#i mean the guy was raised as a prince so he is occasionally doing strange shit like this

[thesunwillshineonusagain757]

🍔

OMG THIS ONE. I had another ask that I’m still think about but this one I don’t really need to think much cause I know exactly what’s happening so enjoy, Rhaegar and Lyanna going to a Five Guys.

They were moving in together, or better Rhaegar was moving into Lyanna’s flat after 5 months of dating, mainly because his rent lease was up and to be honest he had regretted living with Jon Connignton for more than 3 months;

So they had just brought his things to her apartment when Lyanna asked him if he wanted to go to a Five Guys around the corner ;

Initially Rhaegar was kind of weirded out by the notion of five guys he was about to tell Lyanna he still wanted to keep their relationship exclusive when she explained it was burger joint;

Pass the initial shock of thinking he was heading to an orgy, they when on their way to the Five Guys;

First thing was Rhaegar didn’t understand the difference between Bruges and sandwiches and to be honest neither did Lya they seemed to be the same thing one only had more filling than the other;

Lyanna order a bacon cheeseburger, bacon milkshake and an extra topic on her burger of grilled mushrooms and Rhaegar went for a a veggie sandwich and water ( yes he questioned Lya’s sanity );

But she also asked for fries more specifically Cajun style fries, safe to say that was the best thing Rhaegar ever ate;

And he has to remark the portion of fries was literally bigger than his head it was brown bag the could cover his head;

They wanted a bit then their order came around they found a table and sat and then was when Lyanna questioned Rhaegar sanity;

Because the dude sat down took out of his coats pocket a silver knife and fork and ate the entire burger with fork and knife;

It was weird as fuck and everyone stared at him, but after a while Lyanna thought “ he has a family history of crazy at lest his crazy ain’t killing no body” then moved on to her food;

[the-lightning-strikes-again]

Lotura Week 2024, Day 2: Sci-Fi Fusion

The Woman in Red

Rated: T

Pidge holds out a small, ear-wrapping device to Allura, babbling along. “Yeah, so it’s called the DC Mini. It helps you enter someone else’s dreams so you can extract information.” Her voice rises with scientific interest. “Which in this case means obtaining the security codes for Zarkon’s command ship.”

The princess grabs on without hesitance. “Did you make this yourself, Pidge?”

“With a little help from Hunk,” she admits, jerking her thumb to the side. On the other side of the lab, a man stands in an orange coat, humming to himself happily as he types away on a laptop before dripping a strange, glowing liquid into a test tube. “But you have to be careful, alright? This’ll make dreams feel like real life, and I’ve heard stories about this guy you wanna interrogate with it. It took twenty robot soldiers to hold Prince Lotor down, and that was after he made both Lance and Hunk cry with some psychobabble stuff.”

Hunk looked up with a pout. “Hey, I did not cry.”

Pidge crosses her arms and quirks an eyebrow. “He told you that your modulation techniques sucked, and you sobbed for three hours.”

“Uh, it was two-and-a-half hours, not three.” Hunk raises up his goggles and points to his bloodshot, brown eyes, which gleam with hurt. “And the man doesn’t have taste when it comes to modulation. That’s what hurts most of all.”

Allura quirks an eyebrow, spinning the strange device in her hand before fitting it over her elfin ear. The smooth, cold metal streaks against her cheek and brow. “Modulation tastes or not, Lotor’s our only successful enemy capture. We have to make this count if we want to defeat Zarkon.”

Pidge hesitates. “Are you sure you want to be the one to go inside his mind? I mean, given you’re a princess and all?”

She huffs, straightening her shoulders. “I am a princess of Altea,” she declares. “I am a descendent of the Life Givers. And I am incredibly, utterly pissed off in the name of my people and all the other planets decimated by Galran rule—yes, I want to do this, even if it means traversing the polluted thoughts of Prince Lotor.”

-------

The mentioned Prince of the Galra Empire rests in a deep sleep upon a heavily secured infirmary bed, nodes streaming from his purple temples and white locks of hair. Like this, the hellion of a man seems peaceful, his face slack. If she did not know his long list of crimes, Allura would dare to think he was almost handsome, from the strong features of his face to his lithe form—so oddly silent in sleep.

So strangely familiar.

Allura sits down in the chair next to the bed apprehensively, adjusting the DC Mini. “You’re certain his restraints will hold true?”

His long, clawed fingers occasionally tick against the bed.

Pidge flutters around Allura, sticking a node to her forehead. “He’s also being kept under with some pretty heavy drugs right now, so he won’t be waking up anytime soon.”

“What control will I have inside of his mind?”

“Ah, I think you’ll be able to manipulate space, but the more you change things inside his mind, the more it could raise attention. You know, like his defenses. So you’ll want to try blending in.”

“Right.” Allura inhales and closes her eyes, leaning back into the chair and settling in for the long nap. “Do you think the codes will be something I must manipulate him to obtain, or could they be some physical object to find in the landscape?”

Pidge makes a face, pulling back. “Honestly, Allura? I have no idea what you’re gonna find in there. But given that he’s, you know, Zarkon’s kid—I’d expect it’s probably gonna be weird. Maybe a lot of blood.”

Just as the DC Mini activates, Hunk calls out, “Rumor says he’s a big nunvill fan. Manipulate him with nunvill!”

-------

The landscape of Prince Lotor’s mind fizzles into view as a stark, gladiatorial training court, with the swirling of blades and the rousing cheer of crowds. Allura looks down at herself in surprise, noting the odd way that her own subconscious has altered her paladin armor to the red of a Galran soldier’s—blending into the new environment, just as Pidge had recommended.

As she walks along the fencing, she spots an active Prince Lotor fighting against a great beast. His tall shadow looms as he raises the Black Lion’s bayard.

It is a glowing purple sword.

Her mouth drops open in surprise, and she flinches as the beast collapses to the floor, nearly cut in two. “What in the—?” she whispers to herself in panic at the sight of her father’s technology in Lotor’s hands. “How did he—?”

Prince Lotor steps atop the beast’s belly with a graceful flair of his white hair, raising the sword.

The crowds roar with approval, chanting, “Emperor! Emperor!”

And it is then that Allura realizes she is witnessing a day dream.

A wish.

“Oh, right, because you are not the emperor,” she remembers, scratching her cheek in curiosity at how fuzzy the real world is compared to the realism of Lotor’s dream world. “You are a prince only, and likely covet my father's weapons as well."

The moment she whispers it aloud, Lotor’s sharp, blue eyes land upon her. His expression is that of an alert predator’s, and she freezes in his gaze.

He lowers his blade, the metal manifesting back into a smooth, rounded bayard. “You there,” he calls, his voice petulant and decadent all at the same time. “In red.”

Before she can react, Lotor blurs in front of her.

She squeaks and steps back in surprise, her back hitting a barrier wall.

He steps forward, curiously inspecting her. This close, the sweat upon his brow gleams beneath the lights, and his slit pupils expand to intake more of her. “What a curious thing you are, appearing here,” he murmurs. “After all this time, and without wounds.”  

Allura makes another noise as his hot fingers circle hard around her throat, pressing her back against the wall.

She instinctively grabs onto his vambraces before reaching for a dagger on her belt.

“Ah, ah,” he admonishes her. With a jerk of his chin, her own weapon clatters to the floor. “What fangs you have this time.” Something flickers unsteadily in his face the more he inspects her. “I thought I eradicated all images of Princess Allura of Altea from my memory—you should not still be the woman in red disturbing my thoughts.”

As she rasps for air, Allura manages to wrench breathing space from his fingers.

He allows it.

Lotor’s breath puffs against her face softly. “Why are you here?” he demands, searching her face. “What more could you possibly want from me now?”

Her voice strangles. “What do you mean? I’ve never even spoken to you before this moment.”

He releases her, and in the silence, he glances down at his own hand as if it does not belong to him.

All the spectators of the gladiator courts have disappeared.

It is only them now, along with a strange silence.

Prince Lotor’s voice breaks with a frustrated huff. “I watched you die all those years ago. And you have haunted my every dream, traversing these fences at least once a movement until my father’s witch suppressed you. What have these paladins of Voltron done to me in the waking world, that you would return to haunt me now?”

Allura holds onto her throat, which burns from the tightness of his hand. She eyes him warily, mind racing. “I don’t understand,” she says hoarsely.

With increasing trepidation, Lotor backs away from her, his white hair and armored cape swinging. “You died three years ago.” Something in his face breaks harder, a strange vulnerability and panic pulling the line of his mouth. “The witch said she could cure me of your ghost.”

It is then that Allura realizes the DC Mini is still attached to her ear. Another voice crackles in, as if from a dozen galaxies away. It is Pidge. “—llura? Can you hear me?”

She presses a shaking hand to the device, calling out, “Yes, I hear you. and it is very strange in here.”

“—hurting you?”

Allura’s breath hitches as she stares at the broken man before her. Within the landscape of Lotor’s mind, his own emotions are an oppressive weight in the air, burning tears in her own eyes. “No,” she whispers. “No, it’s much worse than that. It’s very confusing.”

Lotor reaches out to the device, yanking it from her ear. “Paladins,” he hisses, voice breaking. His own eyes brighten with tears. “You absolute bastards. You have clearly undone the witch’s great work—at least kill me with honor before you raise the image of Allura of Altea to me."

She reaches for the device, only for him to pull it away.

“I’m not dead at all, you silly fool,” she argues, but for the first time, a strange uncertainty arises within her. "I'm not dead."

He gnashes a sharp, white fang into his bottom lip, eyeing her hard before he presses, “Allura, do you even remember what you were doing before these paladins of Voltron spoke to you? Where you were?”

Allura tilts her head, face tight. “Of course I do! I was, um…and you were—” Words fail in her throat. “Um.”

Her mind is oddly silent, all her memories gone besides murky impressions.

Lotor reaches out again, daring to stroke her cheek with an intimacy that leaves her breathless and unsettled and wholly unable to reconcile him with the stories that the Paladins had told.

(If they had told any stories at all?)

“I hate the paladins for this,” he whispers, voice quivering. “And my heart soars at the same time. The only way they could possibly manifest you through a device such as this one is if they have you. Some—some preserved body perhaps, some active synapses.” He tilts his head, his calloused thumb stroking her pink Altean mark. “You are far too solid than all the ghostly iterations before you. And so very different. Whole and with weapons."

His touch lights something familiar within her.

Tears bubble in her eyes, and his image blurs before her. “I’m not dead,” she whispers again. “I was—I was in a lab. And…and you are an evil and cruel prince, slaying entire civilizations in the name of your wicked father.”

Lotor huffs at her brokenly, pulling back. “By the ancients,” he breathes. The landscape of his mind transforms entirely from the courts to a lovely field of juniberries. He points brokenly to the distance, where a tall vault stands. “I buried you. I carried you. And I died with you that day.” Tears slip down his cheeks. “I died with you in all the ways that mattered. Do you not remember, Allura?”

Allura stands in horror at the name upon the vault.

The prince grabs onto her hand, pulling her back. “They must have desecrated your grave,” he whispers to himself. “That is the only way you could stand here so solidly as you are, without the wounds that ended your life.”

Her armored fingers reach out to the vault, tracing the scripted A—

Lotor grabs onto her shoulders, desperate. “Wake up,” he demands. “Allura, wake up and find me in the real world. Do you understand?”

-------

Back at the lab, Pidge sits before the computers, adjusting her glasses with a flash of light before she hums. “Our evil plan is working,” she murmurs. "This is awesome."

Hunk leans over her shoulder, narrowing his eyes at the multi-level dream sequences, from the simulated lab where Allura believes herself snoozing beside the restrained body of Lotor, then over to the next level of the dream simulation, complete with juniberry fields. “Don’t you think that, like, maybe we could have given her some more information before tossing her in?”

“…Nah.” Pidge glances back at the pod behind them, where a fully regenerated Allura lay connected to a variety of nodes and health monitors. The heart indicator beats at an increasing rate. “She’s doing great.”

Her colleague huffs. “Literally three seconds in, Lotor knew she wasn’t a natural mind projection, and we don’t have codes.”

Pidge taps her fingers on the keyboard and waggles her brows. “It’s not about her finding the codes. It’s about us turning a prince by giving him the one thing that would stop his campaigns. And then we’ll get the codes, and his armies, and him too. She’s the lady in red. The distraction. You know what I mean?”

“She’s gonna wake up pissed off,” Hunk warns. “And I’ve heard stories about Altean strength, Pidge. I really think we should talk to her before she wakes up for real.”

Pidge hesitates as she watches the signs of wakening appear within the regenerated princess in the pod. “Or we could wipe her memory and try this again, and keep doing it until we get Lotor to totally break down. And then she’ll wake up without a care in the world, and Lotor will be ready to do anything we want him to.”

Hunk gives her a look. “That’s kinda putting the evil back into our evil plan.”

She argues, “We have to consider all the options. Lotor’s been on a murder bender for three years because his fiancé got assassinated. There’s a lot of planets in the balance, and I don’t wanna screw it up just because we got soft.”

It falls silent between them.

Hunk sits down, pulling off his gloves and staring at the simulations with a hard expression. “No,” he says. “We tell her the truth. We wake her up, and we do the right thing by reuniting her with Lotor. Those tears are real, man. We got proof to know this is gonna work.”

In the regenerative pod, Allura’s fingers twitch while in the simulation, and she reaches out to Lotor, flickers of her true memory bleeding through.

Hunk’s voice rises with conviction. “It’s going to work.”

@loturaweek2024

[thebeautyoffanfics]

Can I request Hanako (or Amane Yugi), Teru Minamoto, and Akane Aoi (the male) with a female s/o who is literally invisible to people. (This totally not based on events that actually happened to me-)

Like some people, even her close friends, won’t even notice she’s there and if she’s has to asks something she tends to repeat it or stutter. She also tends to get forgetting or lost on school trips, etc.

This has happened for as long as she could remember and she’s use to it by now but sometimes it still hurts when they forget her

Headcanons please!

hanako x f!reader, teru minamoto x f!reader, akane aoi x f!reader

a/n: sure thing!! I feel like Hanako would understand that as a ghost, so I think I’ll write for him in his ghosty form! I hope that’s alright :)) thank you so much for requesting, and I hope these turn out alright!!

I’m really sorry if these are shorter or poorer than normal, and if they’re formatted strangely- I’m doing my best to get requests done on my phone (´ε｀”)

warnings: none?

word count: 1,414

Hanako <3

He understands, he understands more than anyone- so he thinks. I mean, he’s a ghost. He literally cannot be seen by anyone who isn’t an exorcist, near death, a fellow supernatural, or bound to him in some way.

Still… honestly, he gets pretty defensive over you-

They can’t hear him, but you can. (They can’t hear you, but he certainly can.) It’s honestly somewhat humorous, Hanako standing behind you, shouting that they’d better listen up!!

“IF YOU GUYS MAKE (Y/N) REPEAT HERSELF ONE MORE TIME?? Are they deaf, (Y/N)?? I think they’re deaf?????”

His reactions like that are half-joking-half-serious. He’s genuinely upset that they treat you like that- but he hopes that all his ranting and going on helps you to feel better somehow?

He can’t exactly follow you on trips, but! He makes Yashiro “Honorary (Y/N) Defense”! Meaning, since he can’t, she’ll defend you in his place!

You get interrupted or ignored? Hanako tells Yashiro to help you out, and (though she would any way) she’s raising her hand somewhat shyly- explaining that you were trying to talk.

Getting left behind on a field trip? Yashiro is sticking by your side! She turns around constantly, making sure that you keep up with her, and especially making sure that you get on the bus with the rest! As per Hanako’s request, and her own care for you, she’ll let you sit next to her.

Hanako is always very talkative, but he’s still very patient with you- he loves to have conversations with you, which is a big reason he doesn’t get why they treat you like that. You’re such a great person-! You’ve got such a cute voice-!!! Why don’t they listen-?!!!

To be honest, he finds your stutter kind of cute… he’s quite bold, so you being timid is something he doesn’t mind! Hanako doesn’t mind listening out for you- even if the other people aren’t in a relationship for you, isn’t it… basic human decency?? What happened to that???

“It’s really alright, Hanako. Things like this have happened since I was little- it hurts sometimes, but I’m mostly used to it.”

Hanako would then grab your shoulders gently, looking in your eyes with some determination!

“You shouldn’t have to be used to that!! I’m used to it because I’m dead, but you’re… alive. You can be heard and seen by everyone, yet they choose to not listen- it’s… ridiculous. I’m sorry that you have to deal with that, (Y/N)... really.”

Uncharacteristically soft moment, but it simply hits different for him due to personal experience. I’m sure as a human, the only time people saw him were when he was bullied, and now he’s- obviously- not seen by nearly anyone. It’s such a lonely feeling, and he genuinely hates that you can relate to it.

Teru Minamoto <3

It’s hard to not garner attention as Teru Minamoto’s girlfriend- so, people certainly acknowledge you once your relationship is made public/becomes obvious.

But! Before the entire school knew about the Prince having a girlfriend, Teru was… quite defensive over you- even before the two of you were a couple, he’d notice the way others seemed to step all over you. Ignoring you, interrupting you, forgetting about you.

Like Hanako, he doesn’t get it? You’ve got his attention, how do you not have anyone else’s? You’re so cute… and really do have a lovely voice, appearance, and overall are really pleasant to be around?? If anything you deserve more praise than he does-

He also doesn’t get it due to the fact that people acknowledge him a little too much-

Anyway, he tends to give that praise he thinks you deserve to you!

Meaning, he brags on you so much. Compliments you to your face, telling you how nice it is to converse with you- telling his family how lovely of a person you are. He even mentions it to classmates, which does start to earn others being more noticeable of your presence.

Not afraid to stick up for you in the least!! Who wouldn’t listen to Teru?? The moment someone interrupts, he’s politely making his way into the conversation- offering an “I’m sorry, I don’t think (Y/N) got her chance to speak.”

“Th-That’s okay, Teru. I appreciate it, but I’m used to things like that,” You told him after class, slightly embarrassed.

“Used to things like being ignored?”

“Yeah..?”

“...you shouldn’t have to be. I’d never be upset with you, but it does upset me that people have been so willing to pretend you aren’t there? I think you’re lovely, and nearly impossible to ignore. It’s simply confusing, I suppose.”

BRO if he, for some reason, isn’t on the field trip and you get forgotten- it’s game over for the chaperones will get their heads chewed off. Except he’ll be calm and collected while doing so- however, on the inside, he can’t express how upset he is.

“Is it not your job to make sure all the students are accounted for? What if (Y/N) had gotten lost? Do you not realize she could have been kidnapped? Should some low-life had decided to try anything strange, the blame would have been on you, and therefore our entire school. What would that do for both your’s and the school’s reputation?”

If he’s on the trip? You won’t be getting forgotten <3 Even you were to get distracted for a moment, he’s grabbing your hand and making sure you stay caught up with the class. Sits with you on the bus, and makes absolutely sure that you’re safe and with him!!

Akane Aoi <3

He worships the very ground you walk on. We all know how he treated Aoi? Well, now that’s how he treats you- maybe a bit less exaggerated and dramatic, but all that love and more is there!

So, he’s admiring you, and sees that you keep opening your mouth in an attempt to speak- only to have someone interrupt you, not even acknowledging that you’re there??

“Hey, (Y/N), what’s up?”

“O-oh, I was just trying to ask them something…”

“Oi, you heard her. Shut up for a moment and let (Y/N) get her question in.”

Most are somewhat aware of how scary Akane can be, so they’ll certainly listen whenever he’s there. Heck, people occasionally keep an extra eye open if they know he’s around- making sure they don’t unintentionally look past you.

If you dislike his very direct method, he’ll try to be nicer to others about it. But, he can’t help but get defensive- like our other boys, he admires you so much, and enjoys talking with you so much, that- by this point- others are simply missing out?? Like, it’s basically their loss for treating you like that. And it’s his mission to shower you in love and admiration to a point where others do the same- platonically of course, and boys better rethink anything that isn’t strictly “wow (Y/N) is cool, it’s cool that she’s taken by Akane.”

Cos, as we all know, if someone even says “oh, (Y/N) probably makes a cute girlfriend” it’s game over. RIP unknowing student, he had no mercy bashing their skull in </3

“Akane, it’s really fine, you know? Things like this happen been happening since... forever. I’m just not easily noticed, I suppose. I’m used to it!”

“Hmm... well, get un-used to it. You’ve got the most beautiful presence and voice of anyone I know! And, I want the class- for everyone- to be able to acknowledge that. You shouldn’t have to repeat yourself constantly, nor be ignored like that. Not on my watch, at least.”

You won’t be getting forgotten. He’s ahead of Teru, ahahahaaaa!!! If he isn’t on the field trip, he’s telling someone who will be to keep an eye out for you “or else <3”. The person wouldn’t even bother to question it- just nod and keep an eye out for you constantly. They even offer to have you sit with them! How sweet! Glad to know they value their skulls!!

If he’s on the trip, like the others, he’s keeping an eye out for you constantly. He’ll hold your hand the entire time, stopping as you pleased, but keeping an eye out for the group. He wants you to see what you want, so you will- all while staying with the class, or at least close to the class. If he, for some reason, were to lose sight of the class, he takes comfort in the fact that you wouldn’t be lost alone.

[mc-lukanette]

Now that Wishmaker is out, how would you rewrite that chaos? The Lukanette need is strong.

"Did anyone else see me?" Marinette asked, her hands shaking as she put on the mask she'd made with her newly-given knitting powers. They were sitting down in a shadowed alley, free from anyone's curious eyes.

"No," Viperion replied, his voice breathless from the revelations he was having rather than the fly to their hiding spot. "Just...just me." He glanced down at his wrist, noting the unticked snake bangle. "...I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Marinette's gaze darted over to him, then to his miraculous. A flicker of understanding passed over her expression as she whispered a small, "Oh."

Guilt tore up his stomach, even knowing deep down that it wasn't his fault - the akuma had surprised them, giving no time for him to use his power - but he'd been brought in to use Second Chance in the first place, and yet...

Marinette's hand fell upon his wrist, making him look up. She smiled at him, her eyes reassuring.

"It's okay," she said, though her voice wavered. "It was only you who saw my face, and even if you'd used Second Chance, you'd still know anyway."

He could tell that she was still processing, but let the subject go for now and smiled back. There were more important matters to attend to.

They must've been on the same wavelength too, as Marinette pulled away and sighed, thinking aloud, "I have to figure a way to be Ladybug again. The akuma could just be destroyed, but I need Miraculous Ladybug to turn everyone back to normal."

Viperion nodded, briefly giving her a once-over. Her power and wings were useful, but unfortunately didn't help them with the current situation.

It was also distractingly cute, and he couldn't fight that way.

"Wishmaker said that he wanted people to live out their childhood dream," he murmured in thought.

Marinette brought a hand to her face, pinching her cheek in contemplation. "Maybe...maybe if I live it out then, I'll change back?" She considered it a moment longer, then groaned and stood up, starting to pace around the small area they were in. "But we don't have that kind of time! Yeah, my earrings aren't here so Shadow Moth can't make a wish, and I could definitely make enough of a living with my new knitting powers, but that would take years, and—"

Suddenly, she stopped and looked over at him, catching Viperion briefly off-guard since he hadn't said anything. Her eyes scanned him up and down, mental gears turning in her head even if he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"...That's it!" she gasped, hurrying over to him. She knelt down, clasping his hand in both of hers as she rambled, "Maybe I just need to live out my dream to the fullest!"

He blinked in confusion, unsure of where she was going with this.

"Part of my dream was to eventually make a wedding dress and tuxedo for me and my future husband!" she exclaimed. "If I do that, I might turn back into Ladybug!"

"Ah—" He shut his mouth before anything else could come out. He couldn't deny that it was a solid plan, but he wanted to tread carefully given his feelings, not wanting to make her feel awkward. "That's a great idea." He tried to grin reassuringly, though it came off a little crooked. "Should I go find Adrien?"

"What?" She shook her head. "No, it has to be you!"

