#i tend to play burning blooms with that lighting and while it does the job admirably well

[hzdtrees]

Fire-touched

[feelin-woozy]

Title: With Teeth

Word Count: 1,808

Pairing: Bo Sinclair / Reader

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader

[ Ao3 Link | Next ]

1977

You were a stubborn child. If there was trouble to be found, it was probable that you had a hand in either creating it or seeking it out. Bo Sinclair wasn’t an exception to this. Bo was the kind of child that parents ushered their young away from, voices dropping to a quiet hush as they told them, ‘no, you can’t play with him.’ The warnings never stopped you.

You never really knew why, only ever hearing fragments of conversations of adults around you. They spoke with contempt dripping from each word as they detailed how he was trouble, how he would be a bad influence, and why couldn’t he be more like his brother? But you didn’t mind. You liked trouble, and besides, you weren’t afraid of Bo like all the other kids were. Even with all his jagged edges and mean looks, you didn’t know any better because to you, he was just Bo.

Even when he pushed you to the ground, blue eyes shining with that mean look and something you think was amusement as your own eyes welled with tears and your freshly scraped knees stung. You weren’t afraid. You didn’t stop playing with him even when he stuck gum in your hair, and your mother had to cut it out. But you remember her scolding you, speaking in that same voice you heard other adults speak in, telling you that ‘There’s something wicked about that boy.’

For every time he pushed you down, there would be a time that you stuck your foot out as he ran by. While those mean blue eyes never glistened with tears, the shock was apparent as he dusted the dirt off himself and pulled himself together. And then there was the time you put glue on his seat during class. No one knew it was you, but Bo never put gum in your hair again after that.

1986

Things didn’t change all that much as you got older. Bo was still a boy with jagged edges that, if you weren’t careful with, they’d cut you to the bone. But he didn’t push you to the ground anymore or try to stick gum in your hair like when you were kids. It didn’t mean that he was any less aggressive than when you were kids; if anything, it has crossed the threshold from aggressive to violent. It wasn’t directed at you anymore though, it had shifted to those around you. After all, you were the only one not afraid to clean the drying blood that caked his freshly split lip or to tend to purples and greens that would bloom over knuckles. Save for his brothers, but even then, sometimes they didn’t fare so well either.

A warm breeze rustles the trees as rays of sunshine peek through the thick canopy of leaves overhead. The July heat was unrelenting. It didn’t matter where you were in Ambrose; you always felt like you were melting. Still, Bo didn’t forgo his long sleeve button down. You didn’t blame him, nor did you comment on it. Some things were just better left unsaid. At least away from the town and deep in the forest, the two of you could forget about what happened within the sleepy town, even for half a day.

Bo winces as you dab gently at the wound on his lip, but he doesn’t draw back or pitch a fit. He sits there in silence, watching you carefully as if expecting you to salt the wound. You don’t. You know better than to make a scene of this. This, whatever this was, was a part of Bo, and you had come to accept that. Though you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about leaning in and pressing your lips to his, trying to chase the thoughts of what he might taste like. You quickly shake the thought away, it was unwise to linger on such a thought.

You drawback and toss the rust-stained napkin to the ground before getting to your feet. Bo watches as you move away, moving towards your beat up school bag where you grab two beers. Beads of icy sweat drip down from the bottle and onto your hands; it’s the only reprieve you have in the hot Louisiana heat.

When you turn to face Bo again, he’s leaning back against the thick tree trunk, shadows dancing over his face. You move towards him, twigs snapping below your step as you hand him the bottles without a word, and he works quickly, using his lighter to open each bottle. The cap flies off with a hiss, joining the other caps that decorate the forest floor. Some from you two and some from other teens who took sanctuary within the forest as well.

“Your pa’s gunna notice one day.” He points out, handing you the bottle before opening his own.

“If he hasn’t noticed already, he deserves to have his beer stolen.” You flash him a lopsided smile as you take a seat next to him before you raise the bottle to your lips and take a sip.

For a moment, things feel okay. As if you hadn’t just been patching him back together, as if the cruel words people threw his way didn’t hang over his head like a dark storm cloud. He pretended they didn’t sting, but you knew that they did. Because even if he wasn’t violent towards you, that didn’t mean you didn’t still fall victim to the darkness that festered within him. Sometimes it was as small as throwing the keys to dad's beat-up truck into the tall grass, leaving you to comb the fields for hours before you’d find them. He spat cruel words at you other times, leaving tears to prickle at your waterline, but you never dared cry like when you were kids.

You still didn’t mind. Your penchant for trouble hadn’t changed, and God, if Bo wasn’t the exact brand of trouble that you craved. He made you feel alive within this sleepy little town; he brought excitement to your days even when it made your mother cry. Perhaps it was naive. You knew now why parents warned their kids of Bo growing up. You could see what they saw; you were stupid, not blind. Still, Bo was just Bo, and sure he had those mean blue eyes and sharp edges, but in the time you had grown, you too had accumulated your own edges. You don’t think it was possible to be friends with Bo without being damaged yourself in some form or another.

“Bo?” The name feels heavy in your mouth, as though it was a knife sliding through a priceless piece of art. The dread you felt building in your stomach felt similar.

“Hm?” He doesn’t look at you, just lights a cigarette and passes it over before he lights his own. The action makes guilt bloom alongside the dread, the emotions weaving together to create something ugly that makes bile rise in your throat.

“I have to leave Ambrose.” You take a drag off your cigarette, letting the smoke burn your lungs as the taste of nicotine mixed with bile. You don’t look at him to see his reaction. You can’t bring yourself to. But you feel the way his body stiffens, and you hear the soft sound of the cigarette burning as he takes a drag that burns the cigarette half way.

“Oh.” Is all he says, exhaling the word along with a thick cloud of smoke that billows up and disperses amongst the branches and leaves.

“Dads got a new job in the city.” You explain though you’re not sure why. You don’t know if Bo wants to hear what you have to say or if he’d rather blow his lid over something that was beyond your control. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. If it was him leaving, you’re sure a part of you would wither away. You dare a glance over at him, watching the way his jaw clenches and how he stares off through a break in the trees. “I don’t want to go.”

“Yeah? Then don’t.” A part of him sounds serious, almost hopeful, but it sounds too distant and bitter for you to put any stock into it.

“You know it’s not that easy.” Your hands feel clammy against the chilled bottle in your hand. You take a drink, emptying half the bottle in a few swallows just to distract yourself. To try and fight whatever ugly feelings were clawing at your insides.

“Sure it is, stay with me.” Bo flicks ash off the end of his cigarette before he turns his head just enough to look at you from the corner of his eye. “Ma fuckin’ loves you.”

You can’t help but snort at that, rolling your eyes. “Bo, your mom hates me.”

“Yeah, she does.” Bo chuckles softly, but the mirth is gone as quick as it came, and that distant look rolls over his face again. He gets to his feet, turning to look down at you with an unreadable expression. “But when has that ever stopped you from sneakin’ into my room?”

“I’ll come back, I promise.”

“I wouldn’t bother.” The way he looks at you as those words leave his lips, it makes you feel like a kid again. You stare up at him, and something inside you aches. It hurts worse than the times he caused you to scrape your knees against the dirt roads or the times he kicked you out of his truck and made you walk ten miles back into Ambrose in the pouring rain.

He doesn’t sneer at you, and he doesn’t even yell, just stares at you with that mean look before turning on his heels. You watch him go, watch the way he drains the rest of his beer, and you listen to the sound of twigs breaking beneath his heavy step. When he’s a fair distance away, you watch the way he tosses the bottle hard against a tree. The sound of glass shattering fills the air alongside the sound of birds taking startled flight.

_____

Bo doesn’t see you off when you’re leaving Ambrose. You hadn’t expected him to though, he had been avoiding you since you broke the news to him. It wasn’t as if you could really blame him. It was probably better this way. It was less volatile to cut out the catalyst than to continue to expose yourself to it. Still, you knew that he was around. The boy down the block with shaggy blonde hair was sporting a fresh black eye, and you had heard your mother's hushed whispers as she gabbed with the neighbors about him. But even if you hadn’t been expecting him, it still hurts you never got to say goodbye.

[ Next ]

[moonlightreal]

Fate ep 3, second half

Welcome back!  So I’m enjoying the heck outta Fate… but not as a Winx thing.  I mean,

Things Fate has in common with Winx:

Some of the names.

Things Fate does not have in common with Winx:

The rest of the names, the characters’ personalities, how magic works, how the world works, who’s dating who, the color of Riven’s hair, how many drugs everyone’s doing, the style of clothing, who the teachers are, what the school looks like, what Bloom’s parents are like, etc. etc.

If they’d just renamed it Elemental Academy it’d still have been a fun show and we could’ve skipped all… this…

Gods I wish we could’ve skipped all this.  

But weirdly separate from all this, I’m reviewing a show with some teachers who I like.

The students of Elemental Academy are headed to the quietest rave ever! Lots of purple lightbars and everybody’s drinking!  Ok, if the teachers know how many substances their students are using shouldn’t they at least try to not let them?  Ok, I can see Silva having a grand time making everybody do grueling workouts while hung over but substances and healthy fighting form don’t go together longterm.

Terra explains.  This is the east wing of Alfea, “It used to be used for war preparations but since there hasn’t been a conflict in a while no one really comes down here.  Except for tonight!”  

I want to know what the last war was about, who fought in it, who they were fighting against, how often wars happen in the Otherworld… but Bloom wants a beer.

Ohmigod Terra brought pot brownies!  Ahahahahaha!  That was literally a joke on discord weeks before Fate aired, that Terra would be the fairy of pot brownies.  Also Musa has gorgeous eye makeup.  Race stuff aside, Elisha Applebaum is really pretty.  Sam comes over, and there’s Dane.  Sam gives Terra grief about the special brownies.  And Dane ditches her to go offer Riven and Sky some special brownies.  Poor Terra.

Bloom finds Sky and asks about Silva and Sky opens up to being upset, that Silva raised him and having Silva’s life in danger is messing him up.  Then Sky asks Bloom about her parents and she says it’s complicated and she maybe needs more booze to go into it.  Sky wouldn’t mind a distraction himself, so off to drink it is!

Debauchery! Beer pong!  Bloom and Aisha versus Sky and Riven!  Everyone drinking lots of cups!  Bloom uses her power to make beer hot, which is neat since warmth seems much more useful than fire.  Aisha tries to use her magic to bounce the ball out and ends up blasting all the cups and drenching Riven.  Who probably deserves it just on genera…. Yup, here he is, telling Bloom about Sky’s last girl!  Ricki, Stella’s last roommate and bestie until she flirted with Sky and Stella blinded her.  On purpose.  Bloom can’t believe it.  Sky just says, ‘Yeah. that’s the story.’  But the mood is well and truly killed, and Bloom goes off to find Aisha.

Stella is in a dress solid with sequins, standing with a student in a full beard, I think.

Looking for Aisha Bloom wanders into a storage room for war stuff, and finds a class picture!  There she is, the dream woman standing with a class of specialists!  I think she must’ve been the Specialist trainer before Silva.

Sam and Musa flirt.  Smooching!  

Then Musa senses Terra coming as a wave of social anxiety and Sam vanishes through a pillar to escape.  Terra wants Musa to read Dane’s mind to see if they have a chance.  Musa says there is a chance.

Dane, riven and Beatrix have found the war supplies too.  Plate armor! This world still uses plate armor!  They do a three-way smoking of one joint, which is so gross.  I know covid wasn’t a thing when this was made but eeeeeeeew the poor actors!  Riven is his horrible self and teases Dane about how much Terra wants his dick.  And Riven whose shirt was splashed with beer, wants to steal Dane’s.  Run, Dane, find better friends!

We jump to Stella and the bearded student who is ladling out punch.  Sky comes right over and goes, ‘We need to talk about Ricki!” right there in the middle of the party.  Stella is horrified.  They back and forth… the jist seems to be that the rumor isn’t true. Stella didn’t blind Ricki on purpose but she wants everyone to think she did.  Probably she did it by accident and would rather be thought of as evil than weak, which is kinda understandable.  But Sky points out that being with Stella now makes him look like a total nut.

Text arrives!  The Burned One is dead!  Whew!

What? How!  The trained adults never succeed in this kind of story!  At least they lived.

And here Bloom is photographing the specialist alumni photos.  Beatrix comes in and says, ‘Are you photocollaging at a party?  Why are we not friends?”  Bloom asks who the woman is but Beatrix says she doesn’t know.  

Bloom goes and shows the pictures to Aisha.  Dowling is in the photo so she must know.  Aisha wants to ask Dowling tomorrow when they’re sober but Bloom’s keen to go now.  Aisha basically says if Bloom is dumb enough to go demand answers at midnight while drunk, Aisha’s out.  

In the headmistress’ office Beatrix and Callan are ready for another go at the secret passage trap!  Since Bloom asked about Rosalind, the plot is thickening and they have to get through now!  But they haven’t disarmed the trap.  So Beatrix lightnings up and tosses Callan through the door.  That was direct!  The guy goes blue in the lips and falls down probably dying.  Beatrix goes through the secret door and down the stairs beyond.

Sky finds Silva but oh no, he’s not better!  It was the wrong Burned One!  There are more!  Sky says he’s done waiting, he wants to fight.  He storms off.

In the cafeteria Dowling and Harvey mourn.  It’s their job to fix this Burned One problem and they’re not having much luck.

And here comes ragey drunk Bloom!  She holds up the picture and demands an infodump.  Rosalind was the headmistress before Dowling during a “difficult period in Alfea’s history” And Rosalind’s dead.

...no she isn’t.  Obviously.

Bloom can read the Plot as well as I can, and heads down to the stone circle to make contact!  While drunk at night.  But this is awesome, she flames up her hands and lights a ring of braziers and the magic silver vessel.  Her jacket’s on fire too.  Then the flames all go out and she droops over crying.  Sky runs over in battle kit and Bloom tells him about the changeling thing and how she just wants answers.  Then she asks why Sky’s dressed for battle.  Sky’s going Burned One hunting!  And Bloom thinks she can track the thing, she can sense them.  Now Bloom’s the sensible one who suggests telling Dowling but Sky runs past her into the forest and Bloom takes off after him.

Now there’s that plot I knew should be there!

We cut back to the party where Terra is playing beer pong and gets to hug Dane who is topless ‘cause Riven stole his shirt.  I think Riven is playing some kinda wingman here.

Stella rushes over to ask about Sky, and Riven stirs the pot basically saying he spilled the “blinding” thing to Bloom then jumps into, ‘no no, they’re just friends, no need to blind her too!’

Stella: “I wouldn’t waste my magic on a changeling!”

Show, if you do not tell me what the stigma of changelings is about--!

Riven didn’t know, so Stella just stilled some beans back as getting revenge on a completely different person?

Bloom sends a text.  Emergency Burned One hunt at the stone circle!

It interrupts Musa mid-snog with Sam.

Beatrix walks down a dark hallway and finds… the barrier-ed door from the trailer!

Bloom and Sky pass through the barrier and end up in a place that looks like where Bloom was trying her magic a few episodes ago.  Bloom says it’s close.  Sky wants to know why Bloom can track it, Bloom wants to know that too.  They go back to back but the Burned One looms

Magic battle!  Sky gets in a few sword swings before he’s knocked down! A voice calls, ‘Close your eyes!” before Stella unleashes blinding light!  Terra uses her cousin’s favorite trick and vines it to the ground and Bloom throws fire calling on Aisha to help put it out.  And Sky skewers the Burned One with his sword.  Down it goes!

But Musa can tell it’s not dead yet.  It leaps up—then catches fire from the inside, shining orange light, then falls again.  This was a top quality battle!

Dowling appears behind the girls and confirms it’s dead now.

Beatrix emerges from the tunnels to find Callan still frozen and blue-lipped. Was Dowling’s trap actually killing him or was it just keeping him paralyzed?  We’ll never know because Beatrix uses lightning to blast him to dust!

I mean, Callan wasn’t much but that’s put Beatrix solidly in irredeemable territory.

But good news, we saved the more interesting adult!  Silva is on the mend.  Well enough to immediately give Sky grief about going after a Burned One like an idiot.  Sky only cares if his mentor is better, and he hugs Silva.  Sweet moment all round.

The girls are getting the same from Dowling.  But Musa sensed a tiny bit of pride in the headmistress.

Sky arrives, and Bloom says they should all get home, leaving Stella to talk to Sky.  The other four have clearly bonded, and Stella’s clearly the odd one out.  Stella says, ‘I was awful today.  Seeing you scared I couldn’t deal with it.” and, ‘You’re the only one that knows the real me.”  she goes in for a kiss but Sky pulls back saying, “That’s your choice, Stella.”

Stella disagrees.  “I’m the heir to the Solarian throne, if you knew the kind of pressure...” and says Sky is her safety net and she needs to know he’s there if she needs him.  But what if he needs somebody?

Which brings up a side issue.  I don’t think Sky and Stella are doing the deed these days, but if they are or were that’s epic dumb for the heir to a kingdom.  Royalty tends to care about premarital romps more than commoners, and if they came down with a case of surprise baby that baby would be a future heir!  And then they’d pretty much have to get married, and if Eraklyon was on the other side of those wars nobody’ll tell us about that could add up to a real mess.

I wonder if there was sex in the past, Stella desperate for a distraction to get her out of her own head while knowing that every time the clothes came off they were taking a big risk thus creating more stress by the very means they tried to escape it.

This show tries to be all dark and gritty by having teenagers do loads of drugs but did they think of all this?  It’s just practicality but it’d be plenty dark.  

Over in the dorm Terra’s getting ready for bed.  Musa comes to say, ‘your brother’s pretty great.’ but Terra laughs it off, not paying attention.  She texts Dane to say she had fun at the party and Dane replies with a video of himself shirtless roughhousing with Riven.  The phrase, “fat girl with the brownies” is the only thing that can be understood.  I think Beatrix is filming, and she films the three of them doing a trio-smooch with pot smoke!  

Terra cries.  This show is cruel to her.  Not as bad as I was expecting it to be, but bad enough.  Hope she strangles the lot of ‘em.

Over with Bloom and Aisha, Bloom says, ‘You’d be proud of me, I went to the stone circle but chose not to summon all my magic and burn the Otherworld down.”

That was a choice?  That did not look like a choice, Bloom.

Bloom starts in on sensing the Burned One and Dowling being sus and Rosalind, but Aisha is done being the sidekick.  She suggests there might be no conspiracy and offers the really logical idea that maybe a teenage student got pregnant and didn’t know what to do so Rosalind changelinged the baby.  Good on Aisha for trying to climb out of the rabbit hole, but Bloom’s too deep and says there are too many unanswered questions.  I mean, she’s a destiny-ridden protagonist so she is right, but after last month we’ve seen in the real world how far people can go when they feel that they’re destiny-ridden protagonists…  feels different now.  The show in its cultural context.

Then Aisha says “some people” would kill to be a natural with magic like Bloom is even if she’s just an “ordinary” fairy and says Bloom should be “realistic.”  

Oh Aisha, when will you learn to not say stuff?  For Bloom “realistic” means birth parents who didn’t want her and gave her up.  Bloom starts crying saying she has to believe there’s more to it than that.  And yeah, that is understandable.

Ending scene with the adults in Dowling’s unlit office!  “Bloom had a memory of the fairy that left her in the human world.  It was Rosalind.”  One of the guys says, “Ah shit.”  As the camera moves down toward the mystery barrier in the tunnel Dowling continues, “Bloom has the potential to be one of the most powerful fairies the Otherworld has ever seen.  If Rosalind is calling to her there’s a reason.  We can never let them meet.’

And there’s Rosalind inside the barrier!  Not dead.

Good ending music this time, but no lyrics.

I think Dowling hasn’t yet realized her secretary got lightninged to death.

I’ve also been wondering who “he” the evil overlord could be.  Can’t be Rosalind because she’s a she!  None of the named male characters seem at all sus.  Callan’s dead, Sky’s dad is named but dead (unless he isn’t), Silva and Harvey are way too sweet, and Beatrix has no respect for any of the teenagers.  Unless one of them is getting possessed maybe?  Riven vaped in an evil spirit and occasionally his eyes glow and he spouts evil orders?  Maybe it’s a guy we haven’t met yet, or a master Burned One on a dark throne in a cave somewhere.  That’d make sense.

My main curiosity now is for Stella’s full story!  Stella is an interesting character!  Despicable, but interesting now that I’ve stopped thinking she’s going to be anything like the other Stella. Maybe we’ll find out… next time on Elemental Academy!

[archadianskies]

40. “I never stood a chance, did I?” for nines/simon? >:3c

→ on Ao3

The truth of the matter is: he has a knack for bringing people together. Even before the revolution, people tended to gravitate to him for no discernible reason other than perhaps his harmless demeanour. PL600s were designed to look soft and friendly and open, purposefully non-confrontational and gentle for raising children.

With no human family to look after, Simon had registered the Jericho deviants as his family unit and cared for them as best he could. So zealous was he in his desperation to play house that he prevented anything from happening to them, bad and good. It took Markus falling into their lives for him to learn to let go, to take risks for the good of his family.

