. She really was serious.

"Of course. I'm free," he finally relented.

"Great!" she broke into a smile, and Jean was taken aback. For a split second, with smile lighting up her face, Ayako did look positively lovely. "Let's decide where to go later after practice then. See you!"

And with that, she trotted out of the locker room, leaving Jean in stunned silence.

- Winter Flower: Camellia -

"You can't do this," Ymir said, half in desperation, as she stared to the person standing in front of her – who returned her plea with a very cold expression.

"I'm sorry."

"No!" Ymir screamed. "What are you saying… you can't just – up and fire someone like that, you know? I'm – I'm the longest employed staff here, I never come late to work, never caused any trouble, why… why are you doing this?"

"Like I said," the staff who stood before her repeated with the same cold, bored expression. "This is boss's decision."

"Then let me talk to boss!"

"No use. That's why he wanted me to talk to you instead."

Ymir clenched her fists, her breath hitched up her throat in frustration. "I've got bills to pay, Takagi-san," she said, trying to keep her voice down, "You know I live alone, you know how my situation is, right? The boss knows too! Why are you doing this to me?"

"Business isn't exactly easy these days," Takagi replied with a sour smile.

"And so is my life!" Ymir's voice rose again. "If you fire me, I won't have any source of income, how… how am I supposed to live?" she clutched the front of her shirt, trying very hard to keep her emotions in check. "Are you telling me to go out there and die, Takagi-san?"

"Enough!" Takagi raised his voice too now. "The boss has already done enough for you, Ymir! Don't you realize it? We're employing an underage kid here, in a bar! We falsified your age and thanks to the boss, we never got discovered though we've come pretty close to it many, many times! Who do you think covered for your ass all those times?" Ymir looked away in guilt. It was true, the boss was the only one who took her in and employed her here despite her being underage after hearing about her situation. Thanks to that, she was able to cover for her rent, bills, and tuition for school. If not for the boss' kindness, she would be wasting away out there in the street since a long time ago.

"You should be in the social service, not here," Takagi told her, and Ymir eyed him with deep resentment. "I'm saying the truth," he said, not wavering under Ymir's look of profound distaste. You are underage, you are still in school. You shouldn't be working here. After shift is over today, pack your things." Ymir didn't say anything, she only looked down with her fists still clenched. Takagi sighed, then slowly put his arms on Ymir's shoulders.

"You need to be where you belong, Ymir."

She shook his hands away. "What do you know about where I belong?" She shot back sharply, her eyes glistened of fury, but also of tears. "In the end, you're just trying to make yourself feel good about this decision, aren't you? You kicked me out, and now I won't have money to survive! What a bunch of bullshit, saying you do this for my sake!" she shouted bitterly, and slammed her fist to her locker door in her anger outburst. She ignored Takagi's hurtful and surprised expression. Why was he the one acting like he's hurt – when clearly she was the one being kicked out here?

"If you want me out, fine! I don't need until the end of this shift. I'll get out now!" She grabbed her bag and her coat, and dashed to the exit, eyes blinded by tears. She felt angry, but more than that – she felt miserable. Once again, someone she thought she knew had betrayed her trust. Once again, she was left with no place in this world.

***

A sound of broken glass from her sister's room alarmed Frieda Reiss. She ran upstairs, and immediately knocked on her bedroom door.

"Historia?" she asked worriedly, "What happened? Are you alright?" after a few seconds of tense silence, she was relieved to finally hear her sister reply.

"Yes… I'm fine."

Her voice sounded a bit shaky and Frieda raised her eyebrows, looking unconvinced.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes… I'm sorry, I'm just a little bit tired. I knocked over the cup when I was moving some stuff," she answered again. Then, after a slight pause, "I'll clean this up immediately and go to sleep, I'm sorry…"

"That's fine," Frieda said. "Do you need any help?"

"No… I'm alright. Thank you," she said politely.

"If you say so," Frieda said, and she began to walk away from her sister's door. Inside, Historia waited until she heard her sister's footsteps going away down the stairs, then sighed in relief. Hurriedly, she gazed down to the letter in her hand. It looked like an ordinary, simple letter. The envelope had an ivory hue, the thickness indicated that it was of good quality. It might have passed for a wedding invitation, had it not been for the wax seal on the front of the envelope bearing an intricate capital letter 'R'. Once Historia saw the wax symbol, she knew who that letter was from, and that's practically why she dropped the cup she was holding on the other hand.

She glanced at the sender's name scribbled on the bottom right of the envelope, her heart racing when she saw the name.

Rod Reiss.

- Snow Flower -

Armin lay on his bed, his hair still damp from shower, carefully holding up the ring he just found back in the afternoon between the thumb and index finger of his right hand.

Annie.

He knew he had heard that name somewhere. He tried racking his brain, tried searching the internet for it – for an Annie that lived in Shiganshina, but there were too many results that he couldn't possibly dig in one by one.

Was he behaving stupid right now? What if the owner was frantically searching for her lost ring? Why didn't he just turn it in to the police station?

Maybe tomorrow I should just wait for the owner to show up near the place I found this ring, Armin thought. She will show up, and I can tell her I found this yesterday and decided to keep it.

Armin didn't know when he fell asleep. He was pretty tired, he didn't even wake up when his grandfather knocked on his door, found his grandson fast asleep, then turned off the lamp. However, just a few hours after, he suddenly he found himself wide awake. He didn't know exactly what woke him up. Floating between his consciousness, he sent a quick glance at the bedside table, and found that it was past 2 in the morning. Armin lay back down and tried to go back to sleep, but suddenly, a strange voice was ringing on his ears.

Annie… what are you doing here?

Eren's voice. Where did he her it before?

Armin tried to focus. Then, the memories came to him all at once.

That breezy autumn day in October, when Eren had just moved to Shiganshina North High, Armin had walked to the school front gate and found a female student waiting for Eren. Blonde hair, icy blue eyes, pale face as pretty as an ocean in winter. She gave him chills when she spoke.

Her name was… Annie.

***

"No."

"Please, please please… can we just ride the Takabisha one more time?"

"Hell no! My life was flashing before my eyes during that ride, you know?"

"Exactly! That's why it's so fun, right?"

"Stop it."

"Oh come on… just once? After the steep drop it wasn't too bad."

Jean regarded the girl standing before him, who was practically bubbling with excitement, jumping up and down, trying to get him to ride the Takabisha one more time with her. He sighed, then sent a dark look over the towering figure of that coaster, which rose straight up toward the sky from the ground level to 43 meters in height. Why would anyone design something so incredibly evil, Jean would never know. Not only it was high, they had to drop the coaster from 42 meters high in a world-record steepest angle of 121 degrees, took them through multiple twists and turns, going from 0 to 100 km per hours in only 2 seconds, before finally stopping in the finish line. It was only roughly a minute ride, but it was enough to scar Jean for a lifetime. He could painfully feel all the regrets in life coming back to him during the ride – and couldn't be more relieved when it was over.

But Ayako seemed to think otherwise. When she said she wanted to go on the ride again, Jean was struck with horror.

"Must you really pick something so scary?" he asked miserably. "Why can't we… have some normal rides or just…"

"Then how about the Haunted House?" she asked, and Jean's heart sunk. This park's haunted house was famous as a labyrinth modelled after some old, abandoned asylum, in which the visitors were responsible to find their own way out, with no guarantee what kind of ghosts or terrors they would encounter on the way. It was a gigantic attraction, and some visitors even couldn't find the way out for hours.

Something about the combination of being stuck for hours in a dark, scary place, modelled after some abandoned mental hospital really didn't have Jean running enthusiastically for it. No, he didn't even want to go inside, if he could. He sighed.

"Why don't we… just sit here, okay? I'll buy us some coffee." He motioned to a bench near them, and was relieved when Ayako finally nodded okay. "Latte for me," she said, and Jean nodded, quickly making his way to the nearest coffee shop before she changed her mind again and try to get him on another scary ride.

He had known that Ayako was pretty energetic and all, she was always such a contrast to Mikasa's calm and collected demeanor. When she suggested they should have their date at an amusement park, he agreed, thinking that it was a mighty fitting place for her. What he didn't know was – how much she was into scary rides and horror stuff. She breezed through all the stuff like it was nothing, enjoying them even, while he could barely even stomach it. After a drop tower ride, a 360-degree vertical rotation, a pirate ship, and finally, the infamous Takabisha which gave his stomach a dangerous turn he was almost sure he'd throw up his lunch – Ayako asked him to get on the ride one more time with such glimmer in her eyes like she'd just experienced her dream of a lifetime coming true, while he felt like he was on the verge of death.

He couldn't believe her.