He gaped, his heart doing confused flips in his chest. "Why?"

"The guy I always dreamed of marrying when I was little," she began, eyes practically sparkling, "he was exactly like you!"

— — — — —

Marinette hadn't exactly caught onto what she'd said until it already left her mouth, but the way Viperion's face turned red had definitely given it away. Things had gone quiet after the fact, with him sitting a couple meters away while she knitted away at the tuxedo; the tuxedo for him.

She found herself blushing faintly at the thought and immediately forced it down, reminding herself that she didn't love Luka, but Adrien. They were made for each other, like everyone said, and she—

She closed her eyes and took in a steady breath, knowing that she was getting off track. Things were complicated enough with all her thoughts and fears about the future, especially now that Viperion knew her identity.

Though, strangely enough, she didn't feel as nervous about it as she thought she would've.

Her gaze darted over to Viperion, who was keeping lookout and patiently waiting for her to finish with her knitting. He thankfully didn't seem closed off from her at all, and it just served as a reminder as to how mature he was.

Without thinking, she found herself speaking up. "M...my parents..."

He looked over at her, his senses still apparently tuned for her despite his keeping watch. She averted her gaze to the knitting needles working their literal magic into the tuxedo.

"We saw a lot of movies where the girl gets the prince in the end, so they made sure to teach me that love wasn't about money or power or fame or anything like that." She bit her bottom lip, Adrien briefly flashing to mind. "So, I imagined me as the knitting fairy, and I'd make clothes for the whole world until I found him." She peeked up at him. "Someone who wouldn't laugh when I fell on my face. Someone who'd be there for me and think of me first. Someone who wouldn't scold me for everything I did or make me feel bad for it. Someone who'd see more than just clumsy, nervous Marinette."

As much as it hurt to admit, the description didn't fit Adrien. Unless they found each other by coincidence - something that actually happened today, oddly enough - he didn't go out of his way to spend time with her; it was her putting in the effort.

"And..." She trailed off momentarily, lost in her thoughts. "after we fell in love, I'd give up my powers and live happily ever after with him, because we didn't need powers to be happy and it wasn't my powers he fell in love with in the first place."

She'd finished the tuxedo at that point, courtesy of her knitting powers, but her hands dropped to her lap afterward, not making any further movements as her thoughts took over.

Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Viperion take a quick look outside the alley, then get up to move over to her. He sat next to her, picking up one of her hands and letting it rest in his palm.

"I think your dream is really beautiful," he told her gently.

She scoffed, blushing in embarrassment at what must've been fake praise. "Chat made fun of me wanting to be the knitting fairy."

"He was wrong," he retorted immediately. "Your dream might not be realistic, but that doesn't make it any less nice, and there's nothing wrong with dreaming of the perfect guy."

She met his gaze, the softness in them having not lessened even since their break-up, and found the strength to start working on the dress. Being with Luka - dating or otherwise - had always been so easy, excluding all the factors outside of just them being them. She could vaguely imagine her younger self clinging to Luka, claiming him as hers and insisting that he marry her when they grew up.

But things weren't that easy. Nothing was. Marinette had spent her whole life fighting for what she wanted, needing to prove herself to people in order to be accepted.

Fighting for years to smile against Chloe's bullying, because no one would do anything about it. Fighting to be acknowledged by her parents as someone who could do things and didn't need their protection. Fighting against herself to be the one who didn't make all the mistakes or have to be the one to apologize in the end.

After becoming Ladybug, her future became even cloudier and the fighting continued. Waking up in the morning was even harder thanks to late-night patrols, getting through tests seemed impossible due to having less time for studying, and even maintaining a romantic relationship carried the struggle of not being able to tell them her identity.

Marinette stared at the shimmering pink and white fabric beneath her fingertips, it shaping and forming to her will. The occasional sparkle or flash from a beam of sunlight that happened to shine through reminded her of the day at the TV station, where Luka had confessed and she could see only him for just a moment.

"I'm sorry."

Viperion hummed in confusion, raising a brow at her.

"I made everything complicated for you—us," she explained. "All the time, ever since we met. I even got you akumatized, twice."

"Twi—" He blinked rapidly, then leaned closer. His hand came in contact with her cheek as he directed her gaze back to him. "You mean Silencer? How was that your fault?"

"I challenged Bob Roth, and when he grabbed me, you got upset. It pushed you over to the edge."

"You were defending me and my music," he argued, a sternness in his tone that wasn't there before as he put his hand to his chest, "and my emotions are my own. I'm the one who gave into Hawk Moth, not you."

"But..." She sighed, conflicted. "Even later, I kept my identity from you when we were dating. I made us both miserable because of it. I was so upset that I ended up yelling at my friends and they all got akumatized, and then I went and gave my identity to Alya anyway."

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, though he quickly schooled his expression for reasons she didn't know. His gaze strayed momentarily before he looked back at her, asking, "Would you be upset at me for feeling happy for a moment, knowing that you were just as miserable as I was?"

"W-what?" She shook her head; if anything, knowing that he'd also been miserable made her happy as well, probably in the same way as it was for him. It meant that they both cared about it. "No! Not at all!"

"Then I don't blame you for your emotions either."

She pouted at him, but he merely smiled in response. She knew this wasn't a matter he was going to budge on, but it was difficult for her to understand when she was so commonly blamed for things. That was Luka though, she supposed, always forgiving and able to see through her faults.

She remembered her dream husband again and tried to act like her full focus was on the dress so as to not give her thoughts away. She'd only drawn the unnamed man once or twice, and it was just occurring to her that he had black hair and blue eyes as well. Having not understood the concept of kids looking like their parents in their own way at the time, the child version of her had thought it'd be "fair," because then their children would look like both of them no matter what. It was strange, just how much the "simple" version of her love ideals lined up with the boy sitting in front of her now, even with his temporarily green eyes.

Friendship had become something very precious to her ever since the day she'd gotten her miraculous, maybe even more than love itself. Despite the complications and their brief time dating, she was friends with Luka above all else. No matter what happened in regards to the romantic aspects of their relationship, their friendship remained unchanged, like they really would be friends even if they had the worst break-up in the history of Paris. It was comfortable, to the point where she felt embarrassed for ever avoiding him in the first place.

She was reminded yet again of another stark contrast with Adrien. She hadn't been scared of starting anything with Luka, yet Adrien was a constant cloud of dread above her head, the fear of being rejected or being made fun of holding her back from doing what she wanted.

If her child self could see her now, she'd be confused. Marinette could hear her now, asking why her love - or at least, what she believed to be love - caused her so much stress. That was never what she'd wanted; in fact, it had been the exact opposite. Crushing on Adrien had done nothing but humiliate her, the little girl inside her covering her eyes from the sight. Her time with Luka, on the other hand...

"It looks beautiful."

Marinette jerked her head up to see Viperion's approving gaze, then looked down to the wedding dress in her lap. It was finished, pink with flashes of white and blacks; exactly the kind of dress she would've wanted when she was younger, though obviously with an older touch.

"Thank you," she hurried to say when she realized that she hadn't responded to him. He chuckled in reply, though it was good-natured.

He reached for the tuxedo she'd set aside, but stopped halfway as if realizing something. He looked to her, then the dress, then back to her, asking carefully, "Do you want me to keep watch while we put these on?"

It took her a moment to realize what he meant; that he - wearing a bodysuit - could easily slip on the clothes over it, but she didn't have that sort of luxury due to her dress. She managed to summon enough of her inner Ladybug to focus on the importance of the task over the potential embarrassment, giving him an appreciative nod.

She trusted him not to look.

As she went to the darkest parts of the alley to change, Viperion heading in the opposite direction, her mind drifted back to the past again. The little journey there, even if it'd been unwilling on her part courtesy of the akuma, had been a nice change from constantly worrying over her future. As important as it was to focus on what she wanted to do and plan accordingly, the past was equally as important. It shaped her into who she was now and offered insight on herself that she couldn't have gotten otherwise.

"...Lu—I mean, Viperion?" she called just as she finished putting on the wedding dress.

"Yeah?"

She turned to face him, then giggled when noticing that he still had his back turned to her. "You can look now."

He hesitated, then slowly shifted to face her. He was mostly dressed, but was in the process of buttoning up the tuxedo, his hands fumbling with one of the buttons as he took her in.

She approached, gently brushing his hands aside as she started taking care of the few remaining buttons. Not wanting to delay talking to him like before, she figured now was the best time as any to say what was on her mind.

"I still don't know what I want for my future. I feel like a lot of doors are opening and closing every day, and whenever I want to try one, there just ends up being more doors, or it's already closed when I get there. There are too many possibilities and I keep being afraid that I'll trip on the one I really want to go to." Her gaze left the button she was holding so she could meet his eyes. "I just know that I really want you to be there for all of it... i-if that's what you want." Wanting to make sure instead of presuming like she tended to do, she asked cautiously, "Do you?"

His face didn't show a visible reaction, but she heard the slight sound of him swallowing, synced up with a single blink. Afterward, he absolutely beamed at her, the smile more blinding than the light being cast against his back.

"I do," he replied,

In time with his words, the final button was slipped into place. Marinette felt a warm sensation run through her body, starting from her feet and then making her shudder as it moved its way up to her head. Her body was turning white, just as before when Wishmaker first shot her, though Viperion's tuxedo had joined as well.

There was a flash between them, and she found herself back as normal, wingless Marinette when it faded.

Viperion, now lacking what she'd made for him, still looked just as happy to see her.

"I-I did it!" she gasped, genuinely surprised that it worked. "We did it!"

She threw her hands up in the air in celebration, but snapped back to reality as she remembered that she still needed to turn back into Ladybug and take care of Wishmaker. She opened her purse, easing as she saw Tikki already munching away on a macaron.

"Marinette?"

She looked back up at Viperion, noticing that he still had something to say. "Yes?"

"I might not be able to make enough sense of your inner music to tell you what you'll want, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. I know that whatever you decide to do is going to be as extraordinary as you are."

She stifled a squeak, blushing at the sudden compliment and thankful that Tikki was still chewing the last bits of the macaron. "A-ah, thank you. You too—with the extraordinary thing, not your inner music, because I can't hear that even though I'm sure it's really amazing!"

Had it been anyone else, she might've prayed for a hole to swallow her, but it was impossible to feel weird when he smiled at her the way he did.

Once Tikki had gotten her fill, Marinette transformed and they began to leave the alley together, though Ladybug stopped partway as she remembered something; something she'd done many times before and felt it time to get back to doing.

Viperion raised a brow at her sudden stopping, then stiffened when she leaned towards him and kissed his cheek. She flashed him a smile, noting silently that she missed these little exchanges between them, then leaped away to head back to where Wishmaker was likely to be. Viperion followed suit, but a split second behind his usual speed.

She was sure he'd be smiling back if she looked, but she didn't have to; they were connected, maybe not by some sort of magic thread or cosmic force, but by them and the relationship she hoped that they would continue to build in the future.

And whenever they got back to the fight, just in time to see Chat Noir allow himself to be hit by Wishmaker's attack, a few more doors would close and her future would start to look a little different than what she'd considered that morning.

Not necessarily in a bad way either.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Come Now, Little Prince

Prompts: Hey uh... *brushed off dust from crashing in through the roof* Could you write something about Roman or Remus having Agoraphobia and them getting trapped somewhere? My brain just wants to relate. If not that’s fine! Love your writing! - anon

Might I suggest,,,, writing trope where the severely hurt person goes to their nemesis and says “sorry, I just didn’t have anywhere else to go” but it’s with Roman and Janus - 1namelessalien1

Ahh, yes, the inevitable. Honestly a lil surprised I haven't done this sooner but here we go! Finally...

Read on Ao3

Pairings: roceit, dukeceit, creativitwins. can be platonic or romantic you choose save for creativitwins. they brothers

Warnings: roman gets stabbed and has to get stitches, agoraphobia

Word Count: 7611

Cities are full of bright lights and shadows alike. Those that live in the light, the heroes, the 'good guys.' Those that live in the shadows, their grisly work only illuminated when the sun deigns to show its face again. Sometimes the shadows are too deep. Sometimes the spotlights are too much.

The Prince, Roman Prince, is the Golden Boy of the city. The newsreels, the cameras, the public adore him. But they don't see the winces when the bulbs go off right in his face, or whispers to be better, do better, perform better from the people that pull him aside after every daring adventure.

No one knows the name Janus, but they know his work. They don't shout, they whisper. They huddle together in the dark, searching for the light so as not to get caught in his coils.

But sometimes, when spotlights are too bright and shadows too flat, a little prince will make its way into the snake's den.

He didn’t mean to.

He didn’t mean to.

It just—his hand slipped and they fell and they—they—

He didn’t mean to drop them. They weren’t—they weren’t supposed to fall but the knife hurt too much and he flinched and he—he—

The choppers roar around the roof, battering his head with their noise, noise, noise. The wind whips up around the concrete railing, whistling, whining, wailing as the body falls down, down, down. The searchlights glint off the knife as they pull it down with them.

And then he is alone, in a crowd, on the top of a roof, king of the clouds.

The lights glare in his face as their body disappears. Then…then…

Then fear.

———————————

One of the best things about being seen as a ‘super villain,’ and how gauche is that term, is that no one wants to ask too many questions when you rent an apartment. There are really far too many landlords that want to get to know you, want to be your friend, while knowing full well that they participate in a system where there is no ethical consumption or behavior. Really, if he ever starts renting his own property, there will be no illusions on his end.

But hey, at least these ones know not to put their noses where they’ll get bitten off if they poke too far.

Janus sighs, opening the cupboard and taking the teacup down. The kettle whistles merrily on the stove as he reaches for the tea boxes.

Black, green, white, herbal…really, there are so many options. What to have for tonight, then? It is awfully late in the evening, there’s no real justification for consuming caffeine. Then again, he’ll do what he likes.

His phone buzzes. His real phone, not the one everyone sees him carry when he’s out and about. He rolls his eyes and takes the kettle off the heat as he spots the name on the text notification.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

“What’ve you done now, Remus,” he mutters as he slides the message open, “and which one of your messes am I cleaning up now?”

The message opens to a report. Brief, as is the style of all the reports Janus demands, but the thing that gives him pause is just how brief.

Remus, as one can very well imagine, is…not exactly compliant when it comes to following the rules. And while that can be useful in its own special way, it does mean that Janus occasionally has to factor emojis out of Remus’s reports.

Well, more than occasionally.

But this time the report is two sentences. Janus pours the water into the teapot as he glances over the words.

R. Sanders: Slaughter down at 85th and Marilyn. The head of the beast is cut off.

Well, on paper, that should be a fantastic report. The rival infringing on Janus’s turf has been, ah, taken down a few notches.

That’s undermined considerably by the fact that this report lacks any of Remus’s enthusiasm.

Janus sighs as he settles on the loose-leaf blueberry mint tea, placing the cup aside to brew as he wanders toward the window. Perhaps Remus is simply tired from all this work today. It wouldn’t be the first time the man’s manic energy had been tempered by a good amount of strenuous activity. And cutting off the head of the beast was never going to be a simple job to begin with. True, it was always an issue with causing more collateral damage than Janus was personally comfortable with, but what’s done is done.

The city starts to slumber, the last of the pleasant natural light fading from the sky, giving way to the horrid stained brown of the light pollution. The skyscrapers barely flinch in the oncoming night, instead choosing to stand firm as the workers inside slave away. The smaller shops close their doors, the nighttime crowds vanishing into subway tunnels and bus stations. Janus leans against the window, the glass reflecting the elegant lines of his suit alongside the angles of the buildings.

If he were slightly less himself, he’d say it looks like he belongs here.

When the light fades further, he sighs, turning away and fetching his tea. He drops into his favorite chair next to the window and raises the cup to his mouth.

The head of the beast has been cut off. He has no appointments, no reports, no debriefings to attend. He has his cup of tea, Remus will handle anything that blows up on the networks. It is the perfect evening to be alone, secure in his apartment.

So of course, there has to be something that sends a prickle up the back of his neck.

Why is Remus’s report sitting with him like this? This should be fantastic news, he should be willing to open the bottle of champagne that’s sat in preparation for this moment. And yet, as he raises the cup to his mouth again, his teeth hit the rim and he jolts, spilling a little more than he meant to into his mouth. He swallows, thankful that there’s no one else here to see it, and sets the cup and saucer aside.

He folds his gloved hands behind his back and goes to the window again.

If there were something wrong, someone would tell him. He has eyes all over the city, ears everywhere, and those under his employ know better than to try and cross him. Remus is alive and well—clearly, given by the way the evening’s progressed so far—and wouldn’t hesitate to gleefully drag anyone he suspected into his rooms or an abandoned warehouse.

He spares a glance over his shoulder. The phone stays silent.

Fingers tap against his hand as he looks down. Not for the first time, he wonders what it must be like, down there, scurrying about, without the faintest idea of what it looks like from up here. Oh, he’s walked on the sidewalk outside his building, who hasn’t, that’s how he gets into the building in the first place, but…not like that.

The outside world is so…temperamental. So many people, so many things. There is no better place to be alone than a crowded city street, but there is no more dangerous a place to be yourself.

When he’s finished his cup of tea, and the prickle has not left the back of his neck alone, he stifles a curse and turns. Remus will listen to him. Or, more precisely, Remus will ramble and scheme and reassure him that nothing is wrong. He might get a strange look—because while everyone else can underestimate how much Remus sees at their own peril, Janus never has—but he will do it.

Janus opens the door, idly wondering if he needs to bring his coat, and abruptly stops walking.

There is someone on their knees right outside his door.

Well.

That would explain the feeling he’s had of something being wrong, how on earth his security system didn’t alert him to their presence is beyond him. He doesn’t bother to hide his sigh as he pulls his cane from the holder and tilts their chin up.

“I’m certain that you must be…”

Janus trails off as he tilts up a chin to reveal a bloodstained, agonized expression of someone who should not be here.

“I’m sorry,” Roman Prince says in the voice of a lost child, “I didn’t—I didn’t know where else to go.”

Janus’s fingers twitch on the cane as he watches the roll of Roman’s throat.

“Y-you said if I—if I—ever needed help one day to know better than to—to try and go back to th-them.”

Remus’s report is beginning to make more sense.

Janus remembers. Janus remembers this upstart pain in his ass getting in the way of many operations, from transports to exchanges to hostage negotiations. He remembers the crooked smile straight out of a movie as this little shit got in the way of everything, including his resolve to not get involved with any of the so-called heroes that ran around in this city in their spandex and naiveté.

He remembers shaking his head at this shiny new one and saying that when he realized the world was much, much grayer than he wanted to believe, Janus would be there to watch. He remembers a softer offer, after a rescue had resulted in a building—abandoned, but a building—blowing up and the poor thing looking like someone had kicked his puppy.

He remembers watching the rival’s henchmen carted off to jail as the hero of the hour was reprimanded for causing too much collateral damage by the people who supposedly adored him.

“You were right,” Roman continues in that lost, lost voice, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

It takes Roman reaching for him for Janus to remember what is going on and the cane jerks his head up higher, forcing him to stop. Janus narrows his eyes at the hero kneeling on the floor, takes in the blood on his face, his neck, his hands.

“Why are you here,” he asks, wrenching that chin just a little higher, “why did you come to me?”

“You said you would help,” comes the reply, “if I—if I didn’t want to do this anymore.”

Has the perfect prince killed someone for the first time? Is that what’s brought on this little display?

His eyes trail lower, looking for the weapon.

The light from his apartment shines on a tunic stained with blood, cut and torn, and a dark, ugly stain that is not getting any smaller.

Roman’s head lolls forward, almost nuzzling Janus’s thigh as it slips off the cane. His hair sticks to his face, too soaked with blood.

Janus’s eyes go wide.

Roman Prince is here, on his knees, bleeding out because he has nowhere else to go. He came to Janus, the person he should trust the least out of everyone in this city, and he’s here on his knees, pleading.

The hand not on the cane twitches, then slowly reaches forward to find the least bloody spot on Roman’s head. It runs gently through his hair and finds its way to his chin, lifting it up once more. Roman’s eyes, full of tears, stare back at him.

“Come inside, little prince,” Janus says, his voice far softer than he would normally allow, “you’re bleeding all over my carpet.”

There aren’t many places to go that aren’t carpeted inside Janus’s apartment, but they make it over the threshold before Roman’s state begins to truly worry him.

How did he even get here? By how much blood there is, surely he would’ve passed out by now? Roman seems oblivious to his inside questions, simply looks around for wherever Janus is leading him before he notices how much blood he’s leaving behind him.

“It’s alright,” Janus says, surprising the both of them, “I can have the floor cleaned.”

Roman just blinks at him. And oh, if it doesn’t hurt to see that innocence still in the eyes of the little lamb, even as the wolf goes to take his arm.

“The bathroom is through this way,” he says softly, “come now…”

It is an odd experience, surely, to have one’s own nemesis bloody, wounded, completely at his mercy, as he strips off his suit jacket and rolls up his sleeves, and want to do nothing but hunt down the people that made him this way.

Roman sits like a broken doll, he realizes as he watches the man ease himself down and wait as Janus pulls on a pair of plastic gloves. He is not uncooperative when Janus pushes his limbs to the side, snipping away at the fabric, trying to figure out what precisely is going on. He does not protest when Janus finds the stab wound and presses a cloth harshly on top, nor when Janus grabs his hand and bids him to hold it there, hard. He is not unfeeling, just very, very quiet as Janus begins to douse the pads in antiseptic.

He doesn’t flinch when Janus cleans the wound as best he can—he’s no doctor, after all—before muttering that it’s going to need stitches.

“Oh,” he mumbles instead, “okay.”

“Yes, so—hold still,” he barks, forcing Roman to sit back down, “where do you think you’re going?”

Roman blinks. “You said it needs stitches.”

“Yes, which is why you shouldn’t be moving.”

“I was going to go get the stitches.”

Now it’s Janus’s turn to blink. “I will stitch you up, Roman, now stay.”

And there’s that lamb-like innocence again as Roman tilts his head. “You will?”

“I may not be a doctor,” Janus mutters, twisting to grab the first aid kit, “but I do know how to suture a wound.”

He takes a few more wipes and cleans the blood he can, pointedly ignoring Roman’s attentive look.

“You could be a doctor,” comes the mumble, “you seem…good at it.”

Janus huffs. “Less a doctor, more a medic.”

Roman’s brows furrow. “What’s the difference?”

“A doctor fixes you, a medic makes dying more comfortable.”

There’s a moment of silence. Janus half-expects the poor thing to seize up in fear, tremble before him, or—god forbid—try and fight him, but he does none of that. Because that would make sense.

Instead, Roman just closes his eyes and lets his head fall to the side against the tiled wall.

“You don’t have to make it comfortable then.”

Janus’s hands falter for a moment. His eyes flick to Roman’s bloodstained face before refocusing on the wound in front of him.

“You’re not going to die here,” he says firmly, and if he starts to work a little more quickly, that’s his business, not yours.

“Oh.”

“I imagine you wouldn’t’ve come here with the intent to die on my doorstep, that’s quite rude, you know.”

“…no.”

Now, see, as the best liar in the city, Janus knows when he hears one.

The absurdity of the situation strikes him once again, fainter this time, but still there. Roman Prince is here, bloody, wounded—fatally so if Janus hadn’t started tending to him right when he did— forced to roll over and show his belly, Janus’s teeth at his throat, and yet Janus reaches up to turn that pretty face to his.

“Tell me what happened, little prince,” he commands softly.

Roman swallows. “I didn’t mean to.”

Janus simply raises an eyebrow and starts to stitch up the wound. Roman doesn’t flinch but accepts the silent chide.

“I-it was the building security guard,” he mumbles, “they called in that someone was firing shots in the upper stories and couldn’t—couldn’t get away in time. They were—they—the call wasn’t completed.”

They died while they were on the line, Roman doesn’t say, but Janus hears it.

“Wh-when I got there, there were—they must’ve thought there was a mole in the—on the inside and they started—they were—“

They were killing their own people, Janus realizes, hiding his disgust behind another tied-off suture. He’s starting to have an awful feeling about where Roman’s been tonight.