Six months feels like a lifetime ago, and with the snow thawing and the life starting to bud and bloom, Simon feels like that dark tumultuous chapter can finally be closed. He’s a new person, a living sentient being recognised by the law. There’s, as always, much to do in terms of rights and laws and social challenges but it also feels like there’s enough normality to slow the breakneck speed into a more manageable pace. So he does what he does best: he brings people together.

It starts simple, it starts with one close to him: North. She burns with such determination, such fire, and what fleeting fascination she held for Markus passes after the revolution. She is, like Simon, prone to giving her hearts to anyone who shows a scrap of kindness. It’s a weakness, but a strength too, Simon thinks, to love so readily. When they meet with Elijah Kamski for the first time, when they see their creator face to face he looks not at the human but at the android, at the First of their kind. Chloe RT600 is almost eighteen years old, older than all of them, and she stands there with equal measure of grace and power. There’s something enigmatic about her, as though immense strength simmers beneath her lovely skin, and that’s when he decides she must get to know North.

North falls, of course she falls, hard and fast and endearingly earnest. Chloe is all sweet smiles and coquettish demeanour but North sees the fire too, sees how eighteen years of answering to no one has led her to become the most powerful android ever to be underestimated. The Jericho Four return CyberLife to the hands of Elijah Kamski, who in turn hands it to the one who should’ve held it all along: Chloe.

Seeing North so in love brings him great joy, and really in the end that’s all he wants: for those he loves to feel joy and in return he can leech such happiness too, like basking in the glow of the sun. Next is his brother Daniel, granted a second chance with the passing of the Sentient Life Act that not only recognised all androids as living, sentient beings, but also wiped clean any and all crimes committed before the 1st of December 2038.

That’s not to say it’s been easy for Daniel, but Simon had been there at his reactivation, and so had Connor. It had been a lightbulb moment for Simon, seeing the concern creasing Connor’s brow, that quiet desperation to be forgiven though no forgiveness was required; androids cannot be held accountable for their actions before deviation, when humans still pulled their strings. Connor had nothing to atone for, but he still longed to do it, to introduce the real him to Daniel, for Daniel to know the real him and not the Android sent by CyberLife that lied. It had been a simple matter of giving them time with each other, of quietly encouraging Daniel’s endeavours to reintegrate.

Danny gets a job as a baker in Greektown, tucked away in the kitchen with the ovens and the doughs, away from the prying eyes of humans and androids alike. Simon encourages him to be open to friendship, and he encourages Connor to persevere, to never give up on Daniel and he doesn’t, and Simon is rewarded with the privilege of seeing them fall in love. It’s a beautiful thing, to see his brother once so closed off to everyone, lashing out at any outstretched hand, now reaching out to tangle his fingers with Connor’s. 

He’s not sure about Josh, not yet. And then there’s Markus, of course, but he’s too selfish to matchmake Markus, he’s not ready to sever his pining, his longing for Markus. So he turns to the other Manfred, to Leo Manfred now clean and finished with rehab, slowly recovering and coming into his own. He loves him dearly, treasures him like a broken bowl he pieced together and sealed with gold, all the more beautiful, stronger, for having been broken and made whole again. Maybe that’s just how Simon is, maybe he just has bleeding hearts for broken people and that’s why Jericho happened the way it happened. 

Matchmaking Leo happens by accident, happens while Leo’s helping Simon out with menial household errands. Not that Simon needs help with menial household errands but he knows it’s more for the company, more for the friendship, than for the help. They’re out buying coffee beans and Tearium for the household when they run into Detective Gavin Reed whose immediate reaction is to open his mouth and out tumbles-

“You still gettin’ high as fuck Manfred or is this your rehab nannybot?” To which Leo’s resounding response is to ram his fist into the detective’s face. There’s a scuffle and Leo is a scrappy brawler, he hasn’t had any training like policemen have and so he’s pinned to the ground in no time and Simon’s trying to placate him, trying to diffuse the situation as Leo thrashes, enraged.

“His name is Simon you fuckin’ asshole! That’s Simon of the Jericho Four show some fucking respect! And I’ve been clean for months now! I’ve even got my 120 day chip around my neck!” 

“Sir, please don’t arrest him-” 

“Oh shit really?” Gavin releases him and Leo warily gets to his feet, still stepping in front of Simon protectively. 

“Yeah look.” He fishes out the small plastic token looped through with leather string. “Checked into rehab as soon as the docs gave me the all clear from my concussion.”

“Well look at you- wayward Manfred son, clean and off the streets.” Gavin whistles low, impressed, as he bends to swipe up the bag of groceries he’d dropped in the scuffle. He’s still looking at Leo even as he holds out the bag for Simon to take.

“I just needed someone to not treat me like a shitstain on their shoe. Funny how treating someone like a person helps them become a better person.” Leo rolls his eyes. They move on and that’s the end of that; Simon’s more than happy to put that moment behind him.

And then it’s a few days later and they’re bumping into Detective Gavin Reed at Starbucks. Leo digs out his phone.

“Hey, that raid you guys did on that abandoned urban farm was pretty cool.” He shows him some photos he’d taken. “I scoped out the place and got these shots.”

“You broke into a crime scene?” Gavin cocks a brow.

“Uh no obviously not, because you guys already finished rounding up the bad guys or whatever.”

“It’s still a crime scene when we’re not there, dipshit, until the case is closed.”

“Whatever.” Leo rolls his eyes. “Look, that fancy machine thing they made casts all this refracted light here at dusk.”

“...That’s kinda cool.” Gavin concedes and Leo perks up.

“Right?” He pockets his phone and digs out another item. “Here.” He places a small pink crystal into Gavin’s hand. “It’s failed red ice. The colour is pretty neat isn’t it? It looks pink but if you put it against a light source it refracts blue like thirium.”

“You’re giving me something you stole from the crime scene you broke into?” Gavin deadpans and Leo looks offended.

“Ok well I’ll take it back then!”

“No! You already gave it to me!” The detective scoffs, jamming it into his coat.

Simon turns his head to hide a smile. It’s not the match Simon had imagined for Leo, but it’s highly amusing. As Leo waits for their order, Simon stops Gavin before the detective can exit the cafe. He gives him the details of Leo’s upcoming photography exhibit on Friday night, and on Friday night there he is, Detective Gavin Reed with his hands jammed in his pockets looking a little out of place. Leo lights up and there’s Leo digging in his pocket and placing an iridescent feather into Gavin’s hand, like a magpie collecting trinkets. There’s Gavin rolling his eyes as if he’s being put upon, and yet he’s ever so careful as he tucks the feather into his coat. Another match made, another glowing sun to bask in. 

It’s a monumental undertaking, a game of politics and subterfuge to retrieve the RK900 from the arctic tundra. Designed in secret and deployed in silence, the upgrade to the RK800 prototype was smuggled out in all but name and stationed in the arctic to guard the thirium reserves from the Russians. It takes Chloe combing through all of CyberLife’s files, unearthing, unlocking, decrypting mounds of data to find whispers of a new android, the RK800 spliced with military capabilities. The government put in an order for 200,000 units but first the unit must prove itself capable before the order is put into production. The government denies the order, the previous CyberLife team deny the deployment and it takes the unrelenting pressure of the Jericho Four for an investigation to be opened. Connor does not rest now that he knows he has a brother out there, and it takes nearly all six months to bring him home.

Simon meets him by chance, passing by central station just as Connor and his brother are heading inside.

“Simon!” Connor greets cheerily, waving him over. The RK900 looms behind him, imposing and intimidating with steely grey eyes that seem to bore into his very positronic core. “This is Ronan, my brother. Ronan this is Simon.”

“Of the Jericho Four.” Ronan adds, offering his hand. His clipped British accent is a surprise, but it seems to suit the rather regal air about him. “An honour to meet you, Simon.”

He shakes his hand and he feels his hearts sink because he knows this is it. This is the match he will make for Markus, this is the one android who matches him, complements him in every way; a state of the art weapon, softened through deviancy into an Austen gentleman. 

“It’s wonderful to see you home with your brother.” Simon smiles though he aches inside because the android is handsome, oh so handsome; a sharper, older visage compared to his prototype and not out of place in a Vogue Homme photoshoot much like Markus. “And with our people.”

“With thanks to you and the efforts of the Four.” Ronan says with a grateful nod. “I am to be stationed here now, partnered with Detective Reed.”

“Oh, my condolences.” Simon teases airily and Connor laughs. “You should meet Markus. It was through his leadership that allowed us to fight for your right to be brought home.”

“I look forward to it, and to meeting North and Josh as well.”    

He doesn’t want to introduce them, he’s not ready to let Markus go but he must. The importance of his friends outweigh his own, of course. It’s not like Markus would ever be interested in him romantically anyway, and yet it still hurts. He suggests hosting a dinner at the Manfreds, and Gavin can come over and so can Hank and Simon will cook a three course meal for them. Carl provides the wine for the beef casserole, and another fine red for consumption. Markus receives a special order of flavoured Tearium, coded to match the taste of red wine. There’s still no way for them to eat, but as the two domestics in the Four, Markus helps Simon with the cooking and they pause to taste their creations to ensure it’s palatable for their guests.

There’s something tortuous about this, about knocking elbows gently at the sink, laughing and talking about their day, about the sheer domesticity of it all and being so close yet worlds apart. He loves him, he’s so very in love with him and now he must let him go. Now it’s time to match Markus with someone who deserves him, and bask in the glow to come. 

“Markus, this is my brother Ronan.” Connor introduces with a proud smile, and Simon watches as they shake hands and it’s like sealing both Markus’ fate and his. 

“Glad to finally meet you, Ronan. Welcome to Detroit, welcome home.” Markus smiles that charming smile and Ronan inclines his head politely. 

“May I take your coat?” Simon holds out his hands and Ronan’s smile is just as polite as he hands over the thick woolen item. 

“Thank you Simon. It’s good to see you, I hope you are well?” He stands aside so Hank and Connor can follow through.

“Busy as always but in a good way.” Simon hangs up the article on the rack. “An idle PL600 may as well be a dead one, so I mustn't be idle.”

“We are more than our programming.” Ronan frowns, and even that, Simon thinks, he does handsomely. 

“It’s a useful part of me, don’t worry.” Simon reassures, guiding him to the dining table. He sits him next to Markus, of course, and rounds the table to sit opposite him, beside Leo who’s already in deep discussion with Gavin. There’s a small smooth pebble by Gavin’s napkin; Leo’s latest trinket offering. It makes him smile, and he tucks away that little moment to carry him through the evening.

*~*~*

“Simon, are you able to drop these off at central station?” Josh’s expression is one of contrition. “I’m meeting Markus tonight, and clearing the admin backlog took way longer than I estimated.”

“Of course, don’t worry about it.” Simon takes the box from him and sets it carefully on the table. 

“You’re a lifesaver, thank you.” He leans over and gives him a quick hug. “Markus and I have been trying to escape to that new museum for weeks now but, you know how crazy it is.”

“I sure do.” He makes a shooing motion. “Go on, I’ll see these safely to the Andersons.”

“You’re the best, I mean it.”

“I know.” Simon winks as Josh laughs and makes his escape.

Central station is a familiar location for him now, and he’s grown accustomed to dropping off files and meeting with Lieutenant Hank Anderson and his sons. Without meaning to, he’s become the liaison for Jericho and the DPD, acting as the bridge to keep both parties in the loop with Detroit’s ever changing social climate. 

“Oh, Simon, here let me help you with that.” Ronan takes the box from his grasp and Simon offers him a grateful smile.

“Josh sends his apologies, he’s meeting with Markus tonight.” 

“An unexpected but not unwelcome surprise, then, to see you.” He says in that polished accent and Simon wonders if Markus finds it just as charming as he.

“Would you like me to lend a hand with these?” Simon follows him to his desk. “I haven’t looked inside but I’m hazarding a guess they’re parts from the warehouse raid.”

“Only if you wouldn’t mind? I don’t wish to keep you from any plans.”

“Oh Ronan.” Simon laughs good naturedly as he takes a seat. “I never have any plans, I’m a bit of a homebody.”

“Then I’d appreciate your help.”

By the time they finish examining, recording and registering each part it’s later than Simon expects. 

“Shall I walk you home to your apartment, Simon?” Ronan offers, fetching his coat from the back of his chair. 

“No, it’s alright I’ll call a cab. Bit too chilly for an old PL600 to be out and about.” Simon sighs, pressing a hand to his chest and the broken thermal regulator within. 

“Then I shall wait with you until it arrives.” And so they stand at the curb, shoulders nearly brushing. Simon sneaks him furtive glances and thinks yes, he must get him to spend more time with Markus. The love must grow naturally, must be nurtured like saplings in the Spring until it blossoms. 

*~*~*

He has a small tidy apartment in the reclaimed area by Jericho, but he hardly spends time there. Markus offered him the use of Carl’s sunroom, and it’s there Simon calls home. It’s airy and bright with state of the art heating and there’s something about the way the sunset makes the entire room fill with golden light. It’s tucked towards the back of the house and feels like a self contained abode, and in a way that too seems right- that he’s a part of Markus’ life, and apart too. It’s a soft Spring afternoon and he has the doors open to the backyard, letting the warm breeze in as he curls up on the couch. 

“Permission to pester?” Calls a voice from the door leading inside the house.

“Permission permanently granted to pester, Leo.” Simon smiles as the young man sets down a tray of mugs on the coffee table and plops down on the couch beside him. “How was your date last night?”

“Insufferable.” Leo groans, but there’s a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth. “He likes pineapple on pizza.”

“Oh a complete write-off.” Simon sighs dramatically as Leo tries and fails to stop a grin. 

“The fucker looked me right in the eye when ordering it, as if waiting for my reaction.” Leo wriggles closer and Simon pulls the knitted couch throw off the armrest and tucks it around them both. “I ordered onion rings and extra onions in my burger to piss him off.”

Simon laughs and Leo’s grin is achingly endearing and this, this is exactly why he does, why he tries to bring people together. Their happiness is as warm as the Spring breeze and just as pleasant to feel after the biting cold of Winter, the despair and desperation of the revolution. 

“Ronan’s coming over tonight, to work on that case with you guys.” Leo states curiously. “Do you like having him around? He’s kinda cool.”

“He’s a very capable, impressive android. A good headstrong man, able to keep up with Markus’ plans.” 

“That’s not what I asked.” Leo elbows him playfully. 

“Well I see a lot of him at the police department.” Simon tips his head thoughtfully. “I’m the liaison with the DPD so we work together often. He’s very kind.”

“I wouldn’t mind having him around more often.” Leo declares with a cheeky grin. 

“I think you’ll see more of him soon enough.” Simon says, though his grin feels a little too forced even for him.

He leaves Ronan and Markus to discuss the case, preferring to get on with clearing up after dinner. They’ll need to exchange vast amounts of data, and quickly too, and Simon can handle neither of those things. He tidies up the kitchen and sets about giving the house a good once-over. The simplicity of housekeeping always grounds him, always keeps him occupied but in a way completely devoid of stress unlike his Jericho duties. It lets him forget he’s purposefully sequestered Markus and Ronan in the studio, where they are no doubt getting to know each other and strengthening their bond of friendship and camaraderie hopefully into something more. He doesn’t want to think about, he wants to just somehow skip ahead to when they are together and in love and he can feel some sort of contentment in bringing happiness to another set of friends. And then it will be only Josh left, his oldest and dearest friend.

It’s nearing 2am when he finally checks in on them, bringing them mugs of hot Tearium coded to taste like strong black coffee sweetened with honey. There’s sounds of Markus’ bright laughter and a softer amused chuckle no doubt from Ronan. He knocks on the doorframe as the studio door slides open.

“Just checking you’re both still alive.” Simon quips as Ronan steps closer to take the tray from him. “Thought you might want something hot to drink seeing as the temperature has plummeted.”

“Thank you Simon, that’s very thoughtful of you.” Ronan murmurs, offering the tray to Markus so he can select a mug first.

“We’ve made a lot of headway into CyberLife’s database, though I think it’ll be faster once Josh gets a hold of this tomorrow.” “Today.” Simon corrects and Markus’ brows raise in surprise.

“Oh, you’re absolutely right. I’m so sorry to have kept you, Ronan.” Markus apologises, expression contrite. 

“It’s alright. This is important.” 

“I’ll leave you two be.” Simon excuses himself.

“Thank you for the drinks, Simon.” Markus gives a short wave and he takes his leave. The door slides shut behind him and somehow it feels all too final.

*~*~*

Miss Chloe is a lovely creature, all big blue eyes and soft blonde hair and a pleasing, delicate face. She is a work of art on a surface level, but on a deeper level Simon isn’t ashamed to admit he’s terrified of her. It’s a good thing she is bright and cheery and kind. Simon does not want to think of what their lives would be like had Miss Chloe possessed no fondness for humans. 

It’s a wonder to see her here in North’s apartment where they’re all crammed in, jostling for space as they wrangle yet another unearthed cache of hidden CyberLife files. She’s wearing North’s jacket over a t-shirt he guesses must be borrowed from Elijah Kamski’s wardrobe for it’s far too large to fit either of them. On the myriad of screens set up around the living room she’s streaming endless rivers of data and they’ve been assigned a screen each to parse any important information.

“Simon?”

“Yes Miss Chloe?”

“How’s Ronan settling in?” 

He blinks at her blankly. “Ronan?”

“Yes, you’re the DPD liaison and I know you spend a lot of time with the Anderson brothers as a result.” He tries not to buckle under gaze.

“He seems to be settling in well, Miss Chloe. He’s very diligent, as Markus can attest.” 

“He’s a good confidante.” Markus chimes in, smiling. “Still a little nervous about big social gatherings, but he’s an excellent conversationalist and probably the most polite android I’ve ever met.”

“That’s good.” Chloe smiles proudly. “I worry about him, you know? He’s so new to all this, he was so far away when the revolution happened, and purposefully cut off.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Chloe.” Simon smiles and he thinks it’s very convincing this time. “Markus has made him feel very welcome. He’s a part of the Jericho family already.”

*~*~*

It’s a gentle Spring evening, not too chilly, not too warm and he finds himself tidying Josh’s desk. His friend rolls his eyes and grabs his hands to stop him.

“Simon.” There’s a warning tone in his voice and Simon sighs, choosing to sit himself on the corner of the desk instead.

“I’m trying to make myself useful.”

“You do not need to be ‘useful’ to me Simon, you’re my friend.” Josh laughs, giving his hands a squeeze before releasing them. “Go home already, it’s late!”

“We hardly have time to relax together, I just want to stay a moment.” Simon doesn’t mean to make it sound so pathetic, but there’s something, a glint of pity it must be in Josh’s eyes. “You’re always cooped up here in Administration, and when you’re not here you’re with us poring over files.”

“That’s not true.” Josh reassures him gently. “Markus sneaks me out when he can. We went to the museum last week, remember? Finally got around to see that pre-Raphaelite exhibit. And Theobald let us visit the cafe two days ago after closing. Kept it open just for us.”

“To think, all those nights in Jericho when all we did was huddle together. We thought that was all there was to life- to be free from our programming, and to die.” Simon sighs tiredly, and Josh stands up from his chair to come over and wrap him in a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be awful company tonight.”

“You’re not awful company Simon.” Josh murmurs reassuringly. “I understand what you mean. Our lives are so different now, it’s hard to keep up with how fast it’s changing.”

It changes too fast, far too fast, the very next day when Markus asks to enter the sunroom and pulls out a small velvet box from his pocket. Inside is a thin band of silver inset with a glowing line of neon-blue.

“So. What do you think?” Markus’ grin is a little wobbly, a little nervous and Simon thinks the entire world has stopped- at least both his hearts. “...Simon?”

“Oh- um- Markus I- I- I-” He gulps too much air in, and blinks rapidly as if to refresh his optics because surely this can’t be right? “Are you- is this-?”

“You think Josh will like it?” Markus scratches his nape. 

“Josh?” He echoes numbly. 

“I had it made with my LED. If he says yes, the wedding ring will be made with both of our LEDs.” Markus’ smile is distant and dreamy. “Ronan was such a great help. After the scrapyard was claimed by CyberLife, the DPD worked hard to help retrieve and identify the victims that couldn’t be saved. He notified me my LED had been found and signed off so it could be returned to me.”

“Ronan?” Simon parrots, voice an octave too high.

“I really can’t thank you enough for introducing us. He gave me a piece of my life back, and encouraged me to embark on a new chapter too.” Markus pockets the ring and grasps Simon’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “I didn’t believe North when she said it, but you really do have a knack for bringing people together.”

Simon sits heavily on the couch when Markus leaves. This is not what he planned, this is- he doesn’t know what this is. He settles on indignant anger instead, and he lets that fuel him, let’s it fill his circuits with fury and he fumes the entire duration of the drive in the cab until he’s at the DPD. He all but storms into the precinct, grabs Ronan’s arm and yanks him towards one of the interrogation rooms.

“Simon- wait-”

“Josh?!” Simon demands, locking the door behind him. “You set Markus up with Josh?!”

“Wh- oh, did he propose?” There’s a hint of a smile on his lips and Simon throws his hands up in frustration.

