#i’ll have to improvise and make it look good. my poor finger can only do so much

[rainbowbeanstyles]

AAAAAAA

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Twenty Six

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!!

As always, thank you so much for the love on this fic! This chapter is much softer than the last couple, giving our favs a well earned break from what I am putting them through in this story!

Please let me know what you think, your reactions genuinely mean the world to me!

-x-

Words: 3.2k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“I remember when our girl's days started with shopping and then ended in a bar, not the McDonalds in the mall’s food court,” Penelope says, smiling as she pops a fry into her mouth.

Emily chuckles, “It’s in the rules that the pregnant woman gets to choose where we eat.” 

“That’s true,” JJ chimes in, having a sip of her soda, “I always got to pick when I was having Henry.”

“See,” Emily says turning back to Penelope, “If you want to pick you have to have a baby of your own.”

Penelope visibly shivers, shaking her head, “No thank you, I am more than happy being the cool Aunt to Henry and Nugget.”  

Emily frowns, scrunching up her nose as she smiles at JJ before turning back to Penelope, “Why are you calling my baby ‘Nugget?’”

“Well since you refuse to find out what you are having I’ve had to improvise,” Penelope replies, nodding towards the box of McNuggets in Emily’s hand, “Plus chicken nuggets seem to have become one of your main food groups lately.” 

Emily clears her throat, her cheeks red with embarrassment, “I’ve been craving them.” 

“All I ever wanted to eat when I was pregnant was this one particular taco from Taco Bell,” JJ says sympathetically, smiling wryly, “Poor Will went out to get it for me so many times in the middle of the night.” 

Emily laughs, “Aaron has half-filled our freezer with nuggets, Jack is always delighted when he comes over.” She knew that Aaron was, at best, a few weeks away from hiding vegetables in her food just like he did for his son.

“Did you get everything you needed, Em?” JJ asks, looking at the bags of clothes on the spare chair at their table.

Emily nods in response, “I got a new bra and a couple of pairs of pants,” she says, scrunching her nose up, “None of my actual clothes fit me properly anymore but I’m going to try to put off buying maternity clothes as long as I can.” 

“Just think, before we know it we’ll be throwing your baby shower,” Penelope says, her excitement clear, and Emily chuckles wryly, “Which reminds me, I’ll need your mother’s number so I can contact her about that. I tried looking for it but it’s listed as classified.” 

Not for the first time, she finds herself grateful for the way she was raised, the way she can hold herself together in moments like this. It had been just over a week since she had seen Elizabeth, and it still stung when she thought about it, about how everything had gone south so fast. She was grateful that her mother had, so far, stuck to what she had asked and not contacted her, but it also hurt. An unspoken confirmation from her that she had chosen alcohol over her daughter. Over her grandchild. Despite everything, she still didn’t want anyone else to know, her need to keep it private, even from the people she considered her extended family, overriding anything else. 

She supposed, on some level, it was probably a good thing she’d never seen her mother that often anyway. It would make things less suspicious, but she’s sure questions would come further down the line when the baby arrived. 

When she and Aaron decided to finally get married. 

She twists her engagement ring around her finger and smiles at her friend, “That’s not really her kind of thing,” she says before reaching for her drink and taking a sip before she expertly, switches the conversation “I’m only 17 weeks Pen, let's not wish the time away. There's a lot to do before then,” she finishes her fries and sighs, the salty food taking the edge off of her rising panic for everything she and Aaron needed to organise before the baby was born, “Like finding a place to live.” 

It was a discussion that she and Aaron had started having when they found out she was pregnant. She loved her apartment, it had been her home for longer than anywhere ever had been before, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough for their growing family. Whilst the baby would be sleeping with them for the first few months after they were born, she didn’t want to eventually force Jack to share a bedroom with his sibling when he was with them. 

She wanted a house, a home. Somewhere her kids could grow up and run around together. Somewhere they could get covered in mud in the backyard. Everything she’d watched in the movies when she was young and convinced herself she’d never have herself. Aaron, despite having moved into her apartment less than a year ago, agreed, and part of her wondered why they hadn’t just bought a house then. If she was honest with herself, she knew it was because a part, a very small part, had still wanted some kind of control of the situation. 

“Have you still not found something?” JJ asks, well aware of the difficulty, and stress, of finding somewhere to live when pregnant. 

Emily groans, shaking her head as she places her hand on her stomach, her almost constant indigestion bubbling away, “No. Aaron is insistent on splitting everything down the middle which is insane,” she exclaims, blowing out a breath, “I have all of this money just sitting in my trust fund.”

They’d been disagreeing about it almost as long as they’d been talking about buying a house. She wanted to use her money, to buy them somewhere they could live forever, but Aaron was hesitant. She could never quite figure out if it was incredibly misplaced machoism that made him feel like he had to be the provider, or if he was just uncomfortable with the amount of money she had, or if it was both. 

Either way, it was frustrating, and she knew this was something they would likely run into a lot over the years. 

“And you have how much in that trust fund?” Penelope inquiries, making both Emily and JJ laugh, the question a regular one on every girl's night since she’d first confirmed their suspicions that she had a trust fund at all.

“Pen, if you can’t get that information out of me when I’m drunk, you have no chance when I’m sober.” 

___

Emily sighs as she slumps back on the couch, rubbing her hands over her face as she takes a break from looking at real estate listings. 

“It can’t be that bad,” Aaron says as he sits next to her, handing over the ice cream she’d requested after dinner. She sits up, making Sergio who had been curled up in her lap, his head on her bump, jump up, meowing as he walks away. 

Emily grumbles as she takes the bowl from him, narrowing her eyes as she takes a bite, moaning at the taste of chocolate, “It is almost impossible to find a house that has everything we want within the budget we have.” 

Aaron sighs at the mention of it, familiar dread that what had so far only been a disagreement between them could easily transform into a full-blown argument, “Em-”

“I have the money, Aaron,” she says, placing her bowl of ice cream down on the table in front of them, her appetite for it gone.

“It’s your money, sweetheart.” 

She scoffs, shaking her head at him. “We’re having a kid. We’re going to get married. What happened to ‘what’s mine is yours?’” 

“I don’t know if that applies to literal millions of dollars,” he replies, remembering how he’d had to sit down when she originally told him how much money she had, a fearful glint in her eyes that it would change the way he viewed her. He sighs and places his hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently, “It’s just…I spoke to Dave and-”

“You listened to Dave about this?” She asks incredulously, cutting over him, “He’s been divorced four times, I don’t think he’s exactly the person to go to for relationship advice.”

“Three times,” Aaron corrects, a wry smile on his face, “And he’s the only other rich person I know.”

“I’m richer than him,” she grumbles under her breath as she crosses her arms over her chest. She looks at him and sees the flicker of amusement in his lips, the way his eyebrow arches, and she clears her throat, “Right, not helping,” she sighs, “Why are you so hesitant to do this my way? Is it some macho bullshit that you need to be the provider? Because if it is-”

“No,” he replies, squeezing her leg again, “I promise you it’s not that.” 

She stares at him for a moment, desperately trying to see if he’s lying to her, but she’s satisfied he isn’t and she places her hand over his on her leg, “Then what is it?” 

He doesn’t want to upset her, to make things harder on her than they had been since what small part of the relationship she had left with her mother had collapsed around her, but she deserved the truth. 

“I’ve been divorced once already, sweetheart,” he says carefully, hating himself as her eyes go slightly wider, “I need to be practical. If you buy us a house-”

“It will be our house,” she says, cutting over him, “Not mine. And if anything happened between us,” the thought of it alone makes her breath catch in her throat, “It would still be our house. We’ll have both of our names on the deeds. I wouldn’t just screw you over like that.” 

“I know,” he assures her, squeezing her hand, shaking his head at himself, “Why is this so important to you?”

She sighs, “That money in my trust fund came from my parents, and their parents, and the jobs they chose that meant we were never really a family,” she blows out a shaky breath, the wound from the conversation with her mother the week before still fresh, “And I always told myself that if I got married and had kids I’d use it to buy my family a home, to make something good out of the very thing that made my childhood miserable,” she places her hand on her bump, “For a long time I convinced myself I’d never have this and that I’d end up donating it all to a charity that would make mother furious, like a cat sanctuary or something, but now I do have you and Jack and Nugget.”

“I can’t believe the Nugget thing is catching on,” Aaron says, and she smiles at him, her eyes soft and full of love. She’d told him about their friend's nickname for their unborn child the moment she got home, and the confused look on his face had made her laugh so much she’d started to jokingly use it herself. 

“What can I say, Pen is persuasive,” she replies. She cups his neck, her thumb brushing over his jawline, “Please let me do this for us. If it makes you feel better you can pay all the bills when we do find somewhere, or we can keep this place and rent it out and that can go into an account for the kids, but…just let me do this.” 

He looks at her, and he isn’t sure he’s ever seen her so raw, so torn open. Her honesty a gateway that let him see the parts of her she still hid even from him sometimes. He picks up one of the more expensive listings she’d been looking at, far outside o the budget they’d tentatively agreed on and looks it over. 

“You like this one?” He asks, and she nods, her lower lip in between her teeth as if she was trying to keep her hope contained. It was a beautiful home, a large colonial-style house with a brick facade, the interior was largely open plan on the first floor, with large archways separating the rooms, letting natural light filter throughout the house. The bedrooms and bathrooms were all a decent size, especially the master bedroom and its adjoining ensuite, and there was plenty of space in the backyard for Jack, the baby, and any other kids they may have to run around. 

He finds himself mostly drawn to the huge, immaculately decorated, kitchen and he can picture himself making pancakes on a Sunday morning in there for his family.

“It’s a beautiful house,” he says, smiling at her and raising his eyebrow, “5 bedrooms?” 

She rolls her eyes at the suggestive tone in his voice, hearing exactly what he hadn’t said, and pats his chest, “Easy there tiger, at least let me have this kid before you start thinking about filling up the spare rooms.” 

Aaron chuckles and pulls her in for a kiss, “Let’s go see it.” 

The way her eyes light up tells him he’s made the right call, that putting aside any deep-rooted concerns and misplaced fear about letting her do this for them, for their family, is exactly what he should have done weeks ago when she first brought this up. 

“Really?” She asks, her smile wide, any ability to hide her emotions well and truly lost in the first trimester of her pregnancy. 

“Really,” he confirms, kissing her again, “I can see our family growing up there.” 

She throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as she kisses him, the action lost in her wide smile, “I love you so fucking much.”

He chuckles and wraps his arms around her, pulling her so she was straddling his waist, her knees on either side of his hips, “I love you too.” 

“I’ll call the agent in the morning.” 

He nods and pulls her in for another kiss, smiling at the feel of her bump pressed up against him. “We won’t be able to do this for much longer,” he says, moving to kiss her cheek and then her neck, “We won’t have room.” 

She pulls back and smiles at him, and she runs her fingers through his hair, “In that case,” she says, leaning in to kiss him again, “We’d better make the most of it before we’re regulated to just the bed.” 

___

Cases with children were always harder. 

The desperation to solve the case, to find the bad guy who was doing the worst of things possible to the most innocent, more intense. She’d always felt great empathy for the parents in these situations, but now she could put herself somewhat in their shoes, her love for Jack, for the baby in her belly, enough to make her feel sick at the mere thought of something happening to them. 

She watches Aaron from her desk, her focus on her paperwork limited at best as she keeps looking through the blinds in his office, desperate to go check on him. She knew he found cases like this harder too. 

There were survivors this time, a little girl and a teenage boy reunited with their parents, the recovery from all that they had endured only just beginning, and that was something they could cling on to. Evidence that they all needed sometimes to remind themselves of why they did this. That didn’t make it any easier, and she knew they’d all remember the wails of one of the victim's fathers when he realised his son had been alive only one day ago. 

She blows out a breath and looks back at her paperwork, determined to get a little more done before they headed home, when she is distracted once again, but this time it wasn’t out of concern for her fiancé. 

It feels like tiny bubbles. Bursting against the inside of her belly, as if tiny butterflies were floating around, their wings delicate. She places her hand on her stomach and gasps, choking on a laugh. 

“Are you ok, Em?” Derek asks and she turns to look at him, nodding as she laughs again. 

“Yeah. I…I think I just felt the baby move for the first time,” she says, her hand still on the bump as she continues to feel the movement on the inside, “It feels weird.”

Derek smiles at her, his eyes soft as he nods towards Aaron’s office, “Go tell Hotch, we all need something good after today.” 

She nods, not needing any other encouragement, and she stands, almost bounding up the stairs as she approaches his office. She knocks on his open door and waits for him to look up. He looks exhausted, the lines in his face deeper than usual, as if they’d been carved in. 

“Do you have a minute?” She asks, and he smiles at her, already standing up from his desk.

“For you, always.”

It makes her smile, and she knows it’s one of the things he’s learnt from his past mistakes with Haley. He always made time for her, and in turn, she knew that was because she understood the job, the work that could sometimes consume them both. It was yet another way that, if she believed in fate, would make her think they were made for each other. 

She takes a seat on the couch in his office and waits for him to sit next to her, his arm automatically around her shoulder. She knew they couldn’t be seen from the main bullpen here, only if someone was on the walkway, but she was sure no one would begrudge them this after the last few days. 

“I just felt the baby move,” she says, her throat closing up as she says it outloud, her hormones getting the better of her as she fights back tears. 

“What?” He asks, his voice full of wonder as he presses his hand into her bump, and it makes her laugh.

“It will be a while before you can feel anything from the outside honey,” she says, resting her head against his shoulder. She feels the movement again, and she smiles, placing her hand over his, “I wish you could feel it though it's amazing. And really fucking weird.” 

Aaron laughs and kisses her temple, keeping his lips against her skin, “Nugget is the size of a pomegranate this week.”

She snickers at his use of the baby’s newfound nickname and pulls back to look at him, “I know, I’m reading the same book as you,” she says softly, “Spencer told me today that the baby weights as much as a mozzarella ball,” she crinkles her brow, her stomach rumbling at the thought of food, “Which, strangely, really made me want Italian food.” 

Aaron kisses her, eternally grateful for her, for the life they were building, “Sweetheart, I’d go to Venice to get you pizza right now if you asked me.”

She chokes on a laugh, but it comes out as more of a sob, her happiness overwhelming in a way she didn’t know was possible. “That’s sweet, but I’m totally content with that place down the street from our apartment.” 

“Whatever you want, Em,” he says, kissing her again, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, “Whatever you want.” 

-x-

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Wounded Love (Lady Dimitrescu/F!Reader)

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: M for mature. Blood, more blood, heavy language, seriously lots of blood. Literally the bloodiest/most detailed thing I've written. Genre: Super angst with some fluff to ease the pain. We're talking putting honey in your cup of poison to make it taste better. The ending is split, with both a happy and a sad ending. Warnings: Minor surgery (technically?) while the patient is fully awake (that's the reader, btws), blood loss, graphic depiction of a wound and how said wound is taken care of. Possible trigger for self-harm, as the reader is performing part of the surgery themselves. Also brief mention of cannibalism in the bad ending. This may very well be a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat sort of thing. Notes: While I have more medical knowledge than the average person, due to my Girl Scouts training + having a mother as a nurse, I am in no way shape or form a medical professional, and do not suggest that the methods of treatment used in this fic be taken seriously. If you find yourself seriously injured, do not attempt to replicate anything you read here. Only a portion of this is based on a real-ass incident I went through, the rest is based on a dream, and what I experienced was not what you want to do in an emergency.

{Wounded Love}

This was a mistake. Blood stains your leg, your fingers, and bruises start to form all over your exhausted body. And for what? Why had you, a tiny, fragile human, dared to pass through this damned, lycan-infested forest? Because a woman who didn’t even love you asked you to. Now you were going to die, body certain to get left out in the cold or reduced to a pile of gnawed bones. If you had more strength remaining, you might have slammed your hand into the ground in frustration, or screamed until your lungs burned from something other than frost.

But that wouldn’t get you anywhere. Wouldn’t help you get back to the castle, wouldn’t ease the racing of your heart. So you settle for the only thing that might do any good: One quick motion pulls the scarf from your neck, sending a chill down your spine that you promptly ignore. Even with shaky hands and numb fingers, your experience is enough to let you wrap the cloth around your leg, tying the ends in a knot to secure it. The pressure hurts, just not enough for you to prefer bleeding out. A test step reveals that walking is mildly more difficult now.

“I’m going to haunt her,” you muse, under your breath, tears starting to freeze at the corner of your eyes. Still, you are as quietly determined as ever, and so once more you limp down the path. Every time you put weight on your injured leg it protests harder. If not for the snow and ice covering the ground, you might have quickly searched for a walking stick. “What could be so important about this damn package? Couldn’t Doug or whatever-his-fucking-name-is deliver it? Man can practically teleport, and here I am, watching as blood loss and hypothermia race to see who can kill me first.”

Gods were you angry. Why had this happened so soon after you had settled in? Finally you had been comfortable in Castle Dimitrescu, no longer as frightened of the residents, even finding them… charming, in a way. Then the Lady of house called to you for what she claimed to be a simple errand. You had believed her, even when she explained that you would have to leave the relative safety of her home. What a fool you had been.

“What a fool she must be,” you murmur, “to think me safe here. To think I could outlast wolfmen prowling the village outskirts.” Would she even care if she saw you now? Would she be surprised, disappointed? Would she do something to change your fate? There was no reason for her to do so. It didn’t matter how much you had helped her, how much she claimed to appreciate what you did (heavy lifting, repair of clothing, massages). You were as replaceable as any other Maiden there was. And that, that was what made you have a double-take. It came to you in that moment, a thought so painful that you could not deny it was the truth. “She never thought I would survive.”

Bitterness coats your tongue, like blood in your throat, and your brain demands that you destroy your cargo, the very thing that got you sent here in the first place. You almost do it. Feet stopping, arms shrugging the carrying straps off, bloody hands taking hold of it. Tears fall, just two, and hit the package. At that moment your plan changed. This new idea would be far, far more satisfying… as long as you succeeded.

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

Spite was one hell of a drug. Enough of it and you could march your warm corpse right back to the castle, fist banging on the front door with everything you had. The path had been shorter than you thought, thankfully, but it had still taken so much out of you. Now you were leaning against the door, sliding down it, unable to support your own weight. Nothing inside the castle stirred. Were they ignoring you? Was Alcina really going to let you die inches from your “home”? Fuck that, you thought.

“Alcina!” You scream, loud as you can, startling the birds in the distant trees. The word echoes around you and rattles inside your ribs. It’s not enough. “Damn it, I am seconds away from dying, get out here now so I can look you in your fucking eyes!” Something tears a little in your throat, turning the last of your words into a hellish screech, leaving you to gasp and croak in the snow. You go to wipe your tear-filled eyes with your hands, only to remember just how much blood they’re covered in.

Sobs overtake you in just a few moments. You’re blinded by tears, deafened by sorrows, and numb from all the cold. In the aching seconds before you black out, you can only barely make out the silhouette of someone rushing to your side…

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

The first thing you feel when you wake up is mind searing pain. You try to jolt upwards, only to find a pair of strong, gloved hands holding you down. Someone shouts something, but you can’t make it out, and you feel another hand gently squeeze one of your own. Pained gasps escape your throat one after the other, but whatever is hurting you doesn’t stop. It takes a full minute for you to adjust enough to make sense of where you are. At last, you understand what’s being said.

“-it’s okay, shhh, please, we’re trying to help,” says none other than Lady Dimitrescu herself. She’s the one holding your hand, doing her best not to hurt you with her grip, trying desperately to calm you down. One the other side of you, Cassandra is positioned to hold you down. There’s a tight-lipped scowl on her face, and her brow is furrowed, but she’s not looking at your face, but rather eying somewhere in the opposite direction. Following her gaze, you find her older sister is sitting near your injured leg, and is undeniably the source of some of your pain. In one hand she holds a bottle of alcohol (notably not the wine her family produces), the other holding a wet cloth to your wound. No wonder it stings so much.

“Shit, shit, stop,” you growl, barely getting the words out. But all anyone does is look at you. Alcina’s mouth opens to speak, only for you to cut her off. “I’ve got medical training, for the love of Mother Miranda let me help! How long have I been unconscious?” This time Bela stops, glancing at her mother for direction. The grip on your torso grows looser, with Cassandra evidently heeding your words, and you take the chance to sit up, careful not to move your leg. At this point you realize that there’s a needle of sorts in your arm, attached to a tube, which trails up into a blood bag. It’s clearly been improvised with equipment from the “wine-making” part of the castle.

“Fifteen minutes at most,” a new voice chimes, from somewhere behind you. “I got that cloth you wanted, mother, but something tells me I’m not done fetching things.” Ah, Daniela Dimitrescu. Was the whole family helping you?... Why? As much as you wanted answers, there wasn’t (currently) time for questions. Not when one glance at your leg tells you that some of your flesh is rapidly decomposing. The wound was made only an hour ago, and already it was getting deadlier than you could even process.

“I need a sharp, clean knife, a needle with thread, a glass of water, and someone needs to put a metal tool, sterilized, on the stove, right now,” you said, finding it easier to talk now that no one was cleansing your wound. Without hesitation Daniela dispersed into a cloud of insects, heading towards the kitchen, while Cassandra stood up and moved towards the stairs.

“Guess I’ll get the needle,” she said, sounding rather unenthusiastic.

“What are you planning?” Alcina asks, more concerned than you had ever heard her before. Attempting to reassure her, you manage a small smile before explaining.

“Got scratched and slobbered on by a lycan. Whatever they have, it’s infectious. If I want to save my leg, or at least have a chance at surviving, I have to take measures to reduce the likelihood of an infection,” you say. Now Alcina is slowly stroking her thumb across your hand, eyes narrowed with concern. There’s a look on her face that you can’t quite parse, something she’s not saying. For now you ignore it and continue going over your plan. “The best thing would be to amputate. The tourniquet might have helped prevent the saliva from getting further into my body- and I do mean might- but I can’t keep it on forever. Problem is… I don’t want to lose it. God, I’m terrified of that, and with what we have in the castle I… I’d be more likely to die of shock than not. So, well, forget that idea.

“I’m just going to remove the wound. By making a bigger wound. It’s crazy, I know, but this will kill me if we do nothing. It will probably kill me if we do. The technical term is some shit like ‘de-bride-ing’?... No, debridement, I think. Except normally the poor fucker getting cut open is asleep for the procedure.” By the time you’re done, Lady Dimitrescu is looking at you with horror. Yeah, you had a feeling she wouldn’t appreciate the idea. “Look, if this is too much… if it’s not worth saving me, if you’d rather give me a quick death, I understand. If I were-”

“Don’t be foolish, dear. You will not die, not as long as something can be done about it,” Alcina replies, quickly, eager to stop hearing you talk about dying. It’s… strange to hear her sound so confident about saving you, even stranger to realize what she called you. As if reading your thoughts, she shifts in her seat, avoiding your gaze for a moment. Shyness didn’t suit her, and you imagined it was more about her finding the right words. When she speaks, she’s looking right at you again. “I have hesitated to tell you the truth, and now I find the world playing a cruel trick on me, trying to take that which I adore. But I don’t want to aggravate your stress right now. Please, think nothing of what I have said.”

Before you could reply, footsteps reached your ears, and soon enough Daniela returns. In one hand she holds a large pitcher of water. In the other? Several knives, of various sizes, one of which you’re pretty sure you’ve seen Cassandra playing with before. As soon as you see her your face lights up, glad to be able to start the procedure.

“Oh thank fuck- or, I mean, thank you, Lady Daniela,” you stutter, reaching out as she offers you the items. Thankfully Bela had already made room on the table at your side, where she had set the bottle of alcohol down. For a moment you had forgotten that she was there. Had she already known about her mother’s feelings? Based on her lack of reaction, you could only assume that she was well aware. “I’m gonna scream, B-T-dubs. Just, uh, cover your ears?” You offer, already holding your chosen knife (big enough to be effective, small enough to offer precision).

“So… you’re going to do this yourself? Didn’t think you had it in you, red. Try not to cut anything important. Wouldn’t want to have to clean that mess up,” Daniela teases. As soon as she’s finished she has to shift into a swarm, as Bela flat out throws a knife at her. For a moment you freeze, watching as Alcina rises to her full height, staring her eldest daughter down. Behind her, Daniela reforms, clearly using her mother as a shield. “I was just trying to relieve the tension, jeez. It’s like you think she’s already dead.”

“Don’t speak another word!” Alcina snaps, sending a frightening stare towards Daniela. You cough, awkwardly, not knowing what to do. Meanwhile Bela is pinching the bridge of her nose between two fingers, clearly tired of dealing with her sister’s sense of humor. “No one will speak a word until this is finished, unless my dear needs something, understood?” Both the girls nod at that, neither feeling a need to risk any further ire.

“I’m just going to start working now,” you awkwardly chime, taking a deep breath before leaning in towards your injured leg. On closer inspection you can see a strange, dark residue in the wound. They’re specks, scattered along the length of it, and they seem more common the closer you look to the gash’s center. Gross, you think. Half curious, half checking for legitimate reasons, you bring your other hand to the cut and gently spread both sides apart. It hurts like hell, and you have to bite down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming. But sure enough, the residue is practically solid at the deepest point of the wound. “Those lycans really should be on leashes.”

Out of the corner of your eye you can see Daniela exchange looks with Bela, but neither of them disobey their mother (yet). Shaking the thought away, you finally get to the brunt of the task at hand. Your hand moves slowly, reluctant to inflict such damage against its own body. As soon as the tip of the knife touches your skin, you start to doubt your ability to do this. It takes looking at Alcina, seeing the way she watches you with equal parts concern and tenderness, to remind you why you’re doing this. Death just wasn’t something you could accept right now; not after what she had said, what she had implied.

The knife is fantastically sharp. Hardly any pressure is needed before your flesh gives away, cells letting go of their neighbors like it was a casual affair. You start at the left side of your injury, digging down a little, trying to only go as deep as you needed to. Tears formed in your eyes but you quickly blinked them away. As the first of many screams leaves your mouth, you turn and twist the knife, cutting to the right, then up. Like scooping the seeds out of a pumpkin. Fresh blood springs from the wound, starting to fill up the crevice. Quickly you discard the skin you removed by tossing it into the same bowl that Bela had put a bloody towel in earlier.