“Something went wrong in one of the labs. They made a toxin, and it—it—“ Roman swallows— “it drove them insane.”

It made them homicidal, they killed each other.

“I...I think they were going to flee from the roof.”

As Janus ties off the last suture, he freezes.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

“I tried to stop them,” Roman whispers, “I was holding onto them, it was windy, they were going to fall, they ran too fast out of the door, I caught them, I—I had them, they—they were going to be safe but then they—they—“

Janus presses two fingers to the warm chest next to the wound. He can feel Roman’s heart jumping. He rubs in slow circles.

“They stabbed me,” Roman finishes, “and I—I—I—“

A small noise that sounds too much like a sob swallows the rest of his words.

Oh, this poor little prince…

Roman swallows another sob. “I’m sorry.”

Janus tilts his head. “What’re you apologizing to me for, little prince?”

“Well, I can’t imagine that this is how you imagined spending your evening.”

“No,” Janus says, folding his hands in front of him, “but I can’t imagine this is how you imagined spending yours either.”

The little prince bruises as easily as ever, only this time he doesn’t bother to hide behind his bravado.

“Off,” Janus says softly, tugging lightly at the remains of Roman’s costume, “the rest of you needs to be cleaned.”

He watches unashamed as Roman follows his instruction, eyes traveling over the scars littering the body revealed to him piece by piece. Too many scars. When he stands bare, Janus takes his hands and deliberately cleans them of the blood.

Roman doesn’t stop trembling until Janus has cleaned away every last bit.

The costume will need to be disposed of, there’s no saving it. The floor in the bathroom is littered with bits of blood and the carpet near the door will need to be cleaned quickly. Luckily the cleaner that Janus employs is well-accustomed to such a request. Instead, Janus walks back to the bedroom.

There the little prince sits, looking far too much like a lost child. Janus pauses at the door, tugging his normal gloves back on.

The little prince looks far too good wrapped in Janus’s colors.

“Why did you come to me, little prince,” he asks after a moment, “you had no way of knowing that I wouldn’t kill you.”

Roman lowers his head and the lie from the bathroom plays uncomfortably in his head. Janus tilts his head as Roman clears his throat.

“I thought—part of me thought you would.”

A harsh laugh tears out of his throat before he can stop it. “So what, I was to be your confessional? You would fall on your knees, repent, and I would put you out of your misery? Or put you down, like some misbehaved dog?”

Roman hunches his shoulders. Janus’s mirth disappears in a flash.

“…maybe.”

Roman Prince dragged himself from the roof of 85th and Marilyn, all the way across the city to Janus’s real apartment, disarmed his security, and did not once tend to the stab wound in his chest.

Roman Prince witnessed a slaughter, watched people be driven out of their minds, and dropped someone who did their very best to kill him off a roof by accident.

Roman Prince fell to his knees in front of the one man in this city who he knew would be capable of killing him without a second thought.

“…do you want me to kill you?”

There’s a softness in his voice again, one that slipped unbidden into the words to make the blow seem more like a caress.

“I would make it quick,” he murmurs, still leaning against the doorway, watching the little prince, “it wouldn’t hurt.”

Roman looks at him. The child is lost, so lost, and so, so tired. He opens his mouth.

“Don’t you want to?”

…well.

Does he? Certainly, the little prince has caused more than his fair share of mishaps, messes, and mistakes, and putting him out of the equation permanently benefits Janus in more ways than one. And it’s not like it would be difficult. No one knows Roman is here, let alone anyone who would care, and even fewer that wouldn’t expect him to never be seen alive again. Janus could kill him in half a dozen ways in the next minute that Roman couldn’t possibly fight against, a dozen more that would take scarcely any longer.

Unbidden, his mind begins to list off the possibilities. The gun in the cabinet, the knife tucked into his shirt, the poison stored in the bathroom, even snapping the little prince’s neck.

But he takes one more look at the little prince and all of them vanish in an instant.

“Why did you come here?” he murmurs again.

Roman lets out a long breath. His hand on the borrowed shirt tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens.

“You’re the only one I trust,” he tells him quietly, and it’s the saddest thing he could’ve possibly said.

Janus crosses the room and cups the back of the little prince’s neck. Roman just bows his head, the little lamb waiting for another hand to come up and twist. Janus bites back the snarl of rage at how resigned Roman is to dying tonight and brushes his thumb along the curve of his cheek.

Stroke by stroke, he coaxes the tears from the little prince’s eyes and wipes them away.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he murmurs, leaning his weight against the edge of the bed, “there’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“I could’ve held on.”

“You’d just been stabbed, flinching is a perfectly understandable reaction.”

“But I’ve been stabbed before.”

“It’s not like you build up an immunity to knives going into you.”

“But I—“ Roman cuts himself off, curling his fist tightly in his lap.

“What is it, little prince?”

He just shakes his head firmly, lips pressed tightly together, red blooming on his cheeks.

Well, at least there’s blood flowing properly again. “We’re well past the point of embarrassment, little prince,” Janus remarks gently, “and if you’re worried about sharing weaknesses with me now…”

“I got scared,” Roman blurts, sounding every bit the reprimanded child. Janus pets his hair absentmindedly, encouraging him to speak again. When he won’t, Janus hums quietly.

“You were stabbed,” he reminds again, “that’s understandable.”

“Not of being stabbed.”

Janus frowns. “What then, little prince?”

“I…”

“I won’t harm you, little prince,” Janus murmurs when he hesitates.

“…I got scared of being outside.”

Janus’s hand pauses in Roman’s hair before gently lifting his chin. “What do you mean, little prince, that you were scared of being outside?”

“There—there was nowhere to go, I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t escape, there were too many people, the choppers were so—so loud and I—I didn’t know what to do—“

Fucking hell, Janus realizes as he shushes the little prince tenderly, he’s agoraphobic.

Flashes of their fights and altercations start to make more sense now. Why Roman prefers fighting in dark, cramped warehouses, why losing the hero on public transportation was so easy, why he almost never confronted Janus in public in broad daylight even though he clearly knows where Janus lives.

The weight of the expectations on Roman…how difficult his chosen occupation must be…how little support he gets for something that makes it infinitely harder for him…

Janus doesn’t realize he’s cradling Roman’s head until he strokes his thumb down his cheek and feels the soft brush of hair against his forearm. He looks down and sees Roman’s eyes all but flutter shut, lulled by the gentle touch against his face.

Trapped under the spotlights of the world, laid bare, stripped by their merciless eyes, unable to look away, escape from what they would only see as a colossal failure…

No wonder Roman sought out a denizen of the shadows where he could be sure no one would look for him.

What should, by all rights, feel like a cage to Roman might just become a den.

The snake tightens its coils protectively around the little prince and leans down to whisper in Roman’s ear.

“You’re safe, now,” he soothes, “there is no one else here but me, and I will look after you. There are no expectations here, you cannot do something wrong. I’m here to help you.”

The snake hisses in contentment as the little prince slumps into the coils, letting it pick him up and deposit him gently in the mass of the den, leaving only for a brief moment before returning to his side.

“Shh, shh,” he soothes as Roman blinks about in confusion, “you need to rest, I’ll be right here.”

“Why—what—“ Roman’s head hits the pillow and Janus almost laughs at how quickly his eyes close— “why’re you…helping?”

“You came to me for help, little prince.”

“But you…care?”

And oh, if that doesn’t make the snake’s cold black heart beat warmly in its chest.

“You may be surprised, little prince,” it hisses, drawing the little prince closer and closer, “but you’re not that difficult to care for.”

No, Janus decides, resigning himself to a night of little sleep as he watches Roman’s breathing begin to even out, stroking a hand through his hair, the little prince isn’t so hard to care for after all.

The snake has never been one to spare those that wander carelessly into its den, but this little prince did not do it carelessly. And it is surprisingly easy for Janus to soothe the remaining prickle on the back of his neck by scratching his fingers lightly along the back of Roman’s, to gentle the furrow in Roman’s sleep with a murmured reassurance into the little prince’s ear. The night passes slowly as the little prince dozes under the snake’s coils.

Only later, when the sun has begun to rise, does he realize he’s left his phone on the counter. He sighs, extricating himself gingerly from the sleeping Roman and going back to the kitchen.

R. Sanders: 1 new notification

He glances toward the bedroom and opens the text.

R. Sanders: if you don’t get your security system back online yourself in the next 30 seconds I’m coming over

Well, considering this message is from two minutes ago, Janus simply sighs and opens the door.

“That,” Remus snarls as he stalks inside, “is not the point.”

“I was about to reboot the system, Remus, do calm yourself.”

“I’m not the one who spent the entire fucking night in an unsecured location!”

Janus raises an eyebrow. “By all means, Remus, do keep shouting about my security system at the top of your lungs while the door is still open.”

Remus mutters angrily to himself but has the decency—or perhaps, the self-preservation—to quiet down while Janus shuts the door and turns the security system back on.

“Now then,” he says easily, setting the kettle to boil again—blueberry mint really was the correct choice to make last night— “what would you like to drink?”

Remus regards his tea boxes like he regards the new bottles of bleach.

“You still don’t keep coffee in your house, do you?” At Janus’s look, he sighs. “Just hot water.”

“Splendid.”

Janus takes his time setting up his teapot. Looseleaf black tea, a new teacup, the honey laid out just so, all while Remus’s tapping gets more and more impatient. But Remus is a good dog, he’ll wait until he’d given leave to speak again.

“I imagine you must have a reason for infringing upon my privacy this morning,” Janus says as he stirs the honey into the tea, “if not just to turn my system back on so that a corpse could not be tampered with.”

“I didn’t know if you were fucking dead, Jan,” Remus snarls, and oh, the poor thing was worried. How touching.

“I’m fine, Remus,” Janus says, softening his voice just the barest amount, “and it certainly speaks to the faith you have in me.”

“Yeah, yeah, faith in your something.”

“Come now, dear, let’s not be crass.”

“You like me crass.”

Janus hides a smile behind the rim of his cup. There’s the Remus that was missing from the report. Though as he looks at the loyal minion sitting across from him, he sees that something is still bothering him.

“Well, if that’s all then?”

Remus takes the bait. “Wasn’t us.”

“Pardon?”

“The beast,” Remus mutters, still glancing around the apartment, “wasn’t us.”

Then he spots the blood.

In Remus’s defense, Janus did open the door right as he arrived and he was definitely given time to look around before Janus swept him into a conversation. Still, the fact that it took Remus this long to spot the blood is…well.

“Shit—“ Remus springs to his feet— “are you hurt? How many?”

“Keep your voice down,” Janus murmurs, “I’m not hurt.”

“Then explain to me why there’s blood everywhere—“

“Keep your voice down.”

“Why the fuck should I keep my voice down? Someone was here, there’s fucking blood—“

Both of them freeze as a rustle of covers comes from the other room. Remus’s eyes widen and his hand goes to the gun at his side. In two quick steps, he’s almost to the bedroom.

Janus catches him by the arm.

“Don’t.”

The steel in his tone finally gets Remus to settle, the man glancing at the door once before allowing himself to be held in place.

“What the hell is going on here,” he hisses, finally keeping his voice down, “what aren’t you telling me?”

“Stay out of that room,” Janus orders, even though it’s a redundancy at this point, “and tell me what else you know.”

Remus opens his mouth to protest but a look quells him. He glances at the door one more time before sighing.

“By the time we got there, everything was over. There were network choppers crawling over every inch of that place, swarming with civvies. We had to fence to get in. Janus, they—“

If Remus has to take a breath, what the hell happened?

“God, Janus, it’s like someone gave a neurotic thirteen-year-old a hallucinogenic and a sledgehammer and told ‘em the building was a giant whack-a-mole.” Remus shakes his head. “Heads bashed in, eyes gouged out, like they—they—“

“Like they did it to each other,” Janus finishes.

Remus nods, his face pale. He looks up at Janus and it’s the second time in the last twelve hours he’s been caught off guard by someone’s expression.

“Jan, it’s bad,” he says quietly, “if they—we’re lucky it only got into that building.”

“And you’re certain it’s contained?”

“Someone tripped the quarantine field. The building locked down. Only way out was the roof.” Remus shakes his head. “The head of the beast was splayed out on the street, spine snapped in half, bloody knife. Like he was pinned up like a butterfly.”

He quirks his brow.

“Gotta admire the craftsmanship.”

Janus nods. Remus notices his silence and steps a little closer.

“So who the fuck is in that room?”

As if on cue, there’s another muffled hiss.

“Don’t,” Janus says when Remus’s hand goes to his gun again, “you’ll scare him.”

Now Remus looks at him like he'd grown another head. “Who the fuck is in that room?”

Janus bites back a curse when there are more noises.

“The person who cut the head off.”

“If you think that’s gonna stop me from getting in there—“

“Remus.”

Remus subsides, looking at him carefully. Janus sighs. Remus knows better than to directly disobey an order, and if Janus pushes, Remus will leave.

And yes, part of the snake wants to wrap around its den and keep its precious charge safe from anything else.

A larger part of Janus knows that keeping this information completely under wraps will become a liability quickly.

“Watch the door,” Janus says, letting Remus go.

Remus hasn’t worked for him for this long without picking up some of his observational skills, so he goes without complaint. Janus opens the door to the bedroom and has to stop the fond smile on his face as he sees the little prince trying to feign sleep. As if it’s going to work.

He crosses the room and leans down.

“You can stop pretending now, little prince.”

Roman’s eyes open and the snake hisses gently, noticing the pressure the little prince’s position is putting on his stitches.

“By all means, ruin the work it took to suture you up,” he remarks dryly, chuckling as Roman quickly—and carefully—rolls onto his back, “better.”

“D-do—I can go now,” Roman mumbles, “if—if you—if you want. I can leave. You don’t have to see me again, I’ll—I’ll go.”

Janus quirks an eyebrow. “And let you leave without breakfast? How rude of me.”

Roman’s eyes widen. “N-no, I didn’t mean—you don’t—I—“

“Hush, little prince,” Janus murmurs, petting Roman’s hair again, “none of that now.”

Roman’s eyes keep darting around the room, from the closed door to Janus’s hands to his face and away again. Janus frowns.

“Oh, little prince, have you always been so afraid of me?”

“Yes.”

The honesty takes Janus by surprise. Roman Prince has never been afraid of him, at least not like this, like some creature constantly bracing for a blow. He’s responded brilliantly to whatever jibes Janus throws at him during one of their altercations, always ready with a quip on his tongue or a pretty blush to a flirtation. He’s not—he’s never been this.

Perhaps the little prince is a better actor than I gave him credit for.

There are not many people in this city capable of doing that.

Then there’s the sudden realization that the reassurances from the night will no longer work. Roman was safe because he was alone with Janus, there was nothing he could do wrong that would hurt him, there was an easy way to escape if need be. But now Remus is here, there’s another variable to worry about.

And Roman is no match for the both of them.

“Let me have a look, little prince,” he says instead, leaning down to gently tug the shirt up and out of the way. Despite the hero’s movement, there’s no blood, no popped stitches. The wound will still be tender for a while yet, but there’s nothing to worry about. Not at the moment. He says as much, ending with a soft: “sit up, let’s get you something to eat.”

Roman glances at the door again.

“Remus won’t hurt you,” Janus reassures, “not while I’m here.”

Roman’s head whips around so quickly he frets that the little prince will snap his own neck.

“R-Remus?”

Janus blinks. “Yes, Remus, he’s who’s here, he works for me.”

“Remus Sanders?”

He quirks a brow. “And here I thought you didn’t bother to learn my staff.”

“N-no, Remus Sanders, he’s—he’s not dead?”

Not dead?

Judging by the sudden silence in the other room, Janus has about three seconds to brace for it before Remus slams the door open.

Remus’s eyes are giant, his face almost drained of color. Three quick steps and he’s got a fist in Roman’s shirt, wrenching him away from Janus and slamming him up against a wall.

“Remus,” Janus barks, “put him down.”

It says something about Remus’s state of mind that he doesn’t even register Janus’s command. Instead, the man has a knife pressed to Roman’s throat, every muscle in his body bunched up like a clenched fist.

Roman hasn’t flinched. He’s just staring at Remus, his hands sliding and scrabbling uselessly at Remus’s shoulders.

“Y-you’re alive,” he keeps mumbling, “you’re not dead, you’re alive, you’re safe, you’re—you’re—“

Remus abruptly lets Roman go, shoves him further against the wall and yanks the shirt out of the way to see the stitches. The knife goes back in its holster as Roman keeps babbling about how Remus is alive.

“Was it him,” Remus asks in a soft, dangerous voice, cutting through Roman’s babble, “did that bastard stab you?”

Roman jerks his head up and down.

“…well, at least you finally learned how to stand up to your bullies.”

Ah.

Janus must be getting rusty.

“As much as I hate to interrupt the family reunion,” he says, startling the brothers, “I believe there is still business to attend to.”

Remus has the decency to look a little ashamed at directly disobeying several orders now, but the little prince is still staring at Remus like his life depends on it. Janus shakes his head, crossing the room to gently take his chin again.

“You need to eat, little prince,” he murmurs, “come now.”

He doesn’t have to ask Remus to help the little prince to the kitchen. By the time he’s followed them out—and made sure his tea isn’t ruined—Remus has Roman sitting on one of the bar stools, stood next to him, every bit the guard dog as Roman clutches Remus’s tactical vest. As Janus starts to get something together for Roman to eat, Remus doesn’t move once. Instead, he lets Roman cling onto him, mumble to himself, and absentmindedly rub his cheek against Remus’s chest.

Janus sets a plate of food in front of Roman and picks up his tea again, taking a sip and staring at them over the rim of the cup.

This could be a problem.

Remus’s loyalty is not easily won, nor is it easily lost. The man’s been dragged behind a truck by his fingernails and not squealed once. And yet as Remus lifts his head—finally—and looks at Janus, it’s the first time he’s seen that loyalty waver.

Janus stares back. Remus knows better than to try and cross him. Remus himself has been the blunt instrument that disposes of those who did. Remus knows the extent of Janus’s influence better than anyone else, aside from Janus himself.

And still, that loyalty wavers.

The little prince, oblivious to the staring match happening over his head, mumbles a small thanks as he starts to eat. His hands are still shaking. Remus steps closer, pressing Roman further into the counter and the little prince lets him. The message is clear.

This is the one thing of Remus’s that he won’t let Janus take.

Which would be a problem—or wouldn’t be, depending on how quickly Remus cooperates—if Janus weren’t currently dividing his attention between Remus and how his hands are itching to wipe the last speck of blood from the little prince’s hairline.

It takes barely a glance for Remus to understand that Janus would never.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, coming around to the other side of the counter once Roman finishes, “I need to have a talk with Remus, do you think you can sleep a little more?”

“I can try.”

“Let’s have you try.” Janus glances at Remus.

“C’mon, Ro-Bro,” Remus says quietly, one arm around Roman’s waist, “back to bed.”

“Re?”

“I gotcha, Roro, I’m right here.”

How adorable.

Remus closes the bedroom door and there’s a long pause.

“Fuck.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Janus takes another sip of his tea. “Does anyone else know what happened?”

“The networks have a hold of the main story, they won’t know what happened inside until the lockdown expires, but Jan—if he was there—“

“The choppers saw him.”

“Shit.”

“They saw him drop the beast’s head but him fleeing the scene won’t look good.”

“I’ve got the team scrambling the data, the location of the beast’s head won’t reach the airwaves.”

“Good.”

Another pause.

“…why’d he come here?”

Janus settles the cup back in its saucer. “…he said I was the only one he could trust.”

Remus snarls. “As if we needed more proof that they treat their people like shit.”

“Believe me, I’ve got quite the list of people I’d like to question.”

Remus bares his teeth. “Don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, dear.” He watches Remus stare at the door. “So…you have a brother?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know that from the extensive background check you did.”

Janus accepts it, setting the teacup aside. “The famous Roman Prince…oh, how the mighty have fallen.”

Remus’s head flicks sharply around to stare at him. But Janus says it with none of his usual flare, dragging his gloved fingertips along the counter.

“Has he always been so…” He fumbles for the right word.

There isn’t one.

Thankfully, Remus understands what he’s trying to get at.

“It’s hard not to,” he mumbles, “even when I hated him—and I hated him, he was always…”

Remus trails off into silence too.

“There was never a moment where I didn’t know that he was still my fucking brother.”

This is dangerous.

The closest thing Janus has to a weakness, up until this point, has been Remus. And Remus is a loyal man, but even he knows Janus will watch him die and feel only the slightest bit of remorse that a useful tool will no longer be in use.

But not anymore.

“I think he wanted me to kill him,” Janus murmurs, noting the way that Remus jerks in surprise.

“Do you think that’s why he came?”

“He told me that I was right,” he says, “that I was—that he remembered I’d told him if he ever realized he couldn’t do it anymore, if he ever needed help, that he should know better than to go back to the people that pretend to care about him.”

“You basically told him you’d be his suicide gun?”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Remus,” Janus says lowly, looking up.

Remus regards him. “Would you have?”

“Killed him?”

“Yes.”

Could he have killed Roman Prince? Yes, easily.

Can he kill the little prince in the bedroom?

“My God,” Remus breathes, “you can’t do it, can you?”

Janus shakes his head. Like it or not, the snake can’t kill the little prince.

“So what now?”

Janus stands up straight. “The city isn’t just going to let Roman Prince disappear, not like that. They’re going to look for him. He’s going to have to make another public appearance.”

“And we have to clean up the rest of the mess.”

“That we’re used to,” Janus sighs, “that I’m not worried about.”

“You’re worried about Roman’s people trying to look for him.” Janus nods. “We’ve got feelers out, we can keep tabs on that.”

“Good.”

Remus spares another glance at the door. “Are you gonna keep him here until then?”

“Yes.”

He lets out a low whistle.

“Go. Get to work.”

“Aye aye, boss.” Remus fixes him with one last look before he disappears out the door.

Janus walks to the bedroom. This time the fond smile crawls across his face unhindered.

“You don’t have to pretend, little prince,” he says as he crosses the room, “if you can’t sleep, you can’t sleep.”

Roman blinks up at him as Janus sits on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“No need for apologies.” He tilts his head to the side. “I never offered you painkillers, are you alright?”

Roman nods.

“Roman,” he asks softly, “why did you come here?”

There’s a pause.

“You said that you remembered me telling you that you could,” he continues, “and that you…trusted me, and yet you seemed surprised that I was—I am willing to help.”

“Still am.”

Remus’s words play in his head again. “You said you remembered what I said—and you be honest with me now,” he says, giving Roman a look, “did you want me to kill you?”

Roman swallows. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

And oh, Janus has waited so long to hear those words from that pretty mouth but not like this.

He pulls a tissue from the side table and tilts Roman’s head just so to get that last speck of blood, pausing at the way Roman shudders under his touch.

“When was the last time someone touched you,” he asks gently, “before this?”

Roman just shakes his head.

“What is the point,” the snake hisses, “of people pretending to care about you when they don’t give you what you obviously need?”

“You were,” the little prince mumbles, still a beat behind, “I think you were the last person to…to touch me.”

“Before…?”

“Yeah. When we…when you…”

When he had the little prince tied up in the factory downtown, another attempt to persuade him to back off. When he cupped the little prince’s chin in his hand and chuckled as a pretty blush spread across those cheeks. When he let gloved fingers run through his hair and smirked at how easily the little prince lost track of the conversation.

Now, though, Janus cradles the little prince’s face in his hands and lowers himself onto the bed.

“You can have it,” he whispers, running his fingers through the little prince’s hair, “if touch is what you need, you can have it.”

Roman’s eyes flutter, lost on the sensation of Janus’s touch, all but floating on the bed. He starts to curl unconsciously towards him, pliant and still. Janus lets him, moving to wrap his arms around the little prince as he tucks himself under Janus’s chin.

“Why didn’t you tell me,” he asks gently, “that you were hurting so badly?”

He feels the roll of Roman’s throat. “Didn’t want you to think I was any weaker.”