“Markus was meant to fall in love with you!”

“With me?!”

“Yes with you!” Simon jabs his chest. “And then you had to go and meddle and ruin everything! I wasn’t- I haven’t even looked for a suitable person for Josh! I was going to focus on him after Markus!”

“I didn’t set Markus up with Josh, he was already in love with him!” Ronan argues, gesturing animatedly. “That’s why I encouraged him, that’s why I made sure to find his LED so he could have it made into a ring! He was just nervous, that’s all, he just needed a little push.”

“But I introduced you to him!” Simon feels the anger drain from him and leaks out and leaves nothing but exhaustion in its wake. “I thought you two would fall in love, I thought finally I’d found an android who could match him in every way because I never stood a chance, did I?”

“How could you think to match us when we were both already in love with someone else?” Ronan’s voice is surprisingly soft, and Simon looks at him in confusion. “Why on earth would I ever love Markus when there’s you?”

“This is,” he takes a deep breath he doesn’t need, feeling the tears run down his cheeks “the cruelest joke anyone’s ever played on me. I’ve been made a fool of and I hate it, I hate all of it.”

“Simon, no.” Ronan seeks his hands, holding them gently before guiding them to rest on his chest. “I loved you the moment I met you.”

“I’ve nothing to offer, I’m a broken, obsolete PL600, why would anyone be interested in me? Least of all you? The RK900?”

“Your worth is not the sum of all you can offer, Simon.” Ronan reaches out and cups his cheek, thumbing away his tears. “Your worth is the sum of your actions, your decisions, and you choose to be kind. You are the kindest soul I’ve ever met, and you may not inspire them to follow you through a revolution, but you inspire them to be just as kind. To seek joy in the small moments, and to treasure time spent together.” 

He doesn’t know what to say to that, so he continues to stand there like the fool he feels himself to be, crying helplessly as Ronan embraces him.

“This isn’t how I wanted to ask you but-” the other android moves his hand towards his pocket, and Simon grips his wrist to stop him.

“No. Don’t.” He wipes his tears hastily and steps back so he can look him in the eye. “We’re- we’re going to pretend this didn’t happen. I’m- I absolutely did not try and set you up with Markus. An- and you know nothing of this. We’re going to start over. Properly.”

Ronan’s eyes are wide with surprise before he smiles, and oh it’s already radiant enough for Simon to bask in. “Alright. We can start over, properly.” 

“Like- um, like going somewhere nice after work. Together.” Simon can scarcely concentrate, can scarcely process all that’s happening and it’s all the more frustratingly difficult when Ronan’s looking at him with such open fondness. 

“Like a date, Simon?” He steps closer and fingertips brushing the back of his hand and it feels like he’s been set alight. “And if you were matchmaking us from the start, where would you have us go?”

“I never had any plans to match anyone with me.” Simon confesses bluntly, and the playfulness drops from Ronan’s face. “The happiness of my friends has always been the most important goal.”

“And they are happy.” Ronan traces his jawline with the back of his fingers, gaze infinitely soft. “So now it’s your turn.” Curling his fingers beneath Simon’s chin, he tips his face up and leans down to press their lips together. It's a quick, fleeting thing, a flighty gesture full of nervousness and hope and Simon decides he likes it so much he must kiss Ronan in return.

There’s a loud click that startles them apart, and then a voice over the speaker.

“Okay that’s cute and all son, but we need the interrogation room.” Hanks’ voice is brimming with amusement and Ronan looks mortified. “Simon, do you want to come to family dinner night on Friday?”

“Oh um, yes Lieutenant that would be lovely-?” 

“Good. Now scram, both of you. Some of us have work to do.”

“Yes sir.”

“We’ll see you at seven on Friday, Simon.”

“At seven on Friday, Lieutenant.” 

They both exit the room and there’s Hank leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a big grin on his face. Ronan still looks like a deer in headlights, LED bright red as he awkwardly guides Simon out of the precinct. When they’re out of the building Simon bursts out laughing and Ronan soon joins him. Tangling their fingers together, Ronan brings Simon’s hand to his lips and kisses his knuckles. 

“May I see you tonight, after work?”

“You may.” Simon allows, perking up on his toes so he can press their mouths together again. “I don’t have any plans. Surprise me.”

[hungline]

the plan

pairings: jihope, minor taegi and namjinkook   genre: fluff, light angst, non au, meeting the parents au, rated pg15  warnings: referenced sexual content  a/n: written for the first round of the jihope love exchange held by @jihope-love​! words: 4107 

summary: Jimin’s head over heels in love with Hoseok, but Hoseok only sees him as his cute dongsaeng. 

Step One: Admit Your Feelings

 "Do you think he even knows if I exist?" Jimin asks, splayed out across Taehyung's bed as the younger scowls at his desktop, for once not wearing his headphones.

Taehyung doesn't bother looking up from the screen, too focused on blasting the enemy team away from the payload. "Who?"

Jimin sighs as he shifts onto his stomach and gives Taehyung a pained look. "Hobi."

When Taehyung doesn't answer right away, Jimin sighs again and turns on his back, staring up at the ceiling of Taehyung and Namjoon's room. He can hear the sounds coming from Taehyung's computer, the gunshots, the character's voices and the loud footsteps of Taehyung's enemies, but he ignores all of that to study the ceiling instead, picking out designs with his eyes alone.

It isn't until Taehyung's team has won the game that he hears Taehyung turn in his chair to face Jimin. "You're asking me if Hoseok, the man who shares a room with you, knows if you exist?"

Jimin keeps his gaze on Taehyung's ceiling. "Yes."

Taehyung sighs and shakes his head, lurching out of his chair to join Jimin on the bed. "Jiminnie, what's this about?"

Jimin turns until his face is pressed into Taehyung's chest, curling up into his best friend's embrace. "I think I'm in love with Hoseok."

Taehyung sighs and pets his hair, briefly rolling away when he remembers about his game. "Hold on. Gimme a sec to exit out, Jiminnie."

Jimin nods, replacing Taehyung with a pillow instead as the taller boy approaches his computer then returns back to lay down beside Jimin within less than a minute. When he does, Jimin looks over the pillow to meet the probing gaze Taehyung is directing at him.

"So, you've finally admitted to yourself what we've all known for years then?" Taehyung asks.

Jimin blanches. "What?"

Taehyung stretches his arms above his head, sighing when something cracks. "Jiminnie. We all know that you've been in love with Hobi ever since you met him."

"But...I just..." Jimin trails off, biting his lip as he takes in this new information. "I just figured it out recently. How could you all have known?"

And then very quietly, "Does Hobi know?"

"Nope. Not as far as I know. Anyway, he wouldn't have told me if he did," Taehyung replies, throwing an arm over Jimin's waist as he settles into the bed again. "But we all know how you feel about him. It was really obvious from the get-go."

"Why didn't you say anything then?"

Taehyung laughs, the sound of it somehow comforting to Jimin as he curls into Taehyung's embrace again, abandoning the pillow. "It wasn't any of my business what you feel for him, Jiminnie. Namjoonie told me whatever happens between you two has to be dealt between yourselves. We weren't allowed to interfere unless you guys did something on camera."

Jimin pales, his stomach rolling with Taehyung's words. "Namjoon said that? To all of you? Really?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, why do you think Jeonggukkie's been putting himself between you two lately?" Taehyung asks, big brown eyes pinning Jimin with his curious gaze. "Minnie. All this time and you really didn't know?"

Jimin shrugs, not meeting Taehyung's gaze. "I've been busy with other things. I mean, I didn't realize I was in love with him until, like, last week, Tae. How could I have noticed the rest?"

Taehyung clicks his tongue and pulls Jimin a little closer, sensing that his best friend is stressed. "Well, you know now. What are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know."

"Do you want to date him?" Taehyung asks after a moment of silence has passed.

Jimin shifts beside him, his face feeling warm. "Yeah."

Taehyung nods, a grin spreading across his face when he asks his next question. "Do you want to bone Hoseok?"

Jimin buries his face in Taehyung's sheets, the back of his neck and tips of his ears red. He nods, his reply muffled, and Taehyung laughs while he prods at Jimin's side to get the older man to turn over.

"Can't understand you like that, Minnie," Taehyung teases, still poking at Jimin's side. "Now. Do you or do you not want to have sex with Hobi?"

"...yes," Jimin murmurs, his face blazing. "But he doesn't see me like that. I'm just a cute dongsaeng to him."

"Because you are a cute dongsaeng. But still, it's good you admitted your feelings," Taehyung says with a nod, smiling too warmly for Jimin to think he's teasing him. "That's the first step."

"First step of what?"

"Getting into Hoseok's pants," Taehyung replies cheerily, laughing when Jimin blushes again, pressing his palms to his eyes to block out the image of the younger man beside him.

"Oh my god," Jimin groans, the parts of his face that Taehyung can still see a darker red than before. "I'm never going to hear about the end of this now."

"Do you want to hear my brilliant plan or not?" Taehyung asks, still smiling as he rolls over Jimin to get to his pillows, wrapping his arms around one as soon as it's within his reach. "It's foolproof, you know?"

Jimin doesn't say anything for a while and Taehyung thinks that he might just up and leave the room too, but Jimin stays rooted to the spot, biting down on his lip as he scoots closer to Taehyung. "What's your plan?"

Taehyung grins, a little smug as he watches Jimin inch closer to hear his brilliant plan that has zero chances of failing.

After all, Taehyung had used the same plan on Yoongi.

   Step Two: Find Out What He Likes

 Jimin eyes his phone like his life depends on it, thumb hovering over the screen.

He's had Kakao open to the same chat room for what feels like an hour now, debating what to type, how to start the conversation that's been burning in the back of his head for a while now.

Hoseok's display name taunts Jimin with each passing minute. He's quickly losing resolve and he still has no clue how to begin.

Jimin sighs and falls back into bed, feeling a little lonely without Hoseok being there, but the elder is at his parents place in Gwangju, having felt the need to visit as soon as Bang PD-nim gave them a short holiday in place of Chuseok, when they'd be in the States, too busy and too far to come home. He stares up at the ceiling, debating and thinking until, finally, he decides to go with the first idea he'd had.

jimin: hobi-hyung, wanna play a game?

Jimin already regrets sending the message but he can't stop himself from watching his screen, letting out a tense breath when the little one by his message quickly disappears. He waits as patiently as he can force himself to be as Hoseok types out a reply, the message appearing almost instantly.

hopie: sure. what game? :3

Despite Jimin knowing what he's about to do, he smiles down at the emoticon. It's one of Hoseok's favorites and he tends to always use it at the end of his texts when he messages Jimin. Jimin's heart swells up in his chest, climbing up into his throat with enough force to knock Jimin breathless. He gulps it down, focusing on what he's about to do, breathing through his nose to calm his breath.

jimin: a game where we share what we'd like to try

Jimin waits until the one has disappeared again before he sends his next message, sweat accumulating on his brow.

jimin: in bed

Hoseok's message takes a while to get to Jimin, long enough after the one has disappeared again that Jimin decides this is a bad idea and he should drop it now while he's ahead. His hands are shaking and he knows that he's sweating profusely now, but he continues to watch his screen, gasping when Hoseok's message finally pops up.

hopie: ...sure, how do we play?

It takes Jimin a second to realize that the elder has agreed before his thumbs are flying across the screen, his keyboard suddenly feeling a million times smaller as he tries to type out the rules as fast as he can.

jimin: we take turns saying something sex-related and then answer with: kink, like it, would like to try, have tried and don't like it, or hard-pass

hopie: wouldn't it be easier to use emojis or numbers instead? like 5 could be kink, 4 - like it, 3 - would like to try, 2 - have tried and don't like it, 1 - hard pass

jimin: sure, that sounds easier. do you want to go first?

Now is the elder's chance to back out and Jimin's almost sure of the fact that Hoseok will because Jimin's game is so out of the blue and Hoseok is probably busy having a good time with his family andー

hopie: ok! um...blow job! :3

Jimin almost cries in relief, he can't believe Hoseok is playing along with him.

jimin: 4

hopie: 3

jimin: wait, you've never given anyone a blow job before?

hopie: don't tease! i'm your hyung! but no, i haven't. been too busy, remember?

jimin: oh...right

hopie: your turn!

Jimin bites his lip. What the hell is he supposed to ask about? Hoseok had started with something basic so maybe he should too.

Keep it simple.

jimin: hand job!

hopie: 4

jimin: 4

hopie: my turn again :3 mm...let's get more nitty, gritty. handcuffs!

jimin: 4 when i use them on someone, 1 if they're used on me

hobie: we're the opposite lol 1 if i use them on someone, 4 when they're used on me :3

Jimin almost smiles. He bites his lip to keep the smile from spreading, but then he realizes that he's alone anyway so he lets the smile bloom across his face as he and Hoseok keep up their back-and-forth game of finding out about each other's likes and dislikes.

Maybe Taehyung's plan is foolproof after all.

   Step Three: Show Him You Can Take Care of Him

 Jimin's been a sweating mess the entire afternoon. Hoseok has asked him a number of times if he's okay, but Jimin had swatted his worries away and smiled, doing his best to make it seem like he wasn't screaming on the inside.

Now, they sit at a cafe, coffee on the table in front of them.

Hoseok is talking about how nice it was to see his parents, but all the while, Jimin's focusing on the fact that he never once called it home.

Hoseok talking about his parents, makes Jimin miss his own. But that doesn't override the nerves he's feeling from being at this cafe with the man he's crushing on, all by themselves.

Jimin sips from his coffee, nodding along to what Hoseok's saying, but not meeting his gaze anymore.

He feels a little sad now the more he thinks about the last time he visited his parents.

"Jiminnie. Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" Hoseok's voice breaks through Jimin's thoughts.

Jimin startles, blushing as he finally meets the elder's gaze, stuttering out, "W-What are you talking about?"

Hoseok gives him an unamused smile, his teeth gleaming from the fluorescent lighting above them. "You've been moping this entire time. Did something happen with you and your parents?"

Jimin shakes his head, blush darkening on his face. "No. I just..."

"You just?" Hoseok prompts, leaning over the table to crowd into Jimin's space, forcing the younger to answer him. "Come on, Jiminnie. You know you can tell me anything."

"I know I can!" Jimin hastens to answer, flinching when he realizes how loud he was. "Sorry. I just don't want to put a damper on things. We were having a nice time and I don't want to ruin that with my bad mood."

Hoseok smiles and takes Jimin's hand, interlacing their fingers together atop the tabletop. "Jiminnie, if you're in a bad mood, just tell me what's causing it so that I can make you happy again."

Now Jimin knows that the flush he's sporting is working its way down his neck and onto his chest because he feels warm and tingly all over and why can't Hoseok understand that he can't just say things like that without running the risk of making Jimin spontaneously combust? Jimin sighs and tries for a smile, gripping on tight to Hoseok's hand.

"I miss my parents is all. Sometimes when I think about them, I don't think of my bedroom there as home anymore. Home is here and I don't know, I guess I'm just a little sad for finally having grown up," Jimin murmurs, eyes downcast again.

Hoseok puts his other hand on top of their joined ones, his palm soft and warm, and Jimin looks up to meet his gaze. "It's okay to grow up, Minnie. It's a part of life and I know your parents wouldn't blame you for not thinking of their place as home anymore. If you'd like, you could come with me to visit my parents next time I go."

"Yeah, I'd like that," Jimin says with a nod, feeling lighter now. "Thank you, Hobi-hyung."

The smile Hoseok gives him in response could very well outshine the sun. "Anything for you, Jiminnie."

Jimin smiles back, even while knowing that he completely failed step three of Taehyung's plan. At least he's well on his way to fulfilling step four though.

   Step Four: Meet the Parents

 Hoseok's parents are as warm and inviting as Hoseok is and Jimin completely understands where the elder gets it from now.

Mrs. Jung welcomes Jimin with a tight hug, holding him pressed against her chest and Jimin feels the inexplicable urge to cry because it's been too long since a mother held him. Mr. Jung also hugs Jimin, taking him completely by surprise when he'd gone for a handshake himself, but it turns out alright and Hoseok's father even pats his back before letting him go, a warm smile on his face as he does.

Hoseok throws an arm around both of his parents' neck, crying a little as they all hug. Jimin politely averts his eyes.

"Mom, Dad. I'd like you to meet Jimin. He's my favorite dongsaeng," Hoseok says once his parents have ushered them into the living room, cups of coffee on the table to greet them.

Jimin tries to not let on how his mood instantly wilts when Hoseok says that, so he smiles and waves instead, not really understanding why Hoseok waited until now to introduce him properly.

Hoseok's parents exchange looks and a knowing smile, pinching Hoseok's cheeks before saying simultaneously, "So, we have a new son."

Jimin does his best not to let his smile slip, no matter how creepy that might have been and laughs when Hoseok fails to get out of his parent's grip.

"Well, yeah. Sure, you could say that, I guess," Hoseok replies, resolved to let himself be pinched to death by his parents. "Jiminnie's like my broー"

"Son-in-law, great!" Hoseok's mother says then, cutting off whatever Hoseok was going to say.

"Then you won't mind sharing your bed then, Hobi. The guest room is being cleaned out right now so we can't offer it to Jimin until two days from now," Hoseok's father adds on, smiling kindly at Jimin with a knowing glint in his eye.

Jimin pales. They can't possibly know that he's head over heels in love with their son. Right?

Not right, Jimin thinks to himself as Hoseok's mother turns to smile at him too, the same knowing glint in her eyes.

Is he that obvious that even Hoseok's parents can instantly tell how far gone he is over Hoseok?

Jimin smiles back anyway. "I don't mind sharing. As long as Hobi-hyung doesn't either."

Hoseok shrugs. Sharing a bed isn't something new to either of them. When Jimin has nightmares, he usually finds himself in Hoseok's bed by morning anyway. But ever since figuring out how he really feels for the elder, sharing a bed has felt both awkward and exhilarating at the same time. Still, Jimin can share the same bed as his hyung. It's no problem.

Really.

"I don't mind either. It's not like it's the first time anyway," Hoseok says nonchalantly, focusing on the coffee on the table as his parents exchange glances and nod.

"It's settled then," Hoseok's father begins.

"You'll be sharing the bed," Hoseok's mother ends for him.

Maybe Jimin should be a little freaked out how in tune Hoseok's parents are, but all he can really focus on is the fact that he's going to be sharing a bed with the elder.

Hoseok smiles at him as he sits down beside him on the couch, wordlessly pushing a cup of coffee in Jimin's direction. Jimin smiles back, a variety of emotions racing through his veins when Hoseok meets his gaze, doing his best to not let any of them show. Hoseok's parents sit on the two armchairs, smiling at their sons.

Jimin mentally crosses step four off his list as he sweats over step five.

   Step Five: Seduce Him

 All day Jimin has been restless.

It's day two of his stay at Hoseok's parents and Hoseok has been nothing but beautiful and tempting.

The day before Hoseok had shown him around town, even showing Jimin the corner where he used to busk. Jimin had followed him dutifully, smiling as he immersed himself in Hoseok's hometown of Gwangju. Little by little, Hoseok's jeolla had begun to crop up the longer they stayed here and Jimin would be lying if he didn't find it a little hot.

Today they'd visited the old dance studio Hoseok used to practice at and then they'd danced together.

Not like the dances they're used to doing for performances, but the fun ones. The ones they used to do for fun back when they were trainees and newbie idols.

It's still as fun as Jimin remembers. Hoseok's smile had never left his face, even when he kept eye contact with Jimin throughout it all, their smiles had never faltered. Even with his own feelings, Jimin's glad that they can still have fun like they used to.

Once they'd collapsed on the studio's floor to take a break, it'd taken all of Jimin's willpower not to jump Hoseok's bones right then and there.

Watching the elder pant as he lay on the floor, sweaty and eyes closed was enough to drive Jimin mad. Completely and absolutely mad.

Jimin knows that he isn't going to make it through the rest of this trip. Even as he waits for the elder to get out of the shower and join Jimin in bed, he knows he won't make it. Hoseok and his unknowing beauty are going to kill before long.

Because Hoseok is beautiful. Not in an idol way though. Hoseok is beautiful in his own way. He's happier, more carefree as if he isn't J-Hope, member of BTS, but as if he's Jung Hoseok, Gwangju born and raised. Being in Hoseok's hometown has made the elder brighter, something in him being switched on as they walked his childhood streets together. Hoseok had even held his hand, uncaring of the stares they received from older people, and Jimin's heart had melted in goop.

He is so done for.

Hoseok enters the room then, towel over his head letting Jimin stare at his bare chest unabashed. The towel soon disappears when the elder hangs it on the hook behind his door, running a hand through his hair as he turns towards the bed and smiles at Jimin.

"Ready to sleep, Minnie?" Hoseok asks, his voice softer than Jimin's ever heard it before.

Jimin nods, not knowing what else to say and Hoseok climbs into bed beside him, making Jimin scoot over until his back is pressed against the wall. Hoseok's only in boxers as he nestles into the sheets on his side of the bed, even scooting forward a little so that he's touching Jimin's arm. Jimin knows what he wants, Hoseok likes it when his arms are stroked as he sleeps, it's a habit his mother had instilled in him since birth and Jimin is helpless to Hoseok's wants as he reaches out and rests his palm on Hoseok's elbow, the elder's skin soft and warm underneath his touch.