“Yes,” you shudder through gritted teeth, “this hurts so fucking bad. No, I don’t need someone to take over yet.” At this point neither of the present sisters are looking at you, seeming oddly uncomfortable at the sight of you cut up like this. Hadn’t they done worse to your fellow Maidens?... Whatever, the thought couldn’t last long when you still had work to do.

Next you take a fresh, damp cloth and dab at your injury, ignoring how it throbbed beneath your touch. Then you resumed cutting, forced to press the knife deeper in order to remove the spreading residue. If you had been a scientist, this would have been utterly fascinating to observe. Whatever had been in the lycan’s saliva was slowly eating at your flesh, but not outright dissolving it. No, it simply left the skin where it was, but killed and rapidly broke it down. Yes, it would have been fascinating, if not for the fact that there was a chance you wouldn’t be able to outpace the bacteria.

With this in mind you force yourself to hold in your next scream, hoping to make it easier for you to focus. The knife continued to cut, going lower, setting nerves alight as it did. Your vision starts to blur, and for a few seconds you think you’re going to black out. Someone says something you don’t hear, and then suddenly there’s a hand on top of your own. When your vision clears you see Bela is responsible, her grip keeping you from dropping the knife. She doesn’t let go until you give her a clear nod. Even then, she seems reluctant to let you continue.

Around this time is when Cassandra returns. Her footsteps catch your attention (it’s your understanding that carrying objects is much harder in swarm mode), and you spare her a quick glance before getting back to work. A few moments later she’s placing a set of needles and a long spool of thread next to you. Ironically, they’re the same tools that you’ve used to repair and adjust Alcina’s dresses over the past year. Hopefully they work just as well on flesh, you think. Your next thoughts are canceled out by unbelievable pain. More cries leave your lips, and your hand starts shaking. Panic is settling in fast, your movements getting sharper, leading you to make a brash decision: Time to care less about precision and more about speed.

“Distract me, please,” you gasp between grunts. No one responds at first, and you know they need clarification. Speaking is getting harder by the second, but you do your best. “Brain can’t process many stimulants, same time. Just- fuck- trace skin around wound, touch hair, anything.” Somewhere between your semi-broken sentences and screams, Alcina gets the message. She’s moving closer, now, behind you, one arm wrapping around your waist, the other rubbing gentle circles on your undamaged leg. Across from you Daniela is too busy pacing to help, though you can hardly blame her.

“Should I get the metal thing from the stove?” Cassandra asks, silently hoping that Dani hadn’t assumed someone else was going to handle that part. You’re still in too much pain to talk, so you half nod half grunt in response. Not bothering to say anything, the middle child takes off, swarm moving at what might be a new speed record.

As much as your hands are shaking, you still manage to cut away another strip of flesh, tossing it aside with even less care than before. This time Bela wipes the wound for you, practically reading your mind. The moment her hands are completely out of the way you start cutting again, crying out, throat shredded to pieces from all your screaming. Alcina sounds like she might be close to sobbing, but she doesn’t stop her movements, doing her best to distract you just like you had asked. Even Bela helps, now, tracing spots around your injury whenever she knows she won’t be in your way. The effect is minor, in the end, hardly making a dent in how much pain you’re processing.

If you survive this, though, you’re hugging every daughter as tight as you can and showering them with affection… but only after you finish doing the same for their mother.

“You are so brave,” Alcina murmurs next to your ear. It’s even clearer now how close she is to crying, her voice seconds away from cracking. Hearing her like this almost hurts as bad as the initial lycan attack did. “You are so strong. No other mortal could ever be your match. Do you understand, my dear? You are blessed, divine, and I love you so much.”

In any other setting, her words would leave you melting in her arms, radiating affection so strongly that you might as well have been radioactive. Instead, you are unable to respond, or even look her way. All you can do is press the knife to your skin again, showing your own feelings by destroying yourself for her.

The blade is starting to find more resistance, and you’re having to pause more often, spots appearing in your vision. Going faster only makes things worse, your hand threatening to slip. You’re determined to finish this, no matter what, but your need to control the situation is gradually making things worse. Alcina notices this before you do, and acts before you have a chance to protest.

“Bela, the knife,” she says, then tightens her grip on your waist. Your confusion shifts to panic as your arm is carefully, but forcefully, pulled away from your wound. “Can you finish the job?” It takes you a few moments to realize that Alcina isn’t talking to you. No, she’s speaking to her eldest daughter, who doesn’t hesitate to take the knife away from you. It’s so easy for her, between her strength and your weakness. “Don’t struggle. Let us finish this.”

Protests rise from your throat and die in your mouth. Pain flares harder now that Bela isn’t distracting you. Once more your vision goes dark, but this time there’s no pause, no hesitation. You are suffering, horribly, and the Dimitrescu family refuses to make you hurt longer than necessary. It’ll be over soon, you think, not knowing whether you refer to your pain or your life itself.

Something wet drops onto the back of your neck, then darkness overtakes you…

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

“Damn those lycans, I should string Heisenberg up myself! They’re his responsibility, after all,” Lady Dimitrescu snarls, trying to ignore the tears in her eyes. Now that you’re unconscious, unable to hear what ails her, she feels free to voice her thoughts. “The damn things should never have come close to the path to the village.”

“What if she strayed from the path? Wouldn’t that explain it?” Bela suggests, even as her hands work to remove what seems to be the last piece of dead/infected flesh from your leg. She hates how the words feel in her mouth, hates suggesting that you of all people might have betrayed her mother’s trust. But it makes sense. After all, this whole mess, with you leaving the castle to retrieve a mysterious package, was all a test to see if you would try to run. It hadn’t been her idea, and Bela admitted to herself that she thought it was unnecessary.

“On the way back? Why would she bother getting the package if she intended to run?” Lady Dimitrescu asks, right as Cassandra returns. The middle child is practically juggling the metal spatula she’s carrying, irritated (not harmed) by the heat it produced. One of her brows perks up when she hears the conversation, but she keeps any thoughts she has to herself.

“Just a thought, mother, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Bela chimes, after a pause. With that said she holds up her hand with pride, clutching between her fingers the last of the decaying flesh. The way the others react, one might have thought that a miracle had been performed. Daniela clapped her hands together, giggling a little, and finally stopped her pacing. “Don’t celebrate too much, now,” Bela reminded her, taking the spatula from Cassandra as she did. “There’s still plenty to do. It’s a good thing she’s not awake for this part.”

A good thing, indeed. She uses her fingers to spread the remaining skin a little, giving a quick examination, then deciding that she had successfully removed all remaining residue. Keeping her fingers where they were, she pressed the side of the spatula to your skin, putting the most pressure at the center of the wound. Three seconds passed, then she lifted her hand. A pause. She pressed it back into place, keeping a close eye on the affected area. This repeated several times, the gaps being necessary to prevent unintentional damage. Once the wound seemed properly closed she set the spatula aside.

“Is that it?... Did we save her?” Daniela asks, opting to finally sit down in a nearby chair. Something about her word choice makes both of her sisters scoff.

“I could sew it closed, as a precaution, but there’s no way I’d do it the way she had intended. It might be best to just give her time to rest, and see what she thinks when she gets back up,” Bela answers. For a moment her words hang in the air, but eventually Alcina gives a little nod and a hum.

“Very well. I shall carry her to my quarters, where she won’t be disturbed. Please, let one of the Maidens know to bring some food up this evening,” Alcina says, gently taking you into her arms as she does…

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

BAD ENDING: It’s been six hours, with no sign of you waking up. Your other wounds had been examined, cleaned, and bandaged. Food had been carefully prepared and brought up to you, though it now remained on the bedside table, untouched. Alcina has gone to call Mother Miranda, intending to speak to her about the growing unrest of the lycans, as Heisenberg hadn’t answered his phone. For the first time since you returned you are alone. It is now, of all times, that you awaken. A gasp sends you into a coughing spree, forcing you into a sitting position. The space around you feels like it's moving, and your vision blurs. Blood spills from your mouth as you finally regain the ability to breathe.

Seconds later your vision clears, but what you see is enough to make you wish you couldn’t. The blood that spilled onto the sheets is a dark red… with even darker spots scattered throughout it. All at once you know what happened: Residue had hidden from you, or gone deeper than your wound, infecting you before you ever stood a chance. Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but something deeper starts calling to you. Something older. Darker. It drags you to your feet, ignores the pain of your wounds, and sends you out the bedroom door.

Your mind is racing, thoughts never quite clear enough for you to understand. It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of your own movements. Was something else in charge, or were you operating on an infection powered autopilot? Answers weren’t coming, just bloodshed.

“You’re not supposed to be out of bed yet!” A voice calls out to you, making you turn to investigate. On the other end of the hallway is a maiden, one you instantly recognize. You’ve worked with her before, plenty of times, tag-teaming more tasks than you could count. She was like a sister to you. When she sees the blood staining your clothes, she gasps, then moves to support you. “Please, Lady Dimitrescu will be so upset if you-” her words melt into a blood curdling scream. For a moment you don’t understand.

And then you swallow, a chunk of hot meat slipping down your throat, and the scream dies down.

“What?...” You whisper, finally tasting the blood in your mouth, watching as your friend’s body falls to the floor. There’s a chunk of flesh missing from her neck, and the dots connect themselves in your head. You did that. Every part of you wants to scream, wants to cry out and beg someone to come kill you. Instead you fall to your knees, hard, uncaring. Your hands move themselves, grasping at the still warm corpse. Something has made you stronger, or at the very least removed the mental limits that kept you from destroying yourself. Flesh gives under your touch, tearing like paper, and you start crying as it reaches your mouth.

Footsteps approach, thundering fast, and you want to warn whoever it is. When you turn to look, you feel your hands let go of your meal. Your gaze meets that of a stunned Cassandra Dimitrescu, then drifts to the sickle in her hand.

“Kill me,” you growl, voice distorted, practically echoing. “Kill me now!” Not needing to be told a third time, Cassandra moves lightning quick, swarm-jumping forward before manifesting behind you, sickle dragging across your throat in one smooth motion. But it’s not enough. She realizes this, though, and slams her foot into your back, sending you tumbling forward. It’s enough to prevent you from countering, which gives her time to advance again, this time pulling a knife from her boot and driving it into the center of your back. When you scream, it’s not with your own voice, but that of a monster.

“Fucking fuck, what the fuck, red?” Daniella asks as she rounds the corner, eyes immediately landing on your bloodsoaked mouth. She’s quick to take in the scene, drawing a conclusion easily, even if it breaks her heart a little. Your vision fades as she approaches, and you know that it’s finally over. If only you had expired a few seconds earlier… because the last thing you hear is the startled cry of your would-be lover.

“No! No, darling, what happened-” Alcina finishes her sentence, but you do not hear it. You do not hear anything, anymore. You do not know it… but there will be hell to pay for your death.

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

GOOD ENDING: When you awake, you find yourself in the softest sheets you’ve ever touched, a warm and familiar presence next to you. The first thing you see is Alcina’s sleeping face next to your own. She’s on her side, one arm around your waist, the covers pulled up to her hip. Warmth fills your chest as you take in the sight. For a few moments you just… appreciate this. Never before had you imagined that you would get to wake up next to the woman you loved so much. A sigh, one of bliss, leaves your lips. Slowly you move forward, gently placing a kiss to Alcina’s cheek. Seconds later her eyelids flutter open, and she tiredly takes you in.

“You’re… awake,” she murmurs, hardly awake herself. But her fatigue doesn’t last long. As soon as she’s fully processed the situation her eyes go wide. Then she’s pulling you closer, careful not to hurt you, and peppering little kisses over your face. “I’ve been so worried, dear. You scared us so much.” The hurt in her voice leaves you restless, making you curl up against her, desperate to soothe her worries. Moving hurts a little, but not enough to dissuade you from your goal.

“I’m sorry, love,” you say, tears pricking your eyes. “I’m okay, I’m alive, the plan worked out. You don’t have to fret for me anymore. I won’t leave you, I promise.” Slowly but surely, Alcina calms, exchanging kisses for softly running her fingers through your hair. There’s such love in her eyes that you can hardly believe you aren’t dreaming. “You’re amazing, Alcina. I could stay like this all day.”

“Maybe we should,” she offers, chuckling a little. Once again you give her a quick kiss, unable to resist the urge. “I should have never asked you to leave. I should have just trusted you.” The words give you pause, and you tilt your head in confusion. Realizing that you still didn’t know the full story, Alcina frowns. “The package is worthless, just a bundle of straw and a few rocks for weight. It was never what I cared about.”

Tension builds in your chest, and for a few seconds you have no idea how to react. It takes a minute for you to think, to connect the dots, but once you do it’s a tad bit easier to breathe. A scowl twists your lips as you think of what to say.

“If I had known that Heisenberg was forgoing his duties, I never would have sent you outside,” Alcina adds, the silence taking its toll on her.

“You shouldn’t have sent me either way,” you respond, bitterly, thinking of all that you had seen and heard on your journey. “I would have done anything to prove to you how I feel. There are other ways to show devotion- far less dangerous ways, at that.”

“I know, dear. You have every right to be angry… and watching you suffer has taught me all that I need to know,” Alcina says, still playing with your hair, trying to ease the tension. As upset as you about this recent revelation… it’s not enough to change how you feel about her, and you want her to understand that, fully and completely.

So you lean into her touch, let your eyes drift close for a moment, then softly place one of your arms around her as best as you can.

“We’ll need to talk about this more… just not right now. Right now, I need you, Alcina. I need to hold you, and be held by you, and just know that you’re here. That I’m here. That neither of us are going anywhere,” you say, resting your forehead against hers. “I need to feel safe, and your arms are the safest place I can imagine. Stay here with me?”

“It will be the easiest thing I have ever done.”

[jungshookz]

🧦 stocking stuffers: yoongi’s being annoying as per usual

stocking stuffers are basically the holiday equivalent of teeny tidbits :D i just wanted to give you guys a little something to tide you over while you’re waiting for the second drabble! also yes that is a sock emoji there was no stocking emoji sUE ME 

this started off at five hundred words and quickly spiralled into two thousand words but it’s not good enough to stand alone as a proper drabble so i’m counting it as a puny stocking stuffer drabble

pairing; demon!yoongi x y/n

genre; sfw for the most part but there are some suggestive themes because this is demon!yoongi after all <3 

what to expect; “ooh, i love it when you get mouthy with me... it turns me on.” 

wordcount; 2.3k

                                      »»————-　🎄   ————-««

“i don’t even know why we’re decorating this stupid thing. we’re going to be throwing it out by the end of the month.” yoongi grumbles, tossing a handful of fake snow onto the tree a little too aggressively before shoving his hand back into the bag

this sucks

when he woke up this morning you told him that you guys would be spending the entire day decorating the apartment for christmas and his morning wood immediately deflated

in fact he’s pretty sure his penis might’ve shrivelled up and died at your words

it doesn’t make any sense

you’re like.,., 25% demon!

you’re supposed to hate christmas because it’s literally the day of christ, but here you are, wearing what has to be the ugliest sweater he’s ever seen in his entire life (it lights up. what kind of a sweater lights up?!) while happily hanging baubles on this poor tree that should be out in nature and definitely not in this apartment  

“oh, cut it out, you grouch.” you scowl playfully, already fully aware as to why yoongi’s so grumpy today, “decorating is fun! and our presents are going to look so pretty under the tree-”

“y/n?” jungkook pokes his head out from the kitchen and you turn to look at him, “i’m gonna need you to help out with the gingerbread house. construction isn’t going great. there’s frosting everywhere and i ate most of the m&ms. and one of the gingerbread men is missing a head because i got hungry.”

“are you seri- i asked you to do one thing, kook-” you frown, jungkook smiling sheepishly before not so subtly popping an m&m into his mouth, “get back in the kitchen! i’ll join you in a second.”

jungkook pops back into the kitchen and you let out a hopeless little sigh before slowly turning to look at yoongi 

he pauses right as he’s about to sprinkle some more snow onto the branches and narrows his eyes at you, “…why are you looking at me like that?”

“will you finish decorating the tree while i help jungkook?” you turn to look at yoongi before pushing your bottom lip out in a pleading little pout, “please?” 

“what?? no way!” yoongi scowls, immediately dropping the bag of fake snow onto the floor with a thump, “the only reason why i agreed to do this was because it’s more bearable when we do it together- i’m not decorating this tree alone, that’s just pathetic-”

“aw, c’mon-”

“i’ll just wait for you to finish with the gingerbread house and then we’ll continue with the tree-”

“but we have to follow my schedule!” you whine, grabbing your notepad off the couch before pointing at the next thing on your list, “see? 1:00 to 2:00 - decorate the tree. 2:00 to 2:30 - hang the lights out on the balcony- and it’s already 1:30, yoon-”

“for the love of-” yoongi huffs, “okay, fine! fine, i’ll- i’ll decorate the damn tree alone.” yoongi snatches the box of baubles from you but the faintest of smiles twitches at his mouth when you lean in to squish an appreciative kiss to his cheek

the thought of completely burning the tree down while you’re gone briefly flits through his mind but he squashes that thought quickly

he’ll be good for you 

he can behave!

                                     »»————-　🎄   ————-««

“don’t eat the gum drops, i’ll be right-” you step out of the kitchen and your eyes widen to the size of saucers when you see yoongi floating in mid-air, carefully wrapping the christmas lights around the tree, “yoongi!” you hiss quietly, hurrying over to him before reaching up and wrapping your fingers around his ankle, “yoongi, what the hell are you doing-?!”

“i’m wrapping the damn tree in these lights and we don’t have a ladder-” yoongi wobbles a little when you give him another harsh yank and he glances down to see you looking warily at the kitchen door

heh

you’re... anxious.

he can feel wafting it in the air and it smells so good

maybe he can have a little bit of fun with this…

“so use a chair or something! yoongi, i thought we agreed that if jungkook was here that you wouldn’t do anything non-humany-!” you jump when yoongi suddenly drops the pile of lights into your arms before lying back and folding his arms behind his head

oh god

he’s not going to get down anytime soon

also the only reason why you haven’t told jungkook about the fact that yoongi is most definitely not from this world is because he would pass out from complete and utter petrification

you don’t know how he’s going to be able to handle a spawn of satan when the man is scared of fruit flies!!!!

you’re planning to keep everything a secret until the day you die

(you’re also hoping that the day you pop one of yoongi’s babies out that it doesn’t come out with tiny red horns on its head because you feel like jungkook wouldn’t take that very lightly)

“down. now!” you snap, bending down to set the lights down on the ground so you can go and follow yoongi, “i’m serious, yoongi!” 

“oh, relax.” yoongi sighs, “he’s in the kitchen, we’re in the living room…” you frown disapprovingly when he tilts his head back so that his face is right in front of yours before flashing you a grin, “now, why don’t you wipe that frown off your face and give me a kiss?” he purses his lips obnoxiously and squawks when you shovE your face into his hand

hey!

rude!!

“i’m not going to give you anything until you get down-”

“aw, but decorating the apartment would be so much easier if you just let me do my thing!” yoongi pushes himself all the way up so that he’s next to the ceiling fan, “i can even do some much needed dusting while i’m up here!”

“min yoongi, if you don’t get down right now-” you hop up onto the couch and reach up to grab his foot onLY for yoongi to pull his legs up and cross them, “you know exactly what you’re doing, you sadistic freak-”

“ooh, i love it when you get mouthy with me,” yoongi wiggles his eyebrows, chuckling to himself when you start hopping up and down to try to get closer to him, “it turns me on.”

“that means nothing to me because you get turned on by everything-” you grumble, your fingers barely brushing over his ankle as you keep trying to grab him, “like that one time you were watching me eat ice cream-”

“uhhhh, excuse me-” yoongi scoffs, rolling his eyes, “there was white cream dripping down your chin. obviously i got turned on-”

“hey, if you come down now, i promise to do that thing that you said you wanted to do…” you offer, looking up at yoongi with wide eyes before clasping your hands together, “c’mon… isn’t that a good deal?”

yoongi shakes his head and sticks his tongue out at you, “nice try, you scammer. i’m not falling for that again-”

your shoulders immediately drop and you watch helplessly as he floats over so that he’s near the kitchen door

you really wished that inheriting some of yoongi’s aura gave you the power to float as well

all it gave you was the ability to sometimes make your eyes go black

suRE your stamina in bed has improved significantly and you can keep your engine running from sunset to sunrise but that’s not as cool as FLOATING in mid-air

“do not.” you shoot yoongi a glare when he makes a motion to open the kitchen door

“what if i…” yoongi grins, pretending to knock against the door, “oh, look at your face! you don’t like that, do you? you poor, helpless little thing...” he coos, rolling over onto his back with a laugh

oh god

you haTE THIS

“you know i-” your heart practically drops out of your ass when the door suddenly swinGs open and jungkook steps out with frosting all over his hands

“okay, i know you said not to touch anything, but one of the walls were starting to droop so i thought i’d reinforce it with a little more frosting, buT i squeezed too hard and the bag exploded-”

you swallow thickly when yoongi lowers himself a little all while maintaining strong eye contact with you, propping his chin up on his palm before the corners of his mouth turn up in a grin

you ball your hands into tight fists when yoongi blinks and his pupils turn into thin red slits

great! now his creepy demon eyes are out!

okay

you know what?

it’s fine

relax!

you know he’s taunting you on purpose but it’s not like he’s actually going to do anything-

“DON’T-!” you jump off the couch when yoongi wiggles his fingers directly above jungkook’s head, a couple tendrils of his hair starting to float upwards

“okay, jeez!” jungkook raises both hands in defence before scoffing lightly, “i said i’d offer to help clean up but since you obviously don’t want my help then maybe you can get yoongi to help-“ jungkook pauses, glancing over by the tree, “hey, where’d he go? i heard his voice like a second before i came out-”

“he’s dead!” you blurt out, jungkook’s eyes widening immediately

(improvisation has never been one of your strong suits)

yoongi lies down on his back before crossing his arms over his chest and closing his eyes, all while floating mere inches above jungkook’s head 

“i mean… he’s… dead-finitely in the washroom.” you correct yourself, trying to hide the complete and utter angeR on your face when yoongi peels open one eye before turning his head and blowing a silent kiss at you, “because he… had to pee. like any other normal human being does when their bladder is full.” 

“that was a very... non-human being way to answer a question.” jungkook snorts, “what’s wrong with you?”

“i just... don’t want you to get your grubby frosting hands anywhere!” you clear your throat, letting out a sheepish chuckle before rushing over to jungkook, “why don’t you start cleaning up and i’ll join you in a sec?”

“but my hands are still covered in frosting-”

“uh-huh, sounds good!” you slap your hands down on jungkook’s shoulders before spinning him around and practically shoVing him back into the kitchen

you close the door before looking up so you can grab yoongi by the collar and pull him-  

?

yoongi is… no longer there. 

the christmas lights on the tree flicker before buzzing out 

okay

so he wants to play games, does he?

“yoongi?” you spin around quickly before walking forwards cautiously, carefully inspecting every inch of the room for any sign of your nightmare of a boyfriend

you jump in surprise when a bauble suddenly falls off the tree and bounces on the floor before rolling over to your feet 

“you think you’re so funny, don’t you?” you mumble, bending down to pick it up before gently placing it down on the coffee table 

i’m fucking hilarious, baby. i like to think that’s part of the reason as to why you love me so much. 

“what the-!” you jolt at the sound of yoongi’s voice suddenly echoing in your head 

the last time he was in your head like this was when you summoned him for the first time which was definitely a while ago 

you forgot how weird it was to hear his voice inside your head

“i certainly don’t love you right now, i can say that for sure.” you grumble, “it’s safe to say that i actually hate you right now-” 

you look really sexy when you’re mad at me. why don’t you meet me in the bathroom for a quickie? jungkook will never know. i’ll even cover your mouth with my hand so he won’t hear anything.

you look over quickly when the door to the guest bathroom suddenly creaks open 

ahA 

“yeah, i’ll meet you in the bathroom... to kick your ass-” you storm over, kicking the door open only to see that there’s no one in there, “and then when i’m done kicking your ass, i’m gonna kick your ass again-”

ooh, are we finally experimenting with pain now? i can definitely get into that. i can use your bobby pins as makeshift nipple clamps. 

“you are infuriating!” you snap, placing your hands on your hips and looking up at the ceiling 

you know that being playful is just part of yoongi’s nature but good GOD 

sometimes you just want to strangle him

and not in the kinky way 

at this point it looks like you’re going to have to pull out what might be the most predictable trick in your book but you’re desperate here

you need to sort this out before jungkook comes out to see you talking to yourself like a crazy person 

yeah, that’s right. keep thinking about how annoying i am and how much that pisses you off. angry sex is super hot. 

“oh yeah?” you stroll towards the middle of the living room, taking your time to do so, “you think so?” 

hell yeah. i want you to be on top, too. i love the view.  

“i’ll do... whatever you want me to do...” you trail off, eyes flickering around the room for any sign of movement, “but if you don’t come out in the next five seconds, it’s just going to be you and your hand for the next five days- oh-!” 

it’s only a second later that you’re suddenly being pummelled into from behind

you definitely would’ve fallen face first onto the floor if it wasn’t for yoongi wrapping his arms around your waist from behind, “finally! there you are-” 

“depriving me of sex during the holidays??” yoongi whines, digging his fingers into your waist, “now look who’s being the asshole-”

see??

oldest trick in the book but it still works like a charm :’) 

christmas with cee 2020 masterlist

[i-need-air]

Hello I really like your hybrid au especially with kirishima

I was wondering if I can request one with kirishima hybrid where reader gets kidnapped because someone from the old ring wants revenge and kirishima is looking for them

Wow, I took some time with this because it was hard to place Kiri in such a situation. I hope I gave it justice. This is not my usual fluff since it's a darker theme, so yeah. Hope it was worth the wait though! Enjoy and tell me if you liked it!! 💕💕

Word count: 4k [ I... I got carried away... and I still feel it's short 💀 ]

Warnings: kidnapping, blood, mentions of abuse, guns, Kiri's past being f'd up, insults [?], hint towards assault;

[ Masterlist ] [ Main Hybrid!Kirishima HCs ]

× this man is all about safety

× asks you to send him a message whenever you arrive safely at home or wherever you're going

× it's super-sweet and really helpful; your well being is everything to him after all

× yet one evening you didn't arrive on time

× no message, nothing

× he was waiting and paying attention to time since he wanted to suggest going out to watch a movie, but you didn't arrive

× one hour later he finds himself frowning at the clock, tapping his foot in wonder

× he sent you a message; the fact that it send but you didn't receive it unsettled him more, to which he decided to call— "The phone you're trying to reach is disconnected or no longer in service."