Janus bites back a curse. “Well, I’m afraid you’re about to witness firsthand how weak I am.”

Before Roman can ask what he means, Janus cups the back of his neck and gently, gently kisses his forehead.

“If no one else will do what needs to be done,” he murmurs into Roman’s hair, “then I will.”

If no one else will take care of the little prince that sacrifices so much to protect this city, then the snake is happy to oblige.

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[capricorn-stark]

Othello Pt 2

pairing: jason todd x reader, reader is a psych major because i think the concept of psych majors in Gotham is funny lmao

warning: i wrote this at 1 am again, kinda long, swearing

a/n: i mention Dana Harlowe and Annie B’s diner, they’re both from RHATO’s final two issues lol. still dedicated to @tadpole-san even though she hate crimed me 

part 1

“I thought you said you wanted to get coffee,” you started when you noticed Jason veering away from where your regular coffee shop should’ve been, choosing to cut through the street and venture to a different path entirely. “Because you just-”

“Yeah, I know, I’m hungry,” he declared, slipping his hands into his pockets and tilting his head towards another row of stores illuminated with neon-lights and flickering street lamps. “This place has better stuff than overpriced coffee, promise.” You let out an exaggerated gasp of shock at that notion and he laughed, nudging your shoulder with his. 

It was always strange to be walking around Gotham during the night, but with Jason by your side, it was far less worrying than it usually was. On your own, you couldn’t even imagine traveling around the dark streets littered with muggers, petty thieves, and the occasional evil clown prince or two - one minute, you’d be speed-walking down the streets, the next minute you could end up as the lucky winner of Scarecrow’s fear-gas testing special.

You actually knew someone who had been in that very situation. They were in Arkham now.

With Jason, it was almost ridiculous how much safer you felt. It didn’t take a whole lot of observational skills to notice how the men who usually leered at you and your friends when you passed shrank and slipped into the shadows when a man over 6 feet in height and built like a tank walked past them. Jason himself was in a good mood tonight, his shoulders relaxed and a slight smile playing at his lips while he told you about the local theatrical-adaptation of Othello that was currently under production near Gotham University. 

You were getting used to seeing him like this - not so moody, smiling, present - but you had also noticed the expressions he had when no one was looking, when he wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, when his gaze had a certain intensity to them that you hadn’t ever quite seen before. He didn’t really like talking about himself or his life, preferring to keep conversations centered around school or you. The few times you had tried asking about his family and work had all led to him clamming up and quickly dropping the subject, his body language rigid and completely closed-off, the crease by his brows deepening as his expression transformed into a scowl. It was the first time you realized that Jason Todd could actually be genuinely scary - and the first time you realized there was a much, much darker side of him that you weren’t sure if you wanted to see.

You knew it wasn’t your place to pry, and you had never brought it up since - but you couldn’t help but wonder just what had happened to make someone like him so angry. 

“...and I figured we could - did you just zone out on me?”

You snapped back into attention at his rather dramatic tone, flinching out of your character analysis to pay actual mind to the man in question himself. 

“No, I just-” 

“Yeah? What did I just say?” Jason challenged, grasping your arm to pull you away from the traffic lane you had nearly walked right into. His disbelieving expression made your face burn red - but much to your relief (and embarrassment), he was laughing. 

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t completely zoned out-” 

“After you literally walked into traffic? Yeah, I can tell,” he deadpanned, tugging you towards him right as the cars slowed to a halt, the pedestrian signal blinking above you. The sudden action and the sudden closeness made your face heat up - something he apparently noticed when his bright green eyes flickered across your features and caused a smirk to tug at his lips. Instead of the teasing you had braced yourself for, you watched as he tilted his head towards the diner across the street, letting go of your arm. “It’s right over there, c’mon.” 

He was already moving towards the crosswalk when you shook yourself out of your stupor, quickly moving to catch up with him and glancing up at the diner. The big glowing red letters on the sign beside it read “Annie B’s”. 

“They got good food,” he explained at your questioning look, leaning forwards to swing the door open for you. “I used to hang around here a lot when I was a kid.” 

“I don’t think I’ve actually seen this place before,” you commented, entering and hearing Jason close the door behind him, taking a quick glance around before you took a seat in one of the cherry-red and white leather booths. “Kinda wish I had.”

The entire diner had a vintage touch to it, from the luminescent pink and blue lights lining the ceilings to the multicolored tile floors, the cherry-red barstools, and even the jukebox in the corner cranking out old-timey tunes. There were only a few other people sitting at the bar and chilling in a booth a few down from your own, all too absorbed in their own worlds to pay much mind to the two of you. You could hear the sizzling of the food being made back in the kitchen, emitting a heavenly aroma that made your stomach growl not-so subtly. Jason laughed as he slid down across from you, sliding one delicate paper menu over as he scanned over the other. 

“Pretty cool, huh? And like I said, they got great food.” He nodded at your stomach and you rolled your eyes, eliciting another laugh from him. “Knock yourself out, ‘cus dinner’s on me.” Before you could open your mouth to object, the kitchen doors flew open and a woman stepped out holding a heaping tray of food. 

“One chicken fried steak with a side of mashed potatoes and rings,” she announced as she set down the trays in front of a man sitting a few booths down, already moving to refill his glass with a pitcher of water. “Enjoy your dinner, Phil.” 

“Thanks, Dana,” the man told her as he picked up his fork and gave her a crooked-toothed grin, already digging into his food. “Always do.” 

“I sure hope so,” the lady agreed, moving to walk back towards the kitchen before catching sight of them. She broke into a grin at the sight of Jason sending her a playful salute, changing course to head towards their booth instead. “Well, look who it is!” she exclaimed, securing her curly black hair out of her face with an orange-and-green bandana as she stopped in front of them. “Jason Todd decided to drop by for a little visit, did he? And he brought a friend.” 

The sight of her beaming at you was too contagious for you to not smile back up at her in return.

“Hi, Dana,” Jason grinned, nodding at you as she looked between the two of you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Dana Harlowe. Her dad runs this place.” 

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Dana told you with another grin, leaning forwards to shake your hand in greeting. “When I decided to help out at the diner tonight, I wasn’t expecting a miracle. I definitely didn’t think this boy would ever walk in here with a date of all things-”

“Oh as if,” Jason scoffed loudly as the two of you laughed, face reddening beneath the bright colored lights. “Have you seen me? I was born a lady-killer.” He shot you a wink and you sent him another playful eye roll.

“Yeah, you sure killed me alright.” Dana burst out laughing again as Jason immediately let out a protest of betrayal at your words.

“I like you,” she decided when she finally managed to straighten, taking out her notepad and pen with another brilliant smile. “Did y’all decide what you wanted yet, or do you need another minute?” Jason glanced over at you and you nodded back up at her.

“Sure, I’m ready.” 

Dana headed back into the kitchen for your food after you ordered, leaving the two of you to sit in a comfortable, familiar silence, the sound of forks scraping against porcelain plates and vintage beats being the only disruptors. 

“I used to hear these songs on Gotham City Radio all the time,” Jason finally began after taking a sip of his water, fixating his gaze back on you as he crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back against the leather seat. “Growing up, I mean. I still do, sometimes.” 

“Classic jazz?” You grinned, taking a small sip of your own water in turn. “You? I didn’t get that vibe from you.” He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck with a slight shrug.

“At my old place, I had, uh, a butler. He wasn’t really a butler, honestly, he was more like a dad than anything. Or, like, a really cool grandpa. He had a whole rack of guns and shit he kept polished in this big cabinet thing-” You raised a brow, attempting to hide your amusement by taking another sip of water. You were a little surprised that he had actually started talking about his family at all - you weren’t about to ruin it, and boy, did you want to know more about the guy. “And he used to play that station all the time at home, GC Radio Classics. I guess I kinda missed hearing it.” 

“He does sound pretty cool,” you admitted with a smile, setting the glass back down. “Do you still visit him?” Jason hesitated a few moments before attempting a nonchalant shrug. You noticed the tightness in his body language again, the same sort of tightness you saw when he was closing up around you. 

“Not much anymore,” he finally said, letting his shoulders drop a little bit. “It’s been...a while. Just got some shit going on.” You watched him take another drink before you spoke again.

“If you ever want to talk about it with me - or talk about anything, really - you can, Jason.” It wasn’t just the products of your psych major showing through you - you meant your words, and the slight smile playing at his lips seemed to signal that he had understood that as well. 

“Don’t worry about it, seriously. But thanks.” You nodded, looking up again when the kitchen doors flew open once again, Dana heading out towards your table with another two trays heaped with mouth-watering food. 

“And here you go,” she smiled as she set your respective meals down before you, taking your glasses to refill them as well. “Enjoy your food, you two. Call me over if there’s anything else you need, yeah?” You both thanked Dana as she sashayed away again, letting the doors swing shut behind her once again after checking up on the rest of her customers. 

Neither of you wasted any time digging into the food as soon as it appeared, finishing most of it in mere minutes like the starving university students you were, breaking the silence with the occasional offer at trying something the other had gotten. The aroma had been no false-alarm - it tasted even better than you had anticipated, and that was certainly saying something. Savory fries, buttery biscuits, and smoky burgers were better than anything else you had in a while. 

“How did I not find this place sooner?” you sighed as you pressed a napkin to your lips, leaning back against your seat as you tried to process just how full you really felt. At this rate, you would have to roll your way out of the place. “I know you said it was gonna be good, but I didn’t expect it to be this good.”

“I told you,” Jason grinned as he finished up the last of his burger and fries, crumpling up his own napkins and setting them into the tray to throw away. “I know good food places! I grew up around these streets.”

“So did I!” you protested as he laughed and stood up to throw all the trash away, setting the trays back where they were supposed to go and pulling out his wallet just as Dana appeared by the kitchen’s window with two milkshakes. 

“You can count these on the house,” she told him as she slid them over, ignoring his protests and sending you a wink as you stood up from the booth as well. “Enjoy your night - and it was real nice meeting you, Y/N. Todd, I better be seeing you around more often.” 

“Yes ma’am,” he deadpanned, his smile warm as she waved them out anyways. “Thanks, Dana.” 

You called out a thanks to her as well, tightening your jacket around you as you left the warmth of the diner and felt the chill of Gotham’s dreary night hit you once more. Jason handed you your milkshake, bringing his own straw to his lips and taking a sip. 

“You guys seem close,” you noted with a smile as you took a sip yourself, relishing the cold, sweet taste of the shake in delight. Jason chuckled at that, shrugging as you walked along the illuminated sidewalks in no particular direction. 

“She’s like an annoying sister to me. I’ve known her since I was a puny kid.” You watched as the corners of his mouth curled into a slight smile as he took another sip. “Dana, her sister, and her dad were good to me growing up. They’re great people.”

That, you had been able to tell just from meeting the woman herself. 

“I liked meeting her. She was pretty cool.” He chuckled again and spared you another glance. “And thanks, by the way, for dinner tonight. It really was really good. And way better than just coffee.”

“I told you,” he grinned, flickering those brilliant green eyes across your face again. “I know where the good spots around Gotham are. We don’t have a lot of them, but when we do have them, they’re pretty damn good.” That elicited a laugh from you and Jason stopped beneath one of the streetlamps lining the sidewalk. 

“You did better than I expected, Todd.” He made a big show of popping his collar and scoffing at your comment.

“What, you expected me to not impress you? Do you think that low of me?” 

“That theatre minor of yours is really starting to make an entrance, you can put it away now-” 

“Hey!” You burst out laughing and he couldn’t help but join. You felt pretty sure that he looked the happiest right then and there than you had ever really seen him - whatever that might’ve meant. Pretty soon, your laughter was residing and he had taken a slight step forwards, a cheeky grin still plastered on his face. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.” 

You looked back up at him with a nonchalant shrug despite fighting back another smile yourself. 

“Yeah, it was a pretty good night.” His gaze flickered towards your lips before settling back on your face. 

“Yeah?” The sounds of honking cars and the murmurs of people walking past all around you felt like they were being drowned out somehow when you felt him get a little bit closer. The smile tugged at the corner of your mouth again.

“Yeah.” Another moment passed before Jason finally closed the distance between you, meeting your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss for a man who looked like he could snap a baseball bat with his bare hands. You wrapped your arms around his neck after yet another moment, feeling him draw you even closer to him at the action. 

Literally and figuratively, it was a sweet kiss. The milkshake truly had done wonders. 

You were a little breathless when he finally pulled away, and you hoped the shitty streetlight would keep him from seeing just how red your face had gone. Jason was grinning at your reaction, rubbing the back of his neck.

“C’mon, that was better than pretty good.”

“Shut up,” you told him immediately, swatting his arm and moving to continue your walk again as he laughed and easily moved to catch up to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

“It was! You gotta admit it, that was pretty great-”

“Shut up, Jason.” 

Just like that, once again, you had Othello of all things to thank for your night. Maybe, just maybe, it hadn’t been such a terrible book after all. 

[eliemo]

See Yourself Through My Eyes

Summary: Virgil severely misunderstands Roman’s intentions. They both have a lot to work on...but they’re helping each other.

Notes: Yes I’m writing prinxiety immediately after that episode. Enjoy some gays. 

Virgil was pretty sure there wasn’t a single person in the world who didn’t know about his feelings for Roman. 

Logan definitely knew, because Logan somehow knew everything, and Patton was less than subtle about his support or dreaded pity whenever Roman would inevitably brush Virgil off or call him a name during a video. 

There was no way Thomas didn’t at least suspect something. Virgil was a part of him, after all, and he was much more attuned with the aspects of his personality than he gave himself credit for. 

That meant, of course, that Roman also knew. 

Honestly, Roman probably knew before Virgil did. He was the romantic side, always looking for signs of love and affection and passion. Well, looking for it anywhere other than Virgil. Obviously.  

And that was fine. Virgil had learned to accept it a long time ago that his feelings were just...common knowledge that would never be acted upon. 

The fact that Roman knew made him anxious sometimes, and earlier on it had certainly kept him awake at night, but he had to admit there was some relief in that knowledge. 

Roman knew that Virgil was helplessly head over heels for the Prince, and had never once acted any awkward or disgusted around him. They were friends now, the two of them making an effort to get to know each other after Virgil revealed his name, and that was fine with him. Friendship was more than Virgil had ever dared to hope for. 

It hurt a little, sure. Even if it had never been brought up, it was still rejection all the same. And the eyebrow raises from Logan and sympathetic frowns from Patton didn’t help matters either. 

But he’d get over himself. He still loved what he had, the Prince’s company and smiles and squeezes to his hand after a long day. 

It was more than enough. 

Now though...now Virgil was trying to ignore the fact that something was wrong. 

He knew the others well enough by now to pick up on when they were acting differently, doubled by the fact that he was Anxiety- it was quite literally his job to look out for any little signs that he’d done something wrong or someone was upset. 

Roman was working on something new. Virgil knew that glint in his eye, the spark of an idea forming, the air of excitement he carried with him. But it was a bit different this time. He hadn’t mentioned anything outright and he seemed almost...uneasy about whatever it was. 

Logan and Patton were obviously in on it. Patton did an awful lot of giggling which earned a stern look and an eye roll from Logan, and more than once the three of them had abruptly stopped their conversation when Virgil had walked into the room. 

So needless to say, by the time things came to a head, Virgil was already a jumpy, anxious mess waiting for the shoe to drop, for someone to just hurry up and chew him out for doing something wrong. 

He’d really thought he’d been doing well. He’d been trying to at least. Thomas was ahead of schedule, and Virgil had been careful to let him unwind and relax when he needed it. 

It was three days into the strange behavior, the sun beginning to set into the paling gray sky when Virgil left his room in search of the others, hoping he was still welcome for a movie night or family meal. 

Roman was sitting on the couch, alone in the living room, fidgeting restlessly and drumming his fingers along his crossed legs. 

When he saw Virgil, the Prince’s eyes practically lit up as he leapt to his feet, and Virgil resolutely ignored the familiar swoop in his stomach. 

“There you are!” Roman exclaimed, quickly adjusting his sash and running his fingers through his hair. “I was going to come up and get you but I- well I didn’t want to bother you if you were busy.” 

Virgil really hoped his blush wasn't as obvious as he thought it was. He shrugged, hands stuffed in his pockets. “I’m, uh, I’m not busy. What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing’s wrong! I just want to talk to you about something!” 

That still very much sounded like something was wrong, and he felt his anxiety rise, squeezing shaky hands into fists, but it was hard to completely dread anything when Roman was looking at him so eagerly. 

“Yeah, ok,” he said. “Go for it.” 

Roman looked...nervous. Virgil halfheartedly thought about telling the Prince he was stealing his brand. 

But Roman was talking before Virgil could work up the courage to tease him. 

“Virgil,” he started. “I...well first of all I wanted to thank you for giving me a second chance. I know we don’t always see eye to eye but...I’ve truly enjoyed being able to call you a friend these last months.”

Virgil blinked, not quite sure what to say, struggling to think around the butterflies in his stomach. “Oh. Uh, yeah. You too.” 

God, he was so useless. 

“I’m glad!” Roman cleared his throat, wringing his hands together before continuing. “But...well, lately I’ve...I’m not even quite sure how to say this to be honest. I mean, it’s my job to be good at this but...you make me nervous, I suppose.” 

Virgil made him nervous?

“Spit it out, Princey,” he said with a small smile, hoping to convey that the longer he stalled, the more nervous they would both inevitably get. If Virgil had hurt him or done something wrong, he needed to know. “Did I...Do something?” 

“What? No! Of course not.” Roman took a breath. “It’s...well, I’ll just come out and say it. I believe I’ve caught feelings for you, Virgil. Romantic feelings, if that...if that wasn’t clear. I- er, thought about a more grand declaration but I...figured you wouldn’t like that.” 

For a second, everything froze, Virgil’s pounding heart stopping in his chest. And then the giddy feeling in his stomach was gone, butterflies replaced with cold dread as the pieces fell together. 

It made sense now. The planning when he was away, the conversations abruptly stopping, the nervous excitement, side glances, and laughter…

Everyone was in on it. Because everyone knew about his feelings, everyone knew it wasn’t mutual and that Virgil had accepted that, so everyone thought it would be ok to toy with his heart a bit. They thought it’d be funny. 

“It’s- it’s totally fine if you don’t feel the same!” Roman said quickly, eyes widening at the lack of a response, and Virgil’s heart only broke further. “Seriously I- I don’t want to make things awkward or ruin our friendship--” 

“No, I do,” Virgil said, because what the hell was the point in denying it? Everyone knew. It just wasn’t...talked about. At least, he’d thought they all had the decency not to talk about it. “You know I have feelings for you, Roman.” 

He stared at the ground, at his socked feet on the carpet, refusing to look up and see the fake excitement Roman had plastered on for the sake of a prank. 

“You do?” he heard the Prince say. “You do! Oh- that’s...that’s good! Right? So...so what are we--” 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Virgil knew he and Roman hadn’t always gotten along, and they still bickered occasionally, but he hadn’t thought...he’d never thought he would be so cruel. 

“I...huh?” 

“Why are you doing this?” Virgil repeated, finally raising his head just to try and catch Roman’s smirk, rewarded only with the other’s confusion. “Did you...what, did you all think this would be funny?” 

“What? No!” Roman sounded incredulous, confusion morphing to something a bit more angry. “Dude, I’m confessing.” 

“Yeah, sure.” Virgil hunched his shoulders, turning away to frantically scan the room. “Where is it? Where’s the camera?” 

“Camera?” the Prince echoed. “Wh- you think this is a prank?” 

“Of course it's a prank!” Virgil hadn’t meant to get worked up, but honestly could they blame him for getting angry? Did they think he was just going to stand here and take his heart getting broken? “I don’t know why you all thought this would be funny. Yeah, I get it, I’m an asshole. Doesn’t mean you guys have to--” 

“You’re not an asshole,” Roman said, and Virgil scoffed, squeezing his eyes shut because he was not going to cry. “Virgil. You’re not. Why...why do you think this is a prank? Why can’t I just...like you?” 

“Because I know you don’t feel the same, ok? I know we never talked about it but it’s pretty fucking obvious. And that’s fine. Or it- it was fine until you decided to treat my feelings like some big joke. What, is it because I’m Anxiety? Am I still just some dark brooding villain who can’t possibly experience real love so why not make a stupid video about it? Is that it?” 

He took a breath, still refusing to open his eyes, willing himself to calm down, to stop talking, and get out of the situation as quickly as he could. 

“Sorry, I’m...I didn’t mean to say all that,” he muttered. “Just...god, please don’t upload this. Please.” 

Somewhere along the way his voice had fallen into nothing more than a pathetic whisper, but right now he really didn’t care. Virgil couldn’t see himself leaving his room for the next couple days at least. 

“I’m not recording this, Virge,” Roman said, and he sounded painfully genuine. “I swear I’m not. We can go somewhere else, if you want me to prove it. I promise there’s no camera.” 

Virgil’s shoulders dropped, and he relented with a shaky sigh. “Alright. So then...is this just for fun? Did I piss you off somehow?” 

“No. God, no Virgil I would never…” he trailed off, pausing for just a few seconds. “I didn’t know you felt the same. I had no idea.” 

That got Virgil to open his eyes, snapping his head up and fully expecting to see a joking smile and bright eyes. Instead, Roman’s expression was sad and genuine, and a bit guilty.

“What?” Virgil asked. “You...Roman, everyone knows. Literally everyone.” 

“Well...I didn’t. Truly.” 

Virgil blinked, momentarily at a loss because this was...there was no way. “You’re the romantic side. How could you...how?” 

Roman shrugged, suddenly averting his gaze. “You didn’t know either. I’ve been taken with you for some time now, Stormcloud.” 

Virgil shook his head, desperately trying to block it out, to push down that rising hope and excitement fighting its way to the surface. 

Because...because no. No. It wasn’t true, it wasn’t. It didn’t make any sense. He wasn’t going to drop his defenses just to be crushed and laughed at. 

“That’s different.” 

“Why?” Roman asked, soft and sincere. “Why’s it different, Virgil?” 

“Because...because it’s you. Obviously I’m going to fall for you, you’re- you’re perfect. You’re...talented and passionate and I’m...I’m me. You’re not going to fall for Anxiety.” 

His words were met with silence, and there was a bit of relief amongst the sorrow in his chest, because if Roman didn’t have anything else to say, it meant this was over. He could just...forget about it and hopefully avoid any future teasing. 

But then Roman took a step closer, Virgil forcing himself not to back up, immediately tensing up and waiting. 

“But I did,” the Prince said. “I did fall for you, Virgil.” 

Virgil shook his head again, looking away as Roman slowly approached, waiting for him to drop the act. “Stop it.” 

“I fell for all of you,” Roman continued. “I fell for your smile, for your laugh- you have the most beautiful laugh, did you know that? I wish I could hear it more, but every time I do I feel as though everything is right in the world.” 

Roman was in front of him now, one hand cupping Virgil’s cheek, and he couldn’t help but lean into the touch despite wanting to curl up into a ball and sob. 

“You represent anxiety,” Roman said. “But you’re so much more. You’re brave, Virgil. I’ve seen it so, so many times. You fight against your fears, against anything that would put us in danger. You protect us. You’re strong, Virge, stronger than you give yourself credit for.” 

“Please stop,” Virgil whispered, and it was such a blatant lie. He wanted this, wanted it to be real so badly. “Roman, I...I can’t--” 

He couldn’t take it. If the rug was pulled out from under him now, after coming so close to what he’d always so desperately wanted...he didn’t know how he was supposed to look anyone in the eye ever again. 

“I can go on,” Roman said. “And I will. I will help you see how easy you are to fall in love with if it’s the last thing I do, because you deserve to see yourself the way I see you. But I just...I need you to tell me you believe me. This isn’t a prank or a joke. I would never play with your feelings like that.” 

Roman...Roman wasn’t cruel. He could get over excited, he could take a bit longer to pick up on someone’s uneasiness, he could be loud or brash, but he would never try to hurt someone he called a friend. He wouldn’t try to hurt anyone. 