Hoseok hums appreciatively, curling even further into Jimin's embrace until they're pressed chest-to-chest, their legs tangled together. Jimin's heartbeat thumps erratically in his ears and he only hopes that the elder can't hear it.

Jimin's hand is beginning to move now, fingertips trailing up from Hoseok's elbow to his shoulder, pausing when Hoseok sighs with the movement, something peaceful hidden in the sound. Jimin stares at him, he's been staring all day really, but this staring is a little more special.

Jimin knows that if Hoseok were to open his eyes right now, he'd see right through Jimin and figure everything out. Everything would be blown. The love Jimin harbors for Hoseok is clear in his eyes and even Hoseok wouldn't be able to miss it.

It's just that when Hoseok does open his eyes, Jimin can't force himself to look away. Not because he's tired of hiding his feelings, but because Hoseok is staring back at him in the same way.

Hoseok loves him.

"Hyung," Jimin whispers, a little in awe.

Hoseok smiles at him. "I've spent years convincing myself that you can't be anything else more than my dongsaeng. Every day, you prove how much you've really grown ever since we first met. You're not the cute little kid I crushed on back in our trainee days. You're Park Jimin, the guy I've been helplessly in love with since the first moment."

Jimin watches him as he mulls over his next words, the elder's eyes never leaving his, the look in them never diminishing. He doesn't know if he's breathing right now, but honestly, fuck breathing. Whatever Hoseok is about to say is a thousand times more important than breathing.

"I'm really tired of lying to myself, Jiminnie," Hoseok breathes out in the air between them. "I love you."

Jimin's heart clenches, beating furiously in his chest and he moves in, pressing himself flat against the elder, holding Hoseok closer. "I love you too, hyung."

Hoseok shifts against him then, eyes pinching together when a tiny moan escapes his mouth as the angle suddenly becomes sinful. "Oh, fuck."

Jimin only smiles, rolling his hips up into the elder's. "I love you," he repeats because, after all these years, Jimin has a lot of time he should make up for.

Hoseok's eyes shine in the darkness of his childhood bedroom and he moves in, closing in on Jimin until their lips are a hairsbreadth apart. "I guess I can finally give that blow job I've been meaning to give."

Jimin giggles, feeling weightless as he rests his forehead against the elder's. "Yeah, I guess you can. I love you."

"I love you more," Hoseok murmurs and before Jimin can argue, soft lips are being pressed against his own and he becomes lost in Jung Hoseok.

   Bonus Step Six: Date Him

 Jimin returns back to the dorms as a new man.

Hoseok held his hand the entire way home, and when they unlock the front door to find Jeongguk sprawled across Namjoon and Seokjin's laps on the couch, a lot of other things are thrown into perspective for Jimin as well. Hoseok giggles as the three on the couch jump guiltily until Jimin waves a hand and tells them they don't mind. Seokjin smiles at them and rises from the couch anyway, pushing the couple into the kitchen where he can fill them with food.

Hoseok takes Jimin's hand as they sit at the counter, waiting patiently for Seokjin to finish and when the elder hands them their food, he raises his brows at their hands, but says nothing, deciding to return to the living room where Jeongguk is whining for the eldest to come back. Seokjin rolls his eyes, pats their hands, and walks out of the kitchen, leaving them alone again.

"You know, it's good to be home," Hoseok says as he lifts his chopsticks with his free hand.

Jimin smiles and leans into his side, pressing a kiss to his boyfriend's jaw. "Definitely good to be home."

Hoseok smiles back and Jimin is so far gone for this boy.

  Taehyung's plan had actually worked and he squeals loudly when Jimin tells him the news.

[xekstrin]

lungs of me be crowns over you (blake/ruby, SRC)

Title: lungs of me be crowns over you

Ship: Blake/Ruby (Summer Rose Court AU) Rating: Mature Warnings:  Some sexual content-- not explicit, but not ambiguous either.  Summary: Time heals all wounds, but the darkness inside Ruby lingers long after her return from the void of Luna Fracta’s domain. And as much as she loves Blake, the young queen worries that the connection they share might take a turn for the worse. Linked by the soul, she feels the presence of her betrothed, and Crescent Rose, at all times.

And she wonders.

You can also read this story on AO3.

[This is fanfiction written for my friend Val and is not considered canon for the game proper. You can download and play Summer Rose Court for free right here.]

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I find Blake in the darkness, which isn't surprising. She has a habit of working late into the night, and letting the lights burn low before she becomes aware they're burning out. Her eyes can adjust to near-zero visibility, of course, so it's not like it hinders her. But I still find it funny, walking into her workshop and picking her out like a dark cloud on a moonless night.

Standing in the doorway, I listen to the sound of clicking sparks and then a rush of flame. Liquids bubble and boil, and if I didn't know any better I'd say it looks like a witch's haven. Even knowing better I do still think it looks a little sinister. The table is covered in glass vials and baubles, thermometers and measuring equipment. The windows are always open, a fresh breeze aiding in proper ventilation. 

Blake still hasn't taught me the secret of how she keeps Grimm specimens from fading away. I honestly haven't pressed; it isn't important to me.  I provide her with everything she needs for her to experiment in peace and my reward is that I get to see her smile. 

"If you're going to stay," Blake says without turning around, "Do you mind turning on the lamps?"

I roll my eyes a little. 

Of course she knows I'm here.

"I don't know why I hold onto the fantasy that one day I'll be able to surprise you the way you always surprise me."

"Because you are a hopeless romantic," Blake says, ears flickering the way she does when she's amused.

I've gotten much better at predicting when, where, and how Blake will try to pounce on me from the cover of her semblance. However, her naturally soft footfall and uncannily good sense of distraction means at least once a month I'm left shrieking and twitching when a hand appears out of thin air to grab the back of the next and a mouth whispers, "boo."

"Whatcha workin' on?" I ask her, blinking a few times and fumbling in the dark.

"Personal things." The room brightens a little. 

I smile, watching her fondly. "Should I leave?"

"Absolutely not." 

Blake moves, focused on her task. She has a hot flask clutched in a pair of tongs, delicately placing it on a cooling rack. When she passes a gout of fire I see the mark of our Spirit in her. 

Her connection to Crescent manifested in some pretty unique ways. The whole concept is still so abstract to me, but shattered as she is, I feel like Crescent has become a part of us both. 

Not yet legally my wife and my equal, but functionally my heir, Blake is the next scion of Crescent Rose. The spirit marked her as my family was marked. A few strands of red hair at her temple, first. I noticed them when I brushed her hair one morning. Over the course of a year it bloomed into a long stripe of auburn, blending in with her raven tresses. Gradual and subtle, just like her. Hiding in the shadows. Only when Blake stands directly in the light can you see that dark crimson streak. 

Given permission to be nosy, I explore Blake's work station, devastatingly curious about her projects. "Okay, I recognize your little elixirs here," I said of her feminization potions, brewed and purified every other month. She must be due for a refill. "But what's in this bottle?" I ask, pointing to what I mean. Even I don't need to be told this is a look-don't-touch situation. 

"Oh," Blake says, "You know."

"No, I don't know, as you know, or I wouldn't be asking."

In a few quick motions Blake strips off her gloves. They get tossed into a linen bag for soiled clothing and tools, to be cleaned and sterilized later. Then she grabs me, a harsh tug pulling my body up to hers. "Hold on. You're looking especially beautiful tonight."

A protest is cut off by her lips on mine. It's hard to think about words, or really anything at all, when Blake is kissing me. All that intense focus hones in on me and me alone, like I'm the only person in the world. Her tail winds around me, warm and roaming, but not as much as her hands.

Not counting brief and innocent childhood experiences in the desert— done more to satisfy curiosity than any actual desire— I've never kissed anyone except Blake. So I don't really have anyone to compare her to. But I'm pretty sure she's the best kisser in the kingdom, and when we pull away I feel stuck to her like sap on a tree, one fist coiling in her hair.

Still. "You're deflecting."

One ear flickers to the side. "Hmm. I really thought that would work."

Releasing my grip on her hair, I reach up to rub the little v forming between her bunched eyebrows. "I'm not gonna stop pestering you until you use your words to tell me to stop."

Her tail flicks once, hard. "You and your obsession with communicating."

"Listen, we don't have to use words. But you have to come up with a consistent translation for the ear thing." I watch as one of them twitches. "See? What's that mean? Are we gonna do one twitch for yes, two for no? Consistency is key here."

She pinches my side and smirks in satisfaction at how it makes me squeak and flinch and giggle. Then she lets me go, turning her gaze to the work station. "It's... a perfume," she says, hesitantly. 

There were a lot of answers I expected. And quite a few I didn't. A perfume didn't even make the list. "Oh. Well that's cute."

Blake peers at me sideways. Her tail snakes around her own leg once, tensing before she forces it to relax. "I always wanted to make it," she volunteers before I have a chance to pry even more. "But Adam and Velvet, they were relying on me to make important things. I had a job to do. I couldn't be frivolous."

Her hand is warm in mine, knobby knuckles and calluses on her palm. If I'm obsessed with anything it's her hands, so graceful and strong enough to bruise with a grip. Those hands are magic, capable of wrenching every ounce of stress from my shoulders and back. They're the hands of a fighter, hard-won and heavily muscled. "What kinda things? Grimm material?"

"Grimm material. Acids and washes to manipulate the ferrous bark. Ensure whatever plants we harvested were edible. Make the feminization potions for anyone who needed them. Extract poisons to assassinate the queen. Brew medicine."

"What was that last one?"

"Brew medicine?" Blake says, with a smile too dark to entirely be called teasing. It looks downright vicious. I meet it with a purposefully blank, yet disappointed stare. "You are impossible to intimidate these days."

"You can't intimidate me because I know you're nothing but fluff on the inside." 

To prove my point I gently fold her primary ear into my palm. It's still an incredible show of trust that she lets me do this. I want to writhe in glee every time I feel that velvety length and give it a good squeeze, because every single time she closes her eyes and lets out a deep purr. 

God, I love her.

I say it out loud, too. "I love you so much, Blake. If you showed up in my bed with a knife in your hand I'd let you carve out my heart without a second thought."

The purring stops. "That's an extremely specific hypothetical."

"Uh." Oh, dear. "It might have popped up as a recurring nightmare in the really early days? Right after my vacation."

My vacation is how we tend to refer to the period of time I spent in the darkness. Sometimes I think I didn't spend months in there. After I killed Luna Fracta.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and I think I spent much longer in there than any of us realized.

Much, much longer. 

I think maybe Blake and I are the same age now, in a weird, technical way.

"I didn't know you had bad dreams about me," Blake says, and it's very carefully neutral. I can't tell if she's hurt or if she wants to know more, until her grin returns. "Was it really a nightmare though? Or a fantasy?"

I blink a few times. "Excuse me?"

Her arm is around my waist again, and my hands lift to her shoulders on instinct. "If I'm in your bed with a knife, Ruby, I'm not going to use it to hurt you."

An unexpected amount of heat surges up to my face. While I don't entirely ken her meaning, there's no mistaking her tone. And that just leaves me wondering what one could do with a knife where it wouldn't cause pain, but pleasure, as she's implying. 

"Mm," I try to agree, but it comes out as a squeak. 

Then she guides me, arm around my waist still, and leads me to a shelf full of her finished potions. 

"Pick one," she says. "If you like. These are ready to be worn. Take whatever you want."

They're all neatly labeled in Blake's immaculate handwriting. I take a moment to think, reading them all out loud. "Earthy, woodsy, resinous, floral... the last one is obvious but what do they mean?"

So Blake takes the time to walk me through each one and how she made them all. She lets me smell them and I decide the woodsy one smells nicest to me, kind of sharp, but not like a pine, exactly. Just good. And it makes me curious. "Which one do you wear? You always smell amazing."

Blake lifts a finger for my patience. She vanishes and reappears with another bottle, this one just labelled, mine. "You can try it if you want but it's balanced to react with my natural chemical makeup. So it might not smell as good on you. Sorry."

"That's cheating," I say.

"They're my perfumes," she responds.

"Well it's mine now," I say, and pocket a vial for myself. When she gives me a sour look I remind her, "You said I could take whichever one I wanted."

"Typical Rose monarch. Encroaching on Belladonna property without regard."

"Will it be war, then?"

"I see no other option."

Then she grabs me again, and despite all my frantic wiggling there's no escape as she starts tickling me even harder, chasing each shriek of laughter with a clinging kiss. Blake kisses me again, and again, each one forcing me to surrender until her demands are met.

The next day I spend in a haze. I have to ride out to the constructions that mark the ley lines, visiting with my uncle Q'row and Ozpin as they oversee development. As always, Crescent lingers like a folded serpent, piled up in a corner of my mind only to rouse when I am closest to the veins of her power.

Through the whole meeting I'm moody and distracted, until I go find a spot with a view and can sit in silence for a while. 

What a shame our beautiful wife did not ride out with us.

We're not married yet, I say, because to address the other thing she says is more conversation than I want to have right now.

Our link is deeper than any bond you mortals can forge. But I can feel her all around us. It's something physical in the air we can taste. Can't you sense it?

Now that she mentions it, I do sort of get the same feeling. Every so often I feel like Blake is standing right behind me, but when I turn around she's not there. It's to the point that I wonder if she's been stalking us quietly this whole time, invisible.

For the rest of the day I keep expecting to feel Blake touch me, or hear her voice in my ear. It's to the point that when I return home and saddle up Celica, I am both pleased and distressed to find Blake in the stables with Yang. 

My sister has Ember's reins in one hand and is offering them to my betrothed, who grimaces and declines. "I'm not ready for that yet, Yang."

"But you've gotten so good at riding Pumpkin!" she gestures to the old mare we keep, a big plodding creature who is impossible to startle and perfect for beginning riders. Swooping in to save Blake from Yang's enthusiasm, I step in between them and set my hands on my hips.

"Going from Pumpkin to a sand dragon is like trying to fly after you learn how to jump."

"That's how you did it," Yang points out. 

"That's not how I—" I realize Yang means that I literally learned how to fly, with Crescent's aid, and is intentionally misunderstanding me just to get under my skin. "Oh, you stop it and leave Blake alone!"

"Hmmm," Yang hums gleefully, a big dung-eating grin on her face as I drag Blake out of the stables.

Once inside the castle, I keep huffing and puffing until Blake digs her heels in and doesn't let me lead her around by the hand anymore. "Everything good?" she asks.

"Everything is fine," I say, "I just have had a weird day."

Blake agrees with a soft noise. Her hands both hold my wrist, nails tracing along the intricate vinework on my skin. "Want to tell me about it?" her ears flicker forward. 

In the privacy of my room I admit to her that I felt her presence all day. "I'm worried. The bond we share with Crescent— I don't want it to take over us. Being that tightly linked didn't do Ren and Nora any good in the long run."

Relaxing on the edge of my bed, Blake's gold eyes track me as I pace back and forth. Rock solid as ever, she takes this all in with her usual cool level-headedness. "Ren was a fringe case."

"I know, but I just don't know. I mean I've felt you before but this is different. It was like every time I turned around I'd see you, but when I did I... You weren't there with me."

I turn around then, and the relief I feel when I see her is so deep it aches. 

There she is. The love of my life. 

"I'm with you now," she points out, like she knows what I'm thinking. Opening up her arms, she twitches her fingers inward and I fly towards her. We go down on to the bed, tangled up in a clinging hug. Grabbing my chin to guide my kiss, Blake strokes me with her tongue, urging me to do the same. Facing each other, we lie on the bed, kissing harder, and arching closer with every kiss.

Then she pulls back, a deep frown on her face.

"Blake?" Leaning in closer, she starts huffing at my collar. I squirm, not used to the feeling of her hot breath on my neck, and not sure what to do when she tilts my head to sniff me more. "Blake!"

Then she starts laughing. "Ruby," she says, "Do you think maybe you were just smelling me all day?"

It doesn't click until I remember. The first thing I did this morning was apply Blake's personal perfume, wondering if it would make me smell as good as her. While it faded over the course of the day...

If Blake can still smell it on me...

I probably could, too. I had merely become too accustomed to it to be able to notice.

Oh, Crescent says, That's adorable.

"You were no help at all," I accuse her, and Blake snickers. "Seriously! She was mooning about you too."

Blake takes the chance to stretch, her hands high above her head. Her eyes are shut tightly in satisfaction, a series of pops escaping every joint. Once she's done, she snuggles closer, kissing my cheeks and my neck again. 

"I'm flattered." Taking a handful of my hair, she inhales deeply. "I didn't realize it would smell so good on you." She ducks her head down, face against the spot where I'd applied the perfume that morning. Licking it once, she smiles when I start squirming. 

"It tastes good, too, huh?"

"You always taste good." To demonstrate, she licks me again, rougher this time.

I clutch onto her shirt, bury my face against it. It's clean and freshly laundered and it smells like soap but mostly it smells like her. Blake's tongue laps at me, and when I feel a hint of sharp teeth I moan. 

Startled, Blake stops mid-nibble. I'm uncomfortably warm, sweat prickling the back of my neck and my palms. I feel damp all over, about to melt into a wet puddle of want, and I'm so embarrassed I could die. 

My, my. That just slipped out, did it?

I'm going back into the void and turning you into a baby dragon again, I snap back, and Crescent scurries away. 

Daring to peek up at Blake, I find her smiling down at me, soft and warm. Her tail slinks over my hip, a loving caress. She doesn't ask if I'm okay or press, but she doesn't retreat, either. We're comfortable where we are, until I tentatively kiss her again. There's no room or desire for questions after that. Not when I've been wanting her all day, more than ever before. 

Blake's playful streak emerges in full force, gentle and patient, making me laugh until suddenly I'm incapable of laughing anymore. It goes by so fast I forget to feel shy, until I'm shaking, unsettled and bubbling up. Tension rises, tightening and trembling harder until it boils over into Blake's mouth, and I'm left staring at my bedroom ceiling covered in my own sweat and gasping for breath.

"Oh, wow," I say, and Blake starts laughing. She kisses up my bare stomach, lips wet, and then drapes herself over me like a warm snake in the sun.

"So were we waiting until after the wedding to do that, or...?" she murmurs, mouth on my neck. Against all reason it still feels like being burned when she does that. It burns and it leaves me ravenous. With no small amount of dismay I realize that no matter how many times we do this, I might never be sated. It's that strong a hunger.

I flap one hand around, exhausted, until I find her bare backside. "You should have asked that before."

"I was more interested in learning all the new ways I can make you squeak." Her teeth find my ear, tugging firmly. Determined to pay her back, I let Blake teach me how, eager to explore her in ways that had been out of reach until now.

It's only afterwards, coiled tight together under the blankets, that I realize I'm the most at peace I've been since I returned from my trip to that other world, Luna's world. Like Q'row, I was marked by that place in a way no one else can see. It's something inside me, I think. Waiting in the nightmares.

But there aren't any nightmares waiting when I fall asleep. Just pure darkness, soft as silk and inky black, rich as the scent that fills my head and my lungs, lingering until it all fades away.

---

Get a little closer, let fold Cut open my sternum and pull My little ribs around you The lungs of me be crowns over you

[langstexmachina]

Muted

read the tags first- could be a lil triggering. stay safe !

check it out on ao3!

___

It happened slowly at first. A nudge here and there. Maybe he was pushed into the wall but it’s okay, Shiro was never known for being extremely gentle with the paladins, especially Lance. In fact, he was always rough with the younger man, especially during training. So, Lance didn’t notice when he walked out of the glorified gym with more bruises than usual. It wasn’t shocking when he sprained his wrist sparring with Shiro and besides, he wasn’t complaining when he had Hunk doting on him constantly, making sure he wrapped it tightly and iced it lovingly.

Lance never really saw himself nuzzling into the curve of Hunk’s neck as anything more than platonic until Hunk finally sat him down and looked into his eyes. The night that Hunk caressed his face like Lance had hung the planets in the sky just for him. The night where, in hushed whispers, the two promised to protect each other through everything, promised to be devoted to the other, promised to love unconditionally and tenderly. Lance could see the stars in Hunk’s eyes, feel the adoration on his skin, taste the love on his lips. Lance was his and he was Lance’s. It was years in the making, but they could finally call themselves boyfriends, partners, lovers.

And if Shiro happened to be rougher now, Lance was too blinded by the love of his life to notice.

Hunk wasn’t.

It wasn’t lost on Hunk how often Lance stumbled into his room after practice begging to just cuddle rather than properly tend to his wounds. Sure, he was achy and sore but that would pass. Who knew when they would have time to just hold each other, Lance would plead. Still, he would cave when Hunk flashed those eyes at him, so sad and disappointed. Lance would groan before flipping over to his stomach. The soft smile that Hunk always wore dropped once the smaller man tugged his shirt off.