Thankfully she agreed on his idea to sit down over a cup of coffee. He would have to think what he'd say to her later when they started moving again, though. Why can't they ride something that will plant their feet on the ground, for once? Jean was determined to not go to another coaster or a haunted house.

"Thank you," she said enthusiastically, retrieving her cup of hot latte from Jean, who proceeded to sit beside her.

"This park is so fun!" she commented. "I'm glad you found it so," Jean muttered darkly. He gazed down at the cup of hot americano he held in his left hand, slightly slouching with both elbows resting on his thighs. His dark tone didn't escape her attention. She raised her eyebrows, then, after a few moments of studying the boy in silence, she spoke.

"You were really scared, weren't you?"

Jean turned to face her. She sounded curious, but he saw a look of genuine concern in her face. He had to turn away quickly then, for the sight of her bright hazel eyes and blossoming pink cheeks were suddenly too much for him to bear.

"I'm sorry. I got too overexcited."

He heard her speak, and he blinked. Ayako looked a bit sheepish. "I was so excited to finally come here – I wanted to try everything so I just dragged you without thinking. I'm sorry… I was inconsiderate."

"No, don't apologize," Jean cut in quickly, as he felt his guilt sank in. "I mean I – I should be the one to…" he stuttered out, feeling devastated at her words. He couldn't help but mentally slap himself. Damn it! What kind of guy was he? Why couldn't he have handled a few scary rides? She was having so much fun, and he completely ruined it for her.

"There's a reason I want to go here, you know," she said, playing with the latte cup in her hands. It's… um… but, promise you're not gonna be mad?" she eyed him with a look, and he, feeling curiosity had taken over him, simply nodded.

"It's that… extreme rides trigger an experience that releases adrenaline. And Adrenaline helps you forget the bad things easier," she said, and he frowned, not quite getting what she meant.

"Oh God, you are so slow," she laughed, half in desperation. "I want you to have a good time. I want you to make good memories. I thought after everything that's happened… you would need to unwind, relax, and release the tension. That's why… that's why I chose this place. But to be honest, I didn't know you would be scared instead," she twirled her brown locks in her hand, looking somewhat guilty. "Sorry."

"No," Jean started. He didn't know why she would say sorry – he should be sorry instead, for ruining the experience for her, after everything she did to cheer him up. He felt so stupid.

"It takes a while to get used to, these things," she said, and Jean blinked.

"Roller coasters?"

"No, you silly," she laughed. "Moving on from someone you loved."

Her words were met with a stunned silence. She gave out a sigh.

"It's not like it is something that can happen overnight," she said. "People talk as if it's an easy thing to do – but it's not. That's why you shouldn't worry. Just take your own pace, do one thing at a time. And slowly, slowly you will heal." She smiled. "You have to."

He couldn't bring himself to say anything to her. He'd had this thought a few times about Ayako, but it was always just a fleeting thought. After all, he was always too busy paying attention to Mikasa that he never had eyes for anything else. Despite being in the same club, Jean never even had a proper time to converse with her. It was as though this was the first time Jean had really ever seen her. He knew Ayako mostly from the school rumors, she was pretty, goes to blind-date a lot, easy to get laid with and would probably do it for money. She's an easy-win, that's how guys would often call her. There were still various other names that people used to describe her. But it never really captured the essence of her as a person, and this was the first time Jean realized that Ayako, despite everything else that people might call her, really could be considered quite mature and thoughtful for her age.

"It's nice," he said finally, with a relieved smile.

"What is?" she sent him a curious glance, looking at him through the brim of the latte cup, which she was drinking to fill in the empty silence.

"Discovering a new side of someone we thought we knew." This time it was her turn to not follow his words.

"Sorry?"

"I'm talking about you," he said quite humorously. "Ishijima."

"Oh, just drop the formalities," she said. "You can call me Ayako."

"Ayako," he liked the way that name rolled off his tongue.

"Jean," she replied. They looked at each other for a few stunned seconds, then, a hint of smile began to form at the corner of her lips. He didn't know why, but he suddenly found this hilarious also. As he mirrored her expression, his eyes lit up. And the next second, they both burst into laughter.

***

It's not here. It's not here. It's not here

Annie was searching frantically, retracing her steps back from yesterday, turning every stone, every nook and cranny, but still she couldn't find it.

Her ring was gone.

She clutched at her chest with devastation. She had always worn the ring every day, dangling it on a silver chain around her neck, but yesterday, the chain was broken, and she only realized she had lost her ring when she arrived home.

She couldn't sleep that night and couldn't pay attention at all to school the day after. When the fourth period bell rang, she slipped out of class and retraced her steps back, from the train station to the streets she walked to the places she visited, but none of them resulted in any good news. It was almost hopeless, she knew. But she couldn't give up.

She let fatigue overtake her when she finally rested a bit on the way uphill to Shiganshina North High. She was here yesterday, looking for Eren, but she couldn't meet him. She leaned back against the stone wall on the side of the street and slowly sank down, crouching. The cold of winter was biting her cheeks. She was exhausted. She covered her tired eyes with both her hands, sighing in frustration. What would happen if she didn't find that ring? She didn't want to think. She had to find it… she had to. It was the only memento she had left from her father, from their earlier years together.

From their happier years.

"Excuse me," a voice came up, and she burrowed her face deeper in her hands, hoping it would go away.

"Excuse me," the voice repeated, and she ignored it even further. This voice was quite persistent, so annoying….

"Annie," now the voice called her name, and she immediately looked up. A pair of big, blue orbs were staring back at her, those belonging to a boy of her age. Blonde hair was framing his face, and he looked concerned, but relieved. Annie frowned. She remembered him.

"You are Eren's friend," she said, almost matter-of-factly. "How did you know my name?"

"About that…," the boy reached out to his trousers' pocket, and brought out something inside his fist. Slowly, he opened his hand in front of Annie, revealing the object he was holding. The girl immediately let out a gasp, and covered her mouth.

"It's yours… right? I found it yesterday."

She stretched out her trembling hand to pick up her ring from Armin's hand, her breath seemed like it had stopped in her throat all the while. She had almost given up all hope to find it, but here it was now, by some kind of miracle, this boy had somehow returned this ring to her.

She clutched the ring tightly inside her hands and brought it in front of her chest, closing her eyelids so hard and drew in a deep breath to stop tears from pouring out.

"I thought… it might be an important thing for you. That's why I didn't give it to the police," she heard his soft voice, and she slowly looked up again. She was too relieved in finding her ring back, she'd forgotten to even thank him.

"Thank you," she said, genuinely. For a while, her never-ending cold expression was replaced with a smile, which Armin regarded with surprise. She looked completely different when she smiled. And if her frosty eyes were filled with some kind of cool animosity toward him before, now it was more of a quiet, yet still distant, acknowledgement of him.

"You are welcome," said Armin. He returned the girl's smile with a speck of relief. "I'm glad."

She looked surprised. "For what?" she asked.

"Ah, well… I'm just thinking….," Armin paused. Should he say it? But he's rarely ever going to see her anyway, so… might as well take his chance now.

"I just think… you look really nice when you smile."

She looked surprised, but, Armin noted in huge relief, not in a bad way. It seemed she was taken aback at his comment, but it's not in any way unwelcome for her. She stared at him for a few long seconds, before asking.

"What's your name?"

"Armin. Armin Arlelt."

She seemed to think for a while, then…

"If there is anything I can do to thank you, let me know. I'll do it if I can."

Armin hesitated for a while. "There is… one thing I would like to ask then," he said.

"Yes?"

"Do you mind… do you mind to give me your number?"

- Blue Side -

"An Instax?"

"This kind of thing is all over the social media lately. Gives you the kind of retro feels," Armin showed up his brand-new polaroid camera to Mikasa. He had got an Instax Mini 90, a nice and compact polaroid camera with well-polished black faux leather and silver metal body, which, like Armin said, completely gave Mikasa retro vibes.

"Can I try it? I promise not to waste any films," she asked, and he smiled.

"Don't have to worry about it," Armin handed the camera over to her, and she pointed the camera to his direction, capturing him in the viewfinder window.

"Okay, smile," she said. Armin gave her a huge grin, then she clicked.

The camera produced a whirring noise, then the film came out, still looking like a blank piece of paper.

"It's going to take a while to develop," Armin said and she nodded, setting it aside.

"Eren!" she called out to the other boy, now pointing the camera to him. "Look here."

"What?" Eren was laying on his back on a wide space near the window sill, playing with the basket ball that he had somehow snuck out from the sports warehouse. He threw the ball upwards into the air, and caught it as it came back down, sometimes twirling it on the tip of his index finger. He didn't seem to be paying attention to Mikasa or Armin.