If this was a prank...it would have stopped by now. Right? Roman wouldn’t...he wouldn’t let it go this far. 

“Virgil?” Roman’s voice was soft, hopeful, and Virgil warily met his gaze. “I love you. I really, really do.” 

There was absolutely no way to stop the few stray tears that escaped at the raw emotion and adoration in those words, no way to fight against the way his breath hitched when Roman gently wiped them away with his thumb. 

Virgil wanted so desperately to respond, to apologize, to warn Roman that at this point, if this all turned out to be a joke he was never leaving his room again. 

But no words came out, Virgil still frozen in terror and treacherous hope. But slowly, cautiously, he reached forward to lace his fingers in Roman’s free hand. 

The Prince didn’t pull away, didn’t sneer or laugh or twist his face in disgust. He just smiled, and squeezed Virgil’s hand. 

“You can say no,” Roman said after a moment, never moving the hand that cupped Virgil’s cheek. He waited for Virgil to give a tiny nod before continuing. “Would it be alright if I kissed you?” 

And Virgil had definitely stopped thinking at this point, fear and self loathing suddenly losing control to something else, something much more brave than anxiety. 

He nodded wordlessly and before he could even blink Roman leaned forward, pressing their lips together, and Virgil felt his world melt away. 

It was careful and delicate and perfect, so much better than Virgil had ever imagined, and that cold ache in his heart, the one that longed for something he could never have, melted from Roman’s warmth. 

It only lasted a few seconds before Roman pulled away, but they were easily the best few seconds of Virgil’s entire life. If his heart decided to give out now, he didn’t think he would mind all that much. 

Roman didn’t go far, pressing their foreheads together, and Virgil leaned into the touch, smiling when he felt Roman rub his thumb along his knuckles. 

“I love you too,” Virgil blurted before he could stop himself, beyond relieved when Roman didn’t immediately shove him away. “I’m...I’m so sorry I thought--”

Roman quickly cut off the apology with another kiss, this one deeper than the first, and Virgil’s free hand instinctively moved up to grip his shirt. 

“I’m not upset,” Roman assured when they pulled back. “I just...hope I can help you see how perfect you really are.” 

Virgil smiled, hiding his blush against Roman’s chest as the prince wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close. 

“I forgot you’re a sap,” he muttered against the red sash. “Seriously though, you can be pissed at me for yelling at you.” 

“Well, I’m not. Besides, it all worked out, didn’t it? You didn’t flat out reject me which is...what I was expecting.” 

Virgil extracted himself from the embrace to look up at Roman, and suddenly it was the Prince's turn to quickly look away, brows furrowed. 

“Seriously?” Virgil asked. “You thought I would reject you?” 

“I wasn’t always...kind to you,” Roman admitted. “And...well, I know how I am. I can be loud and annoying and you don’t always like that. I’m not...exactly an easy person to love.” 

For a moment, Virgil had no idea what to say to that. He thought back to all the times he’d mulled over his feelings for Roman, envisioning all the possibilities he’d once thought were impossible. 

He’d tried to talk himself out of loving the Prince in an attempt to spare himself from the heartbreak. He told himself they were too different, too incompatible. It would never work even if Roman did feel the same. 

But now, seeing the Prince stare at the ground with his shoulders tense, like he was waiting for Virgil to agree and call the whole thing off...it was almost like looking in a mirror. 

Maybe they weren’t so different after all. 

“You’re wrong,” Virgil said, grabbing for Roman’s hands again. “So...so I guess we’re both going to help each other. To...you know. See how easy we are to love. And stuff.” 

And ok, he didn’t have Roman’s elegant way with words. But that wasn’t his job, and the Prince seemed to appreciate it anyway, worried frown replaced with a timid, yet brilliant smile. 

“I guess so,” Roman said, smiling never faltering, and Virgil found himself matching it. “I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.” 

That was the last thing Virgil heard before being pulled into another kiss, Roman nothing but warm, welcoming, and safe, and for the first time Virgil allowed himself to let go and relax.

[mageofseven]

Part two of this Anon's ask! Part one with the Brothers can be found here.

Diavolo:

The prince was trying to balance the pen on top of his nose. He had been in his office for hours as he went through paperwork and the man was losing his focus.

Beep.

Yes! A distraction! The demon let his pen fall to the desk as he picked up his phone.

'Ddddd I love you 🥰'

The prince grinned.

'I love you too, my Queen! 😘' He texted back then added. 'What are you up to?'

'Wiiinne.'

Ah so that explains it. They're drinking the wine he got them for their birthday.

'Aw. You opened it without me. Aren't you naughty?'

'😔'

'What's that face for, my dear?'

'Youre t9o busyy to spend tim e wth me 😢'

The prince frowned and rose from his desk.

'Where are you? I'm coming now.'

'Ou r room.'

The prince left the room and headed down the hall to his bedroom. He stepped inside and saw his Queen sitting on the couch by the fire place, wine glass and bottle on the low table in front of them. They were sitting with their knees to their chest and staring into the fire.

Diavolo approached the couch and sat next to them.

"I'm sorry, my dear." He said softly, pulling them into his embrace. "I know I've been working a lot lately."

"It's fine..." They mumbled.

"My Queen, you're not being honest with me." He told them, pushing some hair out of their eyes and behind their ear.

"It's just...lonely." They admitted softly. "I know I have my friends to spend time with, but it's not the same. I miss you."

The prince leaned in and kissed their forehead.

"I'm truly sorry, MC." The demon apologized. "I've been putting some extra work on my plate so Lucifer will allow himself more sleep. I know it must have been a hard couple weeks for you though."

The man did this occasionally. He knew how his friend was and knew that simply asking him to sleep more wasn't enough. Even if it was extra stressful for the prince, he wanted to do what he could for his friend so he didn't have to always worry for Lucifer's health.

"No... no, I know it's harder for you; you're the one doing the work." The human laid their head on their boyfriend's chest and closed their eyes.

"I'll be fine so no worrying about me." He kissed them on the top of their head. "How about we go out to eat Friday night? I should have my work done by then."

"Okay." The human yawned.

Diavolo smiled at them.

"Okay, time to sleep. Up you go." The man stood up and carried them towards the bed, covering them up, and giving them one last kiss on the head. "Good night, my Queen."

The demon listened as his love's breath slowed as they fell asleep before he turned and left the room. As much as he wanted to lay with his human and hold them close, he now had a new purpose to his work. After all, now he had to make sure the majority of his work was done before Friday. For his Queen's sake.

Barbatos:

Barbatos was in the kitchen, making a snack for his lord and his sweet human. Lord Diavolo had invited them over for a drink so the two had been sitting outside in the garden, watching the sunset while they had some wine. The butler had no qualms with this; he knew that both his love and his master were trustworthy. That and it was part of his job to come and go so he could spend time with them as well, even if he himself was not joining in on the drinking.

The butler took the finished dish back to the garden, only to discover the table to be vacant now. Raising an eyebrow, the man sat the dish on the table.

"Perfect timing!" The prince was suddenly behind him. "Barbatos, help me find MC!"

The smaller demon raised an eyebrow.

"Is my dear alright, milord?"

"Oh yes." Diavolo grinned. "We are simply playing a human game. Hide and Seek, as they call it."

A children's game? The butler remembered his human telling him about different activities they did as a child and that was one of them.

"I see." Barbatos nodded. "I shall help you then."

He and his master split up, searching the different rooms in the castle. The demon was suddenly concerned for MC; there were a lot of rooms in this castle that are dangerous for the average demon to enter and far more than deadly for a human like them.

He started checking the rooms he most dearly wished that his love would steer clear of.

Ding.

The butler pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket. It was them.

'Barbie cmoe hide wtih me~'

Ah. Perfect timing.

'As you wish, my dear. Where are you?'

'Nnnope. You gtta say you lvoe me fust.'

The demon cracked a smile, a genuine one. Oh that human. I suppose the alcohol is making them a bit bold.

'I love you, my dear. Now tell me where I can find you?'

'Awwwwaww. I love yu t9o 😘'

His smile grew a bit more.

'This is awfully cute, my dear, but I still need to know your whereabouts.'

'The balroon~'

The ballroom? What an odd choice.

'I'm on my way, dear.'

The butler made his way to the ballroom and found his love laying on the floor in the center of the room.

"Do you require any help getting up?" He asked the human, who giggled in response.

"Nooo. Just lay down with me."

"I'm afraid I cannot--"

The human sat up and started tugging on his hand. They were really cute in this state.

"As you wish, my love." And so he laid on the floor next to them. "Now, may I ask why you chose this room to hide from my lord? There's nowhere to conceal yourself here."

MC grinned.

"That's point. He wouldn't think to look for me here."

"Ah, I see." The butler nodded. "You did well, my dear."

They giggled and snuggled up to his chest.

The two laid like that there for a while, enjoying the closeness. Eventually, the echo of the doors opening made it to their ears and they looked over to find Diavolo entering the ballroom.

"My, you two look like you are enjoying yourselves." He grinned.

"My lord--" He went to get up, but was halted by Diavolo's lifted hand.

"No, relax. Please enjoy the rest of the evening however you wish."

Barbatos let his master's words hang in the air for a moment before responding.

"Alright. Thank you, milord."

Solomon:

Asmodeus invited the sorcerer over for some drinks. In all honesty, he had planned on declining since he was close to a break through in his current magical project and didn't want to break away from it. However, the demon had let him know that MC agreed to join him and Solomon had to admit, he was curious about how that would work out. He had never actually seen his little Minx drink before.

This should be interesting, he thought to himself before telling Asmo that he'd be there later that night. When the time came, the three of them were sitting in Asmo's room, drinking and chatting together. The three laid together in a comfy pile on the bed. The sorcerer had to admit, it was a fun night. Asmo got a little handsy, but nothing that the couple wasn't comfortable with; the Avatar of Lust knew their boundaries after all.

At one point, MC had left to go grab something from their room. Fifteen minutes had gone by however and they still hadn't returned. Excusing himself from Asmo, the man went to MC's room to look for them, but it was empty. Strange. He took out his phone.

'MC, where have you gone to?'

A couple moments later, he got a reply.

'Seccret'

'Ah so you're hiding then.' He texted back, smiling. 'I see you're feeling playful.'

The man started searching the house, even knocking on Leviathan's door to ask if he's seen you. When he came up empty handed, the human man could only frown.

He took out his phone again.

'Little Minx, please tell me where you're hiding.'

'Nno'

He pursed his lips as he read that.

'Is something wrong?'

He didn't get a reply for a few minutes. When it did come, the man froze at the words.

'Soli, do yuo love mme?'

The man took a minute to respond.

'What brought this on?'

Nothing. He texted them again.

'MC, please talk to me.'

'I lvoe you, btu yuo makke me sadd 😔'

Something in the sorcerer deflated when he read those words. It took him a while to move past them, but when he did, he was ready to take action.

'Let's talk about this face to face. Where are you?'

'My romm'

Their room? Did they sneak back in there while he was preoccupied? Regardless, he headed back in the direction of MC's room and peeked back inside. This time, he saw light shining through their closet door. Solomon raised an eyebrow at this, but approached the closet.

"MC, will you please leave the closet?" He asked, but recieved no reply, causing him to sigh and quietly open the door.

He found them sitting on the floor, phone in hand, but face hidden in their arms. Solomon paused, not sure about the best course of action here. He eventually kneeled down in front of them and started stroking their hair.

"MC, talk to me." He said softly.

The other human sniffled.

"I was having fun." They told him. "I was having fun with you guys and enjoying myself, but then suddenly I wasn't and bad thoughts rushed in and I couldn't handle it."

"You should of told me earlier." Solomon scooted closer to them and pulled them in for a hug. "I'm right here for you. There's no need to hide away in a dark closet."

"But... I don't wanna be a burden to you." They lifted their head to look up at their boyfriend.

"Relying on me doesn't make you a burden; it shows that I am doing my job right as a boyfriend." He looked into the distance. "Though I suppose if you think such things than I haven't been doing my job properly."

"No! I didn't mean--"

The sorcerer brought his lips to hers, silencing their protests. When they broke away, he looked down into their eyes.

"You asked me earlier if I loved you... the truth is, I am not a man who finds honesty to be an easy thing, especially when it comes to my feelings. However... I cannot deny how much I care for you. I may not say it enough during our time together, but just know that I truly love and cherish you, even in moments when it seems like all I want is to get a rise out of you. Please know this."

MC started wiping their eyes.

"Do... do you mean that?"

"Yes, little Minx." He smiled down at them. "Now please try to remember this for tomorrow. It was difficult for me to admit this one time; I'd rather not have to repeat myself."

The two sat in the closet for a little longer, the boyfriend's embrace slowly wearing away at all of MC's insecurities.

Simeon:

It was at Mammon's birthday party. The brothers had really gone all out for the second brother and though some people were surprised at this, the angel was not. As complicated as the brothers and their relationships to one another are, he knew that they each cared deeply about the others, with Mammon included, of course.

The party was still at House of Lamentation, but they provided so many food and drink options and invited many people; himself and his fellow Purgatory residents (though he made Luke go home after a while when some of the guests were being...a bit much), some work friends of Mammon's from his modeling agency, and some other demons from RAD that the angel vaguely knew.

At first, Simeon hadn't planned on staying long, but Solomon insisted that he should use this as an opportunity to have fun then whispered that the angel just might get some secret alone time with his little Lamb if he were to wait till others had drank enough to forget their absence. Solomon was the only one who knew about him and MC's relationship.

Angel and human relationships are seen as taboo in the Celestial realm. It always has been, but his Father has been a lot stricter with the Rule since the incident with Lilith. This is why he tried so desperately to keep the human at arms length.... it was all in vain though. He loved MC dearly and his little Lamb loved him back. He felt like there was no going back once he knew this. Still, they had to be careful, had to keep it all a secret from others. The two never meant for Solomon to find out, but the angel had to admit, it was almost inevitable. His human friend was commonly with him and he was a very observant man. Simeon wasn't fully sure if he was trustworthy or not, but he gave the man credit for keeping the secret this long.

So there the angel was, standing on the side lines of the the Avatar of Greed's birthday party, only occasionally chatting with others who came up to him, and watched those around them drink into oblivion.

Bing.

The man pulled his phone out of his pocket.

'I LVOE you swet angellly mn 🥰'

Simeon raised his eyebrows. It seems that his Feather has been drinking with the others. Simeon himself was not a drinker. It's not a Celestial rule for angels or anything; he just simply is not a fan of alcohol and rarely partakes in it. Because of this, the angel never stopped to think whether it was the same for MC or not.

'I love you too, my little Lamb. Where are you right now?'

'T he roff.'

His eyes widened.

'The roof, my Feather?'

'Yeess'

The angel quickly (but as inconspicuously as he could) headed towards the front door. Once he was outside, he transformed and flew above House of Lamentation, scanning its roof. He found his human laying on the segment of roof above their room.

He flew down next to them.

"My Lamb, I don't believe this is a safe place for you, especially if you've been drinking."

"I'm fine..." MC merely shook their headed. "I do this all the time."

The angel pursed his lips, but didn't say anything as they patted the space next to them. Getting the hint, he sat down next to them and stretched a wing out to cover them and hopefully shield them from the wind a bit.

"The stars look really pretty in the Devildom, don't they?" The human said softly, staring up at the night sky. "The stars are so much more colorful here than in the Human realm."

The angel followed their gaze and nodded.

"Yes, it's a beautiful sight." He agreed, staring up at the deep specs of color.

Strangely enough, each star was a dark shade of the colors associated with the Brothers. Or maybe it wasn't so strange? The Devildom has always had Avatars of the Seven Great Sins, long before the seven brothers were even born. He remembered learning that in his Devildom History class during his first year at RAD though they never mentioned anything about them having connections to the stars.

"Though... I wish I could show you the night sky of the Celestial realm some day." He added.

"I mean... can you?" They asked, not breaking their line of sight from the sky.

Simeon frowned.

"No... I don't think it'd be worth the risk." The angel answered reluctantly. "I'd rather you not be any near the Celestial realm ever again."

Before the two were dating, MC and Solomon once visited himself and Luke up in the Celestial realm and had a meal. His Lamb had only gotten to see a small glimpse of the beauty that is his home. There's so much more that he wished to show them however and now... he likely never will. He feared the gaze of Michael falling upon them, of the older angel seeing them and figuring out their relationship. Michael cared about him, but just like he supported the death of Lilith for her human endeavors, surely he would also support whatever punishment their Father would choose for him and maybe MC?

"Oh..." MC lowered their head. "Well, what's it like then? The Celestial night sky?"

Simeon paused a minute, letting himself collect his words.

"It's... here in the Devildom, the days give just enough light to navigate the world, but the night is as dark as the void." He began. "In the Celestial realm, everything is bright and uplifting during the day and the nights don't so much get dark, but rather, the light gets dimmer, more gentle, and the pastel stars are seen through the clouds above."

"You get to live in a world like that?" They turned their head to meet his eyes. "It sounds so beautiful. We have nothing like that in the human world. Do you have any moons though?"

"No, just the stars and the sun our Father made for us." He answered. "The Devildom moons seem so big and foreboding to me however. I don't know if we are missing out much in that regard."

"The moon in my realm isn't like these three though." His Feather gestured to the orbs in the sky. "Ours is not as big and... I guess you could say it provides a gentle light for night time. I think it's because it reflects some of our sun's rays, but I can't remember for sure."

"It must be quite the sight, my Lamb." The angel gave them a soft smile.

"Could... could you come see it with me?"

His smile fell.

"I'm... I'm not sure." He admitted. "I don't think I could come up a secure enough excuse to ask for such clearance."

The human didn't say a thing, just pushed their knees up to their chest. Simeon used his wing to push them close to him and brought his hand to their chin. He had them face him before leaning in and giving them a gentle kiss.

"I love you... but this is all we'll ever get, isn't it?" They asked softly.

Simeon rested his chin on top of their head and stroked their hair.

"I love you too, my little Lamb." He told them. "And I... I do not what the future holds for us, but I will give my all to make it a happy one."

~

Masterlist

[theratboy]

Oikawa Tōru

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Words: 868

Content: Soft-top!Reader; doggy-style; soft-teasing; "Good boy"

Kinks: Praise (Slightly)

Notes or others: For the first one-shot I decided to do something more soft even if mature.

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<<What were you watching babe?>>

<<Just the news, do you want to watch something? Maybe that film you always talk about>>

<<Do you mean Ghost in the Shell? No Tōru, We tried and you got distracted and asked me what was happening... Four times>>

Tōru puts on a pout as he responds, his voice distorted in an offended murmur.

<<Not true, I can pay attention, let's watch it>>.

You decide it's useless to try to stop him; rolling your eyes at your boyfriend who was searching for the film.

After twenty minutes from the start, you can feel the boy moving at your side, rubbing his thighs together.

<<What are you doing?>>

You ask him just to see him jump on his sit.

<<Watching the film obviously>>.

You raise your eyebrows and he return to watch the screen.

"Is he stupid? He obviously got distracted by some dirty thoughts."

Laughing to yourself, you make your hands slide on his sides grabbing him and pulling him on your lap.

<< Ohoh Y/N is feeling hor->>

<<Don't get distracted, you have to watch the film, understood?>>

<<Yes sir, I like where this is going>>.

He gets comfortable on your lap while you hands free his legs from the tracksuit pants and boxers, giving him goosebumps for the cold hair on his bare skin. You spend another five minutes caressing and grabbing his thigh. His breath gets heavy as he tries to catch what's happening on the TV.

Finally, you use your other hand to open a drawer next to the couch, searching for the lube's bottle. The sound of the bottle getting open and squizzed behind him makes Tōru shivers. He can finally feel your finger teasing his hole and penetrating him. A small moan leaves his mouth inviting you to continue. Your other hands slide all the way up to his chest to pinch his nipple.

<<Y/N I wan->>

<<Shh! I know you want to be touched but you said you wouldn't get distracted>>

<<Meanie! >>

He returns to watch the film while you laugh at him, you finally insert the second finger searching for the spot that always makes him melt in your arms.

<<OoH~ Finaly>>

He says letting out another moan and uncomfortably moving his hips on you hands.

<<Found it.>>

You keep playing with that spot stretching him out; his hips occasionally snapping up in search of some friction. And then, it happens, the TV emits a strange sound and stops working.

<<I suppose you can stop watching babe, come on, face on the couch, ass up. You were being such a good boy>>

You say leaving his hole and nipple.

<<Was I? So...don't I deserve a prize?>>

He asks getting up just to put his knees and face on the couch, his ass in the air.

He loves when you fuck him in this position, his body being a whole show for you.

<<Do you? Why don't you tell me what happened in the last part we saw>>

You ask searching in the drawer for the condoms.

<<The protagonist was talking with the bad guy and she... She was trying to understand why... Um... Not fair... YOU distracted me>>

<<it's okay babe, you tried>>.

Finaly the condom is in your hand, you free yourself from pants and boxer, giving your dick some strokes before putting the condom on.

<<So, my prize? >>

<<Be patient honey, we don't want to mess you up>>

As you say it, Tōru can feel his cock twitch in impatient, he wants to be touched and you didn't do it once, playing with him as you wanted. He can finally feel the pressure of you cock, covered in lube, on his back.

You align yourself to his hole.

<<How do you want it babe?>>

<<All the way in please~>>

<<As my prince desire>>

Said that you finally penetrate him in just one movement, making your hips smack on his. His back arch and his voice gets loud, a serie of moan and gibberish fill the room.

<<You're amazing Tōru, you really deserve a prize>>

You say before groaning as he push himself against your hips.

<<Oh babe, sure>>.

You starts moving, grabbing his hips and finding your usual pace; one of your hands slide under him stroking his needy member. As you touch him he melts in your hand, cuming and trembling, struggling to hold on to his knees as you milk him till the end.

<<I'm sorry I->>

You stop your hips to start talking,

<<Don't be, It's okay, do you want to continue?>>

<<Finish please... >>

<<As you wish>>.

And as he asked, you do; fucking him at a new faster pace even if you need to keep his ass up, since your boyfriend seems incapable of it. Feeling the knot in you stomach while you're getting closer to your orgasm.

<<Hey Tōru can you still talk?>>

The only sound that comes out of is mouth is a loud moan followed by yours while you finally release your semen. You keep moving for a bit, then leave his hips freeing him just to pull him on you, hugging him thight.

<<You're such a good boy babe>>

<<Yours?>>

<<Yes, my good boy>>.

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Request: Open-Check the rules

Oikawa's taglist: empty

Tag:

[thatsamericano]

To Be a Gardener in Love with a Prince

Pairing/Characters: America/Romano, Prussia cameo. Human AU.

Ratings/Warnings: Teen, for cursing. No warnings.

Word Count: 2440

Summary: Savino makes a flower delivery in the middle of the night as he usually does, but this time Alfred wakes up.

A/N: For @aphrarepairweek2021 Day 2, “Royalty.” Inspired by this popular text post, which screams Romerica to me.

Savino checked to make sure that the small bouquet of thornless roses he’d prepared earlier were securely strapped to his chest as he approached the castle entrance. Gilbert, the palace guard, raised a single pale eyebrow him.

“Again, Savi? What is this, the third time this week?”

Savino scowled at him. “Shut up.”

Gilbert laughed and got in position to lift him up towards the first foothold on the stone wall. “You know, it might be easier to just tell Prince Alfred how you feel. That way you wouldn’t have to climb into his bedroom every night just to leave him flowers.”

Savino grunted and stretched up to place his hand over a balcony ledge. “If I wanted your advice, I would’ve fucking asked.”

Gilbert turned back to watch the area outside the castle. “Whatever you say, Romeo.”

Savino frowned to himself as he leveraged himself up onto the balcony. Gilbert’s comparison was strangely apt. They weren’t from feuding families, but he had about as much chance with Prince Alfred as Romeo and Juliet had of ending up together. Alfred was the eldest prince, born with more wealth and power than most people could even contemplate. Savino was just the guy who’d been hired to tend to the plants in the castle’s garden.