“Lance,” He breathed, startled. “What did he do to you?” Hunk felt his hands beginning to shake slightly, something ferocious toiling just underneath his composed exterior. Deep black and purple splotches suspiciously shaped like the bottom of Shiro’s boots littered his lower back over and over. There were angry, puckered lacerations across his shoulder blades, cutting neat diamonds into his back. His eyes traveled up Lance’s long arms. Red encircled his shoulders as if they were hyperextended for a prolonged period of time and his wrists were wrapped in hand-shaped prints, blooming cautiously over his veins.

“Oh, that?” Lance hummed. “It’s nothing. Shiro just wanted to work on getting out of restraints.” He looked over his shoulder at the larger man and gave him the smile brighter than the stars that he only reserves for his love. “I’m okay, really.” Hunk stubbornly shook his head.

“Don’t give me that bullshit! You can’t expect me to just ignore this! I couldn’t do that for anyone, especially you.” He was standing now, pacing the length of the room. Back and forth. Back and forth. He finally glanced at the smaller man on his bed, cowering into himself. He’d pushed himself against the corner of the small bed, curled into a loose ball, tracing Hunk’s movements with his eyes.

“Please,” He pleaded quietly. “Just leave it alone.” The words sounded far away as if Lance wasn’t really in the room with him. His eyes were unfocused, veiled with memories and moments that Hunk would never see. So he sighed and kneeled before the man, extending a hand, palm up and waited for his love to come back to him. A heavy moment passed between them until finally, finally, he felt tentative fingers take his own. He looked Lance in the eye before speaking.

“You have to understand that right now, you’re the most important thing in my life. If I don’t have you here with me, happy, healthy and smiling, then I’m not doing my job right. I hate seeing you hurting, especially because of someone that you should be able to trust.” He took a breath, searching for any sign of Lance recoiling back into himself. “If I can do anything to stop this, I have to.”

Lance nodded slowly, eyes squeezing closed and the corners of his mouth downturned. He pulled Hunk’s hand with his own and nuzzled softly into his knuckles for a moment. “I just,” He let out a heavy breath. “I just want everyone to be happy.” Hunk freed his hand so he could properly cup Lance’s face. His thumb lightly brushed over the height of his cheekbone.

“And I need you to be safe.” Lance smiled softly at that before kissing the inside of his palm. “Now let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

___

From that day on Hunk made it a point to always train with Lance when Shiro was in the room. The bruises diminished greatly and Lance’s real smile made its way back on his face. His skin was radiant and his hair shined in the light and he was finally happy again. So he loosened his tight hold on Lance. He began to sleep in a little later, trusting that nothing would happen in the dining hall before any of the other paladins got there. He trusted that Lance could take care of himself while walking around the castle alone in an attempt to get away from the memories of his home.

He figured that when he wasn’t available, Lance would seek out another paladin to train with him, but of course, he didn’t think about what would happen if said paladin left before Lance could. He didn’t think that Lance wouldn’t book it out of the gym once he noticed that it's only other inhabitant was Shiro. But as he walked by the training room on his way to the kitchen and heard the muffled sounds of struggle, he began to think of everything he missed.

A pit formed in the bottom of his stomach and the floor shook under him as he moved toward the door, bayard in hand. He eased the door open slowly and watched the scene before him play out, horror gripping his throat.

“Look!” Shiro snarled. He tightened his grip on Lance’s hair as he ripped the younger’s head back and forth like a rag doll. “Look at what you made me do!” He roared before pushing Lance’s already bloodied face into the mirror before them, glass splintering and embedding itself into his forehead. Apologies fell from his lips as he tried fruitlessly to push against Shiro’s strength and away from the mirror.

Lance reached back for the hand that was tangled in his hair. Shiro’s arm glowed purple- the smell of burning hair filled the air. Lance sobbed as he tried to flinch away from the hand searing his scalp. “Call your little boyfriend for help.” The man sneered. “Scream like the little bitch you are.” He was seething as he rammed Lance’s skull into the mirror again and again. Hunk began to step into the room just as Shiro finally released the boy. When Hunk went to breathe a sigh of relief, Shiro reached for Lance’s throat with his glowing hand, dragging him so his back was flush against his chest.

His next words made Hunk’s blood run cold.

“I bet you like it like this.” He growled into the crying boy’s ear. “Bet you’d want me to fuck you right here like a good little slut.”

Hunk doesn’t remember activating his bayard. He doesn’t remember turning it to the lowest setting or training the gun on Shiro’s open neck. Pulling the trigger, watching the man fall- they’ve all been erased from his memory. He does remember Lance recoiling from where Shiro’s body fell limp. The blood-curdling shriek that tore from the younger man’s throat was impossible to forget.

He couldn’t shake the hurt he felt when Lance crawled to Shiro’s crumpled form first though. Even with his own body bloody, bruised, and sweltering, he went to inspect his tormentor first, bleary with the need to help and sick with the idea that somehow this was his fault. Still, he repeated tearful sorry’s as he tried to revive the man. But Hunk kneeled next to him before gently pulling Lance from Shiro’s side. It took some coaxing to get Lance to allow Hunk to carry him to the infirmary to get checked by Coran and a promise that they would send someone to check on Shiro the moment they got there.

“I’m sorry,” Lance whimpered over and over.

“Baby, baby,” Hunk shushed him. “It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault.” He cooed, laying his boyfriend out on the examination table.

Coran choked when he saw the cowering man, skin blackened and hair smoking. “What happened?” He asked lowly, his usual jubilance lost, chased away by his concern.

“Shiro.” Hunk ground out. They shared a knowing look, anger brewing beneath their features before beginning to tend to Lance. A cooling solvent was applied to his neck and scalp and he needed stitches for his cheek. He would be fine physically, but as he flinched when Hunk gently caressed his thigh, he could tell that Shiro seared more than just his skin.

Hunk dragged Lance from the med bay and away from where Shiro now resided inside the healing pod. They padded into the kitchen softly, no words floating in the air between them. Lance found himself sitting at a stool, Hunk’s back to him. He stared down at his hands where they rested on the granite-like countertop. His head was full of white noise looping and looping. He felt it pushing against his skull as if he would physically implode at any moment. The noise drowned out any hope of a train of thought. Rationalizing was out of the picture.

He dropped his head to the cool counter. He sighed as it calmed his burning skin. It was something to put out the fire inside his mind. The white noise grew louder and more deafening. He covered his ears in a pitiful attempt to drown it out when he felt a warm cup within his fingers. He warily looked up and found a cup piled high with their pink space whipped cream and soft baby blue marshmallows. He suddenly felt the aroma of hot chocolate surrounding him, notes of nutmeg and vanilla wrapping him in a soothing embrace.

He smiled best he could at Hunk before taking a tentative sip. Then, he quickly downed the scalding drink, burning his mouth horribly but he could worry about that later. The sugary drink warmed him like none other. Hunk chuckled softly from where he sat beside his love, cooly sipping his own, less flamboyant, beverage.

“You know,” Lance started slowly. “He was just jealous.” Hunk had the decency to only look mildly confused, silently prodding him on with a welcoming not. “He said that I needed a real man. Someone who would break me and train me to be a good little boy.” Lance laughed hysterically. “This guy was training me this entire time and I was too stupid to see it.” He snorted, full laughing at how ridiculous and fucked up the situation was.

Hunk watched his world fall apart as Lance broke down before him. “Lance, honey,” He leaned in to console the boy as his laughs turned into choked sobs. He hushed the smaller boy as he shook in his arms. “We’ll get through this.” He whispered in Lance’s ear.

im back from the dead with a shitty fic that i obviously didnt know how to end. uh check me out on ao3 bc im still there

Even if getting through this mess meant throwing Shiro out of the airlock, he’d do it. Anything to see him smile again and laugh freely and not be scared of his own shadow. Anything to ensure that this broken boy in front of him was pieced back together. As long as Hunk was alive he would never let Lance hurt this way ever again.

___

uh ill see you guys next time i guess. probably with a mcu fic but yeah. if you wanna check that stuff out, hit up @sopeteriskindacool for marvel reposts, textposts, and the odd fic. but yeah

see ya!

- day

[warmau]

the sci-fi au is by far one of the best ones you've ever write!!! pleas please please tell me you're gonna write it for the other members

thank you!! i really liked writing them!! here’s johnny, sicheng, haechan, and yuta’s version!! find the others (here)

Johnny

a civil servant who works in the IT department 

most of his job consists of performing backup checks on the huge system that interlocks every department in the building

and you know,,,goofing around with intern renjun

but even though he looks laidback, almost kind of like he takes nothing seriously

he’s really, really good with technology

i mean, there’s a reason the government trusts him with such a big job

but also,,,,could he come to work not wearing sweatpants

like c’mon jonathan 

and - although his job is to work on problems within the systems of the government,,,it is the future,,,and people are walking around with prosthetic’s and chips imbedded into their brains

so,,,sometimes johnny’s a doctor,,,a technology doctor in some sort of sense

you work in the communications department, you’ve been deciphering alien languages and legal scripture for as long as you can remember - and although your department is a lot of hands on work

johnny has been around to help upgrade AI systems and all that

and ,,, you’ve always been shy around him

he’s just so ,,,,, bold and cheerful

he smiles with ease at everyone - even highranking officials

and that smile,,,it makes your heart do a little twirl - it’s just so bright,,,,

you don’t think johnny notices your coy nature

but of course he does,,,and he thinks it’s just downright adorable

he’s always nudging doyoung in the elevator in the morning like “i think they like me,,,you know,,,the cute one in communications”

doyoung always gives him the same look but johnny’s heads in the cloud

(but like - he is right,,,you do have a crush)

you also have a prosthetic, an artificial ear piece from an accident a while back

and one day, you feel it malfunctioning - zapping you slightly when you try to fix it

your ‘ouch!’ resounds through the office and your co-worker leans over in their chair only to wave their hand

“ill call johnny. he can help.”

you want to tell them it’s fine, you’ll be ok - but it’s too late

a couple of minutes later, johnny comes through the glass doors - holding a kit in his arms before calling out, “who needs the doctor~”

the staff giggle, but point to you

and once johnny’s eyes settle on yours - there it is,,,that smile

he walks over, tall and lean and you feel a bit small in your chair when he literally gets down on one knee to meet your height and without warning let his hand settle on your cheek

he tilts your face, so he can see the prosthetic and clicks his tongue

“no problem, i can fix it.”

he grins, opening his kit and taking out a couple of tools

you sit frozen - like you’re covered in ice as he works

your entire office is there,,,,,,glancing every now and then at you and johnny but otherwise not paying much attention

still,,,it makes your chest tighten - he’s so close

“ah - here we go.” he whispers, and you feel it right against your skin 

he tightens something on the prosthetic, and you almost jump when his other hand comes up to brush your hair from the ear he’s working on

and you almost double over when he goes

“it’s so soft, your shampoo must be expensive.”

it’s so,,,,corny,,,,almost dad-joke like to say something like that,,,but you can’t like it makes your heart do that twirl again

and after a while, with your face burning hot the whole time, johnny finishes and pulls back to smile at you

“there we go - it should be good. if it bothers you again, come see me in the IT room.”

he hands you a holograph tablet, you assume it’s one of the IT room keys

he leaves, with a little wave to you - and a smile to the rest of the office

but later when you activate they key, the blue screen reflects a string of numbers as well as johnny’s face

it’s ,,,,,a call card?!?!?!

his face starts moving, with a little wink “contact me sometime - maybe we can have lunch?”

the message ends and the holograph disappears

but your co-worker’s already grinning on the other side of your desk

“you two finally gonna go on a date?!”

Sicheng

an empath,,,whose exceptionally bad at being subtle about it

“doyoung, you’re very angry right now aren’t you.”

“w-what, no im not.”

“you just thought ‘why the, excuse my language, hell is taeyong so much better looking than everyone else”

“,,,,,sicheng could you please,,,”

“not say that you think taeyong is the most handsome person outloud? and that you’re jealous of it? sure ok.”

the point is,,,,,he can feel what you’re feeling and he’ll spill the beans if anyone so much as so looks like they’re curious to know

it’s gotten him in trouble somtimes

but sicheng just plays oblivious,,,,and his cute face gets him off the hook most of the time.

you’re actually a pretty transparent person - you,,,,tend to share your feelings openly

some people say you just lack shame, while others say that being an open-book is good!! you’re not afriad to be yourself

either way, when you meet sicheng,,,,,,you’re nothing but starstruck

and it’d only be more obvious if pink hearts started glowing in your eyes because you look at him and-

“wow, you’re the most handsome boy ive ever seen!”

you blurt out, making sicheng turn around and point at himself

his friends doyoung and yuta look between each other and then back at you

“th-thank you?”

sicheng stutters and you put a hand over your mouth, embarrassed

“sorry! that was sudden, but im telling the truth! you’re feature are,,,,wow!”

sicheng’s empathy starts working, he can feel the emotions surrounding you - the fascination, the interest you have in him

but somethings,,,off

you’re feelings are really strong - they nearly make sicheng dizzy

even when you say goodbye, apologizing for being so sudden - he can still feel you

yuta claps sicheng on the back, “see - i was right. our sicheng is just more and handsome with every passing day~”

doyoung rolls his eyes, and both boys go on chatting about whatever but sicheng,,,, still feels it - those strong emotions of yours

you run into each other again, sicheng is at the store to stock up on snacks while you’re trying to find a special flavor of ramen your roommate had asked for

when you nearly bump into him and his leaning tower of food

“oh! sorry!” you apologize, and your voice grips sicheng again

he peeks his head out and you recognize him immediately

“ah - you’re the prince looking like boy!”

he blushes, eyes cast down as you shake your head “ah s–sorry, sorry!! i don’t have a filter,,,,so i sometimes just say things.”

sicheng wants to answer you, but his empathy is off the charts. your feelings are pure and truthful and sicheng has never been around someone that doesn’t have anything to hide before

the dizzyness comes back, and the snacks fall from his hands

as sicheng teeters a bit and you reach out, concerned to grab him

“are you ok??”

he leans forward, his head nearly resting in the crook of your neck

your touch calms the feelings, almost as if his power has been dulled,,,,

there’s no dizziness and sicheng - for once - feels only his emotions

and the softness of your hands on him

he could stay like this forever, but when you let go of him the blushing, scorching feeling of your embarrassment tighens around him

“i,,,,i um,,,” you’re not sure what to do - when such a pretty person has hearly hugged you before you’ve even been properly introduced

so you start picking up his snacks, as sicheng loses focus again

“hey,,,come back.” he mutters, reaching to pull you back toward him - the physical connection between you two is welcoming again 

and you freeze when he whispers “can i stay like this, next to you for a bit?”

you don’t know what’s going on , or why - but you nod slowly and let sicheng cling to you

his empath abilities waver, comfortably between silenence and just a bit of your beating, anxious heart

“i can feel it,,” he mumbles slow “that you like me?”

you jump a bit, but laugh “ah,,,im always pretty obvious about these things,,,”

sicheng grins to himself, “everyone’s quite obvious when it comes to me.”

Yuta

a diplomat from a different galaxy, where the species still look like people,,,but they’re also endowed with the ability to bend elements

yuta’s element specialty is fire 

he makes this known, at any place and,,,anytime 

has turned bread into toast to make humans go wow~, lights candles with his fingertips, and sometimes even let’s smoke come out of his ears to make kids laugh

he’s always been amused by how,,,uninteresting humans are

“you have no special powers? you can’t even freeze water with your mind? move mountains with your eyes? how have you survived!”

but,,,most people overlook this quality because yuta is expecionally handsome and sociable

the only person who does,,,,not take this lightly is you

who also happens to be yuta’s guide on his stay on earth

and believe me - yuta knows all the way to push your buttons

“guide, why are humans so weak? i could pick you up with one hand if i tried! i could pick up those things you have here,,,,horses? with one hand if i tried!”

you, grumbling: “because humans have no need to pick up horses.”

yuta bending over to look at some flowers outside of a garden

“can humans make this bloom or do you have to wait all year? guide, hellooooo answer me~”

you, with your head in your hands: “why did i sign up for this job”

but as much as yuta annoys you, you’re oblivious to the reason why he does all this

you think it’s to be a bother, for him to get some laughs out of it, but the reality is,,,

he just likes you - and he’s not sure how courting works on earth

i mean, annoying people isn’t courting on his home planet either - but it’s not like he can bend fire into the words ‘ will you go out with me?’ and then shoot them into the sky like fireworks

he’s pretty sure that’s illegal here

there’s an important gala coming up, and yuta has been practicing the traditonal dances of your country

there’s a teacher for him,,,but on the day before they fall ill and it ends up with yuta pestering you into being his partner

when you first let his hands come around your waist, you realize yuta’s body temperature is hot

much hotter than yours

“no wonder you walk around in t-shirts when it’s cold,,,” you mumble and yuta pulls away, deep eyes looking into yours

“sometimes i get so hot i need to walk around nake-”

you put a hand over his mouth and nod “let’s just dance.”

yuta is much better at dancing than you, is the second thing you note. he’s very focused and his body has a natural sense of rythm

for a moment, all those times he asked you nonsense questions and twirled around you in a cloud of prickling comments about humans,,,washes away

because his hot hands are distracting, and so is his face - like carved from marble, perfect and strong

“you can stare all you want~” 

he suddenly cooed and you break back into a sour expression

yuta laughs at the change, bringing himself close to your and nuzzling his face in your hair

“nakamoto!” you squeak, addressing him formally and wiggling in his arms

he let’s you go, but the grin is still on his face as you huff at him, red and surprised

“sorry, you were too cute.”

“i thought you didn’t think much of humans?”

you straighten yourself out and he shrugs

“but i think much of you, ive been trying to drop hints about it for a long time.”

you stare at him, unbelieving and turn on your heel to walk away

but,,,,why is your heart racing a mile a minute and the imprint of his hot hands still tingling on your skin?!?!

Haechan

a intergalactic bounty hunter!

who has a cool robotic dog partner!! too bad real dogs can’t space travel ):

even though he’s pretty young to be in the bounty hunting game - he’s pretty much perfect for it

unlike a lot of the other guys, he’s agile and fast. he blends in well into crowds and seems the least suspicous

just a boy and his dog you know??? it’s no threat

but the extraterrestial police is always shocked to see him pull up, in an old starship that must have belonged to his father, with a criminal in energy cuffs and a grin on his face

“money first!~” he sings, holding his hands out every time

looks adorable in his hand-made flight goggles and with starship oil on his cheek

you actually have a bounty on your head for theft. nothing to big, just a couple of safes broken into and galaxy royals stolen from LOL

and haechan is very interested in the sum over your head, he shows yours poster to his robotic dog, named cherry (cherry bomb is the full name in case you were wondering)

“we’re gonna get them right? and then we’re gonna use the money for dinner~”

the dogs a robot, so haechan adds in that he’ll get oil snacks for him too

and thanks to some under-the-table info, haechan finds out that you’re actually due to break into the home of an esteemed diplomat on the planet he’s visiting

so, he parks outside of the home and waits to see you creeping out of the house, climbing over the gate and falling to your feet as siftly as  a cat

but suddenly,,,,you feel something like weights on your legs so you can’t move

and you look down to see energy locks on them, turning to see haechan pointing a blaster at you with a smile

“come with me~ big fish~” he laughs and you narrow your eyese

“bounty hunter i assume?”

“you got it.”

“aren’t you too,,,”

haechan puts up a hand “you’re too young to be a theif too so don’t even.”

without a choice, you follow him back to the starship - with the energy cuffs on your hands instead

but as you get into the ship you’re like “hey,,,,why don’t we split what ive stolen - it’s probably bigger than my bounty.”

haechan clicks his tongue, “ill just take everything you’ve stolen AND turn you in. double for me.”

cherry lets out a bark and you throw it a glare

“fine, you’re not stupid. how about this - you let me go, i give you half this time and then half from the next house im going to hit.”

haechan turns from the ship controls and lifts an eyebrow

“and what house is that?”

when you say the name, haechan’s eyes widen

“that’d be,,,,,quite the amount of money -”

you smile, “exactly” lifting your chained hands

“uncuff?” 

he gives you a look, you’re pretty cute now that he sees you in the light of his ship, not like he’d admit that though

he hums, thinking about it “ok- but-”

he rummages around and clips something else to your ankle, a tracker. it makes you roll your eyes, but you give him credit - at least he knows not to believe you

with that he breaks the energy cuffs and as you massage your wrist, you pull the bag of stolen goods from his seat

you two go through them, bickering over who gets what - but by the end you both have your share and you get ready to leave

when you turn back to haechan

“thanks for letting me go, bounty hunter.” you lean in - kissing his forehead gently before jumping out of the ships opening

you disappear into the night, as haechan sits there dazed and cherry looks up at him 

he touches his forehead and makes a face, but after cherry’s bark he scoffs

“no,,,,it’s NOT like i LIKED that,,,,don’t be SILLY,,,,,,” coughs

[sarkastically]

(Lightly NSFW. More of Chirrut heaping praise on Baze because that’s one of my favorite things.)

There are hundreds of good days, that’s the thing that’s easy to forget, though it shouldn’t be, not really. The mind tracks the bad, especially Baze’s mind, holds the worst moments up to the light again and again to remind him of what has happened, of what he cannot allow to happen again, of what he should have prevented, of what he was too slow, too dense, too distracted to stop. These are the things it plays on repeat, an endless show comprised of the worst memories it can find. 