"You're going to break something in this lab with that ball soon, I just know it," said Mikasa.

He grinned. "You wish," he said, and continued to bounce the ball upward and caught it mid-air.

"When that happens, I'm not gonna cover up for you, by the way."

"Me either," Armin chimed in.

"Well, why should we meet up in a science lab anyway?" he protested. "There are other safer places I'm sure. Somewhere we're not at risk of breaking things."

"We are not at any risk of breaking things, mind you."

"Yeah, only you are, Eren."

"Also, everywhere else is full. The third years are having their cram period before the exam so we can't use the classrooms. And the home economics lab is locked cause some students from first year blew up a fuse during their cooking practice today."

"Sounds lovely," Eren commented.

"Hold that pose," said Mikasa finally, when Eren just caught the ball for what must have been the hundredth time. He looked at her, questioning, but she already clicked the camera shutter quickly. She pulled out the polaroid film, and set it aside with Armin's, which had turned out nicely.

"Nice lighting," Armin commented. "Nice use of the window light there, Mikasa."

"I'm bored," Eren interjected, finally rising from his place. "Isn't there something we can do?"

"I don't know about you – but I'm broke," said Armin. "Spent all my allowance to buy this camera."

"I don't have that much too," Mikasa commented. "Have to last until the end of the week with what little I got left."

"How much does everyone have?" said Eren. "Let's put them together."

Armin and Mikasa sent a sideways look, but they grabbed their wallets anyway to pull out their remaining pocket money. They didn't have much indeed.

"We can't go very far with these," said Eren, thinking.

"Told you."

"How about just going to that convenience store down the road to grab some cup noodles and hot coffee?" Armin said, and Mikasa was about to agree with his idea, when Eren suddenly cut in.

"No wait… I got a better idea."

***

"Whose brilliant idea was this to go to the ocean in winter?" Mikasa protested through her chattering teeth.

"Shut up, you already agreed to it anyway, so don't protest!" Eren shot back, annoyed.

The three of them now stood on Shiganshina's open coast, having just exited the bus that took them to this place. The bus driver sent them a look as if they were crazy for going to the ocean in this weather, and Mikasa definitely had to agree.

They set out on the descending staircase that brought them all the way to the beach, the freezing wind blew mercilessly all the while, cutting through their skin, and sending chills all the way down to their bones. Mikasa's hair was blown away by the fearless wind, hopelessly tangled now in all direction. Half of her regretted going here, but she knew anyway Eren wouldn't have let her say no to his plans. She had no choice but to go along with him. Once they had descended all the way to the bottom, she began taking out her socks and shoes, while Eren and Armin sent her a look.

"Might as well," she tried to bite back the cold that seemed to seep through her bones. "Go all the way now that we're here."

She put away her bag, socks and shoes, then ran bare-footed toward the ocean to catch the waves. She winced when her toes came into contact with the waves.

"Cold!" she muttered. "Eren, Armin, come on," she waved at them. "Let's have a contest to see who can last longer in these cold waves!"

Eren already took off his shoes and socks and was now running to catch her. Armin was worried about catching a cold, although he couldn't help but follow in his friends' footsteps.

"Shoot! It's so damn cold!" Eren shivered as he stood now with his feet planted in the sand, waves sweeping freely at his feet. Mikasa, who noticed the close distance between them, quietly bent down, scooped a handful of water, and splashed it at him.

"Ouch! Hey, Mikasa? What the hell?"

"That's for making us going to the ocean in winter," she said, her eyes glinting humorously. Then, she ran away before Eren could have got back at her, smiling as she heard his frustrated groan. From the reverberating sounds of footsteps though, she knew that Eren was chasing after her. He could try – he'd run a marathon before she ever let him catch her. Knowing that it was futile, Eren soon stopped his attempt. He paused to catch his breath. Mikasa wasn't called the fastest runner in class for nothing, after all.

"Eren, Mikasa!" Armin called, waving his hand to both of them. He was standing a little way up, closer to the staircase, where waves wouldn't reach him. "Get here, I'm taking your picture." He had his polaroid camera ready in hand.

Mikasa came close, still slightly wary of Eren, wondering if the boy would somehow try to use this chance get back at her. Eren noticed her, then held up a 'peace' sign.

"Let's call it a truce," he said. She frowned. She couldn't trust him at all.

"Get closer!" Armin shouted over the sound of the wind and waves crashing, "You're not even on one frame!"

So – after sending quick glances toward one another, they began to walk closer, and stood side by side. Armin peeked through the viewfinder, and gave a frustrated groan.

"You guys look like an old married couple who's fighting and haven't said anything to each other in weeks," Armin said. "Can't you just be a little more… peaceful?"

At this, Mikasa felt Eren's right hand circled down her waist. Before she had a chance to react, he had jerked her closer, and now they stood side by side without distance, his chest to her back.

"Now?" he asked Armin, almost as calmly as if they were making a commemorative class photograph. Her breath seemed to have stopped in her chest. She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut in.

"Be quiet," he said, locking his eyes with hers with an obvious grin, "Or else I'll kiss."

She could feel the heat radiating from her face upon hearing those words. God – surely this was his way of getting back at her. Despite how they were behaving in private, he knew how reserved she was when they were in front of others – even if that someone other happened to be Armin. She couldn't find any retort to give him, so she just stayed silent and looked down, until Armin shouted at her to look at the camera.

"Much better," Armin grinned in satisfaction, when she finally did. He clicked the shutter before Mikasa could say anything else, and soon he had flicked the undeveloped film inside his hand. He felt rather amused. Just because he knew what's going on between them – didn't mean he shouldn't give them a tease.

He was about to go up to retrieve more polaroid films from his bag, when he suddenly heard a scream from behind him. Alarmed, he quickly looked back. Apparently, Eren had been successful in getting back at Mikasa by splashing her with a handful of cold, freezing water. And now he's got a very angry Mikasa chasing after him. Armin sighed, and continued his climb. He will not be responsible if both of them catch colds tomorrow.

[percywinchester27]

A lot like ‘Us’ (Part-10)

Word count: 5.2K

Pairing: Sam X Reader AU

Warnings: Implied smut, fluff :)

Series Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.

A/N: No angst again! And good stuff. I am being very nice these days ;)

The story employs two different timelines. The present timeline for the story takes place in 2014. Please let me know what you guys think :)

Beta: @deanssweetheart23​. Athina, you’re a goddess <3

A lot like ‘Us’ masterlist

10th September 2008

You woke up to something soft tickling your face, almost feather light and pleasant. Opening your eyes, you found Sam’s arms wrapped around you, nestling you in them. A glowing warmth spread through your body as you remembered last night, his lips on your skin, and the feel of his hot breath on your face. The way he had called out for you was enough to raise goosebumps on your skin now. And he’d said he loved you. Your heart thrummed in your chest at the memory.

Slowly, you removed his arm from over your body and slipped out of bed. You wanted to kiss him on his forehead or the point of his nose but Sam looked so peaceful you didn’t have the heart to wake him up. 

You pulled over the T-shirt and the boxers Sam had lent you last night and headed down to the kitchen. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to skip dinner after a morning of hangover because your stomach was churning weirdly. 

Would everything be different now? After last night. You felt like your heart would burst from all the love you were feeling. Without giving the task at hand much thought, you fried some eggs, toasted the bread and put the coffee pot on a boil, wondering what Sam had for breakfast. 

With an excitement that you had never felt before, you carried the tray laden with food upstairs, wondering how to wake Sam up. As it turned out, Sam was already sitting up, a confused expression on his face. The sheets were bunched around his waist and the sight of his naked torso made your face feel hot. When he saw you, his eyes lit up, a smile replacing the frown.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the tray before him and then joining him on the bed.

His eyes softened. “You didn’t need to,” he said, gesturing towards the food. “Not seeing you here, I was starting to worry that last night had been a dream.”

“Only the best dream of my life,” you muttered, pouring his coffee. “Black with half spoon sugar. Just like you have it.”

Sam was still stuck on your words. He took the cup from your hands and placed it back on the tray, then pulled you to him. “That’s just it. I didn’t want it to be a dream. Even if it was the best dream ever. All dreams, even the best ones end when you wake up. But with you… I don’t ever want this to end.”

You reached out and kissed him. At first he was surprised, then he leaned into it. Kissing Sam was like a breath of fresh air for your soul. If it was left to you, you would spend an obscene amount of time kissing him.

“This is one way to start the day,” he chuckled.

“Mhmmm…” you sighed, handing him the coffee and starting on the eggs. 

“Funny that Jo didn’t turn the place upside down looking for me,” you wondered idly. You should have told her where you were last night.