Alfred was pretty strange, as far as royalty went. Savino had been kicked around a lot in his life, and most people from the upper class wouldn’t bother to speak to him, because they thought a title and inherited wealth made them better than a mere commoner like Savino, especially one who got soil under their fingernails each day from toiling in a garden. But Alfred wasn’t like that. They’d met one day while Alfred was guiding his horse back to the stables, and Savino had bowed and called him “Your Royal Highness,” as he had been trained to his entire life. Alfred had chuckled, told Savino he could stand, and that he was more comfortable being called “Alfred,” and that he didn’t think he was better than anyone else just because he was a prince. The entire encounter was bizarre as hell, especially when Alfred shook his hand and asked who Savino was like they were equals.

The next day, he came back, just to chat and get to know the new gardener better. Alfred asked him questions about the seaside town he’d been born in, his life, and his family, and he seemed genuinely interested in everything Savino had to say. Alfred kept visiting, and he talked about himself too, but not in a pompous or arrogant way. Usually it was funny anecdotes about his younger brother, his parents, or the boring meetings he had to attend. Occasionally, he’d complain about how he kept getting offers of marriages on behalf of princesses from other countries. Alfred didn’t want to marry some girl he’d met only once or twice simply because it would create an advantageous political alliance.

“Who would you wanna marry?” Savino had asked him once.

Alfred frowned thoughtfully. “I dunno. Someone who likes me, and I like her. Someone I can talk to for hours on end without getting bored, the way I can talk to you. Someone who makes me feel excited when I wake up, because I know I’ll get to see them that day.”

“You want to marry for love, then,” Savino concluded.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

It was at that point Savino realized that, against all his preconceived notions, Alfred had become one of his closest friends at the castle. A few months after that, he came to the painful realization that he’d fallen in love with a goddamn prince. It didn’t have anything to do with some silly fantasy about rising above his current station. He just loved Alfred, for his carefree smile, windswept blond hair, the way he’d take an extra pastry from the kitchen to make sure Savino got to eat lunch in the afternoons, and all those times he got down on his hands and knees to pull weeds out of a flowerbed with Savino just because he “looked like he could use a little help.” He loved Alfred’s tight hugs, his hilariously accurate impression of the king, the glee in Alfred’s voice when he called out for “Vinny,” the nickname he’d given Savino only a couple weeks after they’d first met, and the fact that Alfred had been so happy he’d bounced on his feet after Savino started calling him Fredo.

If Alfred had been a knight or a stable boy, Savino would have tried to figure out if he could be interested in men romantically. And then, if it seemed like a real possibility, he would have done something about his feelings. As it was, Alfred was so far out of his league that all Savino could do was pick a few flowers and leave him anonymous bouquets while he was sleeping. A confession of any kind was completely out of the realm of possibility.

After reaching that first balcony, Savino had to do a bit more careful climbing to reach the highest window, which led into the prince’s bedroom. Every time he delivered flowers to Alfred, Savino wished he could get into the castle like a normal person instead of risking life and limb. Unfortunately, Gilbert was the only guard Savino trusted not to run to the king and alert him about an intruder “harassing” his oldest son. If he was accused of trying to harm a member of the royal family, Savino could be sentenced to death, and Alfred’s protestations might not be enough to save him.

Savino wiggled through the open window, grateful that Alfred habitually left his window up in the warm summer evenings as he slept. Savino couldn’t have delivered his flowers if Alfred hadn’t been quite so trusting.

The room was dark, and he only had a bit of moonlight to guide him. But after so many clandestine visits, Savino was familiar with the layout of Alfred’s bedroom, and he was confident that he could tiptoe across the plush, carpeted floor, locate the empty vase on the third shelf of Alfred’s bookcase, leave his roses, and then retreat without Alfred having any clue he was ever here.

Unfortunately, he wasn’t counting on a footstool to be placed directly in the shadow cast by Alfred’s enormous four-poster bed. Savino stubbed his toe on the damn footstool, and hissed instead of screeching out a curse like he normally would have at the unexpected, sharp pain.

The bedcovers rustled as Alfred slowly began to wake up. “What’s going on? Who’s there?”

Savino clenched his jaw and silently prayed Alfred wouldn’t see him. If he just stayed perfectly still and didn’t breathe too loudly, maybe Fredo would assume he’d been dreaming and go back to sleep. Then Savino could get the fuck out of here with some shred of dignity left.

Too late. Alfred shifted up into a sitting position and reached over to the side table for his glasses. He put them on and squinted through the darkness. “Vinny?” he asked. “Is that you?”

Savino coughed and tried to deepen his voice. “It doesn’t matter who I am. Just go back to sleep.”

“It is you!” Alfred grinned, shoved the covers back, and bounded towards him with a remarkable amount of energy for someone who’d just woken up only a few seconds ago.  “What are you doing here in the middle of the night? Did you need to talk to me about something?”

“I… uh…” Savino couldn’t figure out what to say, and he couldn’t figure out where to look. His best friend, who he was hopelessly in love with, was wondering why Savino had snuck into his room long past midnight. If he looked up, he would see Alfredo’s goofy, oblivious smile and his hair that was mussed adorably from being rubbed across his pillow while he slept. If he cast his gaze eye level or lower, he would be looking at the prince’s goddamn silk pajamas. Anything he saw would be too intimate or too much.

Alfred stepped even closer and tilted his head down. “Dude, are those… roses? Why would you have roses strapped to your chest?”

Savino squeezed his eyes shut and hoped Alfred couldn’t see how close he was to bursting into tears. “I can explain, Fredo, I swear.”

Alfred gasped. “Oh my God! You’re the one who’s been leaving flowers in my room! I can’t believe this!”

“I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t my place, and I had no right to—"

Savino couldn’t even stutter out a full apology, because the next thing he knew, Alfred was hugging him and giggling in his ear. Not only hugging him and giggling, but picking Savino up and spinning him around in the air.

After several rotations, he finally set a baffled, dizzy Savino back down on his feet. Alfred shifted back a little to beam down at him, but kept his hands lightly resting on Savino’s waist for reasons Savino couldn’t begin to fathom.

“Sorry, what were you saying?”

“I was trying to apologize,” Savino said slowly, to emphasize the words. “For breaking into your private bedroom. For giving you gifts that are a little strange for friends to give each other, no matter how close they are.” Maybe Alfred had missed the romantic subtext of everything he’d done? It was the only explanation Savino could think of for why he was reacting like this.

Alfred shook his head, still smiling. “Vinny, dude, you don’t have to apologize for that. The next time you want to come into my room, you can just ask. I don’t want you breaking your neck trying to climb a wall or something.”

“But what about the, um…”

“The flowers? I had no idea it was you. I mean, you are the gardener here, so it makes sense, but when Mattie brought it up to me, I was like nah, no way. Vinny’s way too cute and charming to go for someone like me. He could have anyone he wanted.”

Savino’s head was spinning, and his heart was pounding, but not from anxiety this time. “You’ve told your brother about me?”

“Heck, I’ve told everyone about you. I’m pretty sure they’re sick of hearing me talk about you so much. But the only people I’ve told everything to are Mattie and my manservant, Tolys. The rest of them would try to tell me I shouldn’t be in love with you, either because you’re a gardener or because you’re not a girl. I’d rather not have to hear their stupid opinions about you, because they don’t know shit.”

“You… you love me?” It sounded fake when Savino said it out loud, but he was only repeating what Fredo had just told him.

Alfred frowned, suddenly looking worried and insecure. “Was I not supposed to say that? I didn’t misread everything, did I? Were those just friendship flowers?”

Savino shook his head, crying and laughing at the same time. “Tesoro, there’s no such thing.”

“Oh, good. Does that mean I can kiss you now?”

Savino answered him by planting his hands on Alfred’s shoulders and leaning up to kiss him. Alfred smiled into the kiss and tightened his grip on Alfred’s shoulders. The roses were crushed in between them, but for the moment he had more important things to focus on.

By the time Savino broke the kiss, they were both grinning stupidly at each other. “Wow, we should’ve done that a long time ago,” Alfred said.

Savino laughed. “It would’ve been easier than climbing into your room to leave flowers all those times.”

Alfred reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. “I’m not sure how, but I’m gonna figure out a way to be with you. Before we met, I’d resigned to marrying some random princess for political reasons. The best I could’ve hoped was learning how to like her eventually. But now I know what it’s like to be happy, to be with you, and I’m too selfish to give that up. I won’t.”

Savino swallowed a lump in his throat. “Even if it meant you’d have to give up everything else in your life?”

“Even then.” He brushed a featherlight kiss over Savino’s temple. “You’re worth it, sweetheart.”

Savino’s logical side told him he shouldn’t believe Alfred, because he was making ridiculous promises no one in his position would actually keep. But the way he was treating him so softly and the way he’d called him sweetheart made Savino believe him. He smiled as he pulled back and walked over to Alfred’s bookcase. He unwrapped the roses from their makeshift wrapping and arranged them in Alfred’s empty vase.

“The flowers I got you are horribly squished, by the way.”

“Well, that’s okay. I’d rather get squished flowers from you than unsquished flowers from anyone else.”

That sentiment was so adorably, earnestly Alfred that Savino couldn’t help himself. As soon as he walked back to Alfred, he kissed him again, and Alfred eagerly reciprocated.

“I guess this is goodbye, for now. I need to sneak back out before another guard comes on duty.”

Alfred tipped his forehead against his, and they swayed back and forth in a slow mimicry of a dance. “I’ll help you sneak in tomorrow. If you come by earlier, you’ll get to stay for longer.”

He’d love that. He loved Alfredo, and it was complicated, but no longer hopeless. He backed up towards the open window, and Alfred walked with him. “I love you, Fredo. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I love you too. Will you be safe getting down?”

“I’ll be fine. Go to sleep.”

Alfred peered out the window as Savino climbed out the window and very carefully descended down the castle wall. He was still standing by the window by the time Savino had made it to the ground, and he only left after Savino waved to indicate that he had made it down safely.

Gilbert smirked at Savino as he was walking past him. “Another successful flower delivery?”

Savino shrugged. “The flowers were a little squished, but I don’t think Alfredo will mind.” I’d rather get squished flowers from you than unsquished flowers from anyone else. Savino grinned at the memory of what Alfred had said. He probably wouldn’t be able to stop smiling for at least a week.

Gilbert’s chortling followed Savino as he walked down the well-worn path between his own small house and the castle where Alfred and his family slept. His smile stayed with him even longer, until he was drifting off to sleep in his own bed.

[bedtimebrain]

EXO KAI: Detective Gone Wrong P2

Characters: JonginxYou

You came to know Jongin by accident, but have no clue he’s EXO’s Kai. And when you found out....

Part 1 Part 3

Your text messages with Jongki didn’t just stop there after that night. You guys texted frequently, on and off work. Though neither of you always replied instantly, the conversation kept going.

Jongki seems to have really long working hours occasionally. You were still not sure what kind of job he does, he seems to be doing a variety of things during his working hours, and even travels around sometimes.

You came to a weak conclusion that he might be a fitness trainer for those rich family wives, which explains why he would need to go to the gym during his working hours and his nice body. You decided to tell him you wild Guess tonight when you go over.

‘Jongki oppa!’ You knocked on his door and shouted excitedly.

‘annyeong Y/N!’

‘I came with food bribes to use your TV! Ginseng chicken soup!’ You presented the thermal pot to him at the door removed your shoes

‘Anyway it’s meant for you, i already ate some at home before coming over. I mean it’s almost 9pm, I’m sorry I couldn’t wait to eat w you’ you added

‘Gumawo, this food bribe is more than what I expected, haha. I’m gna eat on the dining table, just use the TV’

‘Woohoo!’ You cheered and speeded over to his sofa and switched on his TV while he set his dining table.

‘Oppa! You have Netflix? I’m gna use it ok!’

Seeing how excited you are he couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Omo 100 days my prince. My friend loves this show, she say loves the male lead! Oppa did u watch this?? Or are u not into dramas?’ You turned your head back to ask jongki who was eating at the dining table

‘100 days my prince ?! Wow, I guess it’s really popular among the females. No I didn’t watch the full thing, just here and there.’

You loudly declared you were going to watch it, and toggled to watch the first episode. But you were hooked. You couldn’t stop at the first episode, by the time you were done with the second it was already past 12.

Nicely, jongki also came out from the shower as your episode ended. Saying your byes and your goodnights, you thanked him for hosting and he thanked you back for the food. You headed home, it was a good night indeed!

—

Again in that week, you both decided to meet for supper. Over supper you asked

‘Oppa I wanted to ask you previously but I forgot, are you a fitness trainer for rich people? You have such a nice body and you earn so much and you have not so regular working hours. I’ve been thinking about it..’

‘No I’m not! Why are you always coming up with strange conclusions, hahah. I’m pretty sure I don’t sound like a fitness trainer right, I told you I just came from a show’ he said as he stuffed the ssambap into his mouth

‘Right , I thought so too. Are you a model then? I’m sorry but I know you have abs’ you said it with your mouth full and sent a wink to him, making him laugh

‘How would you know I have abs! I’m not a model but you’re close hahaha’

‘Ok, I’ll continue thinking about it then, haha’

—-

‘Oppa, don’t you think the male lead is really charming? I found out his name, he’s do kyungsoo from EXO!!’ You kept your eyes on the screen , oblivious to the questioning look jongki had on his face.

Tonight, you were at Jongki’s place after work again, to catch up on 100 days my prince since he was home.

The past few times you watched, he never sat down with you as he was always busy with chores. But today he decided to, and he was starting to irritate you when he kept cracking up once in a while.

‘Oppa what’s so funny? You’re so annoying!’You threw a cushion at him , but he caught it and stuck his tongue out at you

At the end of the episode, Jongki quickly took the remote on the table.

‘I’m deciding what to watch next!’ He gloated

But the previous episode ended on a cliff hanger! You weren’t going to let him have it. You attempted to snatch the remote from him and you both ended up in a chase around the house.

Obviously you weren’t going to win against the owner, giving up, you both sat back down on the sofa, panting and dying of laughter. Looking up at the TV screen, it was now on YouTube. You guys must have accidentally switched the screen while fooling around.

His YouTube homepage were all EXO Kai dance videos. Not that you know exactly who that is but you heard about him.

‘Ohhhh opppaaaaa you’re an EXO fan? You like EXO Kai~’ you raised your brows at him and said it in a teasing tone

But he started kneeling over in laughter. You didn’t get what’s so funny though, but anyway you continued asking

‘Oppa can you dance ? Im sure you like dancing right? Show me please !!!!’

Recovering from his fits of laugh, he looked straight at you

‘You really wanna see?’

‘YES!!’ You shouted like a fangirl.

He connected his phone to his speaker and started playing some pop song that was totally not your style. It went something like ‘don’t mess up my tempo~~’. Though the song wasn’t really blessing your ears but jongki’s dancing was absolutely world class in your opinion.

You didn’t know much about dancing. But damn, anyone would know he’s a good dancer. Though he was just dancing for fun, just for you, he bothered with his facial expressions, giving life to his dance. You felt your heart started thumping, as you realise how attractive jongki was in this moment.

When it came to an end, you did a standing ovation just for him and cheered.

‘You’re hella hot, I’m serious.’ You raised a thumbs up at him and he got a little shy at your honest compliments

‘How are you not attached if you’re so eligible though. How do girls around you not fall for you?’

Seeming not too sure how to answer your question, he started

‘Uhm, actually I’ve been in and out of relationships. But I guess they dont really last because of the nature of my job? And some other reasons I guess’

‘Are you a back up dancer ? That’s why? I mean it can be little hard if you’re always dancing with hot girls or something’ you replied thoughtfully

‘About love, I’m fine, fate will come. But Y/N, I look like a back up dancer to you?’ He was all serious as he asked, and you were a little shocked

Teasing him, you replied ‘you’re the main dancer in my heart’ and you showed him a heart sign. His expression softened, showing that ‘I’m so done with you’ face

‘Oppa I know you’re done with my nonsense for tonight, and I’m not going to watch your Kai dancing videos, you can slowly watch them when I’m home sleeping. Bye~ see you soon’ you picked up your belongings and gave him a side hug as you said your goodbyes.

—-

‘Y/N ah, let’s watch a horror movie tonight.’

Tonight you both were having supper take out at his place, since it was too cold to go outside. By the time the food arrived it was already late, but you didn’t mind since you had an off the next day.

‘But I really can’t , I’ll have indigestion’ you pouted

Not really taking your aegyo jongki insisted ‘I’m sorry , we are watching it. At most we finish our supper first’

And he was smug about it, especially when you kept whining after.

‘Oppa, I’m warning you. I might scream, cry, bite you or tear your clothes apart because I’m a scaredy cat. Don’t regret your decision’ you warned him just before he offed the lights

The movie barely started but you were already feeling scared. You moved closer to him and hugged the cushions tightly. At every scary part you looked away and leaned closer to jongki without thinking.

Omg omg, the jump scare is coming!

You quickly shut your eyes as the story progressed to it’s main crux.

‘YOUR SOULS SHALL BE MINE’

The boom of the zombie’s voice sent you in a scream and you jumped onto jongki. You hugged him tightly and burst into tears, you were scared out of your life.Of course, this got jongki cracking up instead.

‘It’s just a movie , don’t be scared’ He put his arms around and gave your shoulders a rub.

After you calmed down a little, you attempted to sit up and recover the distance between the both of you. But suddenly there were flashes of light from the TV. And you headed right for Jongki’s chest, grasping him tightly.

‘I DONT WANNA WATCH ANYMORE’ you yelled and sobbed hard

Seeing how you were really in a bad state, jongki gave in and stopped the movie.

‘Y/N I’ll go on the light, ok?’ He tried to free himself from your hold but you weren’t letting him go, you were scared and when you were scared you were clingy like a child. Getting the hint, he stayed beside you and let you cry your fears out. Feeling a little bad about this, he apologised softly ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know you hated it so much’

‘I definitely won’t be able to sleep tonight. You jerk’ you threw a punch on his chest and said in between hitches of breaths, not really calm yet.

He tucked your head under his chin and pat you lightly, hoping to comfort you the best he could. Your eyes started to feel swollen and heavy from all the crying, together with his rhythmic pats, it all produced a hypnotic effect on you. Without even knowing, you drifted off to sleep.

You had no idea how long you were asleep for before you woke up to see jongki laying you down on the bed.

He turned around ready to leave but you reached out for his hand before he walked far. You could feel him gently trying to remove himself from your hold but you subconsciously asked

‘can you stay for a while?’

He lightly tapped your hand, and you let go of it. The next thing you feel was the bed dipping down on the other side.

Opening your eyes, you saw jongki sitting up beside you then you safely drifted off to sleep again.

It was already morning when you woke again, checking your watch it was 6.30am. Still sitting up, jongki had fallen asleep. You laughed a little seeing him like this, but at the same time feeling a little bad and guilty. You slowly got out of the bed and went over to the side where jongki was, wanting to adjust his sleeping posture without waking him up.

You put one hand over his torso and one hand behind his head, wanting to gently adjust him. But you were only able to move him slightly before you got stuck in a really awkward position. You managed to get half of his torso lying on the bed, but your hand was now stuck under it.

You tried pulling your hand out as lightly as you could, but you the awkward position you were in was not really holding you up well, and you were losing your balance. You quickly grabbed the bed frame and steadied yourself, but seeing jongki’s sleeping face so close made you forget about the task at hand. You leaned in to take a closer look, and the more you looked, you don’t know why there was this overwhelming desire to kiss him. Without thinking, you quickly gave him a peck.

It was as if he felt your kiss or something because he suddenly turned over to his side making you fall onto him. You let out a Yelp in shock.

He opened his eyes and murmured ‘What are doing?’ You were in such an awkward position you couldn’t even think of a good answer. But he didn’t wait either, he just continued saying

‘Just sleep, it’s still early’ and pulled you right back into bed instead, this time locking you in his arms as he closed his eyes.

You were utterly confused at what had just happened and there’s no way you could be sleeping with your heart almost exploding in your chest. You tried to wriggle out of his hold, but it wasn’t much use. So instead, you forced yourself to take deep breaths in and out and the next thing you know, you were woken up by the jarring alarm.

You thought jongki would be shock to wake up next to you, but you were totally wrong. He seem to be very much clear that he had you sleep right next to him. Turning off the alarm, he turned to face you and tucked your hair behind your ears. Catching you off guard like this, you jerked your head backwards.

‘What are you doing?’ You asked and sat up, wide awake now.

‘Didnt you kiss me last night?’ He looked at you straight in your eye, and tried to control his smirk.

Realising you fell into your own pothole, you immediately tried to escape. Jumping out of bed and out of the room. You went straight for the washroom and tidied up yourself as fast as you could. Grabbing your coat and your belongings you stood by the door all ready to leave. Only that you needed Jongki’s fingerprint .

After about 5 minutes had passed as you waited nervously, he finally came walking through to the living room with his mad scientist hair.

‘What’s up with you ? You literally transformed in 5 minutes’ he joked

What in the world was he thinking? Is he playing with you or what? What’s all his actions suppose to mean?

You had this inner thoughts but did you really wanna know the answer to these?

Okay, yes you wanted to. But do you dare to ask?

No you didn’t. So you could only suck it up like a loser and be confused and embarrassed all by yourself.

He took a step closer to you but you massively overreacted and almost fell backwards. But all he wanted was to reach across you to open the door.

Seeing how flustered you looked, he took the chance to tease you. Keeping his hand on the handle, he stepped closer to you and you moved back. Just like in the movies, his head kept moving towards you until you hit the wall. You shut your eyes and scrunched your face

‘What do you want!!!’ You pushed him away and yelled

You didn’t realise you have been holding your breath all this while. Jongki on the other hand seem to be having fun with this. But you were trying your best to look serious and firm about this.

He didn’t reply, but simply opened the door instead. You stepped out right away the minute he opened it.

‘Okay bye’ giving him a panicky goodbye wanting to run away already. But he called you

‘Y/N! Look behind you!’ And he pointed to behind you

You quickly turned but there wasn’t anything. What the hell ?

Turning back, you came face to face with him instead and he gave you a kiss on your lips.

‘Okay you can leave now, bye bye! See you soon!’

What just happened? You have no idea what just happened.

Your mind was blank. Really blank, as blank than an empty canvas.

And your heart was beating erratically as you walked away in a daze.

Kim Jongki.... am i falling for you? are you falling for me? ------------

Decided to split another part out so i don’t have to rush the ending. The story hasn’t exactly hit the climax yet? Let’s see how it turns out!

Edit: Part 3

[cruelangelstheses]

a simple misunderstanding

fandom: avatar: the last airbender rating: G characters: sokka/zuko, katara words: 2k additional tags: canon compliant, fluff description: zuko and katara start hanging out, just the two of them. sokka gets suspicious and decides to investigate. a/n: hi!! this was written for the @lgbtqshipszine and i can post it now! i love my silly boys

read it on ao3

—

Sokka is a good older brother—he thinks so, at least. He does his best to look out for Katara and give her advice when she needs it, but he also tries to give her some space and let her make her own decisions. They are only a year apart, after all, and she’s grown up a lot since they first found Aang in the iceberg.

So when Sokka notices that Katara has been spending more time alone with Zuko, he holds himself back from immediately confronting her about it. They could be doing anything, talking about anything. He’s trusted her to be alone with guys before; he’s even teased Aang for his long-standing crush on Katara. Besides, they clearly bonded in some way when they went to search for the man who killed Sokka and Katara’s mother, even when it didn’t turn out the way they’d expected. He should be happy that they’re getting along now.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust Zuko, and it’s certainly not that he doesn’t trust Katara. He doesn’t think Zuko would do anything to hurt her—or, well, not on purpose—and he pities the fool who would even try, because hell hath no fury like a Katara scorned. So, really, it shouldn’t be any of his business what Zuko and Katara talk about in whispers on the shores of Ember Island or in the courtyard of Ozai’s beach house. At least, that’s what he tells himself.