But there are hundreds of good days. 

Baze’s mind refuses to linger on them, refuses to settle, skips off them like a stone thrown across the pond they used to have in the temple gardens, the one stocked with fish and lilies an off-world pilgrim had brought as an offering to the Force because he knew that Jedha had nothing like it. Baze’s mind has never settled easily on the good when the world around him is in disarray. 

Chirrut’s mind is better with them. In the dark, dark of their rented rooms, when the wind shakes the building and they are huddled together, wrapped around each other skin to skin for comfort as much as for warmth, Chirrut will whisper the good days back to Baze with each press of his lips, each touch of his hand across scarred and weathered flesh. He remembers when the only marks on Baze were the tiny cuts across his fingertips from all his work in the archives and with the kyber, or the occasional kitchen accident when someone else was being careless. He remembers. He breathes these moments back to life against Baze’s skin and collects the moans that they stir, each content and satisfied rumble, into his mouth so that they can pass them back and forth until they are both high and dizzy on them.

“Do you remember the lantern festival the year we were twenty?” He just past the mark, and Baze not yet twenty-one. Chirrut has always loved the months when they are the same age the most for some reason he can give no name to. It is the only thing he can never best Baze at--Baze who has no sense of competition at all except with himself, who lives for the benefit of others, to benefit others, who has never cared whether he was smarter or stronger than anything else except when it has helped him save someone, Baze who takes all of his own failures as the failures of the universe, as failures so large that they are as a great as the statues in the sand and does not see that he is only human, he is only him, he is made lovely and his failures are only so great in his own eyes--being older. No matter how hard Chirrut tries he will never be older than Baze. (Unless Baze dies first and freezes his age forever. Unless Chirrut is made to continue on without this fragile bird heart cupped in his hands to warm and praise and tend. Chirrut has always liked to win, but he would not want to win that way. No one would win that. Everyone, everything would lose. He would burn the galaxy down until the wrong was righted, until he and Baze were reunited in the Force, forever.)

Baze, bone limp, reduced to something much smaller in their bed, shakes his head where it rests against Chirrut’s shoulder. He clings to him like a vine to a house, warm, pliant, flexible, more flexible than a man who carries a cannon on his back all day every day should be, but Baze has always had six faces in jars for different reasons, an ever-changing show of who he thinks he should be, who he needs to be at the moment. The face for Chirrut is none of these at all. It is tear-stained and red-eyed and downturned lips and every scar and every piece of vulnerability because Baze trusts him. On some days, this means more to Chirrut than Baze’s love. Baze’s love is infinite and it is great; it is a blanket that he spreads across the entire galaxy even if he means to look like he does not. Baze loves everything. And while Chirrut knows that the love he gives him is different than the love he gives the rest of forever, it still sometimes grates on him that Baze stretches himself so thin for beings who do not, will not ever know his name. But his trust. That is something rarely given. His true face, his shy secrets, his warring doubts in the middle of the night when he hears the Force, feels the Force, knows the Force but has to sit and push it back with his hands because, no, because it disappointed him too much, because it hurt him too much, because he cannot stand under its weight anymore, that is the Baze that only Chirrut sees. Baze cannot profess to give love to only him alone, and Chirrut would not want it that way anyway, but he does give all of himself to only Chirrut alone, and that is everything. 

Baze is a garden full of flowers that have been exposed to harsh conditions, acidic rain and frost and fire. They are burned and scorched, their leaves tattered, their petals shaken off to scatter across the ground. The ground itself salted so that nothing should grow. Baze is a garden that once bloomed full and bright, one that Chirrut could lie in for hours and wonder at the perfection of the universe that it created such a man. Now Baze has no stomach for gardening, has locked it away behind a wall because the winds turned cold and the buds fell off. Chirrut tends it because he needs it as much as Baze does. Chirrut tends it because he can not stop, will never stop. They swore to honor and protect and love each other. Chirrut wishes he had changed Baze’s vows, inserted something about honoring and protecting and loving oneself in there as well, but he knows Baze. Even before everything burned around them, in their eyes, Baze’s voice would have tripped over selfish words like that. He has never had the stomach to be anything but self-sacrificing whether that means he sheds his own blood or forgets his garden for the sake of others.

(”You cannot save the universe, my love. You cannot save us all.”

“Who else will do it?”

Chirrut knows before he says it that it will do no good, but says it anyway. “The Force.”

He cannot see Baze’s face, cannot see anything anymore, but does not need to because he knows what it looks like, profound disappointment, decades of loss. “It has proven that it will not do its job so I will.”

People have always said that it is Chirrut who never loses an argument, but this is not true because Chirrut has never been able to convince Baze that he is worth more than the smallest pebble in the streets, that it is not his duty to lay his life on the line for the protection of anyone, of everyone from what he perceives as evil, as a threat. Chirrut has asked Baze to be selfish for his sake before, and it left his husband a ruined, aching mess so he never asks it of him again. 

He does not know how long the Force will let him keep its martyr until it calls him back. He does not intend to be left standing alone when it does.)

Now he kisses the skin that he can reach, sucks hard enough to leave marks that will never show under all the layers that Baze wears every day while Baze shudders and squirms against him, hands ghosting over his skin like it is glass, like it is porcelain, always so soft and gentle no matter how many times Chirrut has prodded him, whispered, “Harder. Tighter,” into his ear. Baze never hears it, touches everything like he is made of granite and the rest of the universe is as gentle as a butterfly’s wing. (It is the other way around, of course. Baze is silk, thin, thin, see through when held up to the light, torn when handled the wrong way. He always handles himself in the wrong way.)

“There were flower wreaths,” Chirrut says into his mouth, whispers the words into the cavern that exists between Baze’s lips, tries to fill it up with light, with all the good memories. Baze twitches at that contact, hard against his hip, fingers just a bit tighter on his waist, and Chirrut likes that. “I put flowers in your hair.” Their kiss is not yet a kiss, but he can tell the way that Baze’s muscle’s strain that he is waiting for him to conquer his mouth. Baze is infinitely patient even when he wants. “You were glorious. You were mine.”

“Am yours,” Baze breathes, and Chirrut feels the way his heart hammers beneath his skin, so fast he thinks it might burst. (From joy this time. From pleasure. Not from the heavy, hard sadness of the world.) “Always will be yours.”

“I had never seen anyone more beautiful.” Chirrut keeps a hand tangled in Baze’s hair so that he will not do what he does when heaped with praise, turn his head away as though to let it slide and slip into the night, to be blown away on the wind. He keeps his lips where they are, pressed so close to Baze’s mouth that he knows the truths he utters must slip into him, make new homes there, water the flowers in the garden he longs to escape into.

“Do you remember the lantern festival?” he asks again because sometimes all Baze needs is a nudge, a reminder, a glimpse and then his mind will pull the curtains back and let him see the light. There is so much light still even if he will not see it because he is always facing the dark, trying so hard to keep it away from everyone else.

Baze stutters a keening, pleased cry into his mouth when Chirrut wraps his fingers solidly around his length. It takes a moment before he answers. “Your robes were blue. You put blue flowers in my hair to match them. So everyone would know we were together.”

Chirrut has always performed for other people but never when it came to their love. “No.” Baze’s hands on his waist tighten, pull him closer, but Chirrut does not relent, will not take his mouth yet, not until he has unleashed all the light he can. “For you. So you would know.”

When he presses their lips together, tongue in Baze’s mouth, he can taste the petals, he can feel the stars burning. Chirrut has never loved the universe or the Force the way that Baze does. Chirrut loves the way the Force moves through people. He loves the way the Force moves through Baze most of all even if that means he sometimes has to provide the light, feed the good memories back into him. There are hundreds of good memories. 

That night they make a new one.

[grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales]

Cold comes and goes, love remains

It is summer but why not. Set after Snow Queen.

Magic always leaves trace. Magic of immortal things from before time doubly so. Gerda cannot forget and Kai can’t help but remember.

Together, they make it work.

They never tell you what happens after. After the tale. After the villain is defeated and you are back home. After the friend is saved.

Sometimes, Gerda wonders if that is her mistake. Should she have walked in while Snow Queen sat on her throne, engaged her in duel, killed her? Her stomach turns at thought of killing a living being, of taking another’s life.

But Snow Queen isn’t human. Gerda isn’t even sure she can be counted as alive. And what use is there for world of somebody that steals children and buries people under ice and snow?

‘’ No,’’ says Kai. ‘’ You did everything great. Without you, I’d never be free. And you wouldn’t kill her. You shouldn’t stain your hands with blood.’’

He doesn’t lie, as Snow Queen didn’t ( couldn’t), but like her leaves piece of truth hidden. He doesn’t say that otherwise Gerda would have fallen, one more victim of frostbite. He doesn’t say that you can’t kill blizzard, can’t harm winter, can’t make cold of vast space bleed. You can only prepare shelters, wrap yourself in fur and wool, and wait for it to pass.

He doesn’t say that army of angels was needed to fight against horde of snowflakes, that even Michael, he who leads God’s armies, would have failed against Queen there, in heart of her power.

He doesn’t say that Queen deserves no punishment, that she did nothing wrong. Winter gale doesn’t choose which way it blows, doesn’t seek to end lives. How can something without conscience, without morality, be called evil?

At first, everything is same as before. They are at home, living with grandmothers, playing on roofs and planting roses. They forget for a while.

It is small things at first. Seeing herself in windows and mirrors, all tall and grown up. Meeting old friends and not recognizing them. Reminders of years missed that slip from grandmother’s mouth. Finding job.

Whispers of roses. Chatter of birds. Kai’s hair, long and white as freshly fallen snow. His dark skin, once warm and rich as fertile earth, now pale as frozen ground of taiga.

Gerda closes her eyes and pretends not to hear.

‘’ It is so hot.’’ Gerda’s granny says.

‘’ I don’t remember summer this dry and warm.’’ Answers Kai’s.

‘’  I don’t think  I could stand a day more of this heat.’’ Lies Kai. It is easier to pretend then admit that neither heat or cold bother him anymore ( Gerda restored his memory and took him home, but Queen kissed him, and he isn’t sure if she made him immune or fire and ice don’t dare harm him, but since that day he could go nude in blizzard and wrap himself in furs and walk through desert and not feel anything).

‘’ Rain will soon fall.’’ It comes out of her mouth without thinking. They turn, blink, and grandmothers ask  ( how do you know, why are you sure, did somebody tell you).

Words stop in her mouth. How does she explain, sparrows gossiping about faraway storm, soon to come. How does she explain about roses knowing, feeling it’s arrival, starving for water that shall descend from sky.

‘’ I just know.’’  It is enough for now.

She sets up flower shop.  Of course she does. What else could she have done?

Many things. She could have opened bakery, or served in inn, or became a teacher. She could have become a nurse, or started selling clothes she made, or cared for children of not so rich families. And she is princess’s friend. She could have had anything. She really shouldn’t treat it as such mundane thing, even if it maybe is. Because even princesses have friends but who would have thought that she, Gerda, would be one to befriend the princess. She has spent years on journey, planning, hoping, fighting to survive. Childhood friends are nothing but blur in her mind. Princess is one of few people in world she can call friend anymore.

Princess in name only, she should add, for her friend has reigned over their land since she was fifteen, first aided by regent and advisers then alone, guided by her own wisdom. Year still needs to pass for her to ascend to mantle of monarch formally, which is stupid tradition in Gerda’s opinion, but Princess is content with waiting- rules are to be followed, and Gerda doesn’t begrudge her that, as long as none suffer under them.

But thing is, she could have had any job she wanted. Anything that didn’t involve flowers and plants and hearing voices nobody else does, understanding their songs and stories. She didn’t have to do that.

But she likes gardening. She has always loved it, since she can remember planting and tending seeds, nurturing and guiding young green things to their first bloom, caring for them through year until cruel frost steals their life, as winter always does.

And she will be damned if she lets magic or bad memories take that away from her

She is successful.  Beyond that even. She nourishes her plants, like mother caring for children, and they drive. Years of experience and hard work and knowledge she gained make sure none can match her.

Her flowers don’t speak, which surprises and relaxes her (but doesn’t disappoint, of course not). Flowers of old woman who enchanted her could speak like men, though they knew only to tell one story and to argue. Her roses, red and white, could muster words, not sentences but still expressions that she could understand.

Flowers she grows just murmur, too low for her to understand, and sing their wordless tunes. Still, she feels, and can imagine what story they would tell, if nourished by old woman’s magic.

 Lily who drowns with despair, rolling off it like dew would be about girl who lost too much and walked into lake on her own. 

Wildflowers that chime like jingle bells would be about three girls running under summer sun in green meadow. 

Carnation with anger and pride as bright as fire would be about woman who knows what she desires, and dance laughing at those who try to stop her, for sooner will world burn than she will bow.

That is what attracts her customers, she muses. Somehow, she coaxes out those stories from flowers into hearts, and people know that her boquets mean more than any else. They come to her with wishes, flowers for first date, flowers for marriage, flowers for separation, for funeral, for spite, for apology. She cares not for so called flower language or even colors clashing in some cases-she gives grieving mother sunflower that scream with rage and loss, violets that soothe and give strength to move on, pink roses that fondly sing of loved ones long gone by. 

Her competition laughs at first, but then they smell her work, or walk in room containing her pots, and their hearts are overcome with emotion, and they know she is right.

Gerda laughs. Perhaps it isn’t so bad. People are happy and she brings many coin home.

Grandma is waiting for her home, with magnificent red dress. It is woolen, and bright, and beautifully embroidered. Grandma cannot stop talking about it.

‘‘-and then I said, of course I can’t take it Martha, it is too good for us, I cannot believe ho well you sew, and that color is so vibrant,  but she said nonsense after all times she spent in my house she is like my own daughter, and she needs some reward for all her hard work, and she and Kai were always such good friends with Brigitta, she was one who embroidered those stars, said she can’t wait to reconnect, and I said oh really, thank you so much Martha, these new shops are run by idiots who refuse to make more than five dresses for girls that aren’t thin like sprigs, but don’t think you won’t be getting three new shawls and-’‘ Grandma stops, looking at Gerda’s lost, stricken face.

‘‘Gerda, sweetie, what happened? Are you sick? Was there problem at work? Do you-’‘

‘‘Grandma,’‘ Gerda says, voice shaking ‘’ those people-Martha, Brigitte, I...I don’t remember who they are.’‘ 

‘‘Oh.’‘ Grandma says, patting Gerda’s hair as woman collapses in her arms, sobbing.

She always goes to church now. She did before too, but she now refuses to miss a single gathering. When she comes down with flu, grandmothers have to restrain her from getting up.

They don’t understand. She saw God answer her prayer, saw her breath form in army of angels, bright guardians with wings of flame and bodies of jewels and too many eyes of thunder, saw them fight demonic forces that kept her from Kai.

God has shown her mercy. Answered her prayer out of so many. Absolute loyalty is least she owes Him. He created her, Kai, her world and everything she holds dear. He sent His son to die for their sins, and He gave Heaven to virtuous. 

And she needs to pay her sins. She hears voices of beasts, can command them, birds and bugs and cat and dogs, and she knows that is magic, and she saw witches and demons, was bewitched herself and escaped, saved her enthralled friend with His aid.

Magic is work of devil, and devil tempts and tricks, clothed in bright golden light, and his gifts lie and beguil, masked as blessing, and like gambling and wine magic is addictive and ruins people and...

She doesn’t want to be witch. She doesn’t want to be evil. She doesn’t want to harm people. To go to Hell. To become wicked and cruel like Snow Queen.  To betray Him.

She cries and prays.

‘‘I don’t think she was a demon. Or witch. Or anything like that.’‘ Kai admits once. It is beginning of autumn, but night cold and yet Kai isn’t.

(It is not quite the truth, but he doesn’t want Gerda to worry, not after everything she has done for him, not after what bastard he had been. Better to say, he is always cold, but it doesn’t grieve him. He’s got the winter in his bones, and he will live with that for rest of his days, and honestly, he likes it).

Gerda looks at him, shocked and alarmed and bundled in jackets, and she doesn’t know what to say because Kai never confided in her what his time at palace was like but now he says this and she fears he is tempted again and she wants them all to heal, and you must talk if you want to achieve that, but she wants to forget and leave everything behind.

But Kai can’t. He wants to heal too, but he doesn’t know where to start, and sometimes he thinks healing requires thinking and accepting and letting what happened become part of their lives forever, and sometimes he isn’t sure if he wants to forget, but he knows that he can’t, for he went with Snow Queen and she kissed him and he lived in her realm growing without need to eat or sleep or drink and now there is winter in his bones, cold in his blood and frost under his skin, and he knows piece of her rests within him and  he knows that wherever he goes he will carry snow within himself and he can’t pretend so long.

‘‘Kai...’‘ Gerda begins ‘‘She.... did something happen, Did you... Did she return?’‘‘

‘‘I saw nothing of her this day, or yesterday, or any other day since you saved me.’‘ He says gently. He doesn’t say that he didn’t need to see her-wherever there is cold she has reach, even at height of summer, and her power flows through universe itself, and she rests within him, bound together by winter as mother and son are by blood, or bond even stronger than that.

‘‘I just... I was thinking about what you said. I think angels came because of you, not her. Your prayer and your heart, that is your strength, like Bae said. he gave it to you, because you got it.’‘ Kai smiles, slow and sweet, and Gerda doesn’t look at his teeth, white and shining like fresh snow on morning sun ‘‘ I don’t make sense do I? I think... He helped you because you helped yourself first.’

But that doesn’t really have much to do with her, you know? I don’t think she serves God, but I don’t think she is against him. She is out of it all, like wind or snow. I asked her once, you know, how can you tell between good and evil.’’

‘‘And what did she say?’‘ Gerda doesn’t know what to expect. Demon would likely give some answer that seemed innocent but advised human to be selfish.

‘‘She looked at me, puzzled-I think that was only time I saw her confused, maybe first time she was ever confused- and asked me what those words mean. I don’t remember what I said, but she didn’t understand. 

And once she talked to me about angels and demons, said that they are God’s servants, extensions of his will. But demons wanted to control world, to enslave other creatures and take what was not theirs  and rebelled against him. She said that like all people and beings that are his they have soul. And...’‘

‘‘I know that Kai. Did she tell anything more.’‘ She didn’t want to believe that, but demon wouldn’t have admitted they were evil. But neither were humans demons and there were many evil ones.

‘‘She told me once that she doesn’t have one. Soul that is. And she doesn’t lie Gerda Believe me, I know she can’t, just as I know to calculate or to breathe. She isn’t  human, but she isn’t demon either.’‘

‘‘But what could she be otherwise?’‘ Kai looks through window into deep blackness between stars, there where cold is strongest. he thinks he can imagine cold, sharp yet soft hand stroking his back, fondling his hair, can imagine laugh and wail in hush of wind.

‘‘She is... she is old, and cold and alone, and that is all.’‘

They say that women who talk with animals are witches, that beasts are demons in disguise and their familiars, and perhaps Gerda should stop feeding birds but every animal she encounters and unlike some cynics she isn’t quite so ready to believe that world is full of demons.

Kai’s words were strange, but she trusts him like brother, and chooses to believe. Because at end of day, faith is what she must have, and she is sure God would have given her sign otherwise.

Besides, most beasts are quite dumb, even pretty white doves she fattens, thinking only of food and mates. Not like Bae, or Mr. and Mrs. Raven.

And such thinking is insulting to them, she considers. If normal animals are demons because she can understand them, then what of ones that speak and think like humans? What of princess, whose dreams dance? Or of two wise women who helped her, kind leaders of their villages? Would somebody name her friends, who helped her so much demons or witches for that?

Perhaps it is not magic at all, but simply gift to understand others-she understood different tongues as if they were her own, now that she thinks of it. Perhaps she just listens better than most people. And she doubts that demons would give her such gift, or that angels would fight for sake of wicked creature (they were angels, she knows, true and through, she could feel their holiness, their goodness in depths of her soul, and it was greatest thing she ever felt, no demon could fake that).

So with smile, she resumes feeding her white doves.

There are many distasteful men in world, Gerda is aware. Men with no manners nor respect, who, utterly entitled, treat women and children as things. She would have to be raised under the rock, or in that land of Greek women warriors Kai told her about, not to know about them. Single reason why she is surprised when older customer gropes her is that shop is full of people.

He is surprised when she slaps him, so she can forgive herself for that. He shouts, more from surprise than pain-she didn’t smack him as hard as she could or should, have had- for he is too much used for this. Too many girls are afraid, knowing that few will help them, and those men take silence for yes.

‘‘Dear God, what has gotten in you, lass?’‘

‘‘What has gotten in me? How dare you?’‘ Grandma always said that Gerda had more bravery than self-preservation, but Gerda reckons if she could go over half world as child then she can shout at this man when she is a woman .’‘ You, sir, have honor of being most rude and shameful customer I had displeasure of serving. How dare you act so toward young woman, nay any woman at all! I hope you haven’t been bothering any other girl here other wise..’‘ 

He is angry, and red, and raises his hand. Several customers ran to Gerda’s side, fastest being sixty year old widow with steely hair buying flowers for cheap funeral and fourteen year old boy taking single flower for each of his eight siblings. man’s hand falls down.