× did you run out of battery? was that even possible?

× what seals the deal is a DM he receives from a throwaway account on social media he was so active and known on.

× "We've got your little toy. You know where to find us, Red Riot. Come alone or they die." and attached was a pictute of you, on the floor, possibly unconscious, hands tied behind your back.

× a collar was placed by your side; he knew what it was.

× his blood ran cold, a freezing shiver electrified through his spine as he jumped out of the couch, terrorized and more importantly raging mad

× Red Riot: a name he tried to forget; a name people shouted at him in praise as they put bets on his head; a name he's been given as he fought friends and foes; a name that brought back pain and suffering. A name he didn't want to taint his new life with.

× he did not take any time to leave the house in a hurry, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

× Kirishima didn't know where his friends were, so he found himself on his own, outside your apartment complex, taking a deep breath in; he could find you; he had to find you even if it was the last thing he did, yet he had to do it alone.

× he spotted your car in the parking lot— in a blink he was by it's side, just spotting your belongings inside and the car-keys still in

× uncontrollable rage took over him as he still sniffed your scent in the air.

× you've been here and because of him, now you weren't; you're gone; you've been attacked too, the window smashed and blood running down the door

× he sniffed again, noticing how it wasn't your blood— relief didn't come since he did recognize the other scent; his dealer.

× "You fucking mutt!" he growled above the red-haired man chained to the wall, fist closed readied to make impact.

× Kirishima growled lowly, remembering.

× "You fucking made me lose ten fucking grands because you didn't want to finish that fucking beast!" his screams could be heard throughout the hallways.

× He got inside the car.

× "You and your fucking group, you think you're too good to fucking follow MY ORDERS—" a crack could be heard as the punch collided with the hybrid's jaw, yet it did little to no damage to him. Curses followed, making the man almost chuckle, yet chose not to, knowing the damage it would bring. "YOU PATHETIC PIECE OF— I FUCKING BROKE MY HAND, SHIT!" he yanked him by the hair with his other hand, pulling hard. "I'm gonna make you regret the day you were born." And if it weren't for his improvised family, Kirishima would've been regretting that day anyway without his assistance.

× He sped off, fingers whitening on the steering wheel because of his harsh grip. Tears now ran freely on his cheeks with no conscious attempt made to be stopped.

× Only two places haven't been raided by the Hybrid Protection Services came to mind, deemed as abandoned yet for those that knew the insides, the buildings were definitely used mostly as hideouts and for special occasions

× few escaped from being detained by the police, yet word came to him that the bastard, Mawler as he liked to call himself, was caught; it didn't seem to be the case and as he drove, Kirishima could only think he'd make the fucker regret the day he was born; a bitter laugh left his lips, hating himself for a moment. Although the image of a friend came in his mind, imagining him slapping his back in a poor attempt to motivate him. That's what he would say too.

× the self-hatred washed off; for you he'd do anything.

× he rushed to the first location; it used to be a club with an underground arena, in which he himself fought in countless times

× his neck itched as he gritted his teeth; the memory of the electric collar they had to have on while almost killing each other made him want to vomit

× a deep growl left his frame; gutural, dark, menacing; they wanted the Red Riot? it seems they forgot where he really got that name from;

× he only saw blood on the way there.

× he parked not too far but tried to keep a low profile although his big frame didn't help in a stealth situation. Kirishima knew he's in for trouble, but what else could he do?

× —

× you blinked, blinded by the light that shined harshly in your face

× "Would you look at that, fellas? Guess who's wakin' up?" you had no time to panic, just flashes of the quick encounter just by your house appearing in your mind as a boot collided with your stomach, making you wince in pain

× What was going on? What the hell happened?

× "Aww, don't make that face..." someone mocked. "Save it for when Red Riot comes along, baby." he whispered harshly at you, venom in his voice.

× you muttered "—Riot?" in daze, placing your knees as close to your chest for protection; your head hurt badly, a throbbing pain coming from the back of it.

× laughed echoed around you; "He didn't fucking tell you? How much of a fucking BEAST he was?!"; other voices joined in... two more voices, but you couldn't be sure

× memories came back at you; how you were arriving late but decided to not send any message since you were driving; parking, gathering your stuff, the sound of crystal breaking—

× but nothing else;

× "You don't fucking know what your piece of shit of a mutt even did before acting like a perfect little boyfriend, didn't ya?" the same venom filled voice came closer to you, giving you the chance to finally see his ugly scowl and to imprint his stupidly face in your mind;

× were they talking about Kirishima? Your Kirishima? He never really got into detail about his previous life yet made it clear he was forced to fight for the entertainment of others— did they fucking think he had a choice?

× yet you remained silent; it seems Kiri knew you'd be there and your concussion didn't really help you to think straight and form any plan;

× something could be heard outside, a crash of some sort and everyone stood still for a good second.

× "He—... He's here already?" one of them whispered. A clicking made you freeze. You snapped your head up in terror, only knowing that sound from movies, a sound so scary you really didn't think you'd hear it in real life; guns.

× "I fucking send that message 20 minutes ago..." Ugly Scowl said, taken back in surprise. His eyes, dark and void of goodness snapped on you, an unsure smile painting over him. "I wanted to have some fun with ya."

× your body couldn't control the shiver that ran through it, from head to toes, and he noticed, turning his uncertain smile into a sadistic one; your face was probably a dead giveaway too.

× but Eijirou was there and deep down you knew there was nothing to fear; except for the guns.

× the red-head wasn't dumb, he knew this world a million times better than you, so he must've known; with a flood of nervousness piling up in your stomach, you blinked the stinging feeling in your eyes away and hoped for the best.

× "Go check that fucking sound, retards!" he then screamed, two sets of footsteps rushing at his orders; it seemed he was the "boss" of whatever the hell this small group of pieces of shit was and hated your boyfriend's guts.

× should you talk? should you not? what's the best possible outcome out of this?

× your wrists stung, locked harshly with what felt like a rope; in a poor attempt to move your fingers to feel if you could, in an ideal world, free your hands, the man caught your movements instantly; he yanked you by the neck, lifting you off the ground with no difficulty and that's when you noticed he was strong, muscular, big; his frame wasn't as massive as Eijirou's by any chance but massive enough to make you reconsider any attempt to escape. "Don't even fucking think about it, dear."

× his breath, foul and heavy, hit your face and you almost gagged; he was watching you, observing your face in search of something. Through a nod he hummed at himself.

× "Not bad, Riot." his nose hit your cheek as he breathed you in and a whimper left you, guts screaming danger; he snickered. "It's okay, I like them when they cry." he mocked your tears in a heavy whisper, which you didn't notice until he pointed them out.

× a snap could be heard from inside the building, possibly on the floor above; were you underground?

× the disgusting man by your side lifted himself up, throwing you on the floor like garbage. He lifted his gun and narrowed his eyes towards the stairs.

× "Be good and maybe I'll keep you for myself after I hunt your mutt down." he said between gritted teeth. You just started praying for the man you loved, still trying to figure out a way to at least hide before this scum used you as a threat more than he did already.

× —

× Kirishima watched them from the shadows; his breath was heavy yet silent, his enhanced vision saw the two low-life mobs he sometimes noticed following Mawler whenever he went; he took in consideration their stance; of course they'd bring weapons—

× his mind drifted to one of his trainers, EraserHead, and on the few moments of aloofness he let himself have around the younger ones put in his charge; "Humans are easily fooled—" he'd grin lazily. "And very easy to scare."

× with determination like he's never had before, he grabbed a rock; if he had to reach you, he'd have to do the only thing he was never good at: being stealthy.

× he rushed to the left of the back entrance, hidden behind a beaten up car as he threw the small rock in the opposite direction and in any other situation he'd find himself amused, EraserHead's words on replay in his mind. One of the guys almost jumped in place at the sound, gun fastly jerked into its general direction with trembling hands.

× with no second to spare, he entered the building, his speed impressive—

× no sound was made, but what helped him greatly was that one of them started talking into the nothingness; "We know you're there, you bastard!"

× the other one was now searching inside the building, yet his head turned towards his companion outside; sadly for the poor idiot, it only took a punch in the jaw to immobilize him and knock him out entirely. He took the guns from the now unconscious body and put them in his belt and pocket, yet had no intention to use any.

× the second one left outside was still talking a whole monologue, making the man sweat drop; was this Mawler's plan? he wasn't known to use his brain much...

× yet he wasn't as easy to take down as Kirishima wanted it to be; he turned around, probably uneased by the lack of response of his partner, suspicious and more on the edge; he could feel it, his nervousness, his fear; another bitter grin appeared on Eijirou's features.

× "Jackal?" his voice hid fear behind it.

× they definitely knew the damage he could do and the hybrid was glad they did, wanting them to be terrified, his predator instincts washing over.

× he jumped on him, kicking the pistol out of his hands in a heartbeat and making him stumble backwards, losing his balance; it happened in a blurr, old feeling of being in the ring, fist to fist, tail low and ready to pounce. He was in his element once again and God, he hated himself when he let go of all the pain and broke his arm, the sweet image of your smiling face as you burried yourself into the same arms he hurt people with always in the back of his mind.

× before he could realize, the other woke up from the knockout; he heard rushed steps towards him and a snapping sound. The blabbering idiot was on the ground now, breathing but beaten to a pulp and everything stood still for a good second.

× he got hit? in the back of his head? With just one glance he saw a broken wooden plank and blinked stupidly; did he seriously think—?

× Kirishima grinned and in an instant he grabbed Jackal's head and smashed it into his knee.

× —

× you could hear his steps; you knew it was him; heavy yet trying to conceal them poorly; your man was walking around the floor above and you sniffled your nose at the thought.

× he was absolutely massive and nothing about him was silent; gentle, yes, but silent? laughable. Even in this horrendous situation you closed your eyes lovingly at the thought. He's here.

× "Those damned fucking useless pieces of shit—" Oh, yeah. Him.

× the barrel was suddently pointed at your head and any thoughts you had abandoned your brain completely

× utter terror overwashed your senses in every way as you stared at it with wide eyes

× "Let's see if he fucking likes this—"

× —

× the only way down for the public was the stairway; not even those useless guards knew the hidden entrance his friends and him used once; they had to come back though, the guilt and knowledge that if they're found to be gone would make Mawler execute everyone else.

× a low window painted black that led to a storage room behind the filthy bathrooms and the place they'd be kept in cages; he ran on the first floor, approaching the stairs before jumping on the dusty metal bar, now completely silent and praying his poor attempt at a bait worked.

× in no time he was outside again and in even less of a second he found himself by said window leading to the underground arena.

× —

× "Maybe if I hurt you a little bit, he'll come to his senses." He grinned, gun's safety lever clicked, now pointed at your stomach.

× you saw your vision blurr and you really, really wanted to say something but didn't know what to; your lips trembled and you bit them in the hopes of showing at least some courage before getting shot but you couldn't help closing your eyes.

× the sound was so loud; an obnoxiously loud bang shook the room or maybe just shook you to the core, then warmth engulfed you wholly.

× it gripped into you so strongly yet no damage came; "I got you, baby." came as a whisper in your ear and just as you snapped your eyes to see his red, sweet, gorgeous red eyes look at you tenderly, he was gone.

× nothing was said; just a rush of screams and silence; your kidnapper tried to shoot again or so you saw but he was jumped on instantly; that's when you noticed Eijirou was growling like a wild animal and was covered with blood.

× he was like a hurricane, like a bulldozer, like an unstoppable force that destroyed with no mercy; covered in red and splatters due to his constant attacks just painted him with more of it;

× you were looking at Red Riot and your stomach dropped; this is what he was made to be and you cried when he did not stop beating the man underneath him.

× "Baby, stop—" you'd whisper, really trying to get up and barely making it to stay in a seating position, kinda desperate; and he indeed stopped at your plea, froze actually.

× the poor devil under him was groaning, gargling whatevers but it didn't matter; he was looking at you, shocked and you could see the fear in his eyes...

× was it bad that it didn't matter to you? as long as he didn't kill them, as long as justice got to them and furthermore kept Kirishima by your side forever, it didn't matter to you; it was instant, that thought.

× but as he stood there frozen, taking in your nerves and sudden relief, your crying face filled with worry; you took him in too... how his back was getting soaked in blood, running through his shirt down, and down, leaking...

× he got shot for you;

× "Please, leave him, help me and—" he turned a little, ashamed yet mute.

× like a scolded child, unsure; he was bleeding but he was scared of you; he had a hole in his back but he was hurting for your reaction.

× you sniffled again, getting on your knees, pain striking in your stomach but ignoring it; "Eijirou, come to me, please."

× and he did, all so gracefully, so fast and without a single wince; as if he knew pain more than he should've.

× your hands were instantly freed

× his silence killed you inside, it really did. This man, this amazing creature that beamed like the brightest star in the sky was now somber, dull...

× your phone was thrown on the floor as they tampered with it and you rushed, with trembling hands and uncertainty at his attitude to call the police; he was still to say anything, just staying on his knees in front of you, head low and teary eyes.

× he just muttered the location when they asked you about it but that's it; the operator asked questions yet you didn't care to answer them, just saying you need an ambulance too before closing the call to crawl towards him, taking his torso into your arms careful not to touch the wound on his back.

× he then cried harder into your neck, almost falling into your embrace, accepting it but his hands didn't move to touch you, laying unmoving on his sides.

× "I'm so—" he hiccuped. "I'm so sorry, [Y/N]." His frame was shaking more and more;

× "I love you, Eijirou." It's all you could say. Really, your brain just screamed for you to tell him that, as if you felt it's what he needed to hear the most.

× guilty; blaming himself; putting himself down;

× he shuddered into you as your hands, tired and sore, reached for his sweat soaked hair to stroke it gently.

× "You came for me. You saved me. Thank yo—"

× "Don't! It's all my fault—" his voice broke for a second, hands turning into fists and the only thing grounding him was your scent invading his nostrils. "You're hurt because of me..."

× you cried with him too, gluing his head more into you, peppering his face with shaky butterfly kisses.

× "It's not your fault, it was never your fault, Eijirou." you shook in place as you reassured him. Word by word, sentence by sentence, you let him know he's just as much of a victim being chased by his past, a past he was forced to have; he came for you, he rushed to save you, he took a bullet for you and yet again, he acted like it was nothing, as if the pain of putting you in danger was greater than any damage he could take.

× his hands encircled you and for the first time since you saw him after waking up to this nightmare, he winced in pain but did not let you go. Instead, he pressed your body into his, fearing you'd dissapear.

× you asked him if you should cover the wound, not really knowing what to do for now; you'd have time to talk, you'd have time to reassure him again and again and again, but now you had to make sure he was fine.

× he shook his head, feeling his nose tickle your neck in the process; "Leave it, I've taken worse." And with that statement you cried harder.

× the police sirens could be heard in the distance, accompanied by the ambulance one...

× —

× so much time passed; so many hours without sleep; police station, explanations, Kirishima almost getting arrested in the spot and being incarcerated, hospital, lawyers, more questioning...

× everything was explained, everything kinda settled for the never-ending day, knowing it wouldn't be the last time you'd have to visit said police station, already sure you'd follow Kirishima there without hesitancy to make sure he's treated correctly, but for now... home.

× the bullet didn't reach any vital organ even if he was hit square in the back and for a normal human it would've meant a hit in one of the lungs, but not for a hybrid—

× still, it didn't hurt less to see him in that state;

× your car was sealed and taken away as evidence, so a taxi home was your only way there.

× hands locked and much, so much to talk about ahead of you but one thing sure

× "I love you." You squeezed his hand, catching his attention, loving how his lips curled in a small smile, not as bright as usual, but still, his smile.

× "I love you more." Was his usual response yet this time it was shy, not looking into your eyes but somewhere behind you, out the window. You frowned and shook his hand to catch the attention fully.

× "No. You don't seem to get it." You led his big, strong, scarred hand to your lips, kissing the back of it softly. "I love you, Kirishima Eijirou. So much."

× the car ride was silent as he took in your words and you couldn't help but enjoy the way his eyes widened, now having his full attention as his cheeks reddened slightly, knowing he's been caught putting himself down.

× he let out a breathless chuckle, so small but with it his shoulders fell in relief. He nodded, watching his hand holding yours and gulped, your words repeating in a loop in his mind.

× Eijirou was so easy to read, so transparent and honest and it warmed heart to ser him accept your words, words you've said countless times before this incident and without a doubt in the future until they engraved permanently in his heart.

× he chuckled again at your expression, catching your gaze and holding it until a smile broke on his face, this time big and warm, just like him. The smile you wanted to see all along.

× he cried again through it, passing his free palm over his eyes for a second; "You're my everything, [Y/N]." he'd pull you into his chest, inhaling your scent. "I love you." he squeezed you close.

[alfredosauce50]

You’re gonna go far, kid [Punk! England x reader]

Synopsis: Ever since coming to England to study, you haven’t had the time to do what made you come in the first place--tourism! The only friend you have is an exchange student from Russia, Ivan, so why not kill two birds with one stone? He schedules a little playdate with Arthur, a local, so he can show you around the hottest spots in London. You two immediately hit it off. Ivan is quick to notice his interest in you, so he starts teasing the poor man and making things hard for him. Camden is the last destination, and there’s no saying when he’ll ever see you again. Will he be able to get over himself and ask you out before the night ends?  Note: Attractions are italicized and have a link to a picture. Wordcount: 4,641 The reader is referred to as she/her.

This was the day you had been dreading, and yet, looking forward to. The first part was easy to explain. Picking up your hot latte, you set it down after a quick sip. You didn’t even have time to enjoy it. Not when you were typing away at your keyboard like a speed demon. You promised your friend you would finish your assignment before today’s meet-up, but your procrastination habits were a bitch. Nevertheless, you were eager to uphold your side of the deal, even if it meant stressing your hair out to get it done. 

So long as he didn’t show up before you were done, right? 

After burning your tongue for the second time that morning, you let out a small groan at the sting you felt but gasped at what you saw outside the window. It was a sound made from genuine terror--rather than the quiet streets of London at seven AM, you spotted a man pressing his face right up to the glass. And he was staring at you, menacingly. 

Anybody would’ve been creeped out by the sight, but you knew the guy. “Aha--Ivan! Hey! Morning?” You began rather awkwardly. 

He waved in response, and his glower melted away in exchange for a childlike smile. “Dobroye utro, (F/N)! I hope that’s not your assignment you’re doing.” He hummed, placing two hands on the glass to peer at your screen from outside. Oh shit. Glancing briefly at said screen, you turned it away before clicking the upload button. 

“Of course not.” You grinned, shutting your laptop immediately after. “I was just... Surfing the net. Checking Instagram. You know?”

“Is that so? I’m gonna check.” He made his way inside. And in no time, he was looming over your shoulder to start browsing through your internet history. You, on the other hand, were sweating balls. 

“You’re so funny, (F/N). Who checks Instagram on their computer?”

It seemed like only yesterday he was the oblivious exchange student from Russia who had no concept of social media. He had been a country bumpkin through and through, but a few semesters after befriending you, your influence rubbed off on him. Even you had no idea what went through your head when decided to talk to him, the intimidating new kid who spoke broken English, but there was no turning back now. He was attached to you by the hip and picked up on your habits faster than you could deal. 

He only became more of a menace when he discovered Twitter.

A displeased expression contorted at his expression when he saw that there was no evidence of you ‘surfing the net’. Google Docs couldn’t possibly count, after all.  “... Hm... Apparently, not you. Why didn’t you finish this yesterday, sunflower? Remember our promise?” 

You sighed. “Look, I’m sorry. I passed out last night. But hey, I technically finished it before you came, didn’t I?” 

He craned his head from side to side in thought. “Maybe. But if you hadn’t, you know what that means.” Ivan coiled his arms around your neck and a sickeningly sweet smile curled up at his lips. 

“You will come with me to Moscow for Christmas!” 

A chill ran down your spine at the thought. Going to Russia was bad enough. But during Winter? You were never good with the cold. If you could barely handle London, Moscow was out of the question. “Oh God, please no.” He nodded giddily. “I’m never going to Russia. Maybe I’d consider it during Summer, but--anyway, that’s not the point here! I didn’t break any promises so I won’t be turning into a popsicle this year. Got that?” 

He pouted. “Aw...” 

“You damn sadist.” 

“Hehe.” 

“I wonder how you even became friends with him. Arthur, was it? Poor dude.” You mumbled, but he didn’t look all too offended. 

He tapped his chin and hummed. “Now that you mention it.” Then, he let out a short laugh. “It’s a long story. Let’s just say it was a happy little accident.”

“Unfortunate.” 

“But don’t worry! I don’t plan on bothering you as much as him today.” Ivan clarified, earning a slow nod from you. Phew. The clock was inching closer to eight and you weren’t much of a morning person, so hearing that was like music to your ears. “That’s why I wanted you to finish your work yesterday. I want him to be the only one making mistakes! It’s interesting to see him mess up and get embarrassed.” 

You had to wonder if he was using ‘interesting’ as a synonym for fun because he was clapping. “... Ivan, you really are a sadist.” 

The two of you stayed in that café for another hour or so, ordering some breakfast during your stay. Once the table was cleared and the bill was paid, you and he caught a bus to the London eye. You could marvel at the iconic ferris wheel for a few minutes as you walked up to the London aquarium next to it, your first stop. The building was huge to start with, and it didn’t look like they’d be storing fish in there considering how fancy it was. But wasn’t everything in England fancy? 

“He should be waiting in the front. Look for a short grouchy man with a bad taste in fashion.” You shot him a weird look, beckoning him to elaborate. 

“... And blonde hair.”

“Alright. I guess I’ll try my best.” Glancing around the sea of people filled with tourists, couples, and families, you skimmed the crowd for someone who fitted the description--but to no avail. It was only when they walked up to you both did you find the guy. He had short and choppy blonde hair that framed a heart-shaped face, and under his fringe was a pair of lime green eyes staring on with a neutral expression. And did Ivan say he had bad taste?

You couldn’t agree. Yes, his charcoal pants were ripped and he had a bandana tied around his neck with a Union Jack on it. But he still had a kind of style you liked. Under his black leather jacket was a gray shirt, and combined with the piercings in his right ear, you couldn’t help admiring him for a second. 

“Arthur! I was wondering if you were trampled because we couldn’t find you.” Ivan began, causing the said man to furrow his brows. And boy, were they thick. 

“You just arrived, so don’t start now you twat.” He grumbled. Ivan never teased you for your height, even when you were a little shorter than the Brit. He always found it cute, but you figured it was only because you didn’t care. The Russian always found amusement in poking fun at others, after all. “Anywho, I’m glad I won’t be spending the whole day alone with you.” 

Turning to you with a soft smile this time, he held out a hand for you to shake. “Kirkland. Arthur Kirkland.” 

You shook it, but not without a laugh. It hadn’t even been a minute since meeting him, and his personality seemed to clash violently with his appearance. He sounded so prim and proper, but his outfit screamed punk rock. 

“(L/N). (F/N) (L/N).” 

He released you from his grip. Placing his hands on his hips with an accusing stare, he felt a grin upturn his lips. “Are you copying me, (F/N)?” 

“I don’t know. Do all British people introduce themselves like James Bond?” 

Arthur clicked his tongue. “... Not all of them. Just a force of habit.” 

“Mhm. Right, right. Well, it’s nice to meet you, Arthur. I’m a student here too and I could only imagine how busy it gets for you--so thanks for coming out today!” He didn’t respond to those comments and simply nodded. 

Ivan stayed quiet in the back, but he was probably reading the atmosphere like he always did when he didn’t speak. 

“It’s nice to meet you too.” The blonde turned on his heel and closed his eyes. “As much as I’d like to stay out here and chat, we can do that in the aquarium. Wouldn’t wanna waste our tickets, do we?” 

While the group of three wandered slowly through the establishment, Ivan lingered in the background while you walked in the front with the Brit. For the first ten minutes, you’d look at him expectantly, gesturing for him to join in the conversation. As the mutual, wasn’t he supposed to be the icebreaker? He’d shake his head every time, offering you a smile as if to say, go and make some friends. But soon, this brief spell of irritation morphed into gratitude.

“I’ve been here probably a hundred times, so don’t take it personally when I don’t seem as excited as you.” Turning to him to watch his face as he spoke--which was filtered through a bluish tinge from the Antarctic setting-- you only caught a brief glimpse of it before he turned away. Huh. Maybe it was just you not paying enough attention. 

Either way, what came out of your mouth next would surely grab his. 

“Don’t worry about it. But hey, this is the first time you’ve been here with me, so look alive, won’t you?” It happened to be a slip of the tongue, something bold and improvised, but luckily, he reacted fairly quickly before the regret set in.

“Oi, you better not be flirting with me already,” Arthur grumbled, feeling another smile come as he heard you chuckle. Since when was he this expressive? He pinned it on the fact that he was starting to have a little fun himself. 

“Couldn’t imagine it.” Before he could add anything else, you hopped in front of the penguins and started waving your friend over with great gusto. “Ivan, c’mere. Arthur, mind taking a photo of us?” Once he joined your side, the two of you held up peace signs for the Brit to snap a photo. 

“Ivan, change your pose. We can’t have both of you doing the same thing.” 

The said man moved his peace sign to the back of your head so he could stick two fingers over it. “Is that better?”

“... Better.” Trailing his emerald eyes to you, he felt his cheeks heat up a touch at the sight of you grinning ear to ear. What the fuck, Arthur. Just take the damn photo. And that was exactly what he did, showing you both right after. Whatever just happened, he boiled it down to him idealizing a stranger. That was right. He had yet to get to know you, so his perception of you couldn’t be any better at this stage. 

But there was one thing he couldn’t deny.

“Damn, I look really ugly in this. You two better not post this anywhere.” You settled a hand over the screen to lower it with a nervous laugh. Then, you looked away, and what was that? You looked a little flustered. 

You were cute.

Hanging his head to look at the photo, he knitted his brows together. You? Ugly? He couldn’t imagine it. 

“... I bet I could take an even uglier one of you.”

Spinning back to him, you folded your arms. “What did you say?” 

“Nothing.” He shook his head slowly, and the amusement in his voice made it blatantly obvious he was lying. 

“That’s what I thought.” 