Unfortunately, try as he might, Sokka just can’t shake the slightly sick feeling he gets in his stomach whenever he sees them talking, even if it’s only a word or two about what they’re having for dinner. He watches their interactions for any indication of romance, but if they do feel that way about each other, they’re doing a damn good job of hiding it. They don’t hold hands—in fact, they barely touch at all, except for when necessary—and they don’t usually sit next to each other during meals. Zuko does sit next to her when they go to see the Ember Island Players, but it seems completely platonic, and Sokka doesn’t miss the way they slowly scooch away from each other during the “romantic” scene between their actor selves. They still talk, though, and sometimes, Katara says something to Zuko that makes him blush furiously. Talk about mixed signals.

So Sokka makes little to no progress on his theory, which is really less of a theory and more of a sneaking suspicion that there’s something fishy going on. Zuko has been acting strange around Sokka for a little while, occasionally stuttering or spacing out in the middle of a conversation, and it might have to do with this whole business with Katara. If Zuko’s had a crush on her for some time, then it would make sense that he’d be nervous about Sokka’s reaction. (Sokka, for his part, feels weird around Zuko sometimes too, but that’s probably just because Zuko hasn’t been with them for very long, and maybe a small part of Sokka is still nervous around the guy who used to try to capture or kill them all on a regular basis.) Eventually, he decides he’ll just have to take the initiative and talk to Katara himself, or else the wondering is going to drive him crazy.

He corners her one evening after dinner, when everyone else has dispersed and Katara is starting to clean up in the kitchen. She looks up from the sink when she hears his footsteps and raises an eyebrow.

“I’m guessing you’re not here to help me clean up,” she says.

Sokka leans up against the nearby wall in an attempt to look casual. “Katara,” he starts out, “you know you can trust me, right? With anything?”

Katara frowns in confusion. “Yeah, of course. You’re my brother.”

Sokka nods and crosses his arms over his chest. “Good! Good.” He clears his throat awkwardly as he searches for the right words. “Because I realize that you can make your own decisions and that you don’t need me protecting you all the time, and so you know that if, say, you were to start dating some angsty firebender who used to try to kill us all the time, you could tell me that, right?”

Katara nearly drops the bowl she’s washing and shuts off the water. “What?”

Sokka can feel his face heating up. Apparently rambling tactlessly is still one of his strong suits. “Just, you know, theoretically,” he adds pathetically.

Katara just stares at him incredulously. “Zuko?” she says with a laugh. “You think I’m dating Zuko?”

Sokka shrugs. “Well, what else was I supposed to think with you two always running off to talk privately? Zuko hasn’t been able to look me in the eye since the Boiling Rock. I thought maybe he was nervous around me because he was afraid of how I’d react if I knew he had a crush on you or something.”

Katara laughs again. “Well, you don’t need to worry about that. I’m not particularly interested in him, and I’m positive he’s not interested in me.”

Sokka narrows his eyes. “Well, then, what have you two been talking about?”

Katara’s cheeks turn pink. “Us? Uh, nothing. Nothing important. What, two people aren’t allowed to just talk to each other alone?”

Sokka snorts. Like brother, like sister. “Well, that’s not suspicious.”

Katara sighs. “Look, if you really wanna know, you’re better off talking to Zuko.”

“He’s been acting weird around me for weeks now,” Sokka says, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. “What makes you think he’d tell me anything?”

“He will,” Katara replies cryptically, and with that, she returns to washing the dishes.

Clearly Sokka isn’t going to be getting a solid answer out of this conversation, so he turns around and heads down the hall to find Zuko.

It doesn’t take long to locate him, out in the courtyard practicing firebending with Aang. Zuko’s been training him in a frenzy; it feels like that’s all they do sometimes. They just ate, and they’re already back at it again, likely at Zuko’s direction. The least they could do is take a few breaks.

Sokka waltzes down the couple of steps outside and into the courtyard. As they’re both practicing the same forms, Aang moving his body in sync with Zuko’s, neither of them notice him approaching. Sokka waits until they seem like they’re at a good stopping point, assuming a final fighting stance and then relaxing their postures, to call out, “Hey, Zuko? I need to talk to you.”

Zuko nearly jumps at the sound of his voice and whirls around. “Okay,” he says, attempting to act calm, but very obviously failing. The sweat rolling down his temples doesn’t help matters, either. “What is it?”

Sokka awkwardly glances over at Aang. “Uh, can we talk in private, actually?”

Zuko narrows his eyes, but nods silently and waves a hand in Aang’s direction, dismissing him. Once he’s out of earshot, Sokka sits down on one of the steps. Zuko, however, remains standing.

Sokka decides to just get straight to the point. “So. You and Katara.”

Zuko raises an eyebrow. “What about me and Katara?”

“You’ve been talking a lot recently,” Sokka says. “Alone.”

Zuko’s face heats up, though it was already a little flushed from training. “So?”

“I asked Katara about it, but I didn’t get much out of her. I thought maybe you two were dating or something, but she said that wasn’t it. She wouldn’t tell me anything else, though.” Sokka shrugs. “She told me to ask you instead.”

Zuko folds his arms over his chest. “What gives you the right to know about two people’s private business?” He really sounds like a prince there, and it looks like he knows it.

“Well, number one, something’s telling me this ‘business’ was hidden pretty specifically from me, and I’d like to know why,” Sokka replies. “And number two, I’d appreciate some sort of heads-up if my sister ends up dating the crown prince of the Fire Nation, who spent the better part of a year actively trying to capture us.” That last part comes out sounding more hostile than he means for it to.

Zuko scowls and throws his hands out. “What are you saying? That after all this time, after everything, you still don’t trust me?”

Sokka holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “No, no, I didn’t mean—”

“Save it.” Zuko scoffs, but there isn’t any venom in it, just hurt. “And here I was starting to think we—”

He bites his lip and stops talking, just stands and stares with his hands balled up into fists at his sides and his eyes glinting with something Sokka can’t quite decipher.

“What?” Sokka asks. “Starting to think we what?”

Zuko shakes his head, looks away. His body relaxes, and he opens his hands back up, using one of them to rub at his scarred eye. Finally, he walks over to the steps and sits down next to Sokka, resting his arms on his knees as he thinks about his response. After a long moment of silence, he speaks.

“When we were together at the Boiling Rock, I...realized something. I decided to talk to Katara about it later, and then she started giving me some advice.”

Sokka narrows his eyes in confusion. “Why her specifically?”

Zuko sighs. “Because she knows you best.”

Sokka shakes his head. He really, truly has no idea what’s going on here. “What does this have to do with me?”

Zuko is quiet for a long time. Finally, he says with a small laugh, “You got it all mixed up, Sokka. I’m not interested in your sister. I’m interested in you.”

Sokka almost doesn’t believe that he’s hearing correctly. His heart is full of so many somethings, things like relief and shock and hope and desire and an overwhelming feeling of duh.

“Me?” he sputters, because he realizes that he hasn’t said anything yet, and Zuko is looking at him like he expects Sokka to slap him. “I—me?”

Zuko smiles wryly. “I know; I was surprised, too.”

For a moment, they just look at each other. Then they both start laughing, so awkwardly and so stupidly. They laugh so hard that Sokka’s stomach starts to hurt. They laugh so hard that they have to hold onto each other to catch their breath, and that’s when Sokka leans in.

It’s short and soft, an apology, a beginning. He tastes like fire and what they had for dinner, but Sokka doesn’t mind. When they kiss, it feels like something clicks inside of him.

Zuko pulls away first, guilt written all over his face. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I was just afraid—I didn’t know how you’d—”

“No, no, I get it,” Sokka assures him. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I didn’t mean to imply that I don’t trust you, because I do, Zuko. I do.”

Zuko’s lips curl up into the faintest smile. “I wanted to ask Katara for her blessing. And then I just ended up coming to her for advice on how to...well. Court you, I guess.”

Sokka snorts. “Just be yourself. That’s enough for me. Just don’t go making me jealous.”

Zuko giggles—he actually straight-up giggles. Sokka thinks he could listen to it forever. “Jealous? Of who, Katara?”

“Well, yeah. I assumed you two had a thing.”

Zuko shrugs, his cheeks bright red. “I never said it was a good plan. But it worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

Sokka smiles to himself and laces his fingers with Zuko’s. His heart feels like it might take off and fly away at any moment. “Yeah,” he says softly. “I suppose it did.”

(Katara finds them kissing again a few minutes later, and the only thing she says is “Finally.”)

[pastthebutterflies]

A Little Thing Called Trust

“Louie Duck is smart, very smart. He spots the angles that others miss, finds the threats everyone else passes right over. As it stands, Lena De Spell is the biggest threat in this entire mansion. All it would take is one sideways glance and she knows, knows it would all be over. If Louie suspects her for even a moment, Lena will be out on her tail feathers before she can say De Spell. Knowing this, Lena swallows her panic and takes a seat on the other end of the couch.”

Wrote this for the day 8 Duckvember prompt, Frenemy, and thought this would be perfect. Takes place somewhere between Jaw$ and the start of the shadow war.

Or, if you prefer, read it on my ao3!

Lena isn't a fan of Louie Duck. 

Webby speaks the world of him, and his brother’s, for that matter, but Lena knows better. The kid is smart, too smart, for his- or her- own good.

In the days since Lena has begun visiting McDuck manor, it has become harder and harder to ignore the strange stares Louie sends her way when she and Webby pass by. Most nights, the triplets are off on their own, causing their own brand of chaos in a different wing of the house, leaving her and Webby to hike up to Webby’s room where they, usually, dig through old accounts of Scrooge’s adventures while Magica whispers in her ear until lights out.

But tonight, her luck, as it often does, seems to have run out. Webby is out with Scrooge and Dewey at the Money Bin until further notice and Huey and Donald are out repairing the houseboat, totally deaf to the outside world.

Normally, under such circumstances, Lena would head to Webby’s room on her own while Magica staked out the place. Today though, upon arrival, Beakley had answered the intercom as she normally did, let her in, and promptly sat her in the tv room. 

She glances around, confused as Beakley rounds the corner, duster in hand. Not a hello or the typical prompt to head upstairs to wait for Webby. Really, Lena thought she and Beakely were beyond this.

“Spring cleaning,” comes a voice at the other end of the couch.

A hefty weight sinks in Lena’s stomach as she turns to face Louie, who lounges against the arm of the worn couch, a can of pep in one hand and the tv blaring in front of him.

“What?”

“Spring cleaning,” he says again, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Beakley likes the place to herself once a month for deep cleaning,” he adds dramatic air quotes here, “and banishes everyone else for the day. I only survived because she knows I won’t leave the couch- surprised she even let you in the door. Webby must have begged her.”

The idea that Webby wants her around enough to face down her own Granny is touching, if she thinks about it too much. This, of course, results in Lena stuffing the feeling down as deep into her subconscious as it will go to mull over later and turning back to the situation at hand. 

Which is, to put it bluntly, not great.

It’s not that Louie isn’t a good guy, if Webby is to believed- she is- it’s more the opposite, really. Lena isn’t, and never can be, a good person. Dark magic  literally runs through her veins, it’s her life source, her very being.

Louie Duck is smart, very smart. He spots the angles that others miss, finds the threats everyone else passes right over. 

And as it stands, Lena De Spell is the biggest threat in this entire mansion. All it would take is one sideways glance and she knows, knows it would all be over. If Louie suspects her for even a moment, Lena will be out on her tail feathers before she can say De Spell.

Knowing this, Lena swallows her panic and takes a seat on the other end of the couch.

The two of them sit in silence for a while. The sounds of Ottoman Empire reruns and a vacuum in the distance are the only barriers between Lena’s head and the wall. Across from her, Louie is looking less awkward as he scrolls absent-mindedly on his phone and occasionally snorts at the tv. To all the world, they give the appearance of two awkward acquaintances waiting for a mutual friend to return and rescue them. If only.

Her foot starts to kick at the bottom of the couch the longer she has to wait. This week’s sleepover had been planned last minute, so Lena had no way of knowing when Webby would be returning or if tonight’s visit would be worth it. The only thing Lena really has going for her right now is that Magica isn’t leering over her shoulder for once. Little victories.

“So,” Louie glances up from his phone, eyeing her with an expression Lena can’t place. “You and Webby, huh?”

Lena’s heart stops beating in her chest.

All at once, the world seems to stop spinning, leaving Lena to grasp with full force to stop at the edges of the couch so she doesn’t go flying into orbit. 

He knows, she doesn’t know how he knows, but he  knows. Meaning if Louie had figured her out, it was only a matter of time until the others did as well.

The swell of panic that surges up her throat tempts Lena to shoot to her feet right then and there, but she swallows the feeling as well as she can and forces herself to act nonchalant. 

“Yeah? We’re friends, what about it?”

Louie shrugs, looking about as relaxed as Lena wishes she could feel right now. “Dunno, you two just seem close is all, wanted to know how that was going.”

Impossibly, he manages to sink lower into the couch. One arm has disappeared completely between the cushions, so only his hand sticks out, while the other is strewn across his stomach. He glances over at her, eyebrows raised, then looks back at the tv.

“Isn’t that how best friends are supposed to be?” It’s almost an honest question, neither her nor Webby had much experience in the ‘friendship’ category. For all Lena knew, they were doing this all wrong. 

“It’s weird, I guess, Webby didn’t know many people until recently, you know?”

She did, a bit. Webby didn’t bring it up much, but she had mentioned her isolation in the mansion before. Until Huey, Dewey, and Louie came along, she hadn’t left the mansion. Ever. She was like her very own Rapunzel, sitting up in her tower, with a grappling hook in place of yards and yards of golden locks. 

Not that Webby needed a prince to come rescue her. Chances were, she would leap out of the tower and figure out a plan on the way down. 

Louie goes on, eyes narrowing as he stares Lena down. “Look out for her, all right? Webby’s smart, but she’s still getting her land legs,” he leans closer, “I don’t want her trusting the wrong people.”

Ice creeps along Lena’s veins as Louie holds her gaze. She suddenly feels much smaller than she ever has before. If Magica were around, Lena had the feeling she would say to cut Louie out of the picture before he could rat her out to the rest of the family. But as it is, she stands firm and stares right back.

A beat passes, Louie softens. 

He leans back again, still watching her, then takes a long sip off his pep. After he swallows, he opens his bill again and sighs.

“Keep an eye on her. Webby really likes you, so, if she trusts you...so do I. “ His tone gets stern again, “don’t break that.”

The ice in her blood slowly begins to thaw as he speaks. Louie doesn’t suspect her, not yet. He’s just a brother looking out for his newly deemed sister. That, she can work with. 

Lena lets out a sigh of relief and nods. 

“I’ll guard it with my life.” 

As they fall back into a more comfortable silence, Lena leans into the cushions and smiles. She may not be able to trust Louie Duck, but she can respect him. Anyone willing to look out for their family like that is okay in her book. If the roles were reversed, she likes to think she would do the same.

She smiles.

Maybe, when Magica finally exacts her revenge, Lena can convince her to spare Louie, too.

[incensuous]

fuyumi’s prince

fandom(s); bnha. i still continue to not go here character(s): the todosibs. dabi & fuyumi & natsuo & shouto. fuyumi and dabi are twins. mostly revolving around the todobros’ relationship with fuyumi more than each other rating: gen words: 2872

i ship them but this can be read either way, shippy or gen. i just wanted to write an indulgent fic of fuyumi being doted on because that’s what she DESERVES.

the todoroki brothers argue who fuyumi loves the most. 

read on AO3

“Who gets to be the knight today?”

“It should be Yumi’s favorite brother.”

“What?” Natsuo balks, as he stares at his older brother. “You? Says who?” 

“Says me. I’m obviously Yumi’s favorite,” Touya shrugs, completely unaffected by Natsuo’s anger. When Natsuo continues to glower at him, Touya gives him a pointed look. “Come on, I’m her twin, Natsu. Twins are super special. I’ve known her the longest too.”

Natsuo gracefully responds with a fat raspberry. “No way, Nii-san. Just because you were born with her doesn’t make you that special. I make her laugh the most. And for being her twin, you barely even look like her. I look more like Yumi-nee.”

“I warm her up when she’s too cold, and she cools me down when I’m too hot,” Touya retorts. “We balance each other out, because we’re special twins.”

Shouto, for once, is able to join them, considering their father is away for the day. He peers into the living room from the doorway, drawn to the noise of them bickering. He is not exactly sure what his brothers are arguing about, but he doesn’t like feeling left out nor the thought of Fuyumi liking his brothers more than him. 

He clambers closer and pipes up, “Nee-san always calls me her baby brother. And she kisses me good night and good morning.” He ponders in what other ways Fuyumi has shown her favor towards him, but he can’t come up with them.

Natsuo pouts, crossing his arms. “Yumi-nee calls me her baby brother too!” He’d protest when Fuyumi called him that, but it didn’t mean he didn’t like it. 

“What’s going on?”

The brothers swivel their head to the newcomer, the person in question herself. They all ask at once:

“Yumi--”

“Yumi-nee--”

“Nee-san--”

“I’m your favorite, right?”

Fuyumi blinks as the three of them begin to bicker amongst themselves, listing off the miscellaneous reasons why Fuyumi would favor them the most, not even letting her respond. 

She gently sighs and links her arms through Touya and Natsuo’s, then takes Shouto’s little hand, making them all sit on the living room floor. 

“You’re all my brothers, you’re all my favorite people in the world,” Fuyumi states firmly. 

“But you can only marry one of us,” Natsuo declares. 

She blinks, taking a moment to process what he’d just said. “Marry?”

“Yeah, you marry the person you love the most, right?” Natsuo demands, obstinately. 

Shouto hadn’t known this was part of the debate but he thinks he would, in fact, like that. He stares up at his sister, intently. 

Fuyumi gapes, trying to find the words, before sighing and laughing. “Touya, Natsu, Shou--we can’t get married. Brothers and sisters don’t get married.”

Shouto furrows his brows. “Then who are you gonna marry, Nee-san?” He doesn’t want to think about some stranger marrying her--even worse, he doesn’t want anyone like their father marrying her. 

She blushes now. “N-no, it’s too early for that, Shou.” She smooths his hair away from his eyes, and cups his rounded cheek. “You don’t have to worry about it, okay?”

Touya butts in, angrily. “I don’t care if we can’t. What if…” He trails off, glowering--not at her, but with indignation at the idea someone was going to stop him from protecting his own twin sister from the evil clutches of marriage. They all know what he means. 

What if Fuyumi goes the path of their mother, married off to a monster of a husband?

Fuyumi breaks into a watery smile, feeling warmed and a little bittersweet. She stares at their small, concerned faces, and assures them, “I can take care of myself.”

“We’re your brothers, we have to protect you too, though,” Natsuo frowns, scooting closer. 

Fuyumi wraps her arms around all three of them, squishing Shouto in the middle. He whines faintly for a moment but then settles easily, leaning closer to his sister. “Thank you,” she whispers.

  Even though Fuyumi insisted she loved them all the same, Touya had suggested a race to decide who would play Fuyumi’s knight. 

Shouto doesn’t want to complain, but he thinks it’s quite unfair, considering he’s so much younger than his brothers. His little legs wouldn’t be able to win against theirs. Neither of them seem to care about this injustice, so when Fuyumi counts them off, Touya and Natsuo promptly slip on their asses, while Shouto shuffles his way to victory.

He turns around with a small grin. “You never said we couldn’t use our quirks.”

Touya and Natsuo refuse to admit defeat but laughter gets the best of them and they let Shouto be the prince… again.

---

It’s strange, having his long-lost sibling seemingly come back to life, and now, Dabi himself is sitting on the couch of their new house with them.  

A wayward childhood memory comes to Shouto, as the three brothers awkwardly watch some movie of a princess being saved by a prince. 

“Hey, remember how we decided I was Nee-san’s favorite?”

The other two immediately turn their heads to look at him with raised, incredulous eyebrows. 

“You’re kidding, right?”

“First of all, you cheated, kiddo. Also, I repeat--I’m her twin,” Dabi drawls and rolls his eyes. 

 “Yeah, well, who Facetimes her every night?” Natsuo counters, from the middle. 

Shouto is surprised. He knows Fuyumi and Natsuo are a bit closer than the rest of them, due to the unfortunate Todoroki family dynamics, but he had no idea they talked every night. He finds himself feeling guilty, considering he only briefly texts Fuyumi on occasion, and usually only in reply. 

He wants to add to the debate of Fuyumi’s favoritism, but unfortunately he can’t think of a proper reason why Fuyumi would love him the most. 

“Eh, Shouto really is Yumi-nee’s baby after all.”

Shouto raises an eyebrow. Is that meant to be insulting?

Dabi glances over. “You’re right.” 

“What do you mean?”

His two older brothers stare at him. “You really don’t remember?”

He shakes his head, not sure what he’s supposed to be remembering. 

“She spoiled you,” Natsuo explains, on the verge of jealousy. “I mean, she doted on all of us. But she always brought you extra snacks, would save her own to make sure you had some. Probably because Dad didn’t let you have any. She’d risk sneaking into your room, to read to you, hold you until you fell asleep and would sneak back. She never told you no. You were definitely her baby.”

“Well,” Dabi shrugs, “even if you don’t remember it, she was definitely your favorite at least. You liked her best.”

Natsuo nods. “You always wanted her around, followed her everywhere too. Like a little duck,” he snorts.

The door timely opens and Fuyumi comes through, hauling heavy grocery bags, then pauses when she catches sight of three pouting brothers, sitting in line on the couch, watching the television in silence. 

Natsuo dramatically hops to his feet, rushing over to her. “Here, let me get the groceries for you, Yumi-nee!” He tilts his head towards his brothers just long enough to give them a shit-eating grin. “You just go sit down, I got dinner from here.”

Fuyumi raises an eyebrow. It’s true Natsuo had started to improve his culinary skills once moving out and beginning college, with her constant coaching over the phone. But regardless, Fuyumi did enjoy cooking and Natsuo wholeheartedly admitted he’d missed her food, whining occasionally for her to make his favorites. 

“Okay…?” She blinks at Natsuo, who scoops up all the groceries effortlessly into his broad arms. While Fuyumi is caught off-guard, she sees no reason to stop him. She takes off her shoes and heads to the living room couch, only to find their other brothers staring at Natsuo in shock and… anger? 

Fuyumi furrows her brow and looks closer. Yup, Dabi and Shouto are definitely giving Natsuo the stink eye right now. 

“Are you guys okay?” she hedges. 

Their attention snaps to her. They assure her nothing is awry, before she plops down in between, taking Natsuo’s vacated seat. 

“Let me know if you need help, okay, Natsu?” she calls. 

“Don’t worry about it, Yumi-nee~” he singsongs, confusing Fuyumi further. 

The Todorokis are hardly a normal bunch, but they were acting particularly weird today. 

Dabi leans over, throwing his arm around her shoulder. “How was your day, Yumi? The whelps giving you trouble?”

Fuyumi shoots him a strange look, which he pointedly ignores. Dabi asking about her day isn’t completely odd, but the way he asks feels… intentional. Still, since coming back into their lives, some things had come easier than others, and she appreciates him making an effort for her. 

“Uh, fine,” she manages, leaning into Dabi’s familiar warm side, resting her head against his shoulder without even thinking of it. It reminds her of when they were kids. “No one misbehaved too badly. Nothing I couldn’t handle at least, after years of dealing with you three,” she snorts.

“Was I that bad?” Shouto pipes up. 

Fuyumi laughs softly. “No, Shou, you were fine. You had your moments,” she gives him a pointed stare, “but you were the most quiet, for sure.” She pats his hand fondly. When she moves her hand away, Shouto instead grabs it and holds it gently with his. 

Fuyumi raises her eyebrows. Her youngest brother isn’t normally so touchy--most of them aren’t really, not in their household--but she appreciates it, and gives him a small squeeze in return. 

Shouto, above their sister’s head, gives Dabi a tiny smirk. 

Dabi’s eye twitches, but before he can make any more conversation, Fuyumi announces she’s going to get changed. 