“I called her when you got here,” Sam said. “When er… when you were having a bath.”

Sam was always so thoughtful. Last night it hadn’t even occurred to you to let Jo know, about the acceptance or the fact that you were here, and you weren’t particularly proud of it. Absentmindedly, you scooted closer to Sam and like it was the most natural thing to do, he put his arm around you. The heat coming of his skin and his scent was so comforting, you all but melted against his side. A girl could get used to this.

“Hey,” Sam nudged you with his lips pressed in your hair. “You know that NC Central is only a seven hour drive from New York, right?”

Of course you knew that. It was a great school, but it was also on the East coast, where Sam would be. You nodded against his neck, lightly tracing the hard lines of his stomach. 

“I could drive over the weekends to see you.” There was hope in his voice.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you smiled at the thought of it all. A new school, a new life with Sam in it. You thought of happy weekends and flinging yourself into his arms whenever you saw him. You pictured his wide smiles, and the joy in his eyes when he saw you. “I could hop on a bus on Friday night and be there in New York in the morning. You’d show me around, wouldn’t you? I’ve never been to such a big city.”

“You have no idea,” he said. “I’ve never wanted that job more than now. Hell, I’d throw myself into preparing for the bar, if it keeps us that close now.”

“Mhmm.” You huddled closer to him.

“What’re you thinking?”

“About how I’m going to afford this,” you said. “NC central isn’t that expensive, but it’s still a lot considering I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t want to sell off Gran’s house.”

“You want to make it into a bakery, I remember,” he said, gently, then added hesitantly. “Maybe I could-”

“No!” You sat up straight. “Absolutely not. I can’t ask this from you.” You hurried to explain, seeing the slightly hurt expression on his face. “This isn’t about you in any way. It’s very kind of you to offer, it really is. But I want to do this by myself. I’ll apply for a student’s loan. Like I said, the money isn’t an impossible sum. I just need a guarantor to vouch for me at the bank. I don’t want to ask aunt El cause I know she had some bank problems with the diner. She doesn’t trust them very much.”

Sam looked thoughtful.

“What’re you thinking?” You asked suspiciously. “Don’t think about volunteering.” 

His finger was drawing a pattern on your shoulder as he licked his lips. “You know I can’t. I don’t own any property myself. You should ask Dean, though.”

“Dean?” You looked up at him surprised. “Why would he?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Sam countered. “He might not show it, but he does like you. You’re not asking him to pay for your college, you’re just asking him to be a guarantor. He has great credit, the bank won’t refuse that. It’s not like you’re going to dupe him. I know my brother. Trust me, he’ll be happy to help you.”

When you still looked surprised, Sam took hold of your hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t overthink this. You said you wanted to do this by yourself, so you bring it up with him. I promise I won’t say a word.”

“You’re awesome. You know that, right?”

He winked. “I don’t know about that. But I’m sure happy you think that!”

You removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the side table, then moved over to straddle Sam, hands placed on either side of his face. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

In a quick moment, Sam flipped you, so that you were lying on the bed with him hovering over you. He dipped down to kiss the hollow of your neck, then whisper against your skin. “The pleasure is all mine.”

***************************************

“You know, if you keep bouncing on the balls of your feet like that,” Meg said drowsily from the table, where she sat flipping through a magazine, “I’m going to side with Kevin on this. You’re hiding something.”

You put your lunch in the bag, wondering just how to tell her. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide your history from your roommate. There was just so much of it, you had no idea where to start. For now, you just settled for, “There’s this professor. I thought he was mad at me. Turns out he isn’t.”

“Wow. It doesn’t take much to get you all chirpy.”

Just the feeling of six years worth of hell coming to an end.

“Ready to go?” You asked and Meg jumped down from the high stool.

“Yep.”

“Is this the same good looking professor?” She asked out the blue as you reached the campus gates.

“How do you know about the good looking professor?” You narrowed your eyes. You had mentioned Sam only to one person in the apartment.

Meg looked taken aback for a second, then said nonchalantly. “Cas told me.”

“You two are really close, aren’t you?” Try as you may, you couldn’t keep the sly tone out of your voice completely. 

Meg changed the topic smoothly, but not before you saw the faint blush on her cheeks.

Meg blushing? Speak of novelty.

She waved you a goodbye at the entrance of the law building, heading north to the Physics department. Wondering if anyone else in the apartment had noticed, you entered the class for your first lecture. 

Professor Mills was in a great mood today, and she encouraged a debate on whether Legal writing and its syntax should affect how seriously the core content of any litigation is treated. You firmly believed that poor syntax should in no way undermine the severity of any litigation, and made your points with citation. The opposite team consisting of Brad and everyone in Madison’s group tried to put up a strong fight, but you knew you had the moral high ground on that one. Maddy was smiling by the end of it, but the expression on the other’s faces ranged from disappointment to disgust.

Professor Mills mentioned you by your name at the end of the class, lauding you for your points. It was enough to give you the high of the day. You simply loved her.

As the college day neared its end, you were excited for Civil Procedures, excited to see Sam again. Maybe he wouldn’t ignore you now. Maybe he’d actually look at you and smile. Your eyes were eagerly glued to the door, waiting for him while everyone chattered in the background.  

It wasn’t Sam who came in. Instead, the TA Paul announced that the lecture has been cancelled for today and tomorrow. Professor Winchester would take double lectures in the following week to cover it up. 

“Well, dang it!” Meredith cursed. “After that horrible debate, I was looking forward to seeing that chiseled face.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s disappointed,” Lacey said slyly. “Y/N looks like someone kicked her puppy.”

You schooled your expressions immediately. 

Madison rolled her eyes. “Everyone was looking forward to it. Maybe he has something important. Remember he ditched Thursday, Friday on our first week, too.”

“Maybe he’s just playing hooky with his girlfriend,” Rebecca shrugged. You had a maddening urge to slap her. It wasn’t fair to direct all your anger at her; you knew that. However, listening to her words, evaporated the high you had been feeling completely.

How naive of you to think that one small conversation could make everything okay. Maybe he went back home and changed his mind, had seen that the exchange was a lapse in his judgement. Your stomach dropped at that thought. Why did he have to show you a moment of softness, if he was just going to take it all away? It would have been better then, had he continued to ignore your existence. You had been making your peace with it. You didn’t think you had it in you to take one more hit after feeling hope, at last.

Morosely, you started picking up your things.

“Y/N. Don’t forget about the party, tomorrow.”

Madison was looking at you with wide eyes.

You opened your mouth to make up a reason. She cut you off-

“Look, I checked your schedule. You’re not working this weekend. This is your last working day for the week. I’ve made all the reservations and counted you in.”

“Maddie-”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you? The drinks are on me.”

Looking at her, you just couldn't say no. 

“I was gonna say that I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Yay!” She shot out of her chair and flung her arms around you. Surprised, you put your hand against her back. 

“Told you she’d come,” Madison told her friends. Lacey gave you a smile, Meredith looked disinterested and Rebecca had her back turned to you completely. That summed it up accurately. For the umpteeth time you wondered how their group functioned at all.

Brad, who had been lingering at the table with his guy friends, gave you a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N finally gracing us with her presence?”

“Oh, butt out, Brad,” Madison shoved him. “If you keep acting like a dick, she might change her mind.”

“Now we wouldn’t want that, would we,” he said under his breath.

You didn’t want any more of their company than what was absolutely required, so you said your goodbye to Madison and left the lecture hall for the day. With your sulky attitude, returning to the apartment wasn’t an option in case you ran into someone. Those guys were very perceptive and you didn’t want to lie to them anymore.

After wandering aimlessly underneath the pergolas of the Quadrangle, you headed to the library. It was about two in the afternoon; four more hours and it would be your shift anyway.

You decided to have your lunch in the closed quarters of the librarian’s room. There wasn’t much to the room except a makeshift bed, a table, chair and a coffee machine. You could sit there and catch up with the essays after lunch.

The on shift librarian wasn’t Molly today, but this other odd hours guy. She was hovering over him, giving instructions. When she saw you, she ushered you to the side. “It’s his first time. I’m training him for the weekend.”

“Oh.” You looked over at the guy. He was clearly an anxious wreck. You felt bad for him.

“Hey listen,” you said, “Is it okay if I use the librarian’s room? I haven’t had lunch and I don’t want to go to the eateries or the mess.”

She gave you a guilty look. “The room is kinda sorta… ocupado.”

“What?”

“See for yourself.” She took hold of your hand and pulled you towards the room in question.

The door was almost closed, save for a small slit. Through it, you could see Sam sitting on the table, multiple books and files scattered around him. He was absolutely absorbed in whatever he was doing, forehead lined in concentration.