Walking off at that, Ivan followed. Because he was behind him, he could brush his shoulders against his. Arthur looked up at that, but almost wished he didn’t. Ivan was smiling down at him so shrewdly, it was threatening. Then, he raised a hand to his mouth so he could laugh softly. “Huhu. You like (F/N)~” 

His eyes flew open and blood rushed up to his face. “What the hell gave you that impression? I literally just met them!” As adamant as he sounded, he knew deep inside he liked you, but only platonically. Your personality was refreshing, and talking to you was as easy as breathing. Even if it wasn’t platonic attraction, he was endlessly frustrated the other figured it out earlier than he could. 

Whatever it was, he was certainly more sociable than usual, even to the point of being a tease. And not to mention the rosy cheeks. Maybe he should’ve just kept his trap shut--otherwise, his huge outburst let Ivan milk the obvious. Fuck. He even started to giggle like a schoolchild. 

Giving him a rough shove, he muttered a string of curses under his breath.  “I bloody hate your arse, you know that?” He hissed, his face now redder than a tomato. God, why he did have to be born so pale? Every slight change to his complexion was jarring, and it was embarrassing. 

“Don’t hate me because I’m right,” Ivan hummed, joining his side as your back came into view. “Once you realize, it’ll be too late. I’m not letting you have (F/N). I will always be (F/N)’s number one.” Lighting up at that, he skipped off to you in the front. “Wait for me, sunflower! Don’t leave me alone with Arthur!”

Arthur stopped in his tracks and clenched his fists. How annoying. If he was going to continue being a little tyke, then he figured he’d up his game as well. He didn’t know what that exactly entailed yet, but he’d do it. Ivan didn’t even sound like he wanted anything more than friendship, so what was with that? Pointing a finger at him as he walked off with you, his face scrunched up. 

“What did you even call me out for then, you idiot? I’m supposed to be guiding you both!” Picking up his pace at that, he slotted himself between you and him. Flashing you a brief smile, he gave Ivan another push without breaking eye contact. “It’s a tight fit for three, so he’ll stay in the back.” 

“Hey, no fair!” 

By the time the whole aquarium was toured, you and Arthur were laughing to yourselves while leaving through the exit. 

But the joyful atmosphere was short-lived. 

The Ferris wheel just outside was the next stop, and the Brit offered to splurge a little to have a carriage without strangers. That way, you could run around as much as you wanted, even if that meant leaving the two men to sit in their lonesome. While Ivan was sitting on the bench in the centre out of his own volition, the same couldn’t be said for him. 

Sitting back to back to the other, he pressed his legs firmly together and leaned over in a hunch. Then, he dug his hands through his hair, all while keeping his round eyes fixated on the ground. His heart couldn’t stop pounding, and his head was spinning like a carousel. What was he thinking, taking you here? That was right. This was an iconic destination you couldn’t miss, that was why. He was initially planning on staying back there on the ground, but you were so excited, he couldn’t help but hop on with you. 

Fuck. Maybe Ivan was right about him. But he wouldn’t let him know it. Speaking of the guy, he didn’t know if he was sitting there by choice, or just rubbing it in. While he was incapacitated by fear so he couldn’t even stand, he was sitting there because he wanted to. 

“You should’ve stayed on the ground if this was going to happen.” 

Arthur screwed his eyes shut and tightened his arms around his stomach. “... Shut up.” 

“I was just saying.” Ivan murmured, looking at him over his shoulder. Poor guy. He really was down bad, wasn’t he? Down bad for you, that was. Too bad Arthur was hoping he wasn’t convinced--but it was too obvious. So all Ivan wanted was to prove his point, and later on, keep you away from him. But maybe he’d save it until after the ride was over. “... This ride is thirty minutes long. You’ll live.” 

He heard the other groan. “Thirty minutes? How long has it been?” 

“Mm... Ten.” 

“Fuck me.” 

Unfortunately, it wouldn’t be long before you would pull away from the railing and return to the company of the two. Arthur had been praying that somehow, you’d leave him alone sitting there, pathetically, but he couldn’t expect something so cold from you. So while he hung his head, he wasn’t surprised to feel your hand on his shoulder. 

“Hey, you okay?” He heard you ask, but he never looked up. 

“... Yeah. Just give me a minute.” 

“I have. Ten, actually.” Taking a seat beside him, you leaned down to peer at his face, which was a few shades paler than normal. He didn’t even have the energy to respond, and kept his eyes fixed to the ground. Concern immediately contorted at your features, especially when he looked so shaken. “Arthur, you look a little sick. What’s wrong? Can you talk?” 

He shook his head slowly before managing a weak smile at you. “Sorry, love.” It didn’t even faze him he just called you that. He was far too uncomfortable to feel the embarrassment from a nickname he should’ve saved until a little later. 

“I’m not... Too good with heights. Never have been... I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” His voice was slow and faint, and you were beginning to suspect he was having a panic attack. “... Sorry if I seem a little lame.” 

“No, of course not.” You frowned. “Things like this happen. Just breathe with me, okay? You can do it. Just count to ten.” 

Arthur took a deep inhale. “... Okay.” 

Around ten minutes later of these exchanges, he calmed down some, especially when you kept on reminding him that the carriage was finally descending. Once the ride was over, you had to help him up and walk him out. Now that he had his two feet planted firmly on the ground, it didn’t take long for him to recover. Even then, you remained rather cautious and stuck with him on your journey to Soho. By the time everyone took their seats in Circolo Popolare, a beautiful Italian restaurant Arthur so kindly booked, you were still looking out for him.

Leaning over to rest your head on the table, you glanced up at his face with a soft smile. “... You okay now?” 

A light blush dusted his cheeks and he nodded. You didn’t need to be this observant with him considering he was well now, but he loved your attentiveness. It wasn’t something he was used to. “Yeah, I’m fine now. Thank you. Now quit worrying about me, alright?” Rubbing the nape of his neck at that, you couldn’t help lingering on his body language for a moment.

It didn’t matter what he dressed like, or what his personality was. He could be endearing when it came to it, and a total softie too. And the thought made you smile even wider. If he thought you were cute, then you thought he was adorable. “Fine. I’ll leave you alone.” You slowly turned to Ivan, the action making Arthur tense up a little. 

Reaching out to your hand, he took it. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

The feeling of his warm fingers around yours made your heart skip a beat. Did he just? Your thoughts manifested into your look of shock, and you darted your eyes over his neutral expression to try and decipher it. Before you could come up with anything, there was a phone in your face, followed by a flash. 

“Wha--?” 

He turned the screen to you to reveal a photo of you, and in your opinion, it was the least flattering picture anybody had ever taken of you. “I said I’d take an uglier photo of you, didn’t I?” Arthur grinned, the words acting like a cold splash of water to bring you back to reality. 

“... You sneaky little shit.” You growled. “Delete that right now!” 

“How about no?” 

“I’ll never forgive you for this, Arthur.” 

“I think you already have, love. You’re smiling right now.” 

You stared at him wordlessly for a few seconds. Then, out of nowhere, you reached out to snatch his phone right out of his hands. Tapping furiously on the screen to get rid of it, you heard his chair scrape back violently as he tried to retrieve it. “Why, you--” 

But it was too late. Gone forever. Lost in the abyss of cyberspace. And so, he immediately channelled his frustration by jabbing his fingers into your sides. “If I can’t have that photo of you, at least let me do this!” You burst into a fit of laughter so loud, nearby patrons turned their heads. Only then did he pull away, leaving you to recover through breathless wheezing. 

“Fuck you, Arthur.” You whispered, but it was on an affectionate note more than anything. As you glowered at him from your seat, you never noticed Ivan doing the same thing, but he was glaring at the Brit for an entirely different reason. Arthur had to be the most self-aware person out there, and to make a scene in a restaurant like this? He really fell for you, didn’t he? 

When he realized Ivan’s scorching gaze burning into him, he froze. 

Not just out of how intimidated he was, but the epiphany that he was right all along. Why else was he acting so out of character? The only explanation was this--in the short time of being with you, he may or may not have developed a little crush. But that was no problem, right? 

All he needed to do was to ask you out. 

But that would prove a task easier said than done, especially when Ivan decided to attach himself to you by the hip after that stunt. That cunning bastard knew what he was doing. After a little window shopping around Bond street and Mayfair, he stuck to you like a tattoo, and kept it up until night fell. While the group walked around Camden, Ivan kept you by his side with a firm grip on your hand. 

When you asked why he was suddenly so clingy, he simply justified it with, “It’s dangerous for small people like you to wander around at night!” 

But Arthur called bullshit. Especially when the other went ahead and smirked at him right after saying it. Maybe he liked you too, but was refusing to admit it. How hypocritical. If not, then he probably didn’t want you making friends when you were the only friend he had. Whatever it was, he wasn’t about to back down so easily. Camden may be the last destination for the night, and perhaps, the last time he’d see you again for God knows how long, but it was his trump card.

If this didn’t sweep you off your feet enough to get you to pull away from Ivan, nothing would. 

As a town famous for its thriving nightlife and punk culture, it encompassed everything he was passionate about, and he’d give anything to show it to you. So he included a visit to the bar here on the agenda today, one that hosted live music. While you and Ivan got comfortable in your seats, Arthur never made a move to sit down. 

It was already dim inside, so you never noticed him leave. The next time you saw him, it was a few minutes later when he was on stage with a few other musicians. Leaning forward with surprise, you watched him strap on a bright red electric guitar. Walking up to the microphone, he adjusted that. No way. 

You were still trying to process him being a professional performer, but a lead singer as well? 

The second he strummed the strings to start a guitar riff, he opened his mouth to start singing.

Play this while you read

undefined

Show me how to lie, you're getting better all the time

And turning all against the one is an art that's hard to teach

His fingers never stopped moving as he belted out note after note. His voice was so different to how he talked, you had to do a double take. He sounded a little more rasp, a little more punk. To say you were impressed was an understatement. 

Now dance, fucker, dance, man, he never had a chance

And no one even knew it was really only you

While he jammed out on stage, he was electric. The energy in the bar exploded, and he had everyone singing along. You could almost see the confidence in him shoot up from the excitable crowd, because he was smirking. 

Nice work, you did. 

You’re gonna go far, kid! 

Turning his head to you as he sung that line, you raised a hand to your mouth. Whether he did that on purpose or not was a mystery. But no words could describe how attractive it was. Hell, it even made you mind blank for a few moments. This was Arthur? He was like an entirely different person! Needless to say, you were completely star struck. 

You couldn’t even make out what Ivan was telling you when the music was blaring in your ears. But you didn’t care. Arthur had you caught in a trance with his voice and guitar all until the end. When the song finally ended, the band bowed graciously and threw up hand signs as the audience erupted in applause and cheers. 

When he stepped off the stage, you didn’t hesitate to run up to him. There, you practically pounced on him for a tight embrace. “Oh my god, you were amazing! I didn’t know you could play so well! And sing, too! Why didn’t you tell me!?” You exasperated, pulling away to be met with his dazzling smile. It was the first time you’ve seen him so energetic, as if performing sparked a fire inside him that burned with youthful intensity. 

“I was dying to show you all day. I wanted it to be a surprise, and I had to save the best til’ last, didn’t I?” He grinned, feeling his heart swell up with warmth as he watched you light up. 

“Well, good on you! I loved it!” Squeezing him again, you felt his chest shake under his laughs. When you pulled away, you reached up to cup his face. But it felt so natural in the spur of the moment, even he didn’t seem to care. 

“Thanks again for today, Arthur. I really appreciate you taking us out today. You completely blew me away.”

The way how you phrased it reminded him of why he was here in the first place. That was right. He still had to ask you out. And with Ivan watching on from afar, this was his chance. The thought reddened his cheeks, but while you had his face in your hands, he couldn’t feel more comfortable. “Is that so? If that’s the case, how about I take you out again?” His expression grew serious. “A proper date, I mean.” 

It was your turn to blush, but you managed a quick answer. 

“No need to look so serious, love. Of course I’ll go on a date with you.” 

He chuckled and leaned in to peck your lips. “Stealing my vocabulary now, are we?” 

“Stealing kisses now, are we?” 

“Touché.” 

Now a third wheel of the group, he breathed out a soft sigh and rested his cheek on his hand. “I guess my job here is done.” It didn’t really look like it, but he had been trying to play the wingman all along. Arthur was always one to go a little crazy when he wanted something, and only more so when he was desperate. So all he gave him was a little push in the right direction. 

Maybe he would thank him later, but for now, he’d leave you two be. 

This is a request. Thank you for requesting.

[tocrackerboxpalace]

March, 1964

Summary: John and Paul (but mostly John) find studying their lines for A Hard Day's Night a drag. John finds other (PG?) ways to pass the time.

The air was still inside the cozy dressing room. A faint scent of cigarette smoke clung to the thick atmosphere, but not enough to ring unpleasant. John gazed at the cigarette as it dangled loosely from his fingers, and deciding against taking another drag, put it out in the ashtray beside him. He tugged at the neck of his black sweater—despite the chill of the winter air persisting outside the window, the room was quite warm. Without much thought, John lazily traced a finger along the window sill, feeling chills spread up his arm at the temperature shock.

It really looked more like an upscale office than a dressing room. Sure, there were four distinct mirrors and hairdresser chairs, as well as a rod near the doorway with an array of suits, sweaters, and trousers for the boys to rotate in and out of. But the room itself was decorated quite elegantly. A soft glow from the floor lamp mingled with the diminishing brightness of outside to coat the room in a honey-like aura. Deep red curtains framed the enormous window, grazing the velvety paisley-patterned rug that covered most area of the room. The rest of the floor was a deep hardwood, without the slightest trace of dust—an unfamiliar concept, John mused. This was much nicer than what they were used to. Immediately upon entering, he had thrown himself onto a long, floral-patterned couch by the window. Paul knew he fancied observing nature while they studied.

Paul was seated a few feet away from him, his long legs draped over the armrest as he slouched sideways over the enormous armchair. His body was facing John’s, and he could see his eyebrows knitting together in concentration as he studied his script. His lips moved wordlessly, repeating his lines to himself without speaking at all. He reached up mindlessly and tousled his hair, and John watched as the dark locks fell directly back into place. They had been sitting like this for over an hour now, and John was beginning to feel restless. He had turned his gaze to his friend once he figured he could not possibly watch the nothing going on outside the window for a second longer. Going over his script one more time was always an option, but the thought simply did not interest him. Despite being constantly begged not to do so, John figured he could improvise some lines if they fell blank on his mind. He had a quick wit, and knew that some of his lines would come off better (read: more authentic) than the portrait that the writers had painted of him. He didn’t know how Paul could concentrate for so long, especially seeing as the man had relatively few lines in the upcoming scene.

Almost as if hearing his name appear in John’s thoughts, Paul’s eyes jumped up to meet John’s. He swung his legs over the arm of the chair until he was sitting in an upright (albeit, poorly postured) position and set his script down on the quaint table between them. John pulled the ashtray a bit closer to himself, fearing the disaster that would ensue if he and Paul accidentally burned down the dressing room. They had had their fair share of slightly arsonist run-ins in their youth, and John was too tired to deal with the legal ramifications of an incident like that again.

Paul sighed loudly, bringing John back to present. He hoped this was a sign of his friend’s boredom and restlessness, so he could stop pretending like he was studying his own script. The younger man leaned forward and put his head in his hands, letting out a strained groan as he rubbed his eyes.

“I don’t think I can take any more of this studying, mate,” Paul muttered. “I close my eyes and all I see is ‘No, actually, we’re just good friends’. Why do I have to say that, like, a dozen times? It’s only hardly clever.”

“Quite the realistic portrait, then,” John replied lazily, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips when Paul shot him an irritated glance. “I’m bored. Let’s do something.”

Paul checked his wristwatch. “When do you think they’ll be back? I thought Ringo was just going to wander about the town. How long could that filming possibly take? It’s not even scripted. Plus, he’s got that massive hangover. I figured they’d be back around by now.”

John shrugged. George had gone along with Ringo to provide some moral support for the dreaded scene (every scene was dreaded for Ringo today, as Paul was right—he was sporting a massive hangover), leaving Paul and John behind to study for their next appearance. For Paul, it was out of necessity; the poor lad struggled with keeping up with his lines, a fact that made him irritated and anxious. Paul typically wasn’t poor at things. For John, the desertion was more punishment for disappearing on set the day before to explore the city a bit. He didn’t mind, though. It could be worse; Paul could have left him as well. At least he had some company.

“We could go to the pub we passed yesterday,” John observed. “I could use a quick drink. Or two.”

Paul frowned, but John could see him shake his head in slight amusement at his friend’s remarks. “No, we won’t be doing that. Could you imagine how much trouble you’d be in with Brian if you disappeared again? To drink, no less? Sometimes I don’t know what goes on in your daft mind.”

John chuckled at that. He quite enjoyed teasing his friend, pushing forth this Teddy-boy persona that he sported when they first met seven years prior. Though he had no intention of actually going to get drunk in the middle of a work day, he knew that the boy wouldn’t tell the difference. He was aware that his behavior gave Paul a bit of a superiority complex, the feeling of being “the good one”, and the thought of that amused him. The public had yet to see how mischievous Paul McCartney actually was, his puppy dog eyes betraying him at every turn.

Of course, John was one of the few people that saw past Paul’s angelic front. The times they’d shared together had proved that even Brian and George Martin were fooled, as John often fell victim to blame for things that Paul had done. He didn’t quite mind the dynamic, though. He was hardly in real trouble, and it felt nice to have a part of Paul that the others didn’t. He was so hard to read at first, so hard to get close to. The intimacy was welcome to John, in a comforting, familial way.

“What shall we do then?” John mused. He huffed as he struggled to pull himself into an upright position, his joints popping at the sudden movement after being a puddle of nothing for so long. “Go for a smoke? Go for a stroll? Go fetch a bird?” He winked at the last suggestion as heat rose into Paul’s cheeks. Last night, John had also unintentionally taken the blame for a girl that Paul had snuck into the dressing room. Paul had been mortified and profusely thanked him, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have a little fun with the knowledge.

“Actually,” Paul replied, rubbing his temples, “I’m quite exhausted. Might have a go at a nap.”

“Paul,” John whined, feigned desperation in his voice, “You can’t. I’m so bored. If you leave, I’ll have nothing.”

“Oh, all right,” the boy sighed. “Then you think of something to do. My mind is strained. And,” he jumped, as John opened his mouth to say something, “we’re not going out. I feel like I’m responsible for you right now. Don’t make me put you in time out.” Paul slouched back as the chair engulfed his figure and closed his eyes, humming softly to himself as he let fatigue overtake him.

John’s stomach flipped Paul’s words, though he almost cocked an eyebrow at the absurdity of the feeling. He quickly shook it off, feeling sure it was nothing more than the delight of knowing he could pester Paul endlessly, now that he was aware how Paul felt of the situation. If he was John’s babysitter, then John would act… well, like a child.

John stretched his legs just far enough as to where he could kick the other man’s foot. Paul half-lidded eyes looked up at him with a slightly annoyed expression, but he was met only with the amusement that twinkled in John’s. This seemed to irritate him further, not feeling at all in the mood for physical banter. So John kicked him again.

Paul’s eyes flew open. “Christ, lad, would you knock it off? I’m not in the mood. If you won’t let me leave, at least let me rest here.”

“But I’m bored,” John whined again. “I want to do something.”

“Look over your script,” Paul muttered as he turned his back on him, shifting to curl up into the armchair. “I don’t want to have to deal with you going on about fish and finger pies again next take. I have enough to worry about with my own lines.”

“You don’t own me, Paul,” John shot back. “You’re not in charge.”

“I bloody might as well be,” came the muffled voice that now felt far away.

John fell back on the couch himself, defeated. He gazed out the window again, eyes following an adorable little bird that hopped from tree limb to tree limb. He felt for that bird, or rather, he felt the need to be that bird, happily hopping on without a care in the world. It was so simple and innocent. He wanted to reach his hand through the glass and stroke the little bird, with its enchantingly dark feathers. To John, it looked like midnight, when the sky was still and the world was quiet and there was nothing but yourself and the atmosphere, high above you. Was it a blackbird? A crow, maybe? Its tiny black eyes were empty, devoid of emotion, but not threatening or eerie. Just… there. Being. Existing. It lived only to live, not to please, or love, or conquer. Oh, to be the little bird.

John continued to marvel at it for a few more moments before it fluttered out of sight. He was left with nothing again, his mind grasping at something else to attend to. The script fell out of his hands onto the floor with a thick thud, making Paul twitch in his barely-there state of consciousness.

Paul! A wonderful thing to capture his attention. John nudged his foot against the chair, hoping to shift it just slightly. When that didn’t work, he pushed a bit harder, sending a croaking sound through the room as the chair leg slipped off the rug and onto the hardwood.

“Piss off, Lennon,” Paul growled, his voice thick with the beginnings of sleep. But John couldn’t let him drift asleep. He would be so dreadfully bored.

John got to his knees on the couch, facing Paul’s chair. He gently pushed the stand with the ashtray and Paul’s script out of the way, and leaned forward, interlacing his fingers on the arm of the couch and resting his chin atop them. He could see Paul’s side rising and falling rhythmically, the stiff fabric of his dress shirt crinkling with every inhale. He hadn’t changed out from earlier, and was still wearing the pressed white button down, black tie, and black trousers. The only thing he had removed was his suit jacket, which lay draped across the back of the chair. John assumed Paul had noticed the warm thickness of the air in the room as well.

Paul’s side stared back at him, open and inviting. He knew exactly what to do, to piss Paul off to the perfect degree while also keeping up the good spirits. He removed a hand from under his chin and stretched ever so slightly before jamming two fingers—hard—into Paul’s soft side.

Paul yelped in surprise and jerked awake and alert, trying to comprehend what had just happened. John watched him smugly as his brow furrowed in confusion, then annoyance. “For fuck’s sake, John, is it so hard to keep your hands to yourself? You’re a child.”

John said nothing, just watched in anticipation as Paul turned away again, muttering something under his breath. He was cranky now, and John wanted to push his limits. He had nothing better to do, anyway. He tentatively reached back over and, in one swift movement, pinched Paul’s side again and retreated into the far side of the couch.

Paul swung blindly, nearly missing contact with John’s extended forearm as he jumped back. John suppressed a giddy grin, knowing that he had succeeded in his mission. Paul was now wide awake and visibly frustrated, taking a moment to rub his tender side while muttering a string of unflattering curses.

“You wanker,” he shot at John, his eyes burning as he massaged his sore spot. Paul knew that John knew that’s where his weak spot was, his ticklish spot. He was only lucky that John had poked and pinched instead of lightly grazing and prodding. They shared a look, both of them well aware of that fact. John couldn’t help but cock a knowing eyebrow at him, as if to say, I could if I wanted to.

Suddenly, Paul’s eyes darkened. John’s breath caught in his throat as he watched a mischievous glint overtake Paul’s gaze. He watched Paul’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed, running his tongue between his lips in anticipation. John wasn’t sure what the transformation was, but it couldn’t be good. He felt in a moment that he had lost control of the situation. He opened his mouth to speak, willing himself to come up with something spectacularly witty, until—

Paul had lurched on top of him in a matter of seconds, digging his fingers into John’s sides. John initially gasped as ticklish tremors ran through his body, the sounds of pure, unfiltered laughter soon filling the air. John twisted under Paul’s iron grip as tears began to spring to his eyes from the hysteria, gasping for breath and unable to keep himself from breaking into a fit of giggles every few seconds. He weakly attempted to reach up and grasp at Paul’s weak spots, trying to give himself the edge again, but Paul caught his wrist with one hand, pinning the other down with his knee. “Uh uh uh,” he chastised, pushing John’s wrist into the couch and underneath his other knee. He was straddling him on the couch, his knees trapping John’s hands at his sides while Paul’s hands were free to mercilessly attack John’s sides, stomach, and neck.

“P-please,” he wheezed, as Paul chuckled lightheartedly above him. “Please stop, I- I can’t breathe—”

“You asked for this,” Paul retorted, not ceasing the torturous movements. His tone was light and amused, sounding as though he found himself greatly enamored with the visual of John writhing helplessly beneath him. “Next time, keep your bloody hands to yourself.”

“I will, I will,” John gasped, a tear rolling down his cheek. Slowly, Paul ceased his assault, and rocked back on his heels, letting John’s hands free. He watched as the man caught his breath beneath him, reaching up to wipe away a tear that had fallen in the hysteria. “That was not funny,” John asserted in a mock-serious tone, secretly hoping that Paul would go at it again.

The thought pulled a frown to his face as he contemplated what had just popped into his head. He was “secretly hoping Paul would do that again”? Why? Why did he feel the need to keep it a secret? Why had Paul’s devilish fingers made John’s skin feel so… electric, and tingly? And most importantly, why was he now acutely aware that the man was sitting on John’s lap?

Paul let out an airy laugh and raised himself up off the sofa. John breathed a sigh of relief, concerned over the thoughts that spilled into his head. What the fuck was going on? This was Paul. He enjoyed spending time with him, teasing him, messing with him, pissing him off and making him laugh. Paul, his bandmate. His best friend. His suddenly strangely entrancing best—

Shut up, John begged his mind. He didn’t want to follow himself down a rabbit hole of that sort.

Paul was making his way back to the armchair. He plopped into it, looking as though he was the one who had just been tickled to death. He looked at John with a grin of satisfaction and power, and John knew that the man was about to go for a nap again knowing that John wouldn’t mess with him in that way again.

He liked to prove Paul wrong.

As soon as Paul’s eyes fluttered closed once more, and his breathing became steadier and deeper, John formulated another plan. One that, this time, he would surely be in control of. He watched Paul’s chest rise and fall for a few minutes, waiting for his eyelashes to stop twitching, willing the man to fall just enough asleep to where he would be slightly delirious upon a quick awakening. That way, he couldn’t catch John with surprise force as he executed the first step of his plan.

John waited the tiniest bit longer, until he was sure that his friend wasn’t just pretending, and went for it. In a quick movement, John jumped up and pulled at Paul’s wrists, thrusting him onto the floor forcefully but not painfully. The man blinked wildly as John held both his wrists over his head with one hand and began to aggressively tickle Paul’s exposed armpits. He jerked away from John’s touch, still in a faint haze about what was happening, before he began to come to his senses and bite back a cry of laughter. John knew that Paul was far more ticklish than he, and that the quick prodding and nudging wouldn’t drive him nearly as crazy as light, barely-there touches.

He began to cry out on the floor beside John, who was lying on his side, holding Paul’s hands with one arm and attacking him with the other. “Jesus, John, you bastard,” he wheezed, trying to force himself up but unable to do so. His wrists strained against John’s grip.