As soon as the door of her room closes, Dabi stands and rounds on Natsuo. “Move aside, ass-kisser, I’ll help.”

“Hey,” Natsuo protests. “I’m just doing what Yumi-nee’s favorite brother would do, aniki.”

“Besides, weren’t you banned from cooking after you burned half the kitchen? …Without your quirk?” Shouto enters behind Dabi. 

“Hey!” Dabi barks. “That was a long time ago.”

“Did you become a chef with the League of Villains then?” Natsuo sneers. 

“Uh… what’s going on?” Fuyumi stands at the threshold in a plain t-shirt and shorts, puzzled over why their small kitchen is being crowded in with all three of her brothers. 

“Nothing,” the three chorus, turning around. Fuyumi can practically see the fraudulent halos over their heads. 

“Yumi, let me give you a massage, just like old times. Like I did all the time, when we were kids,” Dabi offers, smirking at his brothers. 

He’s about to lead her away, when Shouto grabs Fuyumi’s hand. “Let me do it,” he insists. “My quirk is perfect for it, anyways, right?”

Natsuo does snort at that. “When did Shouto start telling jokes?”

Dabi relents, with a small smile. “Alright, Icy-Hot brat. Go ahead.”

Shouto leads his sister back to the couch, where he stands behind her and places his hands, one hot and one cold as always, on her shoulders.

“Thank you, Shou,” she sighs, leaning back. “You really don’t have to, you know.”

“It’s the least I can do, Nee-san,” Shouto assures her. “Your shoulders must be pretty sore, from carrying our entire family on your back.”

Dabi lets out a sharp laugh. “Ain’t that the truth.” 

  Dinner goes well. Natsuo makes a rather good okonomiyaki, and Fuyumi compliments his progress. He beams. 

The four of them meander their way back to the living room, and it’s clear Fuyumi couldn’t be any happier, with the four of them spending time together. 

Just as Natsuo enthusiastically suggests a video game, Dabi rises to his feet. “I’ll join the next round. I’ll be right back,” he assures them, flippantly, sauntering out the door. 

Fuyumi frowns, worried, but Shouto and Natsuo simply shrug. They trust Dabi to handle himself, whatever business he is attending to. 

Natsuo had just claimed sweet victory, ready to gloat in his siblings’ faces, when the door clicked back open. 

Dabi shuffles into the entryway and when he meets all their expectant gazes, he awkwardly offers, after a beat, “I’m back.” It isn’t a tradition he’s used to doing, not since he’d left. 

“Welcome back,” Fuyumi readily replies. 

Dabi lifts up the small plastic bag. “Dessert,” he says, by way of explanation. 

Fuyumi’s eyes sparkle as he hands her a familiar frozen carton. “Matcha?” she squeals. 

The corner of his scarred lips quirk up. “Of course.”

“I’ll get the spoons,” she announces, setting the ice cream on the coffee table and dashing off to the kitchen. 

Instead of a glare, Natsuo simply eyes his older brother carefully. 

“What?” Dabi grunts, plopping down on the couch. 

“Nothing,” Natsuo grins. “Just surprised you remembered her favorite, after all this time.”

Fuyumi returns and doles out the utensils, then the four of them indulge in eating straight from the tub, something they never were able to do as children. 

“Ugh, brain freeze,” Natsuo whines, as he flops backwards onto the couch in his anguish. 

“Can’t relate,” Shouto shrugs, after taking another spoonful of ice cream. 

“Shut it, Shou.”

Fuyumi laughs, leaning back, her shoulder pressed against Natsuo’s. 

“Now, today was a great day,” she sighs, contentedly, before frowning slightly, eyeing all three of her brothers. “But, you guys gotta spill. What the heck have you been up to?” 

They freeze, making eye contact with each other. 

“Someone’s gotta talk,” Fuyumi presses. “Did one of you break something? Is there a dead body?”

“Come on, Yumi-nee,” Natsuo lifts his head. “Can’t we just want to be nice to our best sister?”

She rolls her eyes. “Spill.”

Shouto is the one who comes clean, sheepishly. “We… were trying to see who was your favorite brother, Nee-san.”

Fuyumi blinks. “What?”

Dabi chuckles. “Me and Natsu couldn’t let it go, I guess, since Shouto cheated when we were kids.”

Fuyumi stares at him blankly for a few moments, before the words click and the memory comes back together. 

“Oh gosh, that day you guys fought over who would get to be the prince?”

“Your prince,” Natsu corrects her. 

She slowly dissolves into laughter, holding her stomach. “Is that all? You guys already know the answer. You’re all my favorite.”

“Just like how Dad doesn’t have a favorite?” Natsuo rolls his eyes. Fuyumi smacks his arm and he winces. “Okay, that was my bad.”

“I’m serious,” Fuyumi tells them earnestly. “You guys know me better than that.”

“Yeah,” Dabi nods, with a slight smile. “We do.”

They spend the rest of the night playing video games and watching a few bad television shows, laughter flowing freely between them. The living room feels warm and soft, and the sofa is maybe a little too small for all four siblings, but it’s everything Fuyumi had dreamt of for years.

Towards midnight, Dabi feels a familiar weight on his shoulder. Unsurprisingly, he finds Fuyumi fast asleep, pressed into his side, and the sight reminds him of the few soft memories he still had. 

He shifts, moving to lift her. “Alright, brats, I think it’s Yumi’s bedtime.”

Natsuo and Shouto scoot out of his way as he carries their sister to her bedroom. 

With more care than he’d done anything in a long time, he sets Fuyumi on her bed, gingerly removing her glasses and pulling the covers over her. He stares at her sleeping face for a few moments, and just as he’s about to leave, he feels her small hand tug at his shirt. 

Her bleary eyes squint up at him in the darkness. “Touya, please don’t leave.”

His heart breaks a little more. “I’m not going anywhere, Yumi. Not tonight.”

She doesn’t let go. “No, I mean…” He thinks she might be blushing. “Will you sleep with me? All of you guys, just like old times?”

For one brief moment, Dabi is about to protest it would be cramped, even in her queen-sized bed--especially with how big Natsuo has grown--but this is his Fuyumi, and after all she’s done, this is quite honestly the least he can do. 

He simply nods, and then proceeds to retrieve their brothers, who follow him without question or complaint. 

They dogpile into her bed, half on top of one another, and yet Fuyumi lets out the happiest sigh, as she’s squeezed into the middle with Shouto. She nuzzles Shouto close, grabs Natsuo’s hand, and leans back into Dabi. 

Yawning, Fuyumi murmurs softly, “Love you guys. Good night.”

[secret-engima]

It's gonna be interesting to see Lucis's reaction to the existence of the second Prince.

OH IS IT EVER.

-Meltdown just about covers it, but not quite. Like- not only is this a second prince, but he’s OLDER than Noctis by a good seven years. Ignoring the media for just a sec (though OH BOY THE MEDIA) the MOOGLENET (or whatever the FFXV version of the internet is) is gonna have a collective heart attack. Some people are gonna be joining on the media boat of questioning Regis for having a son out of wedlock (and if he still has Nox’s mother in hiding somewhere as a mistress) but others are going to be harping on Nox himself. Like- the theories get WILD. How did Regis’s agents not find him until he was 15+? How strong is his magic? Why does he wear long sleeves in every (rare) photo or video and why are his photos and videos so rare? Where was his mother from? Was she even Lucian?

-Top theories on those are that either his mother/mother’s family HID him from Regis’s agents or he was living in another country until recently (considering the only other “countries” right now are all under Niflheim’s thumb, this immediately spawns the theories that he’s a double agent for the Empire or he was tortured by them and escaped, which would explain the long sleeves). Other theories for the long sleeves is he’s hiding tattoos that would shame the royal family (he already has long hair and strange taste in earrings after all). Maybe Regis is hiding him from the public eye because he’s ashamed of his illegitimate child, or maybe there’s something wrong with him (people who go with the “tortured and escaped the Empire theory assume he has mental issues on top of scars). A really popular theory for his mother was that she was from Niflheim, possibly a Nif agent there to get the royal bloodline in Nif hands, until someone dug up a picture of him hanging out with the glaives and someone else (probably a Galahdian tbh) did a breakdown on how the single braid visible in all of Nox’s photos is a Galahdian braid, which immediately makes the theory that his mom was Galadhian way more popular (there’s also a niche theory that he’s the kid of Queen Sylva and Regis and that Slyva had been hiding him in Tenebrae until recently, but few people subscribe to that one).

-And let’s not forget the DRAMA the mooglenet is waiting breathlessly for the moment his existence is known. I mean- think about it. Much older illegitimate prince with possible scars, mental issues or enemy agent mom suddenly gets found and taken into the Citadel and named the second prince? A lessor inheritor even though he’s older than the Crown Prince by seven-ish years? If this was a drama show, then Regis would end up assassinated by the long-lost son he foolishly took in and Noctis would either die or disappear mysteriously and Nox would suddenly be the only LC left to take up the throne (and possibly turn it over to the Empire if you’re one of the theorists on the “was born and raised in Niflheim and is their double agent” boat). Like- you KNOW that is how the plot would go, and so does all of the mooglenet, who await the descent of their kingdom into Game of Thrones intrigue and murder with baited breath and much frantic typing.

-But those are mostly Insomnian mooglenet users. No, the ones who live out in the wilder areas, the small towns and the outposts where Hunters often come through have a different kind of meltdown that mostly comprises of “hgdgfd that guy who saved me from monsters/daemons/nifs was WHO????” or “That’s my regular non-regular. He and his weirdo Uncle stop by my ramen stand whenever they’re in and bicker over the best toppings. ACTUAL ROYALTY likes my ramen WHAT IN THE WORLD-” or, arguably the funniest one, “HGFGFHGFD THE DRIFTER I REGULARLY HIRE TO DO RANDOM CHORES IS THE PRINCE. OF. LUCIS?? THE KIDDO WHO DRESSES LIKE A HOBO AND TAGS ALONG WITH AN EVEN MORE HOBO UNCLE IS ROYALTY???? I SENT ROYALTY TO COLLECT MY BEAN CROPS??????”

-Basically while all of Insomnia is wary and confused by Nox’s existence, the rest of Lucis is collectively losing their minds because, you know, Nox has helped out his people where he can, which means he has ABSOLUTELY done all those random side-quests where you harvest somebody’s crop or look for a lost shipment or go out and fight HORRIBLE MONSTERS so bring back some of their parts that you need for your dinky little weapon’s shop. Like- everybody thought they were the only ones who got helped out by this random drifter kid, but then THIS happens and the mooglenet explodes with stories from ALL OVER FLIPPING LUCIS of this kid dropping everything to like- help a researching find certain colored frogs or something in exchange for trinkets and petty gil and shop discounts and the occasional potion.

-While Insomnia is busy prepping their Game of Thrones style fanfic and the tabloids are speculating on the mental (in)stability and bloodline of the “brooding illegitimate prince, no doubt embittered over his early life and eyeing the little brother keeping him from the throne”, the rest of Lucis are basically melting into puddles of shock, confusion, and adoration for the royalty that would drop everything to help out random citizens. Care packages start showing up from all corners of Lucis to thank their prince, and after they’re cleared by security, Nox opens them all. And writes thank you cards. Personalized thank you cards that often reference some individual event or factoid of the person/people it comes from (thing’s like, “I hope your ankle is doing better”, or “tell your wife thank you for the knitted socks, they’re very warm and she didn’t have to make them for me, I know wool is expensive in your area”, or “sorry I won’t be around to deliver your next batch of spiracorn tails, my father doesn’t want me going on Hunts right now for whatever reason”) and this proof that he REMEMBERS and STILL CARES just makes them love him more.

-Also there’s this music-based drabble thing I’m working on that happens JUST as the mooglenet/media is starting to calm down and THAT sets everything off again with even more screaming and confusion and Insomnians going “I’M SORRY WHAT????” while the rural Lucians just go “ahh. Ah yes that explains it. That’s our little Drifter.”

-Regis is torn between being Responsible About Security and wanting the Hilarity Factor of letting Nox have a social media account. Like- his son hates public appearances of any kind and he respects that (barring the few mandatory noble balls), but Regis can just imagine the utter chaos Nox would unleash if anyone ever let him have a Twitter account and it’s .... tempting. The nobles haven’t been this off balance in years and for all some (a lot) of the tabloids and media commentators are annoying in their harping and gossip, the collective brain-melt Nox keeps triggering in the collective public/nobles/Council/media is HYSTERICAL.

-Nyx, snickering, announces one day that Nox has fanfiction about him. Like- A LOT of it. He is reigns over a thriving chunk of the Real Person fandom, almost all of which is massively OOC and either filled with political intrigue and assassinations (and sordid badly written romance) or just straight up AUs (vampire/werewolf/supernatural Nox is a stunningly popular AU as is the Usuper Dystopia AU). Nox is morbidly curious but refuses to actually read any of it for fear of losing his mind (she doesn’t tell him about the very fierce Shipping Wars that have broken out, or the fact that most of those Shipping Wars are over various popular celebrities Nox has never met, Noble Daughters he’s met and despised, and Aranea Highwind, who is on the list solely because she’s a famous female Nif officer and the Nif!Nox theory is very popular).

-There would be a segment of that fandom dedicated to works from the common folk who’ve actually met him, but for that part of the population it’s more popular to share various stories about how they met the then-unknown prince for real and how he either helped them or was adorably awkward over something (there is a magazine anthology of those stories, released monthly and very popular out in Lucis proper, Cindy has a subscription that Cid refuses to admit he reads).

-The fandom/theorists even stretch into Altissia and Niflheim. If ANYONE asked, Loqi would refuse to admit, on pain of DEATH, that he is the author of That One Fic everyone knows about/favs/follows/fanarts that features a Nox/Aranea ship, the now ex-Chancellor as Nox’s maternal uncle, and a SCARY in-depth knowledge/breakdown of both Niflheim and Lucian politics (in the context of Nox and Aranea navigating them, surprisingly this is the one Super Popular Nox-Nea fic that DOES NOT feature a Double Agent!Nox).

-The only reason Ardyn does not contribute to the rumors/fanfics/theories is because he doesn’t Understand How the Mooglenet Works™. He has, however, gleefully listened to some of the glaives read Loqi’s That One Super Popular Nif-Written Fic and smirked to himself over how it is so OBVIOUS who the author is, and pleased that Loqi the author is actually tasteful in his courtship subplot and shipping habits.

[heavenly-roman]

Death Of A Hero

Plot: “This is not how Virgil would’ve liked to spend his Saturday night, but such is the life of a vigilante, unfortunately.”

Warnings: !! Major Character Death !!, blood, injury, guns, mentions of a robbery, police officers, mentions of paramedics, crying, swearing

Pairing(s): prinxiety

Word Count: 1779

if you like this, consider buying me a coffee?

Taglist: @emo-disaster

(ao3 link!!!)

im also tagging @prinssess61 because u requested this a long time ago and I finally got around to it!! (thank u for your patience!!)

+++

This is not how Virgil would’ve liked to spend his Saturday night, but such is the life of a vigilante, unfortunately.

“Put the weapon down,” Virgil commands calmly, commending himself for not letting his fear show in his voice. He adjusts his grip on his bow and arrow, using it to gesture to the ground. He feels his smirk grow as the perps eyes widen and his hands fly up, slowly lowering his gun to the ground. His smirk falters, however, when he realizes it’s not because of himself, but because of him .

Officer Prince stands beside him, his gun pointed at the robber. His face is stern, focused, and it takes Virgil a second to realize that he’s talking to him.

“-seriously, Storm, this is dangerous , why are you even here?” Prince asks, and Virgil scoffs.

“Are you kidding me? The city is in danger and I’m here to stop it, Detective Dipshit.”

“That’s what the police are for, Emo Hawkeye,” the officer retorts.

“And let everyone get killed before you dumbasses get here? I don’t think so, Bitch with a Badge.” Virgil moves towards the robber, before looking back and realizing the cop wasn’t following him. He rolls his eyes, asking, “Are you going to arrest him, or do I have to do everything myself?”

Prince shakes his head fondly, “Uh, yeah, I should… do that.”

Virgil gives him a look, one that he hopes conveys no shit . Rolling his eyes again, he lowers his weapon as the officer cuffs the robber. The vigilante waits for him to finish his task and sit the criminal down, and then proceeds to lean his elbow on the shorter man’s shoulder. “So, feel bad that I did your job for you again?”

“Hardly,” Prince shoves Virgil’s elbow off of him. “Now, I’d love to stay and chat, but I have a job to do.” Virgil raises an eyebrow. “You mean the job I just did?”

“No, Robert Downer Jr., the paperwork and the putting-the-bad-guy-in-jail job,” Prince scoffs.

“You’re really loving the marvel nicknames today, aren’t you, Inspector Clueless?”

“You’re trying to be a superhero, so you get superhero nicknames,” the cop shrugs.

“I’m a vigilante, big difference.” “Sure there is, Superman.”

“Don’t you have a job to do?”

“Thought you already did it for me?” Prince’s satisfied smirk makes its way onto his face, causing Virgil to groan. Prince starts walking towards a group of approaching officers, clearly proud of himself, when Virgil speaks without thinking.

“Wait,” He calls, jogging to catch up, occasionally looking back at the perp to insure he’s still there. At Prince’s raised eyebrow, he continues. “I, uh, wanted to know if… okay, look this is really weird for me, I don’t even know if you’re gay, I-”

“Yes, I’ll go out with you, Storm.” Prince interrupts.

“Really?” Virgil’s shocked look earns a chuckle from Prince, which in turn makes Virgil pout. “Don’t laugh at me, Prince.”

“Roman.”

“Roman?” The name feels strange on his tongue, but it’s the right kind of odd.

“That’s my name. Figured you should know it if we’re going on a date,” Roman shrugs. “And yours?”

“Not so fast, Roman, I like to take things slow.” he slings his arm around Roman’s shoulders. “ Real slow.”

“So that means you’re not taking off your mask anytime soon?” the officer asks, once again removing Virgil’s arm from his body.

“Not in your wildest dreams, Princey,” Virgil laughs. He moves towards the robber, intending to bring him to the nearest cop car, when he hears a shout and a loud bang.

“Storm, look out!”

In a flash, Virgil finds himself on the ground, and with a heavily breathing Roman on top of him. Virgil teases, “Woah, Roman, on top of me before the first date? I thought I said I took things slowly.”

Roman lets out a humourless chuckle, “Yeah, uh, sorry, I just- you were almost shot.”

Virgil’s eyes widen, and he whips his head to the side, surprised to see a second and third robber running from the onslaught of officers. Pushing Roman off of him, Virgil jumps into action, pointing his bow and arrow at one of the criminals. “Drop your weapon, hands on your head.” The criminal scoffs before freezing, feeling Roman’s gun at the back of his head. “He said,” Roman coughs out. Virgil thinks he must’ve hit the ground too hard and knocked the wind out of himself. “To drop the gun.”

Letting the gun fall, the criminal drops to his knees while Roman signals another officer to cuff him. Virgil peers around the corner to see the third perp flat on the ground, his hands roughly being moved to the small of his back. Turning back around, all the blood drains from his face when he sees Roman leaning against a wall, face devoid of colour, and a blank look in his eyes. His vision trails down to Roman’s torso, where his hand is pressing into his side, and his shirt is covered in blood.

Approaching quickly, Virgil sucks in a sharp breath at Roman’s clearly laboured breathing. Rapid fire, he spits out his immediate questions. “Roman, when did this happen? Are you okay? Have you called for a medic?”

Roman slides down the wall, only minorly wincing when his shirt catches on the wall and rubs against his wound. His breathing slows, and Virgil can’t tell if it’s a good thing or not. Roman speaks quietly, “Ambulance has been called, no need to worry.”

“When did this happen?” Asks Virgil, crouching down to examine Roman’s side.

“Remember that time when you almost got shot?”

Virgil pauses his actions and frowns. “Are you telling me that-”

“I got shot while protecting a civilian? Yes, I did.”

“Roman-”

“I’m serious, no matter how much you try to be a superhero-” Roman shifts, leaning more of his back against the wall. He breathes deeply, and, to his credit, barely makes a face of pain whilst he does so. “No matter how much you try to be a superhero, you’re not. You’re a civilian, and I’m a police officer. I’ll get a shiny badge for this, whereas you’d just get hospital bills.”

“I don’t like that you did this for me,” Virgil admits. His voice is small, and if he were someone else, he would admit to the few tears running down his cheeks. He moves to add pressure to Roman’s side, quietly apologizing when he hisses. “I know you would’ve done it for anyone, but you should’ve… you should’ve let me take it.”

“Yeah, fat chance, Panic! At The Everywhere. No way I’m letting you get shot because you have some ego to protect,” Roman rolls his eyes, and Virgil sees a stray tear before Roman wipes it away and plasters on his false bravado.

“Virgil.” “Virgil?”

“That’s my name. Figured you should know it if we’re going on a date,” Virgil shrugs.

“Or if I’m dying in your arms,” Roman responds, laughing to himself, which then morphs into a cough. He pulls his hand away, dramatically motioning to the blood on his palm. “It’s like all of those murder mystery movies, where the host coughs into their handkerchief and then they pull it away to reveal blood.”

“Figures you’d watch those movies. And you’re not dying in my arms, Roman.”

“You’re right,” Roman moves himself to lay in Virgil’s lap. With some strain, he pulls one of  Virgil’s arms around his waist. “ Now I’m dying in your arms.”

“Roman, goddammit, this is not something to joke about!” Virgil cries. He presses down on the wound again, making the man in his lap groan in pain. He pulls his mask off, attempting to use it as a tourniquet. He pretends to ignore Roman staring at his face. “Fuck, shit, fuck, I have to do something , you’re dying because of me -”

“Virgil,” Roman coughs. He reaches up and wipes the free flowing tears from Virgil’s face. “It’s okay, there’s nothing you can do.”

“There- There should be something, I-”

“Hey, gorgeous, look at me,” Roman smiles weakly. “You can do something, okay? I’ll give you something to do to help.”

“Please,” whimpers Virgil.

“Just-” Roman’s coughs are hacking now, and despite the blood dripping down his chin, Virgil can’t help but realize how truly beautiful this man is. “Just hold me.”

Virgil nods, cradling the man who saved his life . He lets out a soft, “yeah?” when Roman says his name again.

Roman smiles weakly. “Sing to me?”

“Okay,” Virgil whispers. He sings the first song that comes to mind. “ That night I put my youth in a casket, and buried it inside of me. That night I saw through all the magic, now I'm a witness to the death of a hero .”

“Your voice is soothing, it’s nice,” Roman mutters. He closes his eyes and hums along with Virgil’s singing.

“ I burned all the pictures in the attic, and threw away the magazines. That night I saw through all the magic, now I’m a witness to the death of a hero .”

Roman’s face goes slack, and Virgil panics. “Roman, wake up, please , this isn’t funny, wake up Roman, wake up !” he slaps Roman’s cheek, but he doesn’t stir.

Virgil is sobbing now, clutching onto Roman’s limp body like a lifeline. He’s getting blood all over himself, it’s sticky and warm, but it’s Roman’s, and so he’ll suffer. Violent thoughts dance through his mind, mostly of revenge on the asshole who shot at him, but he ignores them in favour of petting Roman’s hair.

Eventually, the paramedics - when did they get here? - tell him to step aside, and that they need access to the body. Virgil wants to scream at them, how dare they show up too late, and then refer to Roman as just a body ? He refrains, however, and asks for just one more minute with him, please. They oblige, although begrudgingly, and leave him be.

The only thing Virgil can think to do is to sing.

“ The death of a hero, he couldn't be saved, now I'm cutting the grass and I'll cover his grave. I'll cover his grave. The death of a hero, I'm turning the page, now I'm cutting the grass and I’ll cover his grave. I'll cover his grave.

That night I put my youth in a casket and buried it inside of me. That night I saw through all the magic, now I'm a witness to the death of a hero. I burned all the pictures in the attic, and threw away the magazines. That night I saw through all the magic, and now I'm a witness to the death of a hero .”