But window is thrown open, and golden October sunlight pours inside as half dozen white doves descend, pecking at his bald head. Man lets her go as he tries to fend them off. Gerda stares in awe, then rises cross around her  neck and whispers her thanks.

‘‘Miss Gerda, are you alright?’‘ The boy asks, having run to her side. Widow watches with stern, steely gaze, her angry eyes like embers as she shouts to two strong men standing near her to take ‘‘gentleman’‘ outside, using names and words that would make sailors red as strawberries. Two men comply, their necks as flushed as Gerda at widow’s words.

‘‘I am well, thank you.’‘ She says to everybody inside.’‘ Promise me you will never be like that man when you grow up.’‘ She whispers to him, and he nods, face determined and hard. She doesn’t doubt it. His mother is honest woman of strong hand, if little easy to set off, and his father is nice man who is always kind to all even if they don’t have much. And boy himself is, as far as she knows from seeing him around neighbor, just as kind and honest.

‘‘ I will keep flowers, mister, but you can have your money back once you learn to behave properly.’‘ She says and takes three coins off counter, giving them to boy and widow as shop laughs.

‘‘Thank you.’‘ She whispers to doves. they stare at her with their red eyes before cooing back.

‘‘Feed us. Nice girl. All people love you. Man bad, man harm. Cannot allow that.’‘ Gerda laughs and thanks again. Amount of birdseed increases, and so does amount of feathery flyers keeping watch over her.

She doesn’t have such incidents ever regain.

In November, they attend her friend’s coronation. She gets invitation, personally signed by future Queen herself. She is allowed to bring guests. Nobody from house says anything, but news spread and soon Gerda is given as much as attention as mayor himself. Still nobody is surprised when she brings  grandmothers and Kai.

They are given great chambers, and coronation is magnificent, her wise friend ascending to her rightful throne, dressed in royal regalia. They dance (Gerda is astonished to see grandmas pick up fast, complicated dance with each other) and laugh and eat and everything is beautiful. And then Kai and prince meet.

There is no fight, no problem at all. Not even teasing or bantering. But once they meet Gerda realizes how much things have changed.

She once confused him for Kai. It was easy to mistake them in dark for each other while prince was sleeping-but once his face was revealed she saw her mistake immediately.  Head was right size, neck long enough and forehead just as wide, with thin eyebrow and right jaw and pointy chin. But his eyes were bigger than Kai’s, his ears shorter and rounder, nose not as prominent and lips much plumper, teeth not as small and cheekbones not as sharp.

Still, they could have been cousins. Or even brothers. Both knew nothing of their parents, and were right age to maybe be fraternal twins- prince grew up in orphanage and Kai was found abandoned  on street by his grandmother (in the snow, but this she never told anybody). Only problem was that they grew up in towns on opposite sides of country. Still she joked about confusing them again once they met each other.

And they did, and Gerda could no longer deny how much Kai changed. Both were tall and strong and slim, but Kai seemed tall and robust and thin like frozen mountain, or frost covered pine tree. 

Their skin was dark as earth, but Kai’s was harsh and frigid like dead, frozen taiga where nothing could grow. Prince’s hair was just as long and fair as her friend’s once was, but now it was pale and white like pure snow and bleached bones.  

Their teeth were healthy and clean, but Kai’s were blinding white and seemed pointy at times.  Prince’s hands were warm, while Kai’s felt like sticking hand in mountain river. Prince’s eyes were sparkling, so were Kai’s, but whereas eyes of prince shone with joy and mischief, Kai’s reflected still light of aurora.

And only there, in room full of people, hundreds of them, instead of apartment filled with four, did she notice how off Kai felt.  How hairs on her neck rose, as something deep in her bones remembered and said:old, inhuman,wrong,eldritch,other, run,beware, don’t trust,hide, too powerful.

But she ignored it. Kai was her friend, and some stupid voice in her head didn’t know him better than she.

Only when they went to coronation, did he truly notice how small and weak and not right everything looks.

He sees castle, gold and marble and brilliant, and thinks of palace rising from ground unto sky, made of snow that will never melt and with doors of wind that will never stop. And he knows how fast and how easily this so called castle will crumble.

He walks halls, small finite halls in which people are pushing and hitting each other and having problem keeping distance and thinks of endless labyrinths that could contain whole world and still not lose one percent of space yet were always empty.

Decorations are wrought, and ugly, imperfect things not wrought by will. They cannot change shape or rise to defend castle and he knows that if he compared candles and statues he would find that they aren’t perfectly same. He sees candles and thinks of pale northern lights adorning walls and roof, part of castle, contained in floor and pillars and freely travelling through air.

He sees throne, ugly, red and gold thing, and thinks of pale mirror, frozen bottomless lake of reason containing world and answers to all questions and then some, watches tables and portraits and thinks of ice pieces that made such perfect puzzles.

And he sees Gerda’s friend the queen, and his very mind screams and recoils upon thinking of calling her so. He almost cries when he says ‘’glory to queen’’, his bones breaking. 

For in place of this mortal creature, being of flesh and blood and bone, being that can be killed and thorn apart and shattered and rebelled against by any he sees a goddess, gigantic and beyond measure and of power deep beyond comprehension, woman with body of glaciers and restless soulless eyes of stars and hair of northern light and clothes of snow and voice of sharp winter wind, being that stands against vulcanoes and turns magma to stone, who can take away life with touch and turn land harsh and barren, woman older than very time, who rules vast expanses of empty space and brought winter in existence and who will one day bury entire universe in cold and ice when time is right for her to do so (she doesn’t hate other elements and seasons, no matter what anybody says. World has time and place for all, and when it is time for fire and heat to devour all she will accept and burn and wait for flames to die out just as they will wait for her hold to shatter, and so on and on).

He doesn’t hate Gerda’s friend-could never hate her, nor her husband, she is so wise and smart and ambitious and cunning and caring and will make great leader, but part of his very soul shivers and shrivels and dies whenever he thinks of her as a queen- none of them humans realize, he understands, what true monarch says.

‘‘Isn’t she true queen?’‘ Gerda asks, smile as bright as Sun, and for her sake he will lie even as his tongue blackens and rots.

‘‘Yes, she is.’‘ He says and quickly coughs up blood that spills from his mouth.

Fate snatched them, and changed what they were in something else, but just because they are something else now doesn’t they will stop being friends.

They will endure, that is what they do.

[shintorikhazumi]

A Ginger Romeo x Tsundere Juliet: Chapter 1

Prologue Start-

“Are you my Juliet?”

“If only you’d be my Romeo.”

 The flames engulfed the small country cottage as a crimson-haired female remained locked in the Captain of the Royal Guard’s embrace, screaming at the soldiers to stop this cruel act. Her lover, she prayed, must’ve escaped before the flames worsened, right? She hoped so. She wished he would not be burned to a crisp, baked like his famous breads and cakes.

Tears of joy and relief flowed down her face as she saw auburn locks emerge from the falling house. But as soon as those tears of happiness came, they turned into tears of fright, horror and dread as he was immediately apprehended and made to kneel before the girl’s father. The King of Canzone, the place of song.

She saw the monarch’s gaze burn with rage hotter than the physical fire just beside them. He stared at the lean body, feeling his anger boil even more at this lad who had almost violated a valuable asset to his success. He didn’t really care about the girl herself, he cared about the benefits he gained from her. He merely needed her as his little ‘support’. He could marry her off to some rich tycoon for all he cared, someday, but this boy was getting in the way of such plans.

Love. Ha! A petty, irrelevant thing. His own brother fell ill to its charms and see what it got him. It brought him six feet below the ground.

The Ruler kicked the baker in the chest, nice and firm. The brunette offered him a frightful glare in return. He struck the boy again, hoping to lighten his rage, yet it only seemed to heighten his negativity even further.

“YOU RAT! I should throw you in the dungeon! Maybe send you to some jungle to die! How dare you touch what’s mine!” He carried on with the assault, halting only to let the boy catch his breath, catch a glimmer of hope before he was destroyed.

“Please, stop!” The weakening princess cried.

“Oh?” Her father turned his attention to the crying lass before returning to the fairly battered teen. “You hear that? She cries for you! She never did that for any of the suitors I set up for her before… So why does she… for some lowly mutt.” He spat at the infamous thorn in his side. “What have you done to her? You’ve bewitched her!” He delivered a resounding slap across the handsome face. “Should I send you to an island? Maybe you could die alone? That would make me soooo happy!”

“Stop! Please stop this! Don’t hurt him! Don’t take him away from me!! Please father, don’t… don’t!”

“Maki!” Although he had been beaten black and blue, the strength and ferocity in the young man’s voice shook the earth on which the King stood. The lovers gazed at each other, Romance blooming through those stares.

The adult looked on the exchange in silence. Maki actually felt a strong fear from noticing it. It never meant peace if it was silence from the harsh ruler. That man’s greed knew no bounds. And all this desperate struggling was getting to him. He finally broke the peace, addressing his ‘daughter’. She felt a chill run down her spine. Something was definitely going to happen.

“I beg of you, my king.” Her voice turned small. “Don’t take him away from me.”

“Hmmm?” His attention focused on her, “Don’t worry.”  He laughed, it sounded like death itself. “Don’t worry~” He sang. “I won’t be the one taking him from you.” Her father’s steel-cold voice resounded.

“Huh?”

“The gods will. I will only be the one sending him there. To a place he can be happy. Happy and alive. Alive yet… dead.” He spoke the last word with so much hate, you could have seen it float in the air. “Say Goodbye, Maki.” It sounded like a command that she was supposed to obey. As her father raised his sword up over his head, men held the boy’s head down, revealing his pale neck, marred with a few burns.

The fact that the boy neither cried nor screamed for mercy, urked the King to no end. It was as if the boy refused to admit he was at fault. It even seemed as if he, the mighty king of Canzone was the one in the wrong. He growled at the lad’s figure.

“Romeo is no more of a prince than you are a Juliet.”

“Honoka!”

“If he were, pray you’ll meet in the next world.”

“Farewell… Montague.”

End

~0~0~0~0~

“Romeo, oi… Kousaka Romeo. Where the heck are you at?”

“For the last time, Umi, my name is Honoka! Weren’t you supposed to be smart or something? Or do you just have some kind of short-term memory loss, Dory?” Honoka popped out of a bunch of leaves and at the sight that greeted him, tried his best to hide his amusement at the face Umi was making, but to no avail.

“I am, for a fact, smart, and for your information, that’s what everyone calls you anyway!” Umi huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “And can you get down from there? Why are you even hiding in a tree in the first place?” He reprimanded the other teen, as he did almost every day.

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m looking to catch a glimpse of the lovely flower known as the female.” Honoka smirked, continuing his search from up high. “And I think I’ve caught a glimpse of the lovely daughter of the Minami’s.

“O-oi!”

“I know, I know. Calm down. I won’t touch her… a lot.”

“Honoka!” Umi began to climb after his childhood friend as the latter climbed even higher up the old oak tree in the center of the village. It was their secret base after all. The place they always played at from their days in elementary and training school.

“I’m just joking. Don’t you worry your handsome little face one bit, Sonoda-sama. Sir Horatio would take back your knighthood if he saw you like that.” Honoka poked at the wrinkles between the bluenette’s forehead, continuing to laugh at his compadre’s expense.

“And you should try harder to gain your knighthood! If only they knew how talented you were with a sword, moreso than I am-“

“Umi, I am but a humble baker. Baking is my life, the bakery keeps food on my table and water in my tub, clothes to drape over this frail form and lights to keep away the ghouls and any and all creatures of darkness.” Honoka stated dramatically as he jumped down from the high branch he was on, landing with such grace as if were just stepping down from a short stool, of course, winking at the ladies who passed by at the same time as they blushed and gushed, and giggled.

“And yet you still wonder as to why people call you Romeo.” Umi sighed, running a hand through silky locks. “If they knew of our secret-“

“Shhh… we promised to never speak of that till my next birthday.” Honoka’s back was turned to Umi, but the prodigious knight knew that his friend was anxious of his coming of age and the revealing of their well-kept secret. He tried to approach the strong figure, placing a hand on his shoulder for moral support.

“Don’t worry. You’ve been living like this for sixteen years already. And I’ve been sent to protect you, I live for you. When the time comes, your seventeenth birthday, everyone will know. Even that horrid King of Canzone.” Umi squeezed the well-toned shoulder of the baker. “I swear I will keep you from harm.”

Honoka’s laugh was the most beautiful song you could’ve heard, well maybe second only to the boy’s actual voice… and maybe Kotori’s, but… it was a tone with so much charisma and it was utterly contagious that Umi found himself laughing along. Something he had not been able to do in a while. If not for his master, he would never have laughed or even chuckled in his life.

“Thank you, friend. I will be on my way and so should you. The bakery needs tending to and I know you don’t have as loose a schedule as you portray it to be. Knights’ jobs aren’t so easy, you know.” Honoka gave Umi a slap to the shoulder as he stuck his hands in his pockets. The male waved goodbye to his friend, not once looking back to the soldier.

“Hah… you are most welcome.” With a sigh and scratch to the head, the Knight left to attend to his duties for the day.

~0~0~0~0~

 The auburn-haired baker took a leisurely calming stroll through the familiar town of Adagio, in the kingdom of Suono, kingdom of Sound. The kingdom he was born in. Due to problems in the past, such as the former kind King and Queen of Suono dying, the cause hidden from almost everyone, and their heir missing, the prime minister, The Grand Duke, Minami-sama, and Sir Horatio, Captain of the Royal Guard had been assigned to provide guidance and protection for the Kingdom.

The neighboring Kingdom, Canzone, was ruled by the Capulet lineage, but the once warm and friendly country turned hostile as they tried to overthrow and subject Suono to their rule, led by a new King, King Cattivo, who was rumored to have killed his own half-brother for the throne, the Kind man from the Nishikino branch of the Capulet family. He took the man’s wife and daughter and claimed them as his own, even though he thoroughly abused his queen because she refused his advances.

Honoka shook his head in disgust. That man was as fit to be King as an elephant was fit to be a mouse. He raised the taxes in Canzone and the money that didn’t go into his pocket, which was around five to a mere ten percent, went to deadly weapons, illegal magic research, and military reinforcement. The baker hadn’t noticed how hard he was gritting his pearly whites till he felt pain. He couldn’t help it. Just the thought of all the imprisoned citizens of Canzone made him want to cry blood.

“Romeo!” A playful tap on his shoulder roused him out of his complex thoughts about repulsive political matters and brought him back to reality, a gesture he was most grateful for.

“Yes?” Standing before him was Eli Ayase, the only female Knight who had made it into the Royal Guard despite all the rigorous training. She said she owed a great debt to the former King and Queen and wanted to repay it by protecting them, but it seemed impossible now, with how they had passed on and all. Instead, she requested to be assigned to protect the baker, something that other Royal Guards found utterly ridiculous. Why would a Royal Guard, an extremely talented one at that, ask to protect the town’s baker?

“How are you doing Honoka?” She asked the sixteen-year old cook, as she joined in on his stroll towards his bakery. It was obcious she cared a great deal for him. She was extra protective too. When the blonde had time, she’d take Honoka out to eat or spend her days off right at the ginger’s side. Sometimes, Honoka found that he didn’t quite understand her actions himself, but being the sweet gentleman he was, discarded unneeded thoughts.

“I am doing just fine, Madam Eli. If I may be so bold as to question a Knight, why are you here… with me… again?” Honoka flashed another one of his flirty smiles towards the Guard who was unfazed.

“You know why I am here. I would spend every second of my life by your side if I had to.” Was the reply that the blonde always gave without fail. Her eyes shining with sheer sincerity and determination.

“And I told you already that it’s alright even if you didn’t. You need not dedicate your life to someone so lowly as myself. Meister Ayase would be displeased by your great disservice to the country.” Honoka spoke in a formal manner for once, something he seldom did. The conversation was going in a bad direction, and both could feel the shift.

“My father would be proud of the path I’ve chosen, and that is to keep you from harm’s way.” The other responded with a religious fervor that matched the intensity of the ginger’s stare.

“I already have Umi for that. I don’t need two of you Knights. In fact, I could well defend myself from danger.” Honoka spoke in a factual tone, and Eli knew that the man’s words were nothing short of the truth and nothing came to mind that could oppose the solid statement. His mood was starting to sour and he disagreed with that side to himself, the side that could easily get hurt and hurt.

“I know that, and yet I still worry, just as Sir Sonoda does. That is the reason-“ Without letting the girl finish, Honoka spun on his heel to walk away from the annoyance. Eli’s presence in itself wasn’t annoying, but the way both she and Umi would dote on him unnerved Honoka to no end.

“Wait! Don’t just leave, hey we were-“ It wasn’t as though he hated her company, it was more that he knew that another one of their debates was taking place. It didn’t worry him if it was concerning him himself since they’d forgive on another eventually, but that didn’t change the fact that he strongly disliked hurting the older girl. The guilt would always stick around like a pest.

“Eli.” For the first time since this morning began, the baker’s voice turned hostile and chilly. Threatening. It was so unlike his usual cheery, playful character. But there was one more emotion that coated his next words. “Don’t you trust me?”

Of course she did. Of course Ayase Eli trusted her master. More than anything else, actually. More than anyone. Moreso than her seniors and the people who raised and took care of her, even.

But somehow, it was quite the challenge to put those feelings into words.

Honoka, deeply wounded from the lack of response from the blonde, readied himself to sprint away, unable to bear the thought of his blonde friend seeing him break into tears. As he began turning to the opposite direction, arms around his midsection kept him firmly planted in his spot and encased in a warm embrace.

“I do.” The breath next to his ear was ticklish, and the words poked at his heart strings. “But, I still worry despite my deep belief in you.” The golden-haired knight sighed as she felt the boy turn to return the embrace. “I’m sorry.” She whispered. She tightened her hold, forgetting for once that they were in the middle of town, well into the morning.

“I understand. I just wished you could let me go a bit. Or at least loosen the leash you and Umi have tied around me.” Not a single sound escaped their mouths during the next few moments, as they continued in that very suggestive situation that could have meant anything with how close they were. Eli secretly admitted it felt wonderful. Locked in this person’s embrace, she felt safest here.

Honoka began to laugh awkwardly as he cleared his suddenly hoarse throat, seeing as too many people had begun staring. None of those gazes welcome.

“Ehem. Anyway, if both of you wish to not tarnish your reputations, I suggest you… ehem... disentangle yourselves from one another.

“Umi!” They both released the other and jumped a safe distance from each other as they hid their embarrassed faces from the blue-haired knight.

“And here I thought we had rounds to do together Eli.” Umi ran a hand through his locks. The day had just started and he was already exhausted.

“Ah… Yeah! That’s right. Well then, excuse me… Kousaka-san.” Eli, along with Umi bowed to their secret master, running off to god knows where for their tasks for the day.

“Yeah, take care.” Honoka waved and stretched his arms above his head, ready to open up shop for the day. At least his baked goods would always make him happy, and at least they trusted him with their deliciously crisp lives.

“Fight dayo!”

~0~0~0~0~

“One baguette, maybe a dozen baker’s choice doughnuts, and some of your freshly made lemon jam.” A female customer told the man behind the counter as he gave a curt nod and went to gather the order.

“Oi, boss… here’s the request.”

Honoka smiled at his helper. He was quite mature in years, with a large build, most thought he was some bouncer or soldier, but he surprisingly loved sweets and pastries. This job was a perfect fit for him and Honoka laughed as only he knew of this secret side of his partner.

“Here you go Benvolio. Make sure you hand the pretty lady a flower for service.” The brunette winked at the lady on the opposite side of the counter as heat rose to her face. Benvolio smirked, accepting the customly made basket of goods.

“Flirt.”

“Sweets-lover.”

Honoka couldn’t contain his laughter as the older man tried to hit him with a piece of French bread but missed significantly.

“You are much too naïve. As if a piece of bread coupled with your slow movements could have an effect on me.” Before the angered Benvolio could deal a second swing, the daughter of the duke entered.

“Oh! Miss Minami!” Honoka greeted with a grin. “Here for another creampuff? Oh! I just remembered, we had them made in a form you’d be most pleased with. Just a moment.” The baker went further into his spacious kitchen to retrieve the mentioned sweet as Minami Kotori all but giggled. She had not spoken a word, and yet her childhood friend knew her so well. But he seemed to always forgot one thing.

“Honoka! I’ve told you a dozen times-“

“Here, Kotori!” Her unspoken demand had already been granted in the form of being addressed by her given name, and a delightful present that was an alpaca-shaped creampuff was handed to her. “Free of charge. Customer service.” The male blushed as he was rewarded with a kiss to the cheek.

“Just make sure your ‘Customer Services’ don’t put you out of business, my sweet baker.” Kotori liked how Honoka was the only person who would treat her as normal. Not like how others would. People who were afraid of her social status and standing.

“Out of business?” Honoka gloated, raising a challenging brow. “As if.” His chest puffed out in pride, he took her other orders and served the other customers too with brilliant hospitality.