This struggle continued for a few more minutes, before John’s own stomach hurt from laughing so much. He released his friend and collapsed on the rug beside him, both of their laughter dying out softly as they caught their breath. A silence of about five minutes ensued, neither speaking but both acknowledging the comforting warmth of their shoulders pressed against one other.

After a long recovery, Paul tentatively lifted a leg and crossed it over, placing it in between John’s. Shooting his friend an inquisitive glance—not that this intertwining or personal touch was a strange posture for them, as they had had countless sleepovers in John’s far-too-tiny bed in his Mimi’s home growing up—John nudged Paul’s foot with his own to encourage him to speak what was on his mind.

“Thank you,” Paul said, the tint of laughter still coloring his voice.

“For what?” John replied noncommittedly. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, which was a rather putrid tile, almost like the ceilings in grade school—something that was jarring against the rather royal layout of the rest of the room. He trained his gaze on a particular patch of water damage shaped a bit like the bird he had watched earlier, through the window.

“I know you could have done worse in that little fight,” Paul mused. “I think I would have peed me self. Or died. Whichever came first.”

John hummed in response, now aware that the little leg movement was almost a thank you in and of itself. That simple search for physical contact, a gesture of appreciation, made John’s heart swell. He liked feeling appreciated. It was almost as if John was a girl, and Paul had reached down to interlace their fingers together and offer a quick squeeze, but John wasn’t a girl and instead Paul had thoughtlessly interlaced their legs. It was a nice feeling, one that spread warmth across John’s chest. As much as he wore Paul down, he was so thankful for him. It was a genuine admiration and appreciation (that he hoped was mutual), an experience that was rather foreign to him throughout life so far. He supposed much of that was brought on by himself—if he hadn’t been such a naughty child in school, if he’d been a bit better behaved for his parents, if he hadn’t been such a dick to the girlfriends he’d had. But with Paul, things were different. There were no expectations of being a son, a pupil, a lover. They could just be. Just like the bird.

John smiled to himself at the thought.

[calebdumes]

fake dating/relationship prompt fill for the lovely @pretchatta

I may have let this one get away from me

fandom: star wars rebels

relationship: kanan jarrus/hera syndulla

rating: m (not explicit) 

word count: 2.7k

~

"Why can't your contact just meet us on the Ghost when he gets into town?" Kanan asked for the millionth time as they navigated the winding streets of Neshorino. Hera resisted the urge to roll her eyes and adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

"Because," she replied in an even tone that didn't reflect her growing irritation with the man. "My contact left explicit instructions to meet him at Neeli's Inn." 

"Yeah but your contact also said he was at least three rotations out. So I don't know why we can't just wait for him there."

"He's already paid for our room Kanan." Hera squinted at him, the sun dancing brightly off of the colored spires that dotted the city. "It would be rude to reject his hospitality."

That and her contact was overtly cautious about this meet up. That’s why they left the Ghost two cities over and had to take a shuttle to the Capital. The Ghost wasn’t tagged by the Imperials and it’s signature modulator made a world of difference on jobs like these but her contact had insisted and Hera obliged. 

Kanan grumbled something under his breath but continued on beside her. He had been antsy ever since he stepped off the Ghost, on edge and starting to get on her last nerves. If she didn't already know that this was a two person job, she would have left him behind with Chopper but then again, her contact had been extremely specific, two people were needed. 

In all honestly, Hera would have thought Kanan would be all about this job, three days on a beautiful planet with all expenses more or less paid for. This was right up his alley. Well, except for the mission part of it. He still wasn't fully on board with the cause, she doubted he ever would be but he was slowly warming up to Hera's rebel activity. Heavy emphasis on slowly. 

"It will be fine." she tried to assure him, stepping out of the way as a group of school aged Abednedo children rushed by. "Think of it as a vacation, three days to relax while we wait on my contact."

"If we want a vacation, we should go to Spira." He looked around at the curious city carved into the mountain side with a perplexed expression. "Or some place less crowded."

This time, Hera did roll her eyes. "Duly noted." she said before turning down a wide side street that led directly to the side of the mountain. 

The rust colored rock of the mountain side that made up the façade of the inn, was ornately carved with flowering vines, the arched windows that dotted the surface were thrown open to emit the high breeze, vibrantly colored curtains spilling out like banners.

She followed the path leading to Neeli's Inn, the sun warming her face and lekku. She didn't know what Kanan's problem was, this place was far better than some of the other planets they had visited. Before she pushed over the heavy wooden door to the inn she turned to face her partner, grabbing onto his arm to stop his movement. 

"My contact said the owner is a bit of a traditionalist." she warned.

Kanan arched a heavy brow at that. "A traditionalist of what?"

"He didn't say, so just be cautious."

"Aye, aye captain." he gave her a jaunty little salute in response. 

Sometimes Kanan was insufferable. 

The foyer glowed orange and yellow from the glowstones trapped in ornate diamond shaped lights, giving the wide space in a warm and inviting feel. The woman manning the front desk however, not so much. 

"Can I help you?" the weathered looking Abednedo woman snapped as they walked up. Her long greying hair was tied back into a single braid that she looped over her shoulders like a scarf. She eyed them with a faint trace of disgust, her mouth tentacles curling.  

"We have a reservation, under Starbird." Hera supplied, ignoring how Kanan was glowering beside her. 

The woman tapped on her datapad before asking bluntly. "You're married?"  

Hera balked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"No unmarried couples are allowed to share living quarters." she glanced at them. "and you only have a reservation for one room."

Hera felt her chest tighten with anxiety. Her contact could have let her know that little rule before setting them up for a three night stay. She was formulating a response when Kanan's arms snaked out and linked with hers, pulling her up against his side.

"We’ve been married one year tomorrow if you can believe it." he said giving Hera an adoring smile that made her knees go weak. "Right dear?"

"What?" she said again, her mind suddenly refusing to think beyond married, Kanan, and the warmth of his body pressed up against hers. He gave her a little nudge, his smile taking on a desperate edge. "Oh right. Yes." she nodded with a wooden smile. "Tomorrow's our anniversary." The words came out stilted and unsure but just about everything in her mind was shot circuiting at the moment. 

The Abednedo woman looked unconvinced as she handed over their room key. "Room 406." she clipped out. "Breakfast is over at 9 so don't be late."

"If it's as good as we heard, we wouldn't miss it for the world." Kanan said with a wink before dragging Hera up the stone steps behind the desk. He didn't let go of her until they were well out of the Abednedo's view, right when Hera's mind decided to come back online.

"What was that?" she hissed, stepping away from him, smoothing her hands down the front of her flight suit.  

"Improvising."

"By saying we were married?"

"Hey," he pointed his finger at her. "You're the one who said it would be rude to reject your contact's hospitality. Besides, what happened to thinking of this mission as a vacation?"

"Yeah well now we're going to have to pretend that we're married so we don’t get kicked out!" she rushed out, her voice a little higher than normal. “Or worse!”

Kanan stopped by the door marked 406 and leaned slightly into her space, enough to make her breath catch at the sudden closeness. "Would that be such a hard thing to do?" he said in a low voice. 

Hera swallowed. It was getting difficult to think again. Kanan was right there, those green blue eyes locked on her, his lips just inches from hers. Close enough to kiss, to taste. Her heart skipped a beat in her chest, her mouth going dry. But then Kanan took a step back, his face impassive. "Or we could just go back and wait on the Ghost."

"N-no." she choked out before clearing her throat. "No, it's fine. It's just three days right?"

Kanan smirked and swiped the key through the door control. "Right, three days on a beautiful planet with good company. What could go wrong?" 

Hera let her breath out in a long push, following Kanan into the room and subsequently running right into the solid muscle of his back. 

"Oh you gotta be kriffing me." he said in a low groan. Hera darted around him and took in the room. It was bright and airy, the doors leading to a wide balcony thrown open to let in the clean sunlight. Ruby red drapes fluttered in the constant breeze, contrasting with the thick stripes of dusky purple in the etched stone walls. But the thing that had caught Kanan's attention wasn't the beauty of the room. It was the bed. 

The one, single canopy bed pushed up against the wall draped with gossamer white silk.

Hera groaned. "You gotta be kriffing me."

"I'll sleep on the floor." Kanan said, dropping his bag down at his feet. 

"No you don't have to do that." She rubbed at the base of her lekku. "We can share right? It's fine with me if it's okay with you."

"Whatever you want to do, Captain." 

She nodded. "It's okay. Everything is going to be okay."

Everything was decidedly not going to be okay. 

The first night Hera hardly slept, stiff as a board while Kanan breathed lightly beside her. A mountain of pillows sat between them, demarcating their sides of the bed. She closed her eyes and tried to force herself to sleep but it was impossible knowing that Kanan was right there. 

When morning came, the sky a brilliant wash of colors outside their room, her eyes were puffy and dry from lack of sleep. Kanan looked just as bad, his hair adorably mussed and a frown heavy on his lips. Hera slipped from the bed and locked herself in the ‘fresher to dress, her brown slacks and light purple tunic a far cry from the safety and comfort of her flight suit.

Breakfast had been another challenge. The dinning hall was practically empty when they arrived. Only Neeli sat at a table, looking up at the with a pointed look. Kanan’s arm snaked around her waist, holding her close as he loaded up a plate of food.

“This is ridiculous.” Hera said picking at a slice of melioorun. Kanan had pushed their chairs close together at the table, his feet resting against hers. It made Hera’s stomach clench uncomfortably. 

He hummed in agreement before tossing back the rest of his caf and saying, “Why don’t we get out of here?” he whispered it close to her ear cone. 

“And go where?” 

“See the city.” he breath ghosting over her skin. “Leave our chaperone here to worry about some other poor couple.”

“We’re not a couple.” she said with force. Kanan sat back and Hera instantly missed his warmth. 

“C’mon, just for a few hours. It’ll be fun.”

Hera sighed, giving in with a nod and letting him pull her to her feet. He took her hand in his as they passed by the proprietress and didn’t bother letting go long after they left the inn. She could feel his fingers against her skin. They were surprisingly soft for someone who liked to take on rough and demanding work. He held her hand gently, loose enough that she could slip free anytime she wanted. But the truth was, she couldn’t even if she tried. 

She let him drag her all over the brightly colored city, stopping at nearly every bustling market he could find. Neshorino was a beautiful place but Hera hardly remembered any of it. She was too preoccupied by Kanan. 

Hera wasn't stupid. She knew Kanan had feelings for her, he made that fact pretty clear on Gorse. And while his flirtations hadn't necessarily stopped over the past few months since joining her crew, they had become were few and far between. He knew how she felt about relationships. He knew her priorities. 

But the thing was, Hera found herself missing them, that sly smile and wicked glint in his eyes. Kanan was handsome, a bit reckless but good and kind. He fit into her life like he was always meant to be there, like fate or destiny was somehow pulling the strings, weaving them together. And somewhere between one breath and another, Hera was falling for him.

No, she suspected she had fallen for him not long after she met him. This was much more than that.

She was in love with him.

The realization hit her as she took a bite of her ryshcate, the gooey spiced nuts and flaky pastry sticking to the back of her throat making her cough.

Kanan’s eyes grew wide as she struggled to breathe. She reached for his cup of Jawa Juice and taking a gulp. 

“You okay?” he asked in a voice that was laced with concern. Other beings sitting near them at the café were watching them closely. Hera felt herself blush.

“I’m fine.” she gasped, her eyes watering. “Just went down the wrong way.”

Kanan looked unconvinced, the hallows of his cheeks sharp in the orange glow of sunset. “Why don’t we head back to the room?”

Hera nodded and let him lead her back to the inn hand in hand. As they crossed over the threshold, she rested her head against his shoulder, letting herself believe for a moment what it would be like if they were actually together. 

She pushed the thought aside. There was no use getting lost in daydreams. 

Back in their room, she stripped out of her day clothes and pulled on her black thermal pants, tugging her white shirt over her lekku. Kanan was already under the covers, the sheets tucked under his bare arms as he stared at the white canopy overhead. 

Hera flicked off the light and padded softly over to the bed, curling up under the covers. Her heart panged deep in her chest. She loved him. So what was stopping her from having him?

The mission? No, that was an excuse and she knew it. So what was it?

Fear. 

Fear that he’d throw her aside once he had gotten what he wanted. That he didn’t really love her. That it would ruining the friendship that they had built. That he would break her heart. That she would break his. 

Hera fisted her hands against her stomach and squeezed her eyes shut. So much could go wrong if she let herself have this. There was too much at stake, too much to loose if things turned sour. Hera didn’t know if she could handle that pain. 

“Hera.” Kanan’s voice said. Her eyes flew open to see his face looking over at her from the pillow wall. “What’s wrong?’

“Nothing.”

He frowned. “I can sleep on the floor if this makes you uncomfortable.”

Her hands unclenched as she sat up. “It’s not that.”

“Then what?” he asked, crossing his legs under him. 

Hera bit her lip, looking down at the sheets pooled around her feet. 

“Hera, tell me what’s going on.”

She shook her head. Damn her fears. Damn the consequences. She wanted him. 

Hera leaned across the pillow blockade and kissed him, softy but with desperation. Kanan froze beneath her and for one heart stopping moment, she feared the worst but then he was kissing her back, his hands coming to rest on her hips. She let herself get lost in the sensation of his lips on her, the heat of his hands where he held her. 

When they broke apart she was breathless, her cheeks molten with heat. Kanan looked just as wrecked as she felt. 

“I love you.” she said. “I love you Kanan Jarrus and I want you.”

Kanan kissed her. She fell onto her back as he kissed along her jaw and down her neck, his admission of love seared into her skin. Her hands traced down his bare chest, feeling his muscles shift as he moved. He pulled off her shirt as she shimmied out of her pants, chuckling when her shirt got caught on her lekku.

He mouthed at her collarbone, the tops of her breasts, her navel, then lower.

“I love you too.” He said as they lay together fully sated and breathless in a tangle of sheets, the pillows scattered on the floor. “In case I didn’t make that clear.”

Hera smiled and kissed his cheek. “You might have to show me again love.”

Kanan grind at her wickedly. “It would be my absolute pleasure dear.”

The next morning at breakfast, they sat side by side, pressed up against each other as her contact, a middle aged Abednedo man with a thick beard on either side of his mouth tentacles explained the mission. 

“There are two refugees that I need you to smuggle out of the system.” He explained, his eyes darting around the dinning hall. “Their names are Immel and Chuli, their parents were arrested for treason and the Empire is hunting them. I need you to deliver them to their Aunt on Batuu.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Kanan said, his pinky finger curled around hers. “Where are they now?”

“You can find them in the House of Strangers. In the lower city.”

Hera frowned. “You said this was a two person job?”

The contact wrung his hands nervously. “Yes,” he looked between them and then down at the table before mumbling, “You will have to pretend to be a couple to take them from the House. It was the only way I could convince their caretake to let you take them from here. Is that going to be a problem?”

Hera smiled up at Kanan. “No that won’t be a problem.” she responded. “Not at all.”

[miracul0us-multishipper]

You (Part 2)

Now you see me, now you don’t!

Part 1 | AO3

Felix Graham De Vanily was, in his own humble opinion, special. 

He was smart.

He was composed.

He knew exactly what to say and when, and he could make people see exactly what he wanted them to see.

He wasn’t his cousin, after all, almost identical looks aside. Adrien never knew when to speak up, or when it was better to stay quiet. Never knew how to hide his thoughts and keep his - utterly unrealistic, when it came to his father - hopes in check. And he might be smarter than Felix gave him credit for, but all that intelligence left him as soon as his friends were concerned.

That was what all his flaws boiled down to, really.

Adrien made the fatal, unforgiving mistake of caring too much. Always had.

(It was what Felix liked about him, deep down. Adrien was genuine, in everything he felt. Felix envied him for the ease with which he made friends.)

But.

Felix wasn’t like Adrien at all. He was too smart to care for people - his mother aside - any more than he had to. Mundane distractions. Friends, crushes - all things that would only deter him from his path in life: high above the crowd, always the center of attention, yet unreachable. Playing everyone, but gone before anybody noticed.

It was a glorious but lonely road. No, scratch that. It was a lonely but glorious road. Much better.

He didn’t need anything or anyone.

He was the sole and solemn genius of the family.

He was a magician, who didn’t need any fancy jewelry to work miracles - just the right distraction and disguise.

He was-

“Ow!”

Groaning Felix looked at the little bite marks on his finger. 

“Were you even listening?! Or did you just wait for an opportunity to stab me in the back?”

The black and white bundle of fur and betrayal on his lap meowed and swiped at his hand, now out of reach.

 “I knew you couldn’t be trusted.”, he grumbled and shoved the traitor off of his legs, but couldn’t help but smile when he smugly licked his nose - as if to say: I'd do it again. “I raised you too well. Now, where was I?”

He sighed.

“Ah, yes. I don’t care for anyone - please stop scratching that ear, honey, it’s not healed yet - because I'm just too smart for that. So it’s utterly impossible that I, Felix Graham de Vanily, am in love with Dupain-Cheng. Got it?”

His cat, the little bastard, answered by knocking his pencil box over and started to chew on a pen. Felix narrowed his eyes.

“Oh? You dare doubt my word?”

With quick fingers he stole his cat's spoils and placed it out of his reach.

“Quite bold for a creature without opposable thumbs, hm?”

Insulted, the poor, thumbless pet retreated to his laptop and laid down on the keyboard - causing the screensaver to give way to the last opened tab. Which was Marinette's Instagram page.

“Wah!”

Hurried to hide the proof of his interest - as if she might somehow appear in his room if he looked at her picture for too long - he shooed his pet away and closed the tab. Said pet meowed smugly and, upset about being chased away from two spots already, sat down on his pillow. Great.

“You did that on purpose!”, he accused his cat. “But that tab proves nothing. It was merely a passing interest in her admittedly wearable work. It has nothing to do with any confessions - faked confessions, or that she can apparently recognize me in disguise, or the very neutral fact that she is cute, by some people's - not my own! - standards.”

His cat blinked. And sneezed onto his pillow.

“Bless you. Now move, or I’ll use you instead of a bunny for that hat trick I’m working on.”

Sighing, Felix let himself fall backwards onto his bed, grabbing the fleeing cat and burying his face in the fluffy fur.

“Oh, to be a cat!”, he wailed into his involuntary comfort pillow. “With no troubles except how to best annoy his owner.”

 The poor animal hissed and escaped his grasp, saving himself from the bitter fate of a comfort pillow.

 “Run, you uncaring monster.”, Felix sighed, “Leave me to my worries. Which don’t include Marinette at all, by the way.”

He sat up and watched as the little traitor turned to sulk on his dresser.

“Stop looking at me like that. Even if I had a short bout of interest - possibly even infatuation! It’s already all but cured.”

He nodded to himself, ignoring that the disinterested cat had begun cleaning his leg instead of listening.

“School's closed, after all!”, he hummed, scrolling through the news on his phone. “And social contacts are to be reduced to the bare minimum. So I’m not going to see her again before this passing interest has... well, passed.”

As if in response to his words, his laptop started to ring and the monitor lit up with the picture of blue, blue eyes and a smile that could melt the stars off of the sky. Not that he paid attention to such things.

“Oh no, no, no!”, he panted as he fell out of his bed and stumbled towards the computer. “Incoming Skype call?! Oh, come on!”

The ringtone repeated itself and Felix jumped.

“What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do?”

Panicking, he looked at his pet.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?!”

The addressed party blinked. And went back to licking his nuts.

“Argh! I am surrounded by incompetence!”

Taking a deep breath, Felix straightened his vest and cravat - just because he was staying at home for the foreseeable future didn’t mean that he would dress any less professionally.

“Who needs your advice anyway. I can do this.”

He straightened his back and sat down on the chair in front of his desk.

“I am Felix Graham de Vanily, the best actor in all of France and the United Kingdom, not in love with Marinette Dupain-Cheng, and I can totally answer a Skype call.”

Before he could think again, he pressed the green button.

“Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng!”, he greeted overly enthusiastic. “We meet again.”

“If you can call it that.”, Marinette laughed with the voice of a goddamn angel. She was wearing a white, polka-dotted pajama top, was illuminated by early-noon sunlight falling through some sort of window in the ceiling, and her hair – was – down.

If this was some sort of cosmic test, it wasn’t fair.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your virtual company?”, he said quickly, trying not to think too much about how her hair looked even softer than the fur of a certain cat. Then, for good measure, he added: “Miss me already?”

Marinette disappeared  for a moment, before returning with a sizable stack of papers.

“As much as I could do without my favorite pain in the neck, we have a school assignment to do. You know, since school is closed?”

She leaned in and he held his breath.

“Did you even notice? I haven’t seen you last Friday.”

What was he supposed to answer to that? Oh, I noticed alright! It kept me from embarrassing myself by avoiding you, because my brain got all mushy ever since you fake-confessed to me pretending to be my cousin?

Ha! Fat chance.

“Aw, worried for me?”, he improvised, as usual, by being sarcastic. “Let me soothe your concern for your favorite pain in the neck: I merely got tired of cosplaying Adrien. I'm a very busy man, you see?”

She rolled her eyes and somehow managed to make it look cute.

“Of course you are. Well, hopefully not too busy for a presentation on marine biology, due next week.”

He blinked.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, the one Adrien and I are supposed to do?”

Felix Had Questions. For example:

“How was I supposed to know that?”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t hack into Adriens E-mail account. I saw you present homework that you couldn’t have known about if Madame Mendeleiev hadn’t emailed you, as Adrien.”

She raised an eyebrow, in a way that could almost be described as playful.

“Plus, you seem the type to do that.”

He scoffed and crossed his arms, as if it would hide his racing heartbeat.

“First of all: No, I am not breaking into my cousins account. I may like to prank him - or rather everyone, really - but that goes a little far. Secondly, that Lila girl was only too eager to do homework with Adrien-Me, so I could keep up with every assignment once I could get her hands off of me.”

“I thought a magician never revealed his tricks?”

True. But he had wanted to see if she would get jealous. Which she didn’t. Which was expected and totally fine by him. He didn’t care anyways.

Lucky for him, Marinette wanted to tease him more than an answer.

“Well, I hope your work ethic is better when it comes to presentations. I'll send you the materials!”

A click later, his laptop alerted him of One New Email, containing no less than twenty-two pages of material. He raised his eyebrows.

“Not to crush your little illusion of me as a hard-working student, but that looks like awfully tedious work. What makes you think I would voluntarily do homework meant for Prince Charming?”

The sassy little smirk she'd shown him during their battles of wit last week returned.

“You mean, aside from the fact that, once school is open again and Adrien is back, your little trick with pretending to be him will be revealed? And that I’m your best chance not to be chased out of town by a very angry Chloé Bourgeois? Not to start with Alya, Rose and Juleka, who still haven’t forgiven you for that stunt you pulled the last time you were here.”

Sound argument, he had to give her that.

“Pah!”, he said, just for the sake of irritating her. “So what? It’s not like it was my idea to move to Paris anyway!”

That was at least partially true. His mother had insisted to come back to France, mostly because she wanted to keep an eye on Gabriel. But he hadn’t been against it either.

It wasn’t like he had friends in London anyway, and in Paris it at least didn’t get boring, with all these butterflies and superheroes. Plus, he wouldn’t admit it out loud, but he had missed Adrien. That boy could use a little family - once Felix was done pretending to be him. 

Marinette hummed and tapped her chin impatiently.

“Well, then see it as the prize you promised me after our little insult-match at the Trocadero.”

“Wait, wait, wait!”, he held up his hands. “I already settled that score, didn’t I? You confessed to me, remember?”

“I practiced confessing to Adrien with you, you mean.”, she reminded him with a raised eyebrow – Ouch, by the way – before leaning back in her pink chair. “And that was because you talked me into it. I never told you what I wanted, did I?”

Well, fuck. Not that the prospect of working with Marinette was that unpleasant, but in his current state of emotional confusion, it would only be detrimental. He needed an out, an excuse!

“Why would you want to work with me anyways? I would have thought you'd jump at the chance to do something with Prince Adrien of Dreamland. Why settle for the pain in the neck?”

Marinette sighed.

“Adrien is still recovering from his flu, and given the current, ah, global situation, I thought it would be better to put his health first. Besides, you're my favorite pain in the neck.”

“I'm flattered, darling”, he said, trying not to sound like it was as true as it was, “but-“

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette interrupted him with a shout, and suddenly her eyes dominated the entire screen, as if she were mere millimeters away from her own computer. “Felix! What is that?!”

“Huh?”, he made, eloquent as usual. He turned around, just in time to see his traitorous cat jump from the dresser right onto his lap. Apparently, now that Felix had someone else to talk to, the little bastard felt neglected. 

“You mean him?”, he asked, turning back to the screen with the cat in his lap. An inhuman squeal came from the other side of the line and Marinette sacked back into her chair, which spun around its axis, like, three times in a single second.

“Felix Graham de Vanily!”, she said with all but glowing eyes. “Show – me – the cat!”

Since her voice made absolutely clear that it had been an order and Felix had always had a strong survival instinct, he obediently held up the little monster. Who let out a plaintive little “Mow”, but otherwise submitted to his fate.

“Oh my gosh!”, Marinette repeated, “He's adorable!”

“You think?”, Felix said dumbly, at a loss for how to react to this sudden change in situation.

“I do! I do! What's his name?”

“Uh...”, Felix thought, debating whether a lie would save his reputation. “Uhm...”

“Don’t tell me you named him Felix Junior!” She turned towards the cat in false exasperation. “Did he name you Felix Junior?!”

The cat that was most certainly not named Felix Junior meowed in his feline confusion.

“No, of course not!”, Felix snapped back, sinking into the chair as if it might have mercy and swallow him.

“Then what's his name? What, for God’s sake, is this pretty little kitty called?!”

What had his life turned into?

“'dini.”, he mumbled, hiding his face behind the cat.

“What? Speak louder!”, Marinette demanded, and so he accepted his fate.

“Houdini!”, he groaned in embarrassment. “I named him Houdini, alright? I was eleven!”

For a moment, the line went quiet. Then, inevitably, Marinette burst out in laughter.

“For real? I can’t believe it!”

Sulking, Felix turned away from the screen, but immediately Marinette stopped.

“No, no, no! Bring Houdini back! I love his name, okay? Give him back!”

“You're not telling anybody of him, got it?”, he hissed, cheeks as red as Ladybug's suit. Marinette snickered. 