“What the-”

Molly shushed you. “Look, I know this looks weird, but he’s in the middle of something. They convicted one of his key clients, and he said he needed some place quiet to figure this out.”

“What about his firm?” You asked the obvious question.

“Client’s not from SF. He’s from LA. Heading to Acton Gris would be going in the opposite direction.”

“Then what about his office here?” You were so surprised that the questions just flowed out of your mouth.

Molly gave an exasperated sigh. “Students. They keep knocking on the door.” She gave you a desperate look. “Please Y/N, let him be. He’s really worked up about it.”

“Yeah, of course,” you assured her. 

She looked grateful. “This isn’t conventional, but he’s one of the good folks around here. I knew him from the alumni fraternity before he started teaching here. In fact, he recommended me for my internship at the LA firm he was working in then.”

That explained why she called him by his first name. She was preaching to the choir about how good Sam was though.

“That’s all fine,” you said. “Just let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

“Molly?”

Both of you jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Molly?” He asked again. “Is that you?”

She pushed the door open.

“Yeah it’s me.” She looked at you. “And this is Y/N. You remember her from the other day, don’t you?”

He smiled at you. It was a tired smile, but it held the mischief of a secret only the two of you knew.

“I remember her,” he said dryly.

All the distress and world ending angst you had been feeling since the class vanished into thin air.

“I-I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you said quickly. “I just came in to check if I could have lunch here. Clearly you are busy working, so I’m just going to go now.”

“You’re not disturbing,” he said firmly. “I’ll clear the table. You can have lunch here.”

“No- no,” you backed off. “Seriously. I can go to the mess.”

“Y/N.” He looked beyond exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in a while. Even his words were heavy. “C’mon, in. At least sit on the bed.”

Molly poked you in the back from behind and you stumbled inside. 

The room was a mess. There were papers everywhere. Sam was one of the most organised people you knew. If there was that much mess around him, either he had changed drastically in the years or this was really a disaster situation. 

“Tell me if I can help you with anything.” The words were out before you could even think them through. 

He rubbed his hand across his face. “I can’t possibly ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”

You didn’t know if this fell in line with proper etiquette of how one should converse with a professor, but this was Sam, and he looked ready to drop. To hell with etiquette. You were going to do whatever you could to help.

Behind you, Molly had disappeared back into the library.

He paused, considering your words, then sighed. “Even if you wanted to, this is too much to explain.”

You flung your bag on the bed and rolled up the sleeves of your sweater. “I’ve worked as a paralegal for an asshole boss. I think I can keep up.”

Sam gave you a look that was halfway between impressed and surprised. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath, so softly that you almost missed it. “Alright, here’s the details of the case-”

You listened attentively as he quickly briefed you about this teenage boy, James Feller, who had been arrested for grand auto theft about four years back. The boy testified against the gang, cut a deal with the DA and walked. Now he had been arrested again, and after being let out, jumped the bail. Sam had until tomorrow to fix it or this kid was spending a long, long time in jail. Sam was sure that James hadn’t done it. He had some grabs from CCTV footage to prove his alibi. It only needed to be put together. He might be completely innocent when it came to the theft, but there was still the bail issue to take care of.

“Right, I’ll go through the log to see if there’s anything similar where an underage defendant jumped bail and got out of prison under the jurisdiction of LA,” you said.

“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” he said, astonished again.

You shrugged and pulled out your laptop, signing into the library’s archival server with your password. There were a couple of cases that could be cited in context to Sam’s case. You pulled out the soft copies of the litigations and highlighted the relevant extracts. 

“You guys need anything?” Molly was standing at the door. She had her bag on her shoulder. You looked at the clock. It was already six, time for your shift to begin. Where had the time gone?

“We’re good,” Sam said.

“Seriously? You guys don’t need anything? Not even coffee?” She came to stand by the coffee machine. “I’m making a cup for myself anyway.”

You gave in. “I’d like a cup. Thanks, Molly.”

“One for me, too,” Sam caved, too.

“You guys look intense working like that,” she said, filling the pot with water. “Are you making any headway?”

“Y/N found some useful citations.” Sam closed the heavy book before him and leaned back in his chair, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt. The coat had been hung over the back of his chair since long before. You tried not to look at him too much.

“Good on you, Y/N!” Molly said, pulling on three mugs. “How do you have your coffee?”

“Little milk and one spoon sugar,” you said politely.

“Sam?”

There was no response. You looked to see that he was busy with his phone, having not heard a single word of it.

“Let it be,” you suggested, seeing as Molly was shuffling the strap of her bag. “You go on. I’ll manage the coffee.”

“You’re a lovely person!” She noted with just a hint of surprise, then blew you a kiss. “See you later, Chica bonita.”

You poured coffee for him, black with half spoon of sugar, stirred it and carefully handed it to him. He took it gratefully, holding out two fingers as he talked over the phone. 

You grabbed your mug and went back to your laptop. It appeared that Sam was talking to a colleague explaining the things he needed to get ready. He took a sip of the coffee and stopped mid sentence, looking at you over his screen in wonderment.

“Chase, I’ll call you back in a minute.”

You had gathered your stuff in one hand.

“Y/N?” Sam interrupted you, voice oddly tender. “You remembered.”

He was holding his mug out. The warm vapours were slightly fogging his glasses.

“Of course I remember.”

There was no way you would forget.

He saw your things wrapped in your hand and the bag slung over your shoulder.

“You’re leaving?” Disappointment clear in his tone.

You shook your head. “I’m just going outside at the desk. It’s my shift now. I’ll continue tagging relevant extracts and have three sets of printouts ready for you. You’ll let me know if you need more time? I can keep the library running all night.”

“You’re the power wielding person here, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” you grinned. “I’ll leave you it.”

Once outside, you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Being around Sam made you conscious of every little thing… enough to drive you crazy. Maybe it was a good thing that you were going to the party tomorrow. You needed a drink. That thought inadvertently reminded you of Jo- the only sister you’d ever had. If she were here, she would have told you to go for it despite knowing how insane drunk Y/N was and wreck you would be the next day. The memory of her also made you sad, the missing was gut wrenching sometimes. You almost turned on your heel and headed by inside to ask Sam about Jo and about Dean. Were they still together? Did the diner ever get out of the bumpy patch? How was aunt El doing? 

Did they hate you for leaving like that?

That thought brought you up short. You didn’t want to know the answer to that question. There was a small hope within you. If Sam of all people could find it in himself to be civil with you, maybe they would, too. Broaching the topic now would be disastrous. It wouldn’t help Sam right now to lose concentration. Hell, he might do a 180 and suddenly remember that he didn’t like you.

You got back to your desk, filing the cards out for the day before getting to Sam’s paperwork. Though it was a manual job, you did it with utmost concentration, knowing how chaotic courtrooms got and how crucial it was to find the right evidence at the right time. Alongside, you carefully read the suit and arranged the stacks according to the order in which they were needed.

“You know, if you kept going at it like that, you’ll have to represent the boy tomorrow.”

You looked up and your breath hitched. Sam stood before you, his shirt partially untucked and sleeves rolled all the way up till his elbows. The tie was gone and the top button of his shirt was undone. There was a glint of silver against his neck, a thin chain. You wondered where it had come from absently. Without the glasses, and his hair slightly dishevelled, you could see some of the guy you had first fallen in love with.

You looked away quickly, blinking several times, then pushed the stack of printouts towards him. All three copies, arranged as per the appearances of the evidence in the suit papers. The affidavits are all the bottom, along with the supplementary copies.

“You should come down to the office and train my assistant,” he said, leaning over the table so that his elbow rested on top. “He can’t find one paper on time.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

“Aren’t you having dinner?” He asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. He was nervous. 

“I’m not hungry.” Your stomach was already so full of butterflies, you didn’t think any food could go in.

“I’m already feeling terrible that you’re helping me with this… please don’t skip dinner for it.” There was something about his voice that affected your soul. The sound of his words were different from everyone elses. All words felt kinder, lovelier when he said them.

“Why are you fighting for this kid?” The words slipped past you before you could stop them. You had been wondering this all evening. “I saw the papers. You’re doing this pro bono and not for Acton Gris. This is your own case.”

He didn’t reply immediately and his face had a far away look. When he finally spoke, it was in a reminiscing tone. “I met James when he was a foster kid a few years ago. He got pushed into the racket because of bad influence. When I saw him at the retention centre, he broke down completely. They were blackmailing him by threatening to hurt his little sister. When he first got off, he looked at me like I was some kind of miracle.”  Sam’s face had an awed look, as if he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could think that of him.