~0~0~0~0~

“So are you done for the day?” Kotori was seated in one of the shop’s comfortable chairs, placed for customers who wanted to drink tea and chat in the homely atmosphere the bakery presented.

The sun looked like it was just about to set, and Honoka was shocked as she finally noticed how long the ash-gray brunette had waited for him.

“So you actually have some business with me?” Honoka sighed, ashamed that he had left his friend waiting too long. She usually didn’t stay in the bakery this long if it wasn’t for something important. “I’ll go get changed quickly madam, don’t fret.” He flashed his business smile and ran to the changing room to get dressed.

Stepping out in casual wear, he offered his arm for the lady to take, being the gentleman he was, and after ensuring his place was well locked up and secure, they took a stroll to any place their feet would take them.

~0~0~0~0~

The peaceful atmosphere between the two best friends was one of the reasons Honoka loved spending time with her. Kotori was a very beautiful young lady, and the boy couldn’t help but appreciate her during times like this. Times when they would just silently understand each other, no words needed. In turn, Kotori also appreciated the kind and accepting, and very romantic and loving nature of the auburn-haired Knight in training.

Their walks usually happened when something was troubling either teen, and Honoka would usually be the comforter, at times taking sweets along for a late-afternoon picnic or from time-to-time, a secret midnight snack-slash-rendezvous.

Of course the two were strictly best friends. Of course.

Reaching the river, Honoka spoke up as they had been quiet for quite a while already, the purpling skies telling them that they had actually been walking for a fair amount of time. “Is this about Umi again?” He winced as he received a blow to the arm. Women were quite strong nowadays.

“No. It’s a proper business proposal this time. Not that I would not like to get to that, but…” Pink dusted her pale cheeks.

“Ahaha… I understand. So what job?”

Kotori led Honoka beside the riverbank where they usually played (even at their age neither believed they were too old for games), and took seat. She remained silent and Honoka felt the pangs of worry tug at his heart. “Ko-“

“I don’t want you hurt.” She whispered.

“What was that?” Honoka didn’t quite catch that statement. Prying never sat well with the sword wielder, not that he always took one along, but he actually was quite the fighter. He was even skilled with a bow. “Kotori, is everything alri-“

“Actually, I have a friend.” The male frowned, getting cut off twice wasn’t exactly his idea of fun, but He did want to hear what his precious counterpart had to say. “She… she doesn’t get along well with her family and I was wondering… well… if you could…”

Kotori trailed off once more, mumbling words and letting out random phrases, making Honoka picture out some broken record. “Could you just tell me what’s going on?”  No response came. “Kotori?” He attempted to put a hand on the noble’s shoulder.

“Gah! This is bad… I can’t put you through this!” The sudden yell made Honoka jump in surprise. He felt his heart pumping so strongly, it sould have well leapt out of his tight chest. The female placed her hands on her head: she seemed to be deeply troubled. She knew the other teen would accept, even if it meant facing ghosts of the past that would surely be there to haunt him for much, much longer. She needed to consider all the results, all the effects it would have, pleasant or horrid. She didn’t want to put him through any of it, knowing a fraction of his past. “Never mind I’ll just ask someone else-“

“What is it?! What do you need?” Honoka could no longer take this tenseness, this anxiety to know what was running in Kotori’s mind, the suspense was killing him. Not only that, all those close to him were making him feel as though if he were untrustworthy. Like their problems were something he could never hope to help with, let alone fix, and yet they all meddled in his affairs!

“Honoka…?”

“Please…” The warm hand embracing hers made the tears that were threatening to spill, stop their insistent pushing. “Trust me with this. Let me help you.” Honoka truly was a smooth talker. His expressive eyes telling you all you needed to know and understand. He was a very open person, keeping no secrets. Ok not exactly, but… you just couldn’t bear to fail a person such as him.

“Maki needs help, you see.” Kotori finally told her friend, not noticing the close proximity between their faces. Honoka, however, did and did his best to pull away, and hoping he hadn’t been too obvious.

“Ok… ehem-so some girl needs time away from her family. I’m guessing you want me to help her escape?” Honoka spilled Kotori’s plan for her. He knew if he let her lay it out in full, they’d reach the dawn of the following day just discussing a simple matter like how to tie a rope to a tree. Don’t ask, Honoka would say. It happened.

“Yes… it’s just…”

“Just?

“You might have some trouble and it’s more dangerous than the usual.” Kotori looked at Honoka’s baby blue orbs filled with excitement and thirst for adventure. She didn’t want to put out that spark, but… “Also you need to know this. I don’t want you surprised, or caught off guard to the point of having little mishaps, okay? You have to be safe coming back. God knows Eli would have my head.”

“Oh come on, what could happen? No accident will just ‘happen’. And why would I be shocked? Is your friend an extremely noble person?” Honoka laughed and Kotori wished she could too. It just wasn’t the right situation for it. She knew Honoka remembered most of his past, despite it happening when he was at such a young age. It meant Trauma to be reminded of this. It meant a bad kind of shock.

Kotori took a deep breath, preparing herself for the worst. “The truth is…” The eager anticipation seen through Honoka’s body language was evident as he waited for a new adventure. “She’s the princess of Canzone. Nishikino Maki, from the Capulet branch.”

Honoka’s sparkling eyes dulled as his jaw hung slack. The fire in him doused with a bucket of water. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Kotori found she hated awkward silences like this. They felt nothing like the tranquil moments she spent with Honoka, those without words. She felt the dire need for her friend to say something, anything to ease the fear that was beginning to grow in the young maiden’s heart.

“Are you still… up for it? I mean- you don’t have to force yourself or anything, okay?!” Kotori was beginning to think it was a bad idea to present this task to Honoka and panicked. The smile sent her way, vanquished those fears.

“If you trust me enough to ask this of me, how could I ever refuse?”

“You know if you keep that up, I might just fall for you.” Kotori giggled, feeling relief flood her entire being.

“I’d rather you not. Please don’t. I’m too young to be in heaven.”

“I didn’t know there was an age qualification for death.”

“Well now you do.” The jabs and jokes lightened the atmosphere of the lovely chilly evening.

~0~0~0~0~

A few wrestling matches later, Honoka decided to take heed to the warnings of the swift dropping of the temperature and proposed to take the girl home, despite her refusal, and against his better judgment. Why? Because a certain female Knight would be searching for him.

“Let’s get you home before Eli finds me and drags me home.”

“Alright.” The Ash-brunette gave in, not wanting to further impose on her friend’s kindness. “Kyaa!”

“And up you go!” Kotori swore her the whole town- no kingdom could hear her thumping heart. Honoka had carried her, bridal style, as he laughed at her shaking form. “Hold on tight! The Honoka express is bound for the Minami Residence! Fight dayo!” And with the speed of light, he sprinted towards the aforementioned location, taking small detours where they could see the beautiful stars, and probably take shortcuts.

“Idiot.” She sighed, feeling light as a feather as she was carried safely home. She knew she was safe. With this person, who wouldn’t be?

 “Why are you two with me?! I wanted to go alone!”

“And we said you can’t.” Umi replied flatly, swatting a branch away from his path and pointedly ignoring his auburn-haired master as they continued their trek through the deep forests.

“What the heck? And here I was thinking that I was the master.”

“You went against our ground rules. Think about it as getting grounded.” Eli told Honoka, recalling last night’s events after the latter came home.

~0~0~0~0~

“To any power or celestial being out there, I pray that my guards are asleep. Thanks.” Honoka clasped his hands together in front of his humble abode.

“I hope they answer your pleas, yeah?”

“Crap.” Turning to address the owner of the smooth voice, Honoka chuckled fearfully. “Hi… I’m sorry, Eli.” He gave up on forming an excuse, seeing how tired the knight seemed to be. “Sometimes I wish you’d sleep without me. I know how tired you actually are.” In futile attempts to turn away the wrath of his guardian, Honoka smiled the smile he knew she was weak against.

“You know we can’t do that. And yet you still are so selfish.” Umi’s voice joined in the conversation as he leaned on one of the posts by the stairs. Honoka glared at the male.

“Kotori had a request for me.” He explained. The blonde felt a sudden rush, as she panicked, her eyes widening in shock and slight anger.

“Honoka! We agreed on no more jobs like that!” Eli shook the boy by the shoulders. “You promised!” Kotori’s jobs always had a hint of danger laced in. Eli didn’t like the sound of an endangered Honoka. Sometimes, she even disapproved of their meetings because they seemed to always lead to these little missions Honoka loved.

The two knew of their friend’s joy in taking part of an adventure and helping others, but if it was at the risk of his own soul, they would go so far as to ban the baker from meeting up with the Duke’s daughter.

“Then what am I to do?!” He felt ticked off, raising his voice as he unintentionally banged a fist in the middle of their shared dining table. “Be a baker my entire life? You both agree that I have my fair share of skills. I can protect my own being.” Honoka found himself questioning his friend’s trust in him again.

“I need action every now and then! And it’s a simple task! I just need to grab some girl and take her away from her house for a while.”

“You’re kidnapping a girl from her home?!” Eli looked as she if she would faint any moment at the revealing of the actual thing.

“Correction, it’s no home. It is simply a shelter. That’s why she needs to get away from it. And I am not ‘kidnapping’ her, I am helping her out.” Honoka frowned at the thought. What a sad life that child led.

“So? Who is this person?” Umi seemed to grasp the situation and with how he said it, his services were available for Honoka’s use.

“It’s the princess of Canzone.” He admitted. The pair saw the seriousness and conviction burning in their charge’s eyes, yet they still feared for worse. The fact that another kingdom was involved, even so because it was Canzone, especially because it involved Royal blood, it could already be labeled as worse enough.

“No.”

“Ugh!” Honoka prepared to march off and lock himself in his quarters till daybreak. He didn’t care about their opinions anymore. He’d go anyway, he thought. With a mindset to sneak out, he guessed he would have to rest up to have the strength he needed for the journey. His was about to slam his door shut, but their statement stopped him in his tracks.

“Not unless you take us with you.” They smiled. They knew he would have to agree. They’d stalk him even if he didn’t. They were confident he’d say yes.

“No.”

Well, whatever. It didn’t change the fact that they’d be on a journey tomorrow. They were accompanying him, no buts allowed.

~0~0~0~0~

 “Eeeellliiiii!!!” Honoka whined. “Just why couldn’t we have taken Berto?”

Honoka had woken before the crack of dawn to pick up the map and instructions from the Minami’s, but the formerly sleeping knights had awoken at the sound of running footsteps outside. He hoped that if Eli did come along, she would have at least brought Berto.

Bertomoligio was Eli’s pet dragon. She used him for hunts and travels and such.

“We’re trying to secretly take that princess out, right? What good would it be if we attracted soldiers and patrollers and scout’s attention? We’d be dead before we got to her. And there goes your plan to save a soul.”

“At least I tried.” Honoka sighed, draggin along his tired feet. He hadn’t slept much last night, plus he was slightly out of shape, always being confined at home by the two guardians. Spotting a flowing creek, his spirits were lifted and he took a dash for it, discarding his sandals to the side as he cooled the bruised skin in the flowing water.

“Child.” Umi retorted.

“That, I am.” Honoka laughed as he splashed along everywhere. “How ‘bout we take a rest? I brought bread!”

The three planned their approach during that break. They were about five kilometers from the kingdom walls and the guards could well likely spot them from a kilometer’s distance. They needed to get in, but that was impossible if they couldn’t even go near the barricades.

“So Kotori’s map tells of a moat encircling the walls and a drawbridge by the south entrance. The North has a brick walkway-bridge and most watchers are stationed by these two entrances.” Umi drew out the first plans on the dirt with a stick.

“A fourth of a kilometer east from the walls, there is a well. It’s a dried up one that is, in truth, a secret passage. If we could make it there, and fortunately we can due to the east being a fairly wooded area, we’ll have a sure gate pass in.” Honoka explained, the two nodding their agreement. “We execute our approach when we are the least visible. Nightfall.”

~0~0~0~0~

Night came speedily as the three, fully charged, ran as silently as they could to the targeted location. They found the well quite easily, their eyes having already adjusted to the darkness. They could see the lights from torches and could hear a few voices from the walls.

“I think there is some kind of celebration?” Eli asked.

“That’s a good opportunity for us. Let’s move while we are yet to be noticed.” Honoka told his companions as they jumped into the well, lighting a torch as they were well into the passage.

“I wonder why they are so… loud. I thought this place was unhappy… for the citizens.” Honoka stated his opinion of the country.

“Aren’t those just the rich ones? Maybe they decided to celebrate how foolishly rich they are?” Eli responded with disinterest. “We should be near enough-“

“Who goes there!” A voice bellowed. “See I told you there was a chance someone would sneak in through here!”

“Shut up Matthias. Who’s there?” A pair of city lookouts approached the corner where the trio had stuck their backs to.

“They seem like an easy win.” Honoka told his partners in crime.

“I agree.” Umi whispered back, smiling as if he read his master’s thoughts. Nodding to Eli, they began the count.

“3,2…1”

~0~0~0~0~

“So… where should we place their unconscious bodies?”

“Wait, we may be able to use their uniforms.”

“Good idea, Honoka.” Umi began disrobing the pair, Eli scrunching up her nose in disgust.

“You two go do that. Who knows where those have been.” She turned around to allow the males some privacy as they changed into their ‘disguise’.

“Infiltration has no room for hygiene.” The boys laughed as they shared a high-five. “Though we do admit it’s quite gross.”

“See?”

The disguises worked surprisingly well, well supposing most of the guards were pretty much intoxicated and incapacitated. It was a simple sneaking in for the spies.

“This place is prone to conquest if they keep this up.” Umi sighed in discontent and disappointment. “And here I was afraid of their defenses.”

“I don’t think we should underestimate them.” Honoka spoke under his breath, only for the knights to hear as he nodded a greeting to a passerby as they were able to approach the center, the castle.

“How do we get in now?” Umi asked Eli, the one who held the map at the moment.

“There is a small manhole nearby that is connected to the aqueducts of the castle baths.” She stated as the two understood immediately what she meant, and took off the stinky armor and were left in normal clothing. “We’ll go through there.”

Crawling their way in, the three emerged in the dead center of a large bath. Wet and soaked to their boots, they headed off to any spare room in search of fitting garments that would also help in hiding them in the royal palace.

“Are we good on time?” Honoka asked Umi who pulled out a silver pocket watch and saw that it was about two in the morning as they followed the map in search of the princess’ quarters.

The three had realized that the place was even larger than the drawn out map had suggested, and working their way through was quite confusing. Along with the additional knock-out here and there, the three made sure that they weren’t noticeable in the slightest. The background of the partying only supported their cause.

When they reached what seemed to be the corridor that lead up to all the royal housing and bedrooms, Eli had almost stepped in to a hallway when she felt restriction of movement.

“Hey, isn’t it this one he-“ A hand covered Eli’s mouth unexpectedly, she would’ve fought back and nearly screamed had Honoka’s voice not soothed her, informing her that it was only he who had held her.

“Shhh… Look.” He pointed at the room Eli mentioned. Two maids were knocking at the door. They seemed desperate.

“Maki-ojousama, your father calls for you to join in the party!” The silver-haired one spoke meekly.

“I refuse to be his plaything. He’ll just make me an entertainment for his guests and for those stuuuppiiid suitors.” A voice responded from behind closed doors.

“Maki-sama!”

“Leave.” The weight of the word was so heavy because she meant it.

“Yes.”

Honoka felt a pain in his chest. That one spoken word held anger and bitterness, but also loneliness and hurt. He felt the sudden urge to protect whoever it was behind those wooden separators. To embrace the crying soul. If only he could he-

“Honoka? Let’s go!” Umi tugged at his shirt as they approached the room, making sure to look out for patrolling officers. Honoka briskly tapped on the door, hearing sniffles from the inside. He felt his own soul fall to pieces as the speed of his knocks increased significantly.

“GO away! I told you I don’t want to!”

“Ummm, no. That’s not it. Ummm…. Ahh… how should I say this.” The blue-eyed gentleman was at a loss for words for the first time and he didn’t know how to deal with that. “Actually-“

“So you must be another suitor my father sent.” The voice was coated with venom, and Honoka winced at how painful it was. “You should already know I’m not interested. I will never be interested.”

“Really now?” Honoka smelled a challenge, and grinned. He loved it. “We’re going in.” He instructed to his co-conspirators as they helped him pick the lock. As soon as the door clicked and swung open, a pillow met Honoka’s dashing smile.

“Are you some kind of pervert? I said I’m not interested!” Honoka took the object that was in the way of his line of vision. Before he could lash out a reply, gorgeous lilac greeted him with the most vivid rosy red he’d seen in a lifetime.

“Hello.” Was all that fell from his lips as the one opposite from him, pillow clutched tightly in front of her form stared at the being in front of her.

“Hello.” He was in no means, bad looking. He was rather charming. Maki thought, but immediately shook her head to rid them of those thoughts. Any suitor, no matter how handsome, as long as it was from her father, would be a horrible man. “Please leave. You are not supposed to be here.” She told him. She didn’t want to deal with any men at the moment.

“No wait! The truth is-“

“You there! What are you doing with the princess… wait why are you even he- Intruders!” The loud interruption prompted them to turn to the sound of the voice. A Royal Guard, Honoka assumed, had spotted them. Well, the door was wide open.

“Umi, Eli.” That’s when the princess noticed that there were actually other people there, besides her handsome intruder.

“Who are you people-“

“Do you trust us?” Honoka suddenly asked, her hand offered to be taken by the beautiful woman in front of him. Maki looked behind the boy, his two companions fighting off the most elite forces, hand-picked by the king and top generals themselves, with such ease that she was beginning to really question these people’s identities.

“Honestly, no.” She spoke earnestly, locking Violet with blue.

“Good. I don’t either,” She looked at the male incredulously. How could he say such a statement? How was she supposed to feel assured? “- but… we were sent by Minami Kotori-sama to help you.”

“Kotori did?” She felt joy and sincere gratitude well up at the mention of her friend’s name. Maybe she could place herself in the hands of these strangers, if they, indeed, were sent by her dear friend.

“You can thank her later, but for now- woah!” The ginger dodged the stray spear that had hit the large glass window behind them, creating the perfect escape route for the culprits. “That was close, right princess?” He had subconsciously pulled her close in an act of defense, but she seemed to find it repulsive. “Oh, forgive my rudeness.” The male, noticing this, apologized.

“I-it’s fine.”

“Honoka! We need to leave, so if you could just!” Umi was starting to back away from the door as he approached their window of opportunity… literal window of opportunity, Eli following suit. It wasn’t as though they find it hard, but they were beginning to attract too much attention and they wanted to escape unidentified, after all.

“Got it.” He turned once more to the still processing noble. “Well then, excuse me and forgive my rudeness once more but…” She, at first, couldn’t comprehend the meaning behind those words till she felt him hoist her up, gently into his arms as Eli dug around under the bed in search of something.

“Found it!” She held up a small bag with the princess’ escape belongings. Kotori had told them about it. That she had instructed the Nishikino heir to prepare for escape any time.

“Let’s go!” Umi jumped out first, followed by Eli, the sounds of sirens ringing throughout the kingdom, replacing the previous noises of merrymaking.

“Shall we? Wait, do you trust me?” Honoka teased, dodging another arrow. It baffled the girl in her arms that this weird man still found the time to be pulling jokes. Honoka had turned to the unwelcome guests. “Tsk, it’s not good shooting at your own princess.” He scolded, as he mumbled a few incoherent phrases. “So princess… your verdict?” He chuckled at the frustrated expression she wore. He knew what she wanted now.

“I do for now… so just-!”

“I understand.” Honoka faced the crowd of soldiers. “I enjoyed the game gentleman, but I must bid thee farewell. Arrivederci!” He grinned and fell off the window “I understand.” Honoka faced the crowd of soldiers. “I enjoyed the game gentleman, but I must bid thee farewell. Arrivederci!” He grinned and fell off the window sill, his back facing the ground, with the princess cradled tightly in his hold, the screams erupting from the lovely lady not fazing him in the slightest.

Landing perfectly on his feet, he shot a lazy grin to the one wrapped in his arms. “Now wasn’t that fun.” He received a red cheek in return and an angry red-head walking away from him and opting to walk beside his blonde protector.

“Never again.”

Landing perfectly on his feet, he shot a lazy grin to the one wrapped in his arms. “Now wasn’t that fun.” He received a red cheek in return and an angry red-head walking away from him and opting to walk beside his blonde protector.

“Never again.”

“I take that as a solid yes.” He shared a fist bump with his usually stoic faced friend. They watched that two ladies hit it off naturally as they spoke of their common dislikes, particularly, Honoka’s care-free and, truthfully, aloof personality. The man in question found a large Cheshire cat-like grin plastered onto his face as he focused on the maiden in her night gown, the one who he might just have the pleasure of knowing these next few days.

Stretching his arms and raising his fist in the air, he felt the muscles relax after all that running. He knew that he was looking forward to this new chapter of his story. Looking up to the mix of orange and sky blue tints, just like the rising sun, a new day, a new option, a path was opening up to him. “Fight dayo.” He encouraged himself.

“This is gonna be a blast!”