“Of course, I promise. Houdini will be our little secret, alright? Now bring him back!”

Satisfied, Felix turned the chair back towards the laptop and placed Houdini on the desk. The curious thing didn’t hesitate to lounge onto his keyboard and examined the camera, much to Marinette’s delight.

“Oh lord, he's so cute!”

Felix sighed and leaned back.

“Believe me, he knows.”

“He looks just like you!”

At that, Felix spluttered and jumped up again.

“W-w-what?!”

Internally already setting up the equation: “Marinette thinks Houdini is cute, and Marinette thinks Houdini looks like Felix, then Marinette thinks Felix is cute?” he was about two seconds from fainting.

“He's got a little tie, see?”, Marinette giggled on, ignorant of the thought-spiral she'd sent him into. “Just like you!”

Oh. She meant the patterns of his fur, which admittedly looked a little like he was wearing a tie. Of course.

“Who's the most adorable thing in Paris? You are!”, Marinette continued with her shameless adoration of that undeserving little brat, who currently Mow-ed happily at the screen. Pah!

“Just so you know, he bites people for fun.”, Felix badmouthed his own pet, absolutely not because he was jealous. “You can’t trust him. He'll act sweet, but as soon as you're not looking he's got your fingers between his sharp little fangs!”

“Eh, I can handle it.”, Marinette shrugged and immediately went back to admiring Houdini. “You're a good kitty, aren’t you? The best, the best! Yes, you are!”

“No, he's not!”, Felix insisted through clenched teeth. “He's moody and arrogant! Nobody likes him, that's why I took him in! He thinks it’s fun to hurt people, he holds grudges forever and he's incredibly annoying when he's bored!”

Wait, was he still talking about the cat?

“You just like him because he looks all cute and innocent, but if you knew him, you'd never even want to be in the same room as him.”

Marinette had gone quiet on the other side, and Houdini narrowed his eyes at him in betrayal. Then she shrugged.

“If you don’t want him anymore, I'll take him in.”

“What?!”

She would have to pry the little shit out of his cold, dead hands!

“Did you not listen to a word I said?” he asked, trying not to let on that he didn’t actually dislike Houdini.

Marinette smiled.

“Sure. But I still think he's a good kitty.”

“But why?”

She hummed, pushing her stack of papers aside so she could put her elbows on the desk. Resting her chin on her hand, she looked up in him.

“Most cats are. You just got to give them a chance to come out of their shell.”

“But... But he's mean!”

“Maybe he's just lonely. Maybe he needs some friends, and then he'll learn to be nicer. I can wait.”

He was not blushing!

“Why would you want to? There's lots of better cats, you could just pick one of them right away.”

“Yeah, well, I want Houdini. All cats deserve a chance. Even the meaner ones.”

She smiled down at the black and white loaf that purred on his keyboard.

“In my experience, peop- cats only show their best sides if you give them a chance to open up. If you're too quick to brush them aside as hopeless, or mean, you might miss out on the most wonderful personalities underneath. And I think Houdini is one of those.”

And then, because the universe just wanted to see him fall, she winked at him. Jesus Christ!

“Anyway, I'll give you some time to read through the material I sent you. Message me once you’re done, we've got a lot of work ahead. Bye!”

Before he could realize what she had said, the window blanked and closed on him. Disappointed that his fan had vanished, Houdini meowed and returned once again to Felix' lap.

“Bye.”, Felix stammered belatedly. What had just... How could she go around just saying things like that? And then hang up?!

“Ugh, Houdini!”, he lamented. “Look what I have become!”

Reduced to a beetred, stammering, weird-cat-metaphor-using fool!

The cat gave a smug “Mrow” and headbutted him in the chin, but Felix didn’t have it in him to complain.

“Fine,” he sighed in defeat, “you win. So what if I like her?”

Houdini purred.

“You do too, don’t you? Bet you'd bite her anyway.”

He purred on, unperturbed.

“Knew it.”

He sighed once again.

“She's right, though. You are a good kitty. Deep down.”

Houdini meowed and licked his finger, just where he'd bitten him earlier.

“Well, now you're just sucking up to me! Two-faced little demon. Mwah!”

He pressed a small kiss to the top of his furry head, then rolled the chair closer to the desk and opened his emails.

“Alright, then.”, he tried to motivate himself, “let's show Marinette what a good kitty- what a good person we are and do our homework.”

At that, Houdini promptly stood up and jumped onto the bed, leaving him alone with twenty-two pages of reading material.

“Bastard.”

- - -

Bonus:

Ladybug, crashing through Felix' window: Felix Graham de Vanily!

Felix: Ladybug?!

Ladybug: I have it on good authority that you own a good kitty! It is crucial for the safety of Paris that I pet him right this instant!

Felix, remembering her right hook: ... sure?

[purplerose244]

I don’t care

Hi!! This is my fic for the @ninjago-valentine-exchange!! Thank you so much for organizing this, I really had fun writing this! 🥰

Special thank also to @nightlybirdie for the lovely fanart I got to respond to! It’s such an adorable little comic! 😍  I thought making a songfic about the same song you choose would have been fitting, since it really is very Lava like ❤🖤❤🖤

Here we go! Enjoy!! 😊

Summary: It's just another celebration party after all, Cole should be used to feeling left out.

Turns out, someone is very not okay with that.

Also on the AO3

We’re at a party we don’t wanna be at

Trying to talk but we can’t hear ourselves

Red your lips I’d rather kiss ‘em right back

With all these people all around I’m crippled with anxiety

 It wasn’t that Cole hated parties.

Although it wasn’t that he loved them either.

“… so thank you again, ninja!” Tipping his hat, the police commissioner finally finished his speech, one that after such a long time spent with them fighting crime and evil beings – like ten years or something? – was starting to sound vaguely repetitive. “Now, without further ado, let us begin this celebration party! To honor our saviors!” The crowd cheered, all the police members bowed at them, and it was finally time to forget about the danger and relax.

… right.

Alright, the black ninja wasn’t a party-pooper – he wasn’t never going to give Jay that satisfaction. There were of course great pros about being here after all, starting from the fact that the very reason there was such a big event in the first place was because they had saved the city once again – he needed to remind Lloyd to bring the sign ‘days Ninjago City wasn’t attacked’ back to zero. This was a celebration in their honor, a thank you for their determination and commitment and for keeping their world safe every time. He could see familiar faces into the crowd, having fun, enjoying the peace that once again so difficulty they had managed to regain.

The music was nice. Nowhere near his usual choice, and he knew he was going to grab his headphones and blast soft rock at full volume as soon as they were back at the monastery, but nice nonetheless – relaxing too… oh… oh, no, no dozing off. His friends were all there, dancing, talking, perfectly in tune with the festive atmosphere.

Oh, there was also a buffet, that was nice. It was also an extremely generous one, with tarts, sandwiches, shrimps and so on, one that could make even Zane’s nindroid mouth water. The black ninja himself had finished his recognition at the table, even though he had ended up with a glass of whatever while standing on the side of the ballroom. All he knew was that it was sparkling and slightly bitter. Not really his taste.

Nothing felt like his taste right now… but that went beyond his beverage choice.

He tried to widen his collar, for the fifth time in the last hour. He should’ve known better than borrowing a suit from his father, besides their obvious different sizes. Even beyond the blatant reality that being the master of earth pulled out muscles that a dancer just didn’t have, it was the most irritating reminder of the time he had spent trying to meet his pa’s expectations by joining a quartet. It had been a while since that matter had been solved, there was no point into sulking over it. There were more important matters ahead.

His finger went to his collar. Sixth time. Great.

Was he the only one holding on instead of having fun? Again?

One impressively loud laugh shook his from his thoughts, and he didn’t have to look to recognize Jay, near their latest used-to-be-enemy-but-now-they’re-our-pal. Great, someone must have asked what happened during their adventure, there was no way Motor Mouth would have missed the opportunity to vent – as long as his obnoxiously talkative nature didn’t bring their new friend back to the evil path. Right next Zane was showing off his dancing skills, that familiar endearing view that probably involved his famous funny switch. Or not, that nindroid was lovable no matter what after all. From the resigned but fond smirk of Pixal, leaning against the wall not far while watching the robot making a spectacle of himself, he wasn’t the only one thinking that.

Lloyd had been kidnapped by a few reporters of the NGTV, although despite the awkward atmosphere he looked like he could handle himself – which wasn’t new, man that kid was indestructible. And even though he was confident that Nya was not the biggest fan of formal clothes just like himself, like the pro she was she knew exactly how to deal both with her dress and the people crowding around her. Besides, she deserved a bit of spotlight.

His friends were having fun, that made the master of earth happy unconditionally. Although he would have liked to share that light-heartedness, or simply being willing to let himself go for once. Well, they were doing fine, he could end this and finally go home by himse-

Wait. No. Something wasn’t right.

Where was that? Where was the crowd of people getting consistently louder and more insistent the closest they got to their red hero? Where was the never-ending flirty attitude that was almost a main characteristic of the master of fire? Where was the improvised meeting of the Kai fan club happening every single time they ended an adventure, like these screaming admirers had been silently waiting for the end to end just to see their diva?

A shiver caught him. Surprise? Confusion? Relief? Cole wasn’t quite sure, he just knew that there was no massive amount of chocolate hair nowhere in the ballroom. A pinch in his chest made his back straighten up. He took the slightest sip of his drink, grimacing at the taste.

Then, someone shouldered him. Wow, silent as a ninja. Then again, it wasn’t hard at this point recognizing his teammates without looking.

Especially someone as warm as him.

“Apologies my good sir, but it looks like we’re in quite the predicament over here.” Yep, he could see Kai’s smirk in the corner of his vision, moving up his mouth with that little dimple on the corner. “This is very clearly a party-fever, non-sulking area. You better correct your behavior, or I will be forced to take drastic measures.” Kai stuck out his tongue as he cracked his knuckles, despite himself Cole couldn’t help half a laugh.

Only half, because this guy could be very irritating when trying to push his reasons on others – the cow yak predicament between him and Jay was never going to be forgotten and was actually brought up again every once in a while. Only half… because there was something mesmerizing at seeing the reckless master of fire getting cleaned up in a classy and refined suit. White immaculate shirt. Perfectly stirred jacket. That little red bow over his neck, because if this guy didn’t like to show off that red was his color on every occasion then the Overlord was a good guy.

You could say a lot about the red ninja, really a lot.

Not having style? Not between that – of course his ego didn’t need to know this.

The black ninja huffed, catching himself before he let his eyes lingering on him for too long – thank you master Wu, poor unaware sensei probably didn’t know his meditation lesson were being used to hide a crush.

“Drastic measures as kick me out? Because first, I would like to see you try.” Kai was strong, but not earth strong, thank you very much. “And second, I can leave on my own, thank you.”

Another shoulder. Much quicker than the other.

“Nah huh, this is also a very restricted non-ditching area.” Now he was cornered. Which wasn’t much because it was only Kai and his mischievous look. Also it was Kai and his mischievous look. “You either have fun and enjoy yourself, or security will escort you to prison in a conga line.”

“Really?” The hothead dared to shrug, like this made-up nonsense was a fact and these ‘laws’ were beyond him. “You don’t have to be a bringer of justice here too, just leave me be a solitary public figure for five more minutes before leaving.” A little frown moved his scarred eyebrows, which looked a little too knowing for some reason. “Besides, don’t you have a fan club to return to? I’m not seeing brown wigs twice your head moving around, that’s worrying.” A third shove, this time the black ninja let out a proper laugh. The red ninja’s hair only got crazier and crazier since they met, and it was always funny.

Endearing, too… dang it feelings!

The master of fire crossed his arms over his chest, pouting yet smiling.

“I can have a party without getting assaulted by my fans, you know? Besides, it’s been a while since we had a proper celebration, I wanna be with my team for once.” It was surprising and also very not. Kai was that much of an egomaniac, he loved the attention; but he loved his family even more, and it was true that they didn’t get much time to enjoy simply be united – trying to survive a villain while experiencing discoveries and development didn’t count as a relaxing bonding experience.

Cole gave a look at the crowd. The others were all still there.

“I’ll give you that, should we call up the others then?”

“No no no, you don’t get out of the radar that easily!” Again with the grin, what was that dangerously pretty head of his plotting? He looked focused too, it was scary. “Cut loose, will ya? You always end up in the corner at these things, you could at least pretend like you wanna be here.”

The black ninja winced.

“Gosh, you sound like my dad.” He definitely didn’t want to think about his dad in front of his crush. “We’re not all social butterflies, okay? I’m fine being myself.”

“Oh that’s not it, you’re okay. You being you is amazing.” Was that flirtatious? Was that a random compliment? Dang it, Cole had known him for too long, he couldn’t tell the difference anymore! “But whenever we get to an event like this one you always look like you would rather go back fighting and it sucks. Not being much of a party person is fine, I just want you to have some fun that’s all.” Ah. There it was. Underneath the mocking, the arrogance and the flirts, was a guy that could fire up a group of ninja with the power alone of his blatantly sincere words. Being against the next reason Ninjago City needed to be rebuilt, or while trying to give a random party some meaning. “Besides, speaking of fans, I know you have some. You could improvise a convention too.” He gestured towards him with both hands, like he was presenting him for a talk show.

The master of earth grinned. His chest felt warm, as always. Curse this guy for being cute. Curse him for being here instead of somewhere else wowing some random guest, blessing him with his company. He was right about not being together enough. Cole did miss having peaceful times with his teammate… he had missed spending time with Kai.

 But I’m told it’s where I’m supposed to be

You know what?

It’s kinda crazy coz I really don’t mind

When you make it better like that

 He took another sip. Grimacing. He shook his head.

“My fan club is nowhere near as wide as yours.”

“It’s not a challenge you know… although if it was, we all know who would win…” The red ninja flexed his arm. The jacket moved accordingly, showing off results of a training that even without involving massive rocks looked still impressive.

Cole swallowed over a sudden dry throat, only to frown.

“Huh… Lloyd?”

Kai blinked and sulked down altogether.

“Lloyd indeed.” They looked at each other and laughed.

The previous song slowly faded, a new rhythm took over. To Cole’s relief, it was something less ballet-like and more vivacious, capturing a few couple and individuals into the ballroom to enjoy the music. Jay was showing off impressive dancing skills, although him coming out of nowhere with a new ability wasn’t unheard of – roller skating, skiing, how did he even have free time to learn where he would always invent and eat junk food? Nya wasn’t too far behind, crossing path with Zane and improvising something together, laughing all the way. Lloyd was about to shake his head with a snicker and step away, only to have Pixal push him in with a little grin.

It was so peaceful. Them having fun, enjoying themselves, doing something other than risking their own lives and protect the land. They were the moments the black ninja loved the most.

Kai was humming himself, smiling just as widely. Cole chuckled warmly.

“You look like a very proud father.”

The red ninja arched an eyebrow and smirked.

“Wouldn’t you like that, honey.” Oh dang it, was he for real?! Was that a flirt?! Was that a little blush or for the master of fire having red over him was as natural as igniting flames?? Was he going somewhere with this, help, abort, something, anything! “We should chime in and join Zane and Jay, make a reprise of the Blade Cup Tournament! I remember the choreography still, bet we could show it to Nya, Lloyd and Pixal too.” Alright, never mind, false alarm… possibly, again, it was confusing.

Cole took another sip. It possibly tasted worse at every try, he didn’t even know why he was holding the glass still. At least he looked refined… or something.

“No way, I’m not going through that again.”

“Oh come on, I thought you got over your dancing complex with the Triple Tiger Sashay.” Kai shrugged, looking at him right into the eyes. “You dance good too, it’s a waste.” Was he in vain of compliments today or he was silently mocking him through an elaborated plan?

… nah, he wasn’t one to make complicated plans. He was a pretty face, and an airhead.

Cole shrugged.

“I don’t mind dancing, not as much as I used to at least. I even like it nowadays.” Having a hobby besides saving Ninjago was kind of important to not completely lose it – and playing videogames became a little too competitive once Jay or Lloyd got in the zone. “But it’s a little too connected to what my dad used to expect me to be and sometimes I don’t wanna even brush that thought.” They were good now, of course they were. But they spent time apart because of it. It was still hard to think about it. “… I don’t like to think that it would’ve been easier to just bear and go on. It makes me wonder what I would have become in that case, through tedious dancing lessons and failures.” Wow, his insecurities were put under a test, and there was no menace in sight for once.

Urgh, nope, not tonight, not after the mess they had been forced to fix for their city. Tonight it was about feeling light, thoughtless and happy. He needed a joke, a mockery, something, and while their official jokester wasn’t available Kai was the next best thing.

Any moment now… any moment now…

… okay now he was deliberately teasing him with those pretty eyes of his. He looked even sappy now, their shoulders were touching. He was so warm.

“It’s… kind of a scary thought, you know. Thinking of a you in a reality in which we haven’t met.” He smiled, one enigmatic, slightly worried smile that Cole couldn’t remember to have seen before. “But master Wu would’ve found you anyway, right? I don’t want to think of a world where we don’t know each other.” Because he was a precious teammate of his. “That’s not right in my head, I kinda hate it really.” Because they were too close as friends to even conceive it. “I’m just happy to have the strong, kind, incredible Cole by my side for this life.” Because he… cared. Because Kai cared about all the people in his life, all the precious members of his family.

That included him. As a… as…

The master of fire was staring at him, lips pressed tight together, burning cheeks and glimmering eyes. His face radiated heat, beyond the temperature itself; it was like an image so hot it got blurry, yet the beauty of it was nitid and flawless.

Cole was mesmerized. Then he slowly took a step back from his condition, finding the energic music fading away around them, and the red ninja still froze with his eyes on him.

It made him smile.

Having his attention always made him smile.

“Oh my gosh, it’s Kai!!” Because it wasn’t for granted and it wasn’t as easy as it was, back when they had started their legend as the ninja team. Now they were celebrities, and having a group of fans jumping excitedly in front of the brunette was ordinary administration. “Kai! You’re so cool, thank you for saving us again! You are our favorite ninja, can we get a picture? And a photo? Possibly both, if you can!” There were a couple of girls, one guy and a kid jumping from one foot to the other. All looking at ease and confident with their dresses and manners, addressing one of the heroes of this island.

Huh. The party had started to get nicer a few minutes ago, now it was back at being dull. Awkward. Uneasy. Solitary. Once again the too tight suit became very vivid, especially around his arms and chest. Once again the music, that had gone back at being slow and classic, got at his nerves. Once again he was being a spectator, looking at the scene like it was airing on television.

Kai was smiling naturally, he was more than used at that kind of attention. But his eyes were quick at focusing on him, and another little frown moved his forehead.

“Thanks for the support guys, but I’m a little busy right now…”

Cole rolled his eyes. He hated pity, so much. It felt like a slap right now.

“No you’re not idiot, come on, show your fans some respect. They get to see you without the city falling apart for a change!” The group nodded eagerly, eyes brightening the room. The red ninja wasn’t looking at them, his eyes were fixed on his teammate and it was even more irritating. “I’ll be at the buffet if you need me, have fun.” He looked hurt. What right did he have to get hurt? From what even? The master of earth was the one casted aside, for a change!

He walked away from the scene, losing Kai’s voice between excited shouts and squeaks from the group. Like that was new, it was always the serious, uncharismatic, downer of the team the one getting less recognition. He had known that when he had met this band of crazy people that he had started to call family. He had known that when Lloyd had taken charge and lead them towards one victory after the other. He had known that when Nya had been called into action, showing off once and for all that she was the real deal. There was always someone before him, brighter, to capture the attention. Being a robot, being an inventor, being the most handsome guy in existence…

… and it was fine.

Cole wasn’t stupid not unrealistic. He knew who he was, he knew his skills and his pros. He knew there were many people cheering for him too, he knew that Ninjago City loved him. Having less focus didn’t mean he wasn’t going to do his best to give back that support. But moments like these made him feel like it was unfairly easy to be pushed away in favor of something better. This really wasn’t what he was used to. The party, the attention… him.

It wasn’t about the attention after all. It was about feeling inadequate. Unlike others, he wasn’t born for the attention. Others were ready to burn to catch everyone’s eyes through their beauty. Cole only wished the difference wasn’t always this upsetting.

The guests were walking around him as he passed through. He didn’t actually want to go back to the table, he had simply said the first thing that had come to his mind – with that one girl so close to Kai thinking had been very difficult. Then the police commissioner had called the attention upon the impressive cake that was being brought in by a carrier. Shaped like the monastery, with their faces on the base. Wasn’t he the absolute dessert lover that he was, he might have found the cake too cute to even attempt a bite. Then again he really was, which was no secret at all. The chief of the police department was more than happy to give him the first slice.

White chocolate and blueberries. He hated himself for being so irritated, he would have wanted to enjoy his cake without bothering images into his head. He knew it wasn’t that big of a deal. Whenever there was a party, his mind just liked to remind him how uncomfortable he felt. It was only a matter of waiting for it to be over. Then he could share a bag of candies with Lloyd, or pull some weights with Nya, or meditate with Zane, or train with Pixal, or destroy Jay at videogame. Or do anything, absolutely everything, that involved spending time with Kai.

Just for the sake of having him near… ah, dang it, feelings again!

He swallowed a bit harshly, all of the sudden he couldn’t have more. The slice was half eaten – yeah he liked to have that big of a first bite –, and even after spending the night munching over those little snacks that couldn’t contain more than one or two calories each. He felt full. He couldn’t even enjoy his dessert now, might as well leave before anyone noticed him. He had planned on leaving much earlier so it wasn’t a problem.

Cole looked down at that forsaken drink, arching an eyebrow. Maybe it was good with sweets? Maybe that was what made it good? He drank, grimaced and grunted. He moved to put the drink on the table once and for all.

A quick ninja hand snatched the glass. A second later it was emptied.

“Finally, you were driving me crazy with this thing!” Kai, smiley and innocent, almost knocked down another glass as he let the empty one fall over the table. “All night sipping and hating!”

The black ninja’s mind was empty. From nothingness, only one doubt emerged.

“… you’ve been watching me?”

 Don’t think we fit in at this party

Everyone’s got so much to say

When we walked in I said “I’m sorry”

But now I think that we should stay

 That wasn’t probably the question to ask, no matter how much the master of earth was stubborn over the idea that nothing was a big deal at the moment. Something like ‘what are you doing here’ would have sounded out of place though, and teasing directly about what happened to his fan club didn’t sound better. Besides, the handsome master of fire finished his drink putting those perfect lips right where Cole’s had been just a second ago, and the black ninja’s strategic leader brain that had many times got him out of a bad situation wasn’t working.

Or maybe it was? There were very few things that could really, actively melt his heart like this. The red ninja’s blush was one of them. It had to have something to do with his element, the reddening was absolute and total. Like watching a thermometer reaching the maximum.

“J-Just a little! One or two times!” Liar, Cole had been doing this sip and regret thing all evening. The thought alone was an injection of giddiness. “Not up for cake? That’s new.”

Oh. He felt a little more in vain for cake. Two bites later it was done.

“I was taking a breath.” It was easier with him around. Did he know that? “You’re done with the fans? That was quick.” Kai huffed with superiority, but the black ninja was no fool: he could see the girl from before sighing a little, like she didn’t get nearly as much red ninja as she had been expecting. “You didn’t have to leave them behind for me.” That came out exactly as badly as he thought it. Why did he say it anyway? Why was the master of fire this shocked and fearful? “Kai I’m not some special case that you have to take care of, you know that. You don’t have to hang around me just because.” Huh. It came out like that.

Huh. Kai looked one with his element, burning from his forehead to his neck, looking almost sunburned. Adorable. So adorable, even while Cole was waiting for whatever was going to come from this situation. Which was, beyond his expectations, the red ninja’s rough and long hand slowly reaching for his, holding it tight.

Warm, so warm, so unfairly warm.

“I… I hang out with you because I want to. I want you to have fun because I…” He swallowed, hardly, and it felt like a light was switched on in the black ninja’s mind. “… I like when you have fun. When you s-smile, too.” It was so different from the usual flirty attitude that this guy used. It would have sounded like a mockery to any other. “I like being where you are too, that’s all I need… I-I mean it!” But Cole knew this guy, he knew him too well not to know that flirting was a show.

This awkward, embarrassed, red gorgeous person was the real deal. One that came out only when the time was right, and the person was right.

Cole was right. He was… right?

“I… I don’t know what to say.” He really didn’t and it was the worst possible answer. But it was true. What did you say to someone you harbored feelings for that showed interest back towards you? Thanks? Same here? I love you?? It was true but it was out and everything felt unnecessary and uneasy again.

The hold tightened. Kai was still blushing, but he was smiling with that special energy into his eyes. The one that usually meant a very bad plan coming, or one heck of an idea.

“No need. Just come with me.” Not like he could resist him right now.

Right on cue the music had changed, slowing down. The master of earth had a suspicion the one holding his hand was behind this – not like bribing Dareth currently at the console was particularly hard, especially with a couple of Puffy Potstickers in hand. Then again, the one holding his hand was this handsome fella that was leading him towards the center of the ballroom, between fanciful people and a couple of eyes in awe at seeing their heroes there. It was easier to ignore the comparison, the feeling of inferiority, while feeling Kai’s fingers clenching around his palm, shaking firmly. It was cute. So very cute. Cole could barely see in front of himself between all these people, yet it felt like nothing was really shouldering him as he passed through.

There were lights above them. Were they always there? Cole didn’t notice before, which was silly since it was all dark outside. His head was lighter, he didn’t have control over his strength even if he had wanted to break free from that hold. He didn’t. Not when the red ninja had that familiar determination making his entire body tense. Not while he turned around, smirking.

Still blushing. Still holding his hand. The master of earth looked down. Two pairs of feet staring at each other. Memories of the dance lessons came flooding back.

He looked up. Those glimmering embers made it much better.

“You brought me here to dance?”

“Impeccable deduction, Rocky.”

“Do you even know how? Dancing in couple is not the same as in a group, and we both know you have awful balance.” It was the only thing that made him regret throwing the battle against Jay back at the tournament of elements: losing the possibility of seeing this klutz making a fool of himself on roller skates. Confident Kai? Goofy and charming. Energic Kai? Attractive and brave. Angry Kai? Literally hot. But man, clumsy, adorably unsteady Kai? A wholesome force strong enough to break every single mountain he had ever climbed in his life.

The master of fire huffed with superiority, which was already promising. Around them a few couples were getting together, slowly moving with the rhythm.