“I knew he wouldn’t get into this again. He’s in college now and has basically turned his life around. We have enough evidence to pin a gang member down for framing him. I don’t want anyone at Acton Gris to help me on this because this is my own case. Putting some poor junior on it is just abusing my power.”

He was a good man. That in itself didn’t surprise you because you had always known it. What surprised you was that he had remained one. Sam used to be starry eyed with ambitions and full of a thirst to do the right thing. He had been so idealistic. It worried you that one day he would wake up and see that the world was an even worse place than what he thought it to be. You worried that the ruthless profession might kill some of the inherent goodness in him. After having lost just as much as you, he hadn’t lost faith in the world. He had remained good.

“What?” He questioned and you realised you were staring.

“There you are!”

Jody Mills stood behind Sam, a harried expression on her face. He straightened up immediately and it occurred to you how close your faces had been.

“I went to your house, called up your PA, and here you are.”

“Jody?” He clearly hadn’t expected her.

She handed him the bag she was carrying. “I have dinner for you. I knew you would bury yourself in the case and wouldn’t cook since you’re by yourself now.”

Now. What did that mean? Lacey’s remark about Sam living in family quarters and having a girlfriend came to your mind. You dismissed it quickly.

“Didn’t see you there, Y/N,” Professor Mills came around. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Actually I just started a week ago.”

Her eyes flitted to the stack in front of you. “And what’s this?”

“Y/N’s been helping me with some printing,” Sam said.

Professor Mills gave him a once over. “Sam Winchester making students work?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended quickly. “I offered to help S- Mr. Winchester. I have some experience as a paralegal and this was only a matter of making copies.”

“You did a lot more than that,” Sam corrected smoothly.

“I was only joking.” she placed a hand on Sam’s arm and you noted that they were probably closer than just colleagues. Friends even. “You, on the other hand, keep surprising me, Y/N. This looks like solid work.”

You blushed at the compliment, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sam gazed down at you oddly. If you didn’t know any better, you might have misinterpreted it as a hint of pride. 

“You have your food!” Jody ordered him and waved at you. “See you in class tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Good night,” you wished her.

Before leaving, she glanced from you to Sam and back again, a peculiar look in her eyes, shook her head and left.

She had packed a burger and pack of oily fries for Sam. You saw his brow furrow at the sight of it and smiled to yourself. Some things never changed.

Sam insisted that you have your dinner, too. However, you made sure that while he sat inside, you had your dinner at your desk. There was only so much of his nearness you could take without having your feelings run wild. Sam needed to go through the case files in peace for the court tomorrow. You let him be, only visiting the librarian’s room once to let him know that you wouldn’t shut the library at all. He was grateful for it. After everyone else had left, you wrapped the shawl around your shoulders and put your head down against the wooden desk. Closing your tired eyes just for a second, you let yourself reflect on everything that had happened today and how one day could be more impactful than a month of one's life sometimes.  

You woke up several hours later. Grey light was starting to filter from the high windows. It was early dawn.

Hurriedly you got up to check on Sam, but the librarian’s room was closed from the outside, you checked in the seating area, too. There was no one there; you were by yourself in the room. 

Back to your desk, you noticed a folded piece of paper placed under your paperweight.

It said-

Y/N,

I have to start from here now to make it to LA in time for the hearing. Didn’t have the heart to wake you up. I can’t thank you enough for your invaluable help.

Regards,

Sam.

You clutched the paper tightly in your fingers, crumpling it in the process. Sometimes a few words were louder than a speech. Sometimes the gesture was even louder.

***************************************   

A/N 2: You guys! THEY TALKED! I know a lot of you have been like ‘They just need to talk’ and well, it happened. So what do you think? Uphill?

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[twocupsofsuga]

His Treasure || 13

Pirate!Baekhyun x Reader - Series

Summary: It’s either on your knees and beg for your life or your walking the plank.

Absolutely NO plagiarizing my work. Moodboard by @byunfirstlady

Previous | Next

You’re dead. You are soooooo dead. 

If Jaebum sees you, your done for sure. But then again, this is what you get for sneaking into a royal’s room. You’re practically asking for it.

Too tense to even shift to crouch properly from your position on the floor behind your desk, you sent a silent prayer hoping the young prince wouldn’t come near the desk.

You heard some shuffling noises as Jaebum walked here and there, presumably looking for his coat. You heard him muttering a few times and hoped that his jacket was not anywhere near you.

He spent a good five minutes in his room, muttering every now and then, wondering where the blasted maid had left his coat.

You felt yourself sighing in relief when you heard him opening his wardrobe and muttering out a, “There you are”, grabbing what sounded like a heavy coat and making his way back to his bedroom doors.

It wasn’t until you heard the doors loudly close that you finally let out a sigh in relief. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back against the desk.

‘That was way too close.’

You shouldn’t even be here should you? You just arrived here not too long ago and you’re already looking for trouble.

Sighing once more, you wait for a few minutes before standing up when you’re sure no one else would come into the room, and your eyes fell on the book again, giving it a frown.

Why does he have that book dedicated to research about pirates? Was he secretly planning something? Did he have connections with those bastards?

You shook your head. This was just too good to ignore. Walking up to stand next to Jaebum’s desk chair, your hands fell on the brown leathered book and flipped the first page, surprised to already see a page full of pirate facts, and you soon found yourself going through more pages. The contents that you read surprised you.

A wide variety of information littered the pages, from the origin of pirates, their goals, ambitions, desires and past historical events. It explained in detail when the first batch of men calling themselves ‘pirates’ first appeared and all the havoc that they caused, always attacking cities, leaving them in bloodshed and ruins just to steal golds, treasures, anything dubbed valuable and keeping it for themselves. Jaebum wrote about how they would sometimes kidnap people as well, and how it didn’t matter if they were royalty, normal citizens, or even peasants and orphans, if they needed anyone for ransom threats or even just another extra pair of hands to (forcefully) help them on deck, they didn’t leave much of a choice for whoever they kidnapped, and how you’d be lucky to even be alive by the end of all your torture.

When you were done with all the basic stuff, the moment you flipped the next worn out page was when you really lost it. Gaping at the bold title in the middle of the page, you did a double take.

Byun Baekhyun

“What in the world?” you whispered out loud. “Why is…?” you immediately read the pages before you.

Byun Baekhyun

Birthdate: unknown

Gender: male

Appearance: unknown

Parents: unknown

Siblings: unknown

Location: unknown

Status: leader of the EXO pirates

Leaving chaos and disaster wherever he goes, this man, or ‘Demon of the Seas’ -as he is often called by most- must be put to a stop and held trial for all wrong he has committed. With charged ranging from murder, theft, and even kidnapping, this individual just cannot seem to be caught by anyone, whether it be by normal villagers, or even official guards.

One of the most popular and feared pirate yet, it has come to our attention that throughout the years this man has been active for, we have received evidence that he is collecting more and more ‘friends’ to join his little crew. No more members to this bloodthirsty group have been added so far, but it appears that a group of twelve has been shrunk to a group of nine from a few years ago, and has stayed the same until today, or until further notice of their activity. There is no update on what has happened to the other three, and there has been no movement set out by anyone who wants to figure out of their existence, activity, or if they are even alive. No other data or knowledge is available on the other crew members other than their ‘captain’.

The infamous group of pathetic, lowlife scums, barbarians seem to enjoy leaving behind a bloody trail everywhere they go. Eyes always seem to be on gold treasure and just about anything valuable they can get their hands on. But I can’t help but wonder if there is something else that they might be looking for, something that holds more value or not. With the research that I have carried out, the witnesses I have sent out and spoken to, evidence I have personally seen, to the strange objects and people they have taken, I have come to a conclusion which might prove my suspicions correct.

Maps, lots and lots of maps, and lots of information on the seas. But as my suspicions just keep on proving to be true, I have confidently concluded what they really want, what EXO, this group of irritating, god forsaken group really desire. Something that makes every theft, every action that they’ve made, look like a joke. Child’s play.

‘Dead Man’s Home’, an area located North from the Island of the Vanished. Just a cave on an island, this place is surrounded by tremendous, jagged rocks that resemble giant spears. With the worst weather ever reported, it seems that the seas and skies are not friendly in this area. There is no light, there is no life, other than the dead sea life and sailors whom have tried to just pass by or hope to reach land on this place, this place is the definition of the word ‘dead’ itself. Nothing ever seems to go in, and nothing seems to go out. If something does manage to get pass the rocks that determine instant death, it appears that the storm and sea that surrounds Dead Man’s Home is just as vicious and can do just as much as a good job in making sure that no boat, no man and no animal makes it through. Those who go there are usually looking for a death wish, but there have been cases, although not rare, of those who have survived and somehow made it out alive, but they were never the same. Too tormented and shaken up from their near death experiences to share what they’ve been through, or what they’ve seen.

But EXO, I have suspicion that they want to go to this place, but I haven’t figured out why. I just need to collect more evidence so I can once and for all what their goals are, and I’ll figure it out even if it kills me. I want to know exactly what it is on Dead Man’s Home that makes them the way they are, so vicious and untamed when it comes to certain things.

Byun Baekhyun, an uprising danger to society and whomever he meets, deemed as a threat to everyone and must be put to a stop. I’ll figure out his secrets if it’s the last thing I do, and I’ll do whatever it takes to make him fall. If there’s a greater treasure out in this world, then it shouldn’t be in the hands of that man. 

You plucked the last petal from the flower in your hands and watched as it slowly fell on your lap, let out a sigh in the process. Reaching down next to you where there were more flowers on the grass, you began to slowly pluck the petals from this one as well, repeating the same action you have been doing for quite a while.

What you read upstairs in Jaebum’s diary was, certainly interesting. After reading the next few pages on Baekhyun and pirates, you could see just how well knowledge the young prince seemed to be on the topic, as his journal, diary, whatever, seemed to be filled with just about any knowledge of pirates there seems to be, knowledge even ranging from many years ago till present time, ever island trampled by pirate feet, every ocean sailed by pirate ships, and every pirate execution ever carried out, whether they were for public or private eye. He even had a bunch of maps and sea charts on his bulletin board or just scattered on his table or the floor.

A little obsessed wasn’t he?

A… hobby perhaps? If it was, an interesting one it certainly was. You thought everyone was too afraid to dig in deeper of the topic of pirates, wanting to mind their own business and not meddle into anything that seemed troublesome, even if it was just small research on pirates. For as long as you could remember, no one wanted anything to do with pirates, let alone do any research on them. What good would it have done any of them? Those who even dared stand up against any pirate would end up with only one missing limb or a bullet wound if they were lucky enough.

Those who weren’t lucky… well, you know what happens with them.

You would’ve read more from Jaebum’s journal, but when you finally looked up from the book and out the window, you were surprised to see that the sun was already close to setting. Deciding it was about time you headed out, you closed the book with a huff and placed it neatly back exactly as you had found it, and slipped out of Jaebum’s room after looking back at the study/library one more time. Perhaps if you were even lucky or found some way to convince Jaebum, you’d get a chance to read from his huge collected of books as well.

After making sure there was no one in the hallways, you exited the bedroom and slipped back into the main hallways and went downstairs, and out of the castle where you spent the remaining of the afternoon underneath a pretty flower tree Jaebum had in his palace garden. You’ve been seated underneath the whole time, plucking the poor petals off of the flowers, thinking things over in your mind.

This was… good… wasn’t it? You could finally get some answers out of Jaebum couldn’t you? Unfortunately not all the answers were written in his journal, just the basics, but if Jaebum had this much fascination (or obsession, you really couldn’t tell) over pirates, then maybe he could fill in some questions you had been holding on to for a while. Like, would pirates have a deeper, hidden secret to why they kidnap people? Do they hold a key role in helping them achieve what they strongly desire? How would one escape from them?

Your head spun and you let out a groan, leaning your head back on the tree bark behind you and just blankly looking off to the side.

‘I’m hungry.’

“There you are.”

You let out a loud yelp as you jumped up a little, head quickly turning to your left where you saw the prince, smiling cheekily at you.

You frowned, placing a hand on your heart.

“Your Highness, you almost gave me a heart attack.”

Jaebum laughed. “My apologies.” He said, smile still present as he slowly made his way over to you. “I didn’t mean to. I arrived just a few minutes ago actually and was searching for you. When I noticed you out here alone I knew I had to immediately make my way over.”

You raised an eyebrow at this.

“Really? Why?”

Jaebum smirked as he stood over you, and to your surprise, brought a hand up to your head where he began to play with a strand of your hair.

“Well.” he said. “For starters, it would be rude of a gentleman to just leave a pretty looking lady out here alone, don’t you think?”

You blushed and looked away, hair strand slipping out of Jaebum’s fingers.

“I’m not one would consider ‘pretty’ but… thank you for the compliment your Highness.” You turned back to look up at him with a small smile.

Jaebum looked at you for a while in silence, and you were worried that you might’ve just stayed quiet, but before you could ask Jaebum suddenly squatted down next to you, surprising you.

“You know,” he spoke, this time in a hushed whisper and you were surprised at the shiver that went up your spine from hearing it. “you shouldn’t think of yourself like that. It really isn’t every day I get to have such a beautiful being in my castle, let alone right next to me.”

you both looked into each other’s eyes. You could feel your heart beating up at his words.

“…Really?”

Jaebum laughed at how genuinely surprised you looked.

“Of course.” He replied, and his hand suddenly lifted up, tracing the stitching on your sleeve, and you broke eye contact to look at his fingers in shock, while Jaebum continued to casually trace patters on your shoulder.

“The moment I saw you, my breath was taken away. It was quite a surprise, one minute I was busy doing my duties, the next, I was expected to have a meal with you. But I did have my doubts, I’ll admit that.”

You looked up at him nervously. “You… you did?”

Jaebum nodded and this time, he looked down. Watching his fingers as they traced the complicated stitch work.

“I’m not sure if Seulgi told you or not, but I had a bit of a rough time with my other wives. So when I heard of you coming along, I was a bit nervous. I thought, what if it doesn’t work out this time either? But…”

Jaebum looked back at you and smiled, and you felt your heart flutter a little.

“But?” you said, when he didn’t elaborate any further.

Jaebum’s smile widened, and he shook his head.

“Nothing~” he said in a teasing voice, which surprised you.

So, the prince could make jokes?

“Hey.” You said, laughing a little funny. “You can’t just say all that and then not say anything. I’d like to know what you really think.”

Jaebum chuckled and turned to comfortably sit next to you against the tree bark as well. He made a mock thinking face.

“Hmmmm, do I really wish to tell you~?”

You laughed and nudged him a little.

“I humbly demand an answer your Highness.”

“Well I humbly decline my lady.”

You scoffed. “Oh really? Then I’ll just have to run away it seems.”

As soon as you uttered those words, you felt a shift in the air in Jaebum’s mood.

“What did you say?”

The sudden stiffness in Jaebum’s words caused you to stiffen up as well, and when you looked at him, you noticed his icy look and shrunk a little.

“Uhh…” you immediately became nervous. “I… I was joking… you-your Highness. I wouldn’t actually run away…”

The silence that followed this time was tense, until the man next to you suddenly burst out laughing.

You watched him quietly as he calmed down after a few seconds, not finding anything funny.

“Wow.” Jaebum said as he wiped away a tear. “You really fell for that. Oh my.” He looked at you and flashed you another smile. “Of course I know you’re joking. Things wouldn’t end up very pleasant if you weren’t correct?”

“Uhmm…” you said nervously, but smiled back still. “Yeah, it would be a little silly wouldn’t it?”

Jaebum’s eyes stared into your own and silent once more, but then he stood up and gave a small stretch.

“Well, I’m feeling a little hungry, aren’t you my dear? How about we go and eat something small before having dinner?”

You internally hesitated, but shook it off and accepted Jaebum’s hand that was placed in front of you and he pulled you up gently to your feet. “Yes, I’m a little hungry myself.”

“Perfect, then I shall arrange some small treats for us.”

Hooking your hand into the curve of Jaebum’s arms, the two of you made your way inside the castle, the sun setting more and more behind you, and your restless mind growing a little concerned.

What, just happened?

Jaebum and you had walked up a couple of staircases and soon found yourselves walking down a hallway. You thought he was going to drop you off into your room until dinner time, but you noticed that you were headed nowhere near your ‘bedroom’.

“Uhmm, Prince Jaebum?” you asked and said man let out a ‘hmm’ and looked at you with that charming smile of his. “My… room is in the other direction?”

Jaebum shook his head and looked forward, smile still on his face. “I know my dear. I just thought that we’d spend a little alone time in my room.”

“Oh.”

…

…

…

Wait what?!

“You-your room?? As in, your bedroom??” you looked at him stunned, but Jaebum just let out another laugh and called over a nearby maid. She bowed once she reached you two.

“Prepare something light for us to eat and bring it to my room immediately.”

“Yes your Highness.”

Jaebum looked down to smirk at you. “Something wrong my dear?”

You stuttered and were about to reply but Jaebum continued to walk, pulling you with him.

“I just thought a little privacy was in order.” Jaebum smoothly replied. “There’s always a maid, butler or guard around so I thought it would be nice to have some alone time as well. Away from any watchful eyes. Thought it might be nice for you as well.”