“Please, I defeat evil lurking behind our backs on regular basis. I can handle a dance.” His eyes went down on his feet, while he unsurely grabbed his other hand. “You just gotta work with me, first you move the left… right… no left, left!” Left went right over his partner’s foot, and it was gone right away ironically almost as it got burned. “D-Don’t laugh, I got this!” Screw everything, the master of earth was very glad Ninjago had been in peril just to arrive at this specific moment.

Ah, but he was the responsible one, wasn’t he? Snickering right in front of the brunette’s face while he was doing his dang best at not stomping onto his feet would have not been very mature.

… continuously at least, he could take one giggle.

No one could call one giggle immature. Or two.

“I can hear my father’s pleas from here.”

“Shut up, I’m getting there! Right foot, sorry, then left…” Wow, it was almost impressive considering Cole had managed to see him before almost gracefully practicing spinjitzu with them. Then again, it was so like him it hurt. “There there’s the… huh… casket?” Oh dear, he meant the casque? Yep, definitely good pa wasn’t here. The black ninja almost blacked out he was laughing so much – pun not intended –, wiping away a single tear. Then he looked up, embers were staring. So focused and bright they were too much to look at. Kai grinned. “At least your smile is back.” The softest curve ever.

It was impossible not to look at it. It was baffling how many people were attracted to the master of fire solely for appearance and superficial charm. Yet this part, this tender side of him was the most lovely part. The most hidden too, reserved only to those who got close enough to the fire to get burned, without regretting a single moment.

Cole giggled again, stepping forward. Automatically he took charge, assuming the position that had been sculptured into his mind by years of dance lessons. Kai’s hand was still shaking as he took it, his eyes were trembling too. It made the black ninja smile more.

“It’s easy to smile when I’m with you.” Another incredible thing about this guy, it made all the people around him more confident. Stronger. Him included.

Kai gaped. He stuttered, looking down, up, at him and not.

Then he sighed, whining weakly.

“I was trying to properly confess, Boulder Brain.” It would have been such a shameless, anticlimactic moment for anyone. Gosh if it hadn’t dissolved all the anxious anticipation the black ninja had. “Why did you have to one up me right now?” Maybe it wasn’t only Kai that made him feel this at ease, maybe it wasn’t only them knowing each other so well. Maybe there really was one and only, for life, and the master of earth knew it by instinct.

A pretty good instinct too.

Cole grinned, stepping closer because dang if this didn’t feel immensely good.

“Force of habit, you’re just that slow.” Dang if this easiness between them wasn’t the most comfortable feeling he had ever felt. “You should really put your mind into training a little more, prove that you can keep up with me, Fireball.”

Music was changing, people were moving, the party was continuing and neither of them was looking anymore. Who cared anyway? What was important right now?

Warmth was.

Kai’s hand on his cheek was. Kai’s softened eyes on him were.

“I can do that. You know I never quit in front of a challenge.” One blink of an eye later, their noses were brushing. Another blink, their breaths were caressing each other’s lips. One last, the master of fire turned that kind of serious. The one that put everything on the table, because he considered a moment that important. “… I hate when you ditch a party.” Cole held together a little gulp. “And it’s not about you not being a party person, or wanting you to have fun, or even for you to get the credit you deserve. It is in part, but it’s not all.” He smiled, his thumb tracing gently his cheek, so very careful with him. Him, the lifter of their team. Him, the mighty master of earth. Him, the one that could manifest an earthquake with a punch. “It’s just that I miss you every time. You make everything better for me… I want to be with you as much as I can.”

It was never about that after all. It was never about who he was or what he represented, for either of them. It was just about two guys, two friends that had been lucky enough to get closer to each other reciprocally. In comparison to this, everything felt so meaningless.

The room was empty, the music was gone. It was just them.

Cole closed his eyes.

“You could convince me that parties are cool, you know. Then I won’t ditch anymore.” His closeness, his heat, his presence. The black ninja wanted to take in everything about this moment and never letting go. “I feel like I’m on the right path right now…” Wow, they weren’t even together yet and his flirty tendencies were already rubbing on him. Was he really that gone already for not minding it one bit?

Ah, who cared, Kai was so close he could hear him swallow. His thumb was still shivering, and it made his heart flutter. Then he laughed, low and sincere.

“Let’s see if I can be convincing.” He whispered.

Kissing the red ninja was exactly how he had imagined. It was warm, a little clumsy, so very sincere and vigorous. It reflected how he moved, how he acted, how he fought, how he protected. Yet it was nothing like he thought. It was so sweet it made his eyes pinch, it was delicate and even a little uncertain. It was him on the inside, the him that didn’t always want to make an impression, the him that had so much love to give to his most precious ones. It was him. In every possible way, it was him.

Cole smiled, kissing back, holding onto him as he was held back.

He liked parties. And he loved Kai.

 ‘Cause I don’t care when I’m with my baby, yeah

All the bad things disappear

And you’re making me feel like maybe I am somebody

I can deal with the bad nights

When I’m with my baby

[kiseki-no-scenarios]

huehuehue what a cute request anon! This was fun to write!

Rakuzan Manager!Reader at Multi-Team Training Camp Headcanons

It was the first time everyone was getting together in a long time, and you were excited to get to hang out with the rest of the GOM

Each of the teams had their respective coaches who would handle their training, so you would be coordinating with the other managers on the other duties

Of course, you and Momoi were pretty much the only managers that the teams had

When you first discussed your plans with Momoi, for whatever reason she had begged you to let her take care of the cooking

You didn’t feel super strongly either way so you were fine with her taking that role

You were quickly alerted to the errors of your thinking the very next day when a barrage of texts hit your phone  

“_____-san, I implore you to reconsider your decision of leaving the cooking at the training camp up to Momoi-san.”

“_____-cchi wants us all to DIE!!! ˚‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ I love Momoicchi but her cooking���we’ll all DIE!”

“Oi, _____! What kind of prank are you playing on us, having Satsuki be in charge of cooking?!?!?”

“Rarely do I lower myself to this level of pleading, but  _____. Even Oha Asa cannot save us from Momoi’s cooking.”

“_____-chin, I’ll crush you if you make me eat Momoi-chin’s cooking.”

“_____, it’s Kagami. I got your number from Kuroko. I’ve never had Momoi-san’s cooking, but I’ve had Riko-senpai’s and all I can say is….For the love of god, do not let that woman cook.”

“_____. Satsuki cannot be allowed to cook during the training camp. Even someone like Eikichi would rather starve than try her culinary…experiments.”

So it was again up to you to fix the issue, but every time you tried to talk to Momoi about it, she was so excited that you couldn’t break the news to her.

When everyone gathered for the training camp and you were all having your initial meeting, the sheer terror that was cast upon all the faces of the members present forced you to do the unbelievable

Tapping into your extremely poor acting skills to try and get everyone out of this predicament

“I can’t believe it!” You shout, startling everyone in the vicinity. “How could you…how could you do this?”

Throwing on the best villainous glare you could manage, you point at the boys with an accusatory finger. “I can’t believe that of all people…you would have Momoi-chan shoulder the entire burden of cooking for all of you! You’ll work her to death!”

“_____-chan, it’s fine-“

“No, how could I let this go in front of my eyes!” Forcing a sob past your lips, you throw your free hand around Momoi, tugging her dramatically into your chest. “It just pains me…to imagine my dear Momoi-chan, slaving over a hot stove for hours and hours…just to feed you ungrateful bastards!”

“Hey, what did you just-“ Kagami roared, but Kuroko quickly delivered a well-timed jab into his side.

PLAY. ALONG. YOU. MORON! You mouthed to Kagami, before quickly getting back into character.

“Momoi-chan, I’m so sorry. I put this undue burden on you because I simply did not understand!” Dropping your voice into a soft whisper, you grab Momoi’s hands and smile at her through watery eyes. “But do not fear. I will make sure that these heathens learn their lessons! I will protect you, with all that I am!”

Momoi’s eyes suddenly started sparkling, her mouth falling agape at your princely stance. “_____-chan….!”

“How could I let a single scrap befall your beautiful fingers?” Gently cradling Momoi’s hands, you place a light kiss on the back of her fingers. “Please, my princess. Allow me to take on this duty, as I cannot bear to see you overworked.” For the finishing touch, you press your lips to her forehead.

“_____-sama!” Momoi swoons, her cheeks flushed.

You were so caught up in your acting that it took you a second to notice that the crowd around you had gone very, very silent. Looking up, you noticed that several of the members were sporting light blushes on their cheeks, and-woah, did someone actually faint?

Thanks to your last minute and improvised scene, Momoi was mollified and you were designated as the cook instead during the training camp

You were relieved that it had all been settled, but then it hit you that all of a sudden, you had to cook for everyone

You thought your cooking was alright, but there were a lot of guys, a lot of tall, bulky, teenage guys who had black holes for stomachs

Your actions seemed like a gift from god to the basketball players that were there, and suddenly, all eyes were on you during the training camp

When you walked around refilling water bottles and switching out fresh towels, there was always at least one player who would appear at your side, rushing to assist you with your tasks

They didn’t even seem to care that you were technically from a different school, and you found it hard to turn them down because of how eager they were

Even calling you _____-sama, how embarrassing!

There were whispers among the players about how they wished you could also be their team’s manager

And of course, Rakuzan wasn’t taking this at all

“Um, did something happen?”

“We just wanted to eat with our lovely manager, _____-nee!” Hayama cheered, throwing an arm around your shoulder. “You’ve been working so hard for us, and your food is so good!”

“I’m glad you like it…” You reply, not used to having all the Rakuzan members sitting around you. Not that you had been eating alone, but most times Akashi would visit with the other members of the GOM, Nebuya would be fighting in some sort of eating competition with the other centers, and Mibuchi would flit around from table to table like a social butterfly.

So it was a bit of an adjustment to have all five of them surrounding you at the table.

“_____, if anyone tries to touch you, let me know.” Nebuya suddenly states, cracking his knuckles. “I’ve been aching for a good fight.”

“And you can’t brush anyone else’s hair except mine, ok?” Mibuchi huffs, grabbing your hands.

“_____. If anyone bothers you at all, for whatever reason, I will take care of it.” Akashi states calmly, and you swear you can hear something going snip, snip.

“…Thanks…?”

Following that event during dinner, you notice that you don’t get called out as much as before, which you feel better about since you weren’t sure how long you would be able to stand being called -sama

Another change was that whenever you were running errands, without fail, someone from Rakuzan would accompany you

Not that you’d need it because you were not a child and could take care of yourself, but it was hard to turn down Hayama’s puppy dog eyes, Mibuchi’s watery eyes, Mayuzumi just stared at you and didn’t bother replying, Akashi was…Akashi, and there was no way you could physically get Nebuya to budge (you’ve tried).

Eventually the training camp comes to an end on a good note

You’ve made some new friends, and Momoi had started calling you by your first name, stating how she was going to start visiting you at Rakuzan

You felt proud of how your team had done and how much they had grown during their time at the camp

As you were getting ready to load everything up, Akashi and the rest of the team comes up to you, telling you to leave all the heavy lifting to them

“Are you sure? It’s really not a big deal…”

“You’ve worked hard, _____. Please, go ahead and get on the bus. We’ll be there shortly.” Akashi says, leaving no room for argument.

Once the members have made sure that you’ve left the scene, they all share a glance before turning to the group of basketball members still gathered around.

“Before you all go, we have a friendly warning for you all.” Akashi begins, radiating a powerful aura.

“If anyone of you even THINK that you can take our lovely manager…” Hayama continues, an uncharacteristically dark look flashing through his eyes.

“_____ is a proud member of Rakuzan, and we will never let you get your hands on her.” Mibuchi’s voice is composed, but his eyes are certainly anything but.

“So don’t go getting any bright ideas.” Nebuya finishes, his figure as imposing as always.

“…We’ll kill you.” Mayuzumi adds, scaring most of the crowd due to his sudden appearance.

[retroateez]

Prophecy - Chapter Sixteen

words; 2729

prophecy masterlist

tag list; @hewwo-from-the-other-side

"What are you doing?"

The book crashes heavily onto the stone floor, your arms darting out in a panicked effort to catch it.  Hopelessly, you watch as it clatters loudly, though as it hits the ground, it falls shut, not allowing the intruder to see the contents of the page.

"Iris? What are you doing down here?"

You peek upwards, and you see the confused figure of San standing before you, bewildered.

But you can't answer him, all too consumed by the fizzling feeling darting through your body. The burning from before simmering to a halt like a cauldron taken away from roaring flames. Your breathing becomes erratic and heavy, a weight pressing down on your chest rendering you in tears.

"Oh gods," San mumbles and rushes to your figure, mimicing your own position of sitting on your knees. "Oh gods, oh gods."

You kneel, trembling and yet somehow completely motionless opposite San.

"Iris?" he calls to you gently. "Can I touch you?"

You don't register the movement, but you assume you must've nodded, as San slowly reaches out and places both of his palms on your cheeks, lifting your head up and forcing your streaming eyes to look into the concerned, inky wells of his own.

"Breathe slowly, okay? Slowly... There you go." San slows his own breathing down, allowing you to match the rhythm and soothe the manic pace your lungs were working at.

A few minutes pass, and your breathing returns to it's original pace. San is still sat across from you, his hands in his lap as he waits for you to explain what on earth just happened.

"I'm so tired of feeling useless..." you frown, and pull your knees up to your chest, hugging them tightly to your body.  "It's my fault everybody is involved in this mess, and they only let me help when they need it.

"I thought maybe... maybe if I learnt something useful and showed them that I am capable then they would be forced to listen to me." Sniffling, you wipe the tears from your eyes with the sleeve of your shirt.

"I know how you feel." San sighs, and you study his frown. His cold, defensive demeanour from the last few weeks melting away and being replaced with a sadder, vulnerable version of him.

"I know that I'm the court jester," he continues. "But I'm more than just jokes and silly costumes. I can do much more than that, and... and I wish people would let me prove that to them."

"It isn't fair." You whine.

"Life isn't fair." San agrees.

"You won't... tell anyone about this, will you?" You ask timidly after a few moments silence.

"Were you doing anything bad?" He asks.

You shake your head. "Just studying." You weren't technically lying. Just concealing the truth.

"Alright," San nods. "I won't say anything. But I better not catch you doing it again."

He stands up and brushes the dirt from his knees, then extends a rough palm out towards you. Gratefully, you take it, quickly bundling up Yunho's book and clutching it to your chest to conceal it from San's view.

"I hope you're prepared for the ball tomorrow," San says suddenly. "If your dancing is as shocking as it was the other day then there's zero hope for you."

"I'll be fine. Wooyoung'll teach me how to dance."

San rolls his eyes and shrugs, telling you that he'll see you around and that you should go to bed before somebody else catches you. You watch him leave, peering at his raven black hair bouncing as he walks until he was finally out of view.

It's not until you hear the distance clunk of the door closing that you release a breath you didn't know you were holding. You grip slackens on the book and your arm muscles sigh in relief. Letting go of the book, you study your right hand curiously, turning it over to examine your palm and fingers, trying to remember the fizzing feeling in your blood.

The tingling had stopped now, only the tiniest remnant of power was left in your body, slowly dissipating until it disappeared entirely. Never in your life had you expected to feel something like that, something so exciting and yet so dangerous. Staring down at your outstretched hand, you imagined red hot trails of angry, bubbling lava, slowly seeping into the crevices between your fingers and wrapping down your wrist, crawling down the expanse of your forearm.

It felt... good.

But nobody else can know, you remind yourself. If Yunho found out you stole his book, he'd kill you. If Yeosang found out you were learning magic, he'd kill you. You didn't want to think about what Wooyoung would do.

You figured that anybody detecting magic from the castle wouldn't be a problem, concluding that there's no way you'll be able to produce any substantial power that could be detected. Yeosang had told you that anybody could do magic, but only certain people could wield the chaos enough to do any damage. There was no way you would be able to do that. Besides, you were teaching yourself, so there's definitely no chance of anyone being able to rat you out.

You tuck the book under your arm, and start the quiet creeping back to your room.

Nobody will catch you. You won't let them.

-----

"I really don't- Ow! I really don't see why I have to wear this ghastly thing." You grunt in pain as the poor woman behind you tugs harshly at your outfit.

She's got a foot on your lower back and she yanks at the strings of the corset that is built into your - admittedly, very beautiful - dress. It is an incredibly elegant, sky blue silk gown that grazes the wooden floor beneath you. Complete with flowing sleeves that end past your fingertips, made of a crystal blue, sheer material that makes you feel like a princess of a fairy kingdom in a land very, very far from Ateez.

The sheer fabric also lays atop the baby blue silk of the skirt, with small, rose pink butterflies sewn into them at various points. The bodice is tightly laced both at the front and the back, luckily the neckline doesn't sweep too low, only showing your collarbones.

"Because, His Majesty says you have to." The woman, named Callonetta, tells you. "Besides, you look wonderful in this dress."

She's right too. You do look amazing in the gown, but you frown at yourself as you catch your own gaze in the mirror ahead of you. Inspecting your right arm, clad in ocean blue sleeve, and admiring how serene your blood feels compared to the way it was angrily boiling not even a whole day ago. Your gaze falls onto one of the light pink butterflies stitched to the bodice, the way it's wings have been poised make it look like its about to take flight, rip its tiny little legs free of its string prison and soar out the open window.

But of course, it can't. Because it isn't real, it's fake body pinned down to the bodice and you imagine it wriggling and writhing in pain as the seamstress pushes her needle into its frail wings. Such pain caused only to look beautiful. Totally restricted, unable to live life the way it was intended to be; free, happy, uncontrolled.

Another sharp jerk of the bodice strings from behind snaps your attention back to the mirror, allowing you to survey yourself properly.

Your hair, braided tightly and pinned back to form a crown around the base of your skull, with small curls pulled out to frame the sides of your face. Tied together with a sparkling silver circlet, the sides hidden under the expanse of hair, the metal twisting together to form a intricate design that presses against your forehead. In the center, encased in silver, is a single, circular sapphire that glitters in the candlelight everytime you move. Small, yet detailed silver leaves surround the gorgeous gem, and you even notice tiny, metal roses trailing up the sides of the circlet and disappearing underneath your hair.

You wonder if the late Queen had a tiara or crown as impressively beautiful as your circlet.

"The circlet belonged to Her Majesty," Callonetta informs you suddenly, as if she could read your thoughts. "This was the one she wore when she and the King announced the birth of King Hongjoong."

You could imagine how graceful Hongjoong's mother had looked. Radiant from the miracle of childbirth, tired yet still regal and proud of her newborn son. Sapphire circlet glistening in the rainbow coloured light of the main hall.

"What about this dress?" You whisper.

Somehow, you couldn't picture the Queen wearing a gown such as this. Sure, it was stunning, but for a Queen, much too simple. And yet you couldn't ignore the definitive lack of women in the castle, Callonetta and the cook being the only two you had met thus far.

"Heavens no," Callonetta scoffs, throwing her messy, ginger plait over her shoulder as she refocuses her attention on tying your bodice, "This dress was made for you specifcally. His Majesty has a personal tailor, he will refuse to wear anything made by anyone else."

Your face flushes at that, an embarrasing, startling shade of pink that puts the butterflies on your dress to shame.

"The tailor is renowned for his work," she continues, "All his garments have his printed emblem inside the back of the neckline, a small, roaring bear. Nobody knows why he chose a bear of all things, but it certainly is striking."

Your mind is cast back to the bear at the inn you and Yeosang stayed at on the journey to Wooyoung's. It all seemed so long ago now.

“Did you hear that?” you whisper to Yeosang.

“It’s just a bear.” He mumbles in response, making you jump slightly because you thought he was still asleep.

"A bear?” you hiss.

“I know,” he says sarcastically. “Un-bear-lieveable.”

You retrieve one of your pillows and launch it at his figure, smirking triumphantly when he grunts in surprise.

“That was a terrible joke.” you complain and bury yourself back into your improvised bed.

“Whatever,” Yeosang yawns. “just go to sleep, we’ll be meeting the astrologer tomorrow so you need to rest.”

Finally deciding to listen to the mage, you squeeze your eyes shut tightly in hopes you’ll fall asleep quickly. Luckily, you do just that, sleeping peacefully and dreaming about the bear in the forest outside. He’s wounded, bleeding heavily from a nasty gash on his neck and panting in pain. You reach out to help him, but of course it’s just a dream; he’ll be okay. You hope.

You think about that bear more often that you'd like to admit, imagining his large, brown eyes, watery with pain and the wounded yelping haunted your dreams.

A final, squeezing tug of the laces and Callonetta sighs in relief. She tells you that you're ready for the ball, and that you should wait in the dressing room until somebody comes to get you. Before you can ask who, or when, she hurries out of the door and you hear her shuffling quickly down the stone hallway.

Once again, you stare miserably at yourself in the mirror, wishing that you could attend the ball in your typical white shirt and plain black breeches.

Maybe Wooyoung is right though, perhaps the ball will bring some enjoyment into your life, away from all the secrets and worrying and death.

You suspect that nobody will be coming to get you for quite some time, so you perch yourself at the window seat opposite the mirror. Reaching under the cushions, you retrieve Yunho's book, which you expertly hid before Callonetta arrived.

Flicking through the pages, you spot the spell you learnt yesterday and your heart freezes between your ribs. Holding your breath, you decide to ignore that one, and flip the pages eagerly. Eventually, you come across a double page spread that piques your interest. You can't decipher  Yunho's messy drawing of the hand movements this time (perhaps for the best), but you can make out his scrawled handwriting of 'circular' just below it.

"Aevon bleidd." you whisper aloud, the language feeling foreign on your tongue.

After repeating the phrase multiple times, you realise you must have nailed the pronounciation as there's a dull pounding in your skull, and your fingertips are turning a concerning shade of blue. From your nails all the way down to the tip of your elbow, you feel a travelling freezing feeling flowing through your veins like a great and powerful river. Your veins pulsate a vivid blue, much like the way Yeosang's thundered with lightening the first time you met him.

“I’m a mage,” he had told you suddenly over porridge one morning. He clenched his large palms into equally large fists and laid his forearm upon the table, facing upwards towards the canopy of jade leaves above your heads. “You see those blue lines? They’re called veins, and our blood runs through these.”

You nodded silently, unsure of what his point was.

“In mine, flows blood as well as chaos,” he explained. “Almost anybody can do basic magic, provided you’re taught by the right people.”

Using his other hand, he ran a gentle finger down the stripe of his prominent veins, and the cerulean bumps bubbled and boiled into a startling shade of sunlight. You squinted in awe; you swore you could see a lightning storm rattling around inside of his arm.

“But only those born into chaos possess the abilities to truly wield it.” Yeosang snapped his fingers, and the bolts of lightning in his veins returned to the cool, sea blue they were before.

Snapping the book shut abruptly, you clutch your forearm to your chest and squeeze your eyes tightly shut. This is wrong, you think. Everything about this is wrong. Is magic supposed to feel this way? Make your insides wriggle and writhe and struggle in a desperate attempt to become your outsides? Yeosang had said only certain people had the ability to properly wield chaos into magic, did this mean that you were one of those people?

Ordinary peoples veins didn't stream like rivers.

Ordinary peoples blood didn't burn like fire.

Stuffing the book back between the cushions, you stare out of the window at the castle gardens below. Despite spending the majority of your time amoungst the flowers, it is only from up in the window you notice the penstemons - beardtongues, representative of bravery - arranged to spell 'HJ'.

It was surreal, your life, when you truly sat down to think about it. How barely a handful of months ago you were just a poor, lowly thief stealing bread to make it through the day, and now here you were, sitting in a dressing room within the castle of the most powerful kingdom on the planet, wearing a dress and jewels so expensive you felt dizzy at the thought.

Surrounded by elves, mages, kings, bards, magic and with all of those came danger.

A light tapping on the door, then the creaking of the door slowly opening catches your attention, and you look over to see a very proud looking kingsguard.

"I must say little thief," Seonghwa glides towards you with a small smile on his perfect face, watching you attentively through his narrow eye, the other eye obstructed by his hair. "You do scrub up incredibly well."

Hopping off the window seat, you offer Seonghwa a grin of your own. His hair, as always, is not a single bit out of place, shiny black and hanging over his left eye. Uniform pristine and blacker than the night sky, with various medals and badges pinned to each breast.

"I could say the same about you, sire." You mockingly sweep down into a curtsey, and Seonghwa scoffs.

"Enough joking around," he says seriously. "Are you ready to go? His Majesty is just finishing his preparations, you must take your seat at the head table before he arrives."

Your blood runs cold, sudden panic sprinting through your body, and you're not sure whether this feeling is worse than the spells or not.

You nod, ignoring the anxieties, trusting Wooyoung's words and making a silent pact with yourself to have a good time.

"Excellent." Seonghwa holds his arm out to you, and with a final smirk leads you towards the door.

"Your elven prince awaits, m'lady."

hi! sorry this took so long to get out, things have been very busy lately! thank u for reading and i hope u enjoyed! once again, the language for the spell is taken from the witcher 3′s elder speech!

[wisewidow]

The One With The Unfortunate Bottle Smashing Incident

Pairing: Yelena Belova x Reader

Summary: I wake up to find my girlfriend's side of the bed empty and a runaway Avenger in my living room. I improvise.

Prequel

A cool breeze drafts in through the open window. I stir in my sleep, the cotton sheet covering my body shifting, and mumble a good morning to the blonde sleeping next to me.

No response.

A frown tugs at my features. "Yelena?" I whisper, turning over. Her side of the bed is empty. I run my hand over the mattress and find it's cold.

This shouldn't alarm me, since it's normal for her to expertly sneak out of bed before me at an ungodly hour. "So you can get your sleep," she'd explain in her accented voice. I work long night shifts, sometimes covering for Sergei, the friendly bartender who sleeps with his customers more often than he serves them.

But then I hear the footsteps. They're not loud. They're not rowdy. But Yelena had taught me to listen for people who don't want to be heard. Something isn't right.

"I know you're out there," Yelena's voice calls out. I know she isn't talking to me — I've learned the different tones she takes when talking to people. The clipped tone used for strangers. The tentative murmur reserved for me and the occasional stray cat she spots when she used to insist on accompanying me to take out the trash, back when we first moved into this unfamiliar city. And the tone she's using now is the one she was trained to use in the horror show she grew up in, directed at a hostile.

I slip out of bed and silently open the bedside table's top drawer, where Yelena had hidden a handgun for me to use in emergencies. I find that it's gone, and feel unease bleed into my gut.

"I know you know I'm out here," an unfamiliar voice calls back. "So, we gonna talk like grown-ups?"

I pad lightly over to the door and slip into the hall, pressing my back against the wall outside the kitchen.

"Is that what we are?" Yelena asks dryly.

I hear them move into the living room. There's a deadly pause, and then a sudden flurry of movement. I listen for sounds of grunts of pain, but find none. It's quiet, and, for a moment, I wonder if one of the two women had taken the other out. I hold my breath.

Then more fighting. Huffs, yells and crashes sound out, and I see a body flying into the wall. It's Yelena.

Outrage burns through me and in a sudden movement I've grabbed a bottle of vodka from our stash and am quickly rushing into the living room. Yelena is regaining her bearings quickly, and stood over her is a tall woman with blood red hair tied in a single Dutch braid. The woman senses my arrival, but I'm quick on my feet, and she's only partly turned around before I smash the bottle against her head and she stumbles.

Yelena shoots to her feet. The redhead straightens in time for my girlfriend to kick the gun out of her hands. It lands by my feet, and I pick it up, finding the grip comfortable in my hands after many self-defence lessons. I aim it at the stranger and pull the trigger.

Yelena yells, starting forward as if to rush to the woman's aid, except there's no bang. There's no blood. The woman stands upright.

I realise the gun the woman had been using's safety was on. I blink in surprise. Was she that stupid?

Something in her eyes tells me otherwise. No, not stupid. She just hadn't come with intentions to kill.

"It's good to see you too, sis," she smirks at Yelena, then winces as her fingers go to her hair. She turns to me, observing curiously.

Yelena walks to me and gently lowers the gun in my hands. She nods at me reassuringly when I resist, still at edge, still confused, but I begrudgingly let my arm fall limp at my side.

Broken glass crunches under her boots as she grabs the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table and starts pouring a generous amount into her glass from last night. "So," she arches a brow to the redhead. "What brings you home?"

The two of them talk. I listen. The woman introduces herself to me politely as Natasha Romanoff, and I wonder why I hadn't recognised her sooner, since her face had been plastered all over the news as one of the Avengers gone on the run. Yelena refers to her as Natalia at some point, and I realise I remember that name from some of the late nights where we would lie in bed, bodies entangled in a mess of limbs. I'd braid little strands of her hair while she'd tell me little bits about her past, the Red Room.

Instantly I know both women would feel more comfortable without me there. I catch Yelena's eye and motion with my head to the kitchen, and she nods. Natasha's green eyes follow me until I open the fridge and pull out a bowl of leftover pepper cream sauce from dinner last night. I put it in the microwave, throw some butter and gnocci into the pan, and set to work making breakfast (lunch? I hadn't checked the time, but I figured by the sun's position in the sky that it's noon).

By the time I'm nearly done, I hear Yelena calling me. I turn around with a small questioning hum and see that Natasha is approaching me. Yelena stalks behind her, looking sulky, but, as always, protective enough that she won't leave my side in the presence of an assassin, shared trauma or no.

"It was a pleasure meeting you, (Y/N). I'm sorry I can't stay for food, but I hope to see you again."

"You won't," Yelena states bluntly.

I ignore this and smile, shaking her hand. "Stay safe. And, uh, sorry for . . ." I gesture to her head.

She waves me off. Yelena leads her out the door and, once she's gone, collapses into her seat at the dining table so hard that the poor old chair squeaks against the tiled floor. I put the third plate of food into the fridge for another time, or, perhaps, another surprise visit from an ex-assassin, and carry over some gnocci to where she's sitting.

She grunts a thank you. I stand behind her and loosen her ponytail until her blonde hair falls around her shoulders in waves, and then begin to braid it into a crown. It's lopsided and messy, thicker in places and thinner in others, and I know she could have done much better, but still my intentions work. She straightens in her chair when I've finished and starts to eat, put at ease. Though I'm sure it won't last. Her past had come knocking on her doorstep, the past that she had rather remained buried.

I sit in the seat closest to her, as she's at the head of the table, and subtly slide her whiskey out of view. She sees this and huffs through her nose, not pleased, but too drained to complain.

I pick at my food as well, more calmly than her aggresive fork spearing and angry chewing. I want to wait until she's ready to talk, but she's worrying me now. She's reverting back into the woman she was when I first met her, just a customer at the bar I work at, drinking to forget. I'd drawn her out of her shell over the years since then. It's killing me to see her like this.

"Yelena," I begin calmly. "What did Natasha want?"

"A reunion," grunts Yelena unhappily. "A big, happy, fucking family reunion."

I shift nervously. "Melina and Alexei—"

She pushes her plate away. Most of the gnocci have been stabbed at, but very few eaten. My plate was half empty. This is our normal, I guess. She vents by destruction. I vent by eating everything in sight. "I can't— shit, (Y/N)."

She's slipped into Russian. She'd taught me that, as well as how to protect myself, so I follow her lead and answer in the same language. "Sweetheart, you don't have to do anything. We have passports, few belongings, and my job is shit anyway. We'll relocate. Start over."

"And Sergei?"

I frown, surprised. "What about him?"

"Sergei. Anika. Lizzie. Mr. and Mrs. Pavlov and that old crone you bake cookies for every weekend."

She's listing my co-workers and our neighbours. I'm not following her point.

She sees my confusion and sighs. Smiling sadly, she takes both my hands in hers and switches back to English. "You have a life here, моя любовь." My love. "I do not."

"If you're suggesting I leave and you don't, the answer is a very stern fucking no."

She shakes her head. "I know you would never agree to that, and to be honest, I feel a little too selfish to let you go. But as Natalia said, we have unfinished business, and I need to stop running from it. I need to stop hiding. So you're going to book a flight to Amsterdam."

I open my mouth to protest, but she squeezes my hands reassuringly and continues in a stronger voice. "Just for a couple of weeks. A month, tops. And I swear on my life I will come back for you, when it's safe again, and we can finally get around to actually decorating this shithole." She gestures to the barren apartment around us.

I worry my lower lip. I don't want to part ways with her, but I know I'll run out of bottles to smash over people's heads eventually. Yelena needs to fight her own battles. I need to accept that. "Okay," I say quietly. "As long as you come back to me, okay?"

She brings my hand to her lips and kisses my knuckles. "I always will."

[shyinadarkplace]

Ville Vallo & Taurean (OC)

warning: this is shameless smut so 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

All the guys are out of the house , away on work or just idk stuff, Taurean has had the house to herself for a few days and while she is glad to have the solitude she's got an ache that needs to be handled. So she decides to distract herself knowing that attempting to get herself off will only leave her frusterated and in a worse situation she does what any sane person does....opens the windows in her house, puts fans in the windows, closes the blinds at the top , connects her phone to the home entertainment system ( like Lucien hooked it up so every speaker will play what ever is synced) , turns on her favorite playlists and starts cleaning like a fucking mad woman. Now we aren't talking light cleaning this is like deep cleaning moving shit reorganizing all that, she's really out here trying to burn energy. All the while she is absolutely rocking out to every song, she's dancing around, jumping, headbanging all that. Evening is approaching and finally she has made her way to the kitchen, while doing dishes and her favorite song comes on, Wings of a Butterfly. She is belting every line, and she can't stop thinking about Ville Vallo. The man is a literal god...of music to be precise. She listens twice and the dishes are done. Four times and she is just drifting around, thinking how Ville would feel in...no no can't let herself go down that road but fuck...

By the time the intro starts for the sixth time she has butterflies, she feels that knot low in her belly aching and her mind wanders, would a god of music even...then she feels someone press up behind her. Before she can turn and attack, their hands pin her on the counter. oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck not good not good the guys are gonna kill me , shit! But  then the person starts to sing....

"Heaven ablaze in our eyes

We're standing still in time...."

Taurean gasped . The next words to the song didn't play through the speakers but the melody continued…

"Hello darling." Ville softly rumbled pressing his lips into the crook of her neck inhaling deeply. "Oh sweet girl, you smell amazing....and your voice is rather stirring." Taurean moans arching into him as he presses a rather impressive member against her ass.

"The blood on our hands is the wine

We offer as sacrifice"

Ville trails kisses down her neck and shoulder grinding against her, while still keeping her hands pinned to the counter. For the moment anyway.

"Ooh fffuck. Ville ." Taurean grinds her hips back desperate for more friction. A lightning fast smack to her bare thigh (thanks to comfy short shorts perfect for cleaning) makes her yelp in surprise.

"Tut tut sweet girl. Be patient. I give you my word by the end of the song," he paused smirking noticing the delicate scarring that formed butterfly wings on her back, he decided he would trace every line with his tongue as he nipped right between her shoulder blades grinning at her mewling little moan,"every desire you have will be fulfilled."

"Now tell me sweet girl, do you want this? Do you want me to fill and stretch you, strum your body like I do an instrument.?" Taurean nodded her head. "I need words." Taurean's head was spinning but in the best way.

"Yes. Yes please. I want this." What happened next was nothing short of ecstasy.

The music surrounded Taurean; it was around her and in her. Her skin buzzed with the sensation. Ville loosened his grip on her hands and ran his hands up her arms circling one around her throat applying just the slightest amount of pressure. She felt the muscles in her thighs shake as her wetness began to trail down her inner thigh. As Ville's other hand caressed down her body, toying with her breasts, tracing the curve of her hips, all her clothes vanished. One second she was facing away from him the next they moved rooms, her back against a wall , her hands above her head, with Ville's bare thigh between her legs pressed against her heat. Her soft little moans made his cock jump.

“Come on, and show them your love

Rip out the wings of a butterfly

For your soul, my love Rip out the wings of a butterfly

For your soul

This endless mercy mile

We're crawling side by side

With hell freezing over in our eyes

Gods kneel before our crime"

"You want to cum sweet girl?" Ville's voice was electric, husky and full of erotic promises. Taurean nodded, not entirely sure when the knot in her belly had become so tight but she felt like she was already on the edge. And he'd hardly touched her at all.

Ville gripped her hip with one hand grinding her against his thigh, until she caught on and started herself. Then he leaned back slightly watching. She was certainly a sight. Her lips parted , waiting for him to dominate them. Her whole body flush from arousal, slightly glowing with a thin sheen of sweat as she worked herself furiously against his thigh. Her chest heaving as she panted, cursed and moaned all for him. Her perfect tits begging for attention. When Ville bent his head and took her nipple in his mouth while gripping her hip, grinding her soaking wet cunt harder against his thigh, Taurean's head hit the wall when she screamed in ecstasy  even as her pussy clenched around nothing and ached to be filled.   When he  bit her other  nipple, rolling it between his teeth then sucking to soothe the pain, another orgasm slammed into her and her body convulsed as she squirted , making a mess of them both. Ville felt like he was going to go absolutely feral.

"Come on lets show, them your love

Rip out the wings of a butterfly

For your soul,

my love Rip out the wings of a butterfly

For your soul...

Rip out the wings of a butterfly

Don't let go…

Rip out the wings of a butterfly

For your soul"

Taurean collapsed slightly against Ville as he released her hands once again . Her hands went to grip his shoulders as her whole body seemed to quiver.

"Ooh, fuck you," Ville said lifting her wrapping her legs around his waist holding her quivering body against him as he kissed and sucked every inch of skin he could currently reach. "You darling are absolutely ....breathtaking."

Taurean felt like she was sated until Ville cupped her face and took her mouth. There was a give and take. He both demanded and begged, craving the taste of her mouth and her moans. Taurean ran her fingers through his soft tresses tugging , he in turn rewarded her with groans. The sound of which sent heat straight to her core. As Ville kissed her, exploring her mouth, tasting and teasing,  he walked toward a bed room he didn't give a fuck which one , he just needed somewher to lay her down and take her.

"Ville...please...fuck me." her plea was throaty and breathless. He kicked open a door and laid her on the bed taking her mouth again .

Ville lined himself up and Taurean arched into the feeling of his cock pressing into her, whimpering. Ville grabbed her chin, locking eyes with her.

"I can't hold back...can you take it all? Tell me now."

The only answer he got was Taurean wrapping her legs around him effectively pulling him balls deep inside her. Her moans were the sweetest thing he had ever heard as her tight little cunt adjusted to his length and girth. Ville groaned and growled against her neck . "Darling ...you feel...incredible...oh fuck"

Face still buried in her neck Ville slowly pulled his cock out, Taurean gasped at the sensation of every vein dragging against her velvety walls, when just the head of his cock rested inside her he stopped and looked deep in her eyes and slammed into her. She was lost . So high in her headspace that staring into his brown-black eyes it was like staring into the abyss, but instead of darkness there was music...his voice echos through her very bones. Ville's fingertips brushed up her abdomen as he plunged back inside her. Her whimpers and moans were nothing short of fucking angelic. He kept stroking her skin from her sensitive clit to the pulse point of her throat .

With each down stroke that matched the thrust of his cock  she arched and writhed beneath him. Ville was a god . The number of women that he had pleasured since his youth numbered in the hundreds, but this little minotaur was by far the best. He felt a spark in his soul as her nails dug into his forearm, he kept strumming her as set a ruthless pace. Driving deep inside her.

Taurean could not explain how the fuck He was doing it , every stroke of his cock kissed her cervix in the most delicious way possible , every stroke of his fingers against her skin ignited every cell in her body, she constantly felt just on the edge of cumming . Tears stung her eyes and streamed down her cheeks....

"VILLE PLEASE" She needed to cum , needed it more than she needed to breathe.

Ville groaned the way she was milking his cock was driving him wild. Her poor little body would have cum at least three times by now if he hadn't stopped it...he had to have her at the same time he came. He was so close. Her tears of pleasure excited him, her whimpers made his cock throb, her pleas stoked his fire...an idea struck him ....he captured her mouth and devoured her in a kiss that would bring gods to their knees. It damn near brought him to his knees . She clung to him for dear life, her nails leaving angry red furrows in his skin. He tore his mouth away from hers and growled into her ear....

"....my sweet...little muse....sing for me..."

"Ville....I...Caaaann'tt.."

"....love...Please.....sing for...me.."

Taurean couldn't resist ...she took a deep breath…

Come on, I'll show you my love

Rip out the wings this butterfly

For your soul, my love

Rip out the wings this butterfly

Ville lost all control , as her words wrapped around him...oh fuck she improvised ... her voice sent chills up and down his spine...her dripping white hot tightness had a vise on his cock and fuck it felt so good…

"That's it sweet girl... fuck yes...go on.." He felt the tell tale tingling forming at the base of his spine...he was gonna cum before the song was over....he threw his head back groaning , slamming into her roughly simultaneously pulling her down to meet each thrust....

Taurean felt his cock throb... she moaned ...and got a wicked idea...he hadn't let her cum yet ...she'd return the favor…

For your soul...

Rip out the wings of this butterfly

Don't let go…

Her words struck him like a truck.... he felt like he was about to explode and yet couldn't ....wicked little minx ...he rolled her nipple pinching hard...smirking as her eyes widened, he knew and she knew that he did...fuck.

Rip out the wings this butterfly

For your soul

Rip out the wings of this butterfly

Rip out the wings of this butterfly

For your soul

"FUCK ! VILLE ....VILLE ...PLEEEEEAASEEE!!!!" And then she screamed the last line that she had omitted before…

"LET GO!!!!!"

As his cock kissed her cervix she arched and screamed in pure ecstasy with tears running down her face, her hot silky walls spasming around him. With one final brutal thrust his cock throbbed he threw head back and gave what can only be described as a roar as he exploded sending rope after rope of thick hot cum deep inside her.

Ville carefully thrust ever so slowly as brought them both down from a high neither had felt before and he caged Taurean beneath him, gently wiping her tears. Almost surprised when she pulled him down for a slow deep kiss nibbling his lip

"I feel.....light headed...ville..".

He groaned at the sultry sexed out sound of her voice feeling lightheaded as well

"little muse...so do I ...that was ...incredible..."

He gently pulled his softening cock from her twitched pussy. She whimpered at the sensation. He leaned back and admired the absolute mess they had made.

"Hold on a moment let me get you some water and a cookie..." as he spoke, the items appeared on the bedside table. He lifted Taurean and set her up against the pillows and gave the now opened water to her as well as the cookie. "Rest a moment , I'll get us both cleaned up.." before he could walk away Taurean grabbed his hand .

"Wait ..." she broke the huge cookie in half , offering it and the other bottle of water. " Doms need after care and you look about to crash ...please."

Ville was taken aback for a moment no one had EVER taken the time to notice or care about him after...he sat down next to her and took the cookie and water , eating and drinking in companionable silence . Once done got up and went to the bathroom he had noticed , found a washcloth cleaned himself ,then getting another he wetted it with hot water, keeping it warm in his hands he strode out and kelt by the bed...he looked up at Taurean . "Allow me ..." she nodded and whispered " thank you."

"of course ." Ville gently cleaned away the mess they had made aware of how sensitive she would still be.

Taurean noticed how loving and attentive his actions were  and suddenly felt tears ...ah shit .

" V-ville...dropping..."

Without a thought he jumped up and climbed into the bed behind her bringing the thick warm covers up around her shivering body. He wrapped his arms around her and played with her hair humming something resembling a lullabye until her breathing deepened and evened out. Before he knew it he too fell asleep .

They both awoke to four men ranging from big as all fuck to slim athletic, standing at the side of the bed arms crossed , dangerous smirks and cocked eye brows.

The two largest looked at each other and grinned . The one with golden eyes spoke and sparks danced on his tongue...

" Oh Little One, that was quite the show."

"It really was Kitten." Said the one with storms in his eyes.

The one with emerald green eyes spoke next "Baby girl I bet you are starving"

"You know our little Sweetling is always hungry after a good fucking and a nap." said the one with maroon eyes.

Ville smirked and caged Taurean beneath him, she went to protest and he whispered appealing to her bratty nature, “If you are going to be punished little muse, might as well make it worth it. Yeah?” She shrugged and giggled, then he started kissing her hard and deep until she was moaning against his mouth and arching against his body. Ville almost laughed while Taurean smirked ever the brat at the sound of four alpha males growling ....

maybe there was yet more fun to be had..

[tipsycad147]

Sage advice: An illustrated guide to smudging herbs

by Michelle Gruben

Once upon a time, there were only three kinds of smudge sticks in most witchy shops: Small, medium, and large.  These days, you can choose from a vast array of smudging herbs, each with a different energy, aroma, and cultural history.

In this article, I’ll walk you through the plants that are most commonly used for smudging. (We’ll limit it to smudges that are derived from woods and leaves. Resin incenses are divine—but that’s a topic for another article.)

The variety of smudging herbs is incredible. But you’ll also notice some similarities. First, most of them come from the leaf and stem parts of bushes and small trees. (Fruits and flowers make wonderful sachets, baths, and teas, but lose all their charm when burned.) Second, most smudging plants grow in desert and mountain regions, where the soil is poor. Plants in these climates tend to be short and shrubby, and they rely on fragrant oils as a way to keep insects and other animals from munching on them to get to their water and nutrients.

You’ll also notice that many excellent smudging plants come from the genus Salvia (true sages). There are several hundred distinct species of Salvia, but only the most aromatic varieties are used for smudging. Many other varieties grow wild, or are cultivated as hardy ornamentals. Sage’s reputation as a beneficial plant is ancient and well-deserved. The Romans named the plant Salvia after the Latin verb meaning to save, redeem, or heal.

So where can you find these delicious-smelling plants? Well, just about any New Age store will have smudges for sale. (White Sage, at least—you may have to search online for some of the more exotic varieties.) Also try health food grocers, yoga studios, artisan and farmer’s markets. You may even want to consider growing smudging plants in your garden, or gathering them in the wild.

A quick warning: The plants listed below are not harmful or dangerous under normal circumstances. Still, they can cause irritation and allergic reactions in some people. If you have asthma or respiratory problems, burning anything may not be great for your health. (Consult a doctor or herbalist if you have concerns.) Burn smudges in a well-ventilated area—coughing and choking on the smoke will not enhance their effects! Always be mindful of fire safety, especially indoors and in dry climates.

Finally, please don’t rely on herbal remedies as a substitute for medical treatment. When I describe an herb as healing, I mean only that it will contribute to your general well-being—not that it will cure cancer, toenail fungus, or anything in between. I always recommend that you store herbs in labeled packages, out of the reach of children and pets.

White Sage (Salvia apiana—also known as Bee Sage, California Sage, Sacred Sage)

For many people, “smudging” means one thing only—White Sage. (Its Latin name refers to its main pollinator, the honeybee.) White Sage is the bread and butter of any smudging kit. Versatile and effective, it’s suitable for most any smudging ritual—cleansing, healing, protection, meditation, and so on. When mixed with other herbs, it makes a wonderful base for a custom smudging blend.

White Sage grows wild across the American Southwest in bushy clumps. (The strongest-smelling product comes from the western fringes of the Mojave and Sonoran deserts.) The plant has been gathered for thousands of years by Native Americans, particularly the Chumash. It is regarded as a sacred plant—an important source of food, medicine, and benevolent Spirit.

White Sage is herbaceous, sweet, and slightly astringent.  It's rather similar to Eucalyptus, but more complex. Some people say it smells like Marijuana when burned. (To me, burning White Sage just smells like burning White Sage—but the similarity is something to keep in mind if you’re going to use it in public.) The smell of White Sage is so strong that just rubbing its fuzzy leaves between your fingers is enough to release the scent.

Almost all of the White Sage on the market comes from California. Most of it is wild-gathered and hand-tied by producers large and small. There really isn’t much difference in quality between brands. However, if it matters to you, you may want to seek out a producer who gathers Sage with the proper prayers and observances. It’s even possible to buy White Sage that is harvested by American Indians according to traditional practices, just as they have done for centuries.

Because it is the most widely available smudge, you can buy White Sage in many sizes and formats. Small Sage wands (3-4 inches) are ideal for small spaces, solitary practice, or to keep handy in a ritual kit. The big boys (8 inches and up) are best reserved for outdoor use and large group rituals—unless a wailing smoke detector is part of your space-clearing strategy! You can also buy the loose leaves and stems by the ounce or pound. This lets you control the amount you use, and allows for blending with other herbs.

White Sage is affected by periodic droughts, meaning it has years in which the harvest is smaller. The price and quality fluctuate accordingly. Still, there’s no need to pester your local New Age emporium about the vintage year of their stock. Freshness isn’t a huge consideration, either. The volatile oils in dried Sage will dissipate somewhat over time—but I’ve used Sage sticks that were hiding in my altar cupboard for years and no one was the wiser. Buy it, it’ll burn just fine.

Common Sage (Salvia officianalis—also known as Garden Sage, Common Sage, Green Sage, or Kitchen Sage)

Many a hard-up Witch has wondered if it’s okay to use culinary Sage—the kind that goes in turkey stuffing and breakfast sausage—for smudging. The answer is yes! Common Sage is a close relative of White Sage, and has many of the same beneficial properties as its superstar cousin, White Sage. Common Sage originates in Europe, and its medicinal and folkloric uses date back to the Middle Ages. For those involved in the European traditions of Witchcraft, it may make more sense to smudge with Common Sage than one of the North American varieties.

Besides, not everybody has a metaphysical store that they can rush to for supplies, and a good Witch knows how to improvise. The main advantage of Common Sage is that it grows in many climates, and is readily available in fresh and dried form at most supermarkets. Will Sage ward off bad vibes when used in food? I don’t know, but I’ll take another slice of Sage Derby while I mull it over.

Not everyone agrees that the smell of burning Common Sage is pleasant. A little goes a long way. Also, the herb must be quite dry to smolder effectively. If burning Sage doesn't work for you, remember that you can still use the plant to cleanse and bless your space. Add the essential oil to sprays and washes, or put the leaves in sachets, witch bottles, or mojo bags.

Blue Sage (Salvia clevelandii or Artemisia tridentata—also known as New Mexico Sage, Desert Sage, Grandmother Sage)

Blue Sage is a hardy bush found in the deserts of the Southwest. It’s named for its abundant blue flowers, but the leaves also have a blue-ish cast. It has thin leaves and a fragrance that is both herbaceous and floral, similar to Lavender.

A close relative of White Sage, Blue Sage is also good for healing and cleansing rituals.  Its soothing, relaxing smell can be used to aid meditation, or burned simply for enjoyment. It’s not as pungent as White Sage, and is more agreeable to some folks who find the strong, bracing scent of White Sage overpowering. You can find Blue Sage in smudge sticks and in loose-leaf form.

Another pale sagebrush, Artemisia tridentata, is pictured above. It goes by the trade name "Blue Sage," but is not a member of the Salvia clan.

Lavender Sage (Salvia leucophylla or Salvia mellifera)—also know as Gray Sage, Purple Sage, Wild Lavender)

Yet another far-flung member of the Salvia family, Lavender Sage is a sun-loving plant that grows in southern coastal California. It’s named for its clusters of purple flowers—the leaves are rounded, green, and fuzzy like Common Sage. (They darken to gray when dried.) Lavender Sage is unrelated to the flower Lavender (Lavandula angustifolia). However, it physically resembles Lavender (especially when in bloom) and has a similar clean, flowery fragrance. As if that wasn’t screwy enough, some artisan producers do use true Lavender as an ingredient in smudges, and they don’t always make it clear which plant is meant. Lavender Sage is known for its calming, peaceful, and sedating effects. It inspires love and relieves anxiety. Because of its irresistible scent and natural beauty, a Lavender Sage smudge is a great choice for your spells of attraction. Lavender Sage is often combined with White Sage for a killer duo. Like a 2-in-1 shampoo, this pair will cleanse and condition in a single step! Black Sage (Salvia mellifera, Artemisia nova, Artemisia douglasiana and others—also known as Mugwort, Magical Sage, Black Sagebrush, Dream Weed)

Used to encourage dreams and visions, Black Sage is an herb of introspection and inner healing. When burned before bedtime, it aids in restful sleep and pleasant dreams. Black Sage is used for astral travel, shamanic journeying, and for protection during such excursions. One Pagan priest I know begins group trance workings by smudging the participants with Black Sage. Black Sage is like the mystical, shifty-acting cousin of the Sage clan—so shifty, in fact, that people can’t even agree on what plant it is! There are a few different products sold under the name “Black Sage.” I found this out when I noticed that the Black Sage I ordered for the store looked different from month to month. I called my supplier, and he confessed that the exact composition of the smudge changes based on