Your face heated up. “You want us to be… alone?”

Jaebum laughed and looked down at you. “Pardon me for guessing but, you aren’t having any naughty thoughts are you my dear (y/n)?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You told him your name during the first meal you both shared together, and he’s been calling you ‘my dear’ this entire time, so it felt surprisingly nice to hear your name fall from his lips.

“I am thinking of no such thing!” you cried out, which only caused the prince to laugh more.

“Your name sounds surprisingly nice to the ears. Maybe I should’ve called you by it since the start.”

You heart fluttered at his words. ‘Gosh dammit.’

“Then why didn’t you?”

Jaeubm suddenly looked away.

Wait, was he embarrassed?!

“I was never very good with names, as embarrassing as it is to say, so I hope you forgive me, it was never my intention to do so.”

“Oh.” You said. I guess it’s easy to forget names when your royalty and you have to constantly always meet new people.

A thought suddenly came into your head.

“So how did you suddenly remember my name this time?”

Jaebum suddenly looked nervous.

A smirk pulled up on your face this time.

“Did you perhaps ask Seulgi what my name was before meeting me in the garden earlier?”

Jaebum huffed and you began to giggle. “Oh my goodness you did!”

“We shall speak no further into this topic.” He said with a pout and your giggles grew.

You suddenly came to a stop and you looked up in surprise and your eyes grew.

Gosh, you already reached Jaebum’s bedroom doors.

Seeing it again so soon suddenly made you nervous. What if he had found out that you were snooping around earlier? What is a maid or butler saw you going inside and told him??

“Well.” Jaebum said and shot you a smile. He raised a hand and slowly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open swiftly. “Please enter.”

You smiled at him and bowed your head a bit in thanks and you prayed that you didn’t look too nervous or scared.

Stepping inside, you remained still and waited until Jaebum too was inside with you. The moment you heard the door close behind you, you grew more nervous.

“Let me show you around a little.” Jaebum spoke up, grabbing you by the hand, causing you to jump a little, smiling when he saw you looking a little nervous. “Don’t worry, nothing to be afraid off.”

‘Shut up you’d have had me hung if you knew I was in here earlier.’

“I know.” You said, looking at him but then immediately looking down. “I’m just a little jittery, is all.”

You felt fingers beneath your chin and your head was lifted up and your heart beat sped up a little.

He was a little too close to your face. You could feel his soft breathing on your face.

“Calm down my dear (y/n), I promise I won’t bite.”

You chuckled. “If you saw so your Highness.”

Nodding in approval, Jaebum took a step back and you felt like you could now breath with the given space.

“Now,” Jaebum said as he pulled you along. “let me show you some interesting things.”

And interesting things he did indeed show. Who knew a prince had so much interesting things around. He showed you all the things he had collected as memories from his trips from various islands he had visited over time and skillfully hand drawn pictures of some sights he had seen on some of his adventures.

He looked mighty proud when you complimented them all.

It definitely made you a lot more anxious when he offered to show you his private study and library, and offer which you did not refuse, although you had already seen it by yourself. But you obviously couldn’t tell him that.

“I’m sure a prince like you must have an interesting collection.” You said once you took in all the collection of books he had (again). You realized now that you never checked what kind of books he had.

“I guess you can say that.”

You looked over to where Jaebum had walked over to one shelf and took out a book, inspecting the front cover and dusting off the non-existing dust. He opened the book and stared into it and randomly flipped a few pages over. You grew curious over to what he was reading so you made your way over to him and stood next to him. But before you could even read the first sentence on the page, you heard a knock on Jaebum’s door.

“Ah. That must be the mini feast I ordered. Follow me (y/n).”

Jaebum snapped the book shut before you could read anything, and you frowned a little and watched as he placed the book back in its place and made his way over to his room connected to the study.

Rather than going to the door, he plopped himself on his bed and yelled, “Come in!” and you watched as two maids walked in, one pushing a trolley of drinks, the other a trolley of small fruits, cakes, snacks, you name it.

Your jaw dropped. This was considered a light bite??

“Gosh your Highness, this is too much! You needn’t have to prepare so much!”

Jaebum waved a hand. “Nonesense! Eat whatever you can, don’t worry your pretty little mind my dear.” Sending a wink your way, you looked to the side and couldn’t help but smile.

Jaebum noticed and smile. While you weren’t looking, he suddenly shot a glare at the maids, who flinched at the hostile look.

“Leave.” He ordered, though his friendly tone did not match his tone. The maids nodded hastily, bowing before quickly making their way outside.

You turned around in time before the completely shut the door, yelling out a grateful, “Thank you!” and smiled.

The maids stopped momentarily in shock, looking at you in surprise, but then sent you a small smile. They both bowed once more this time to you, and you didn’t even notice that they lasted more longer than when they bowed to Jaebum. But the both stood up immediately and walked out before anything more could have been said.

Gosh, now you were alone with Jaebum again.

“Come here my (y/n).” Jaebum said as his arm reached out to you. “Won’t you sit next to me?”

You nodded and accepted his hand, feeling him pulling you down to sit next to him. You grew a little shy at the sudden closeness. Unlike from when you two were sitting outside, you were sitting shoulder to shoulder now, and he was still holding your hand, and was even brushing his thumb against your skin.

“My chef makes some amazing fruit cake. I really recommend you try some.” He said gently as he lifted a small plate of a perfectly sliced cake with fruits decorated on top. He brought it closer to him and picked up the fork that was neatly placed on the trolley as well.

Stabbing the fork into the cake, he scooped up a small bite sized piece and lifted it closer to your mouth, making you speechless.

“Say ahh~” he said in a teasing voice and you actually chuckled.

You parted your lips and Jaebum bought the cake into your mouth, and you sighed in bliss at the taste. He wasn’t kidding when he said his chef was amazing at making fruit cakes. The flavor was just bursting in your mouth and you suddenly felt so light and happy.

“This is amazing!” you exclaimed, looking at Jaebum in happiness. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted a cake so light and fluffy!”

“See. I told you it was great! Oh, hold on…”

Before you could ask him what was wrong, Jaebum brought his hand up to your face and your face and your stilled. You were confused as to what he was doing when he even brought his thumb up and swiped at your lips, your eyes widening. When he pulled back his fingers, you noticed some whip cream.

‘Ah.’ You thought, feeling a little embarrassed. ‘There was cream on my lips.’

You were going to reach for the napkins that were provided to wipe the cream off of your lips, but when you grabbed one and tried reaching for his hands, Jaebum brought the thumb with whip cream on it to his mouth and suddenly sucked on it, making you freeze.

Your mind was blank, and you watched as he licked his thumb clean before he sent you a smirk, taking in your dumbfounded look.

He brought himself closer to you and you found yourself unable to move, lips parting this time but no words coming out.

“Would you,” Jaebum said as he brought his face closer to yours and you could see the teasing look in his eyes. “perhaps like to try some other delectable?”

Oh my.

Just what were you getting yourself into?

“Go and look for more gunpowder.”

“Where the hell am I gonna find more gunpowder?”

“You’ll find out once you start searching you dickhead. Go steal some from the village, and take Chanyeol with you.”

Sehun rolled his eyes and let out a groan but did as he was told.

Since they didn’t want to raise any suspicion since the stupid prince on this island had already seen one of them, the group of pirates had to hide their ship far away from the docks so no one could notice them and have any suspicions raised.

Baekhyun glared at the faint village lights a few miles away of him. He had already come up with a new plan since their old one had been ruined since you ran away. It was going to be a pain to carry out, but it was now necessary if they wanted you back.

“Jongdae!” he suddenly yelled, looking to his side when someone approached him. He ran a hand down his tired face and looked at his crew mate. “How long till the next full moon?” he demanded.

Jongdae shook his head. “Close to a week. Think we can make it?”

Baekhyun looked up at the moon. It was nearly full. “We have to.” he said, frown deepening as he grabbed the telescope Jongdae was carrying, looking back at the village more closely. “We’ve lost enough valuable time as it is. I’ll lose it if we miss this full moon too.” He looked at the village one last time before chucking it back at Jongdae who caught it expertly. “Go look over the cannons.”

Jongdae nodded and walked away.

Barking a few more orders around, Baekhyun felt his head spin so he took this as a chance to go back down into the ship and into his room.

Slamming the door behind him, he slumped on his bed and sighed, swinging a hand up to cover his eyes.

He could still make it till the next moon, he knew he could.

He’ll just have to take his anger out on you if he doesn’t.

~Masterlist~

Please reblog it you liked it! It would really help my work get noticed/passed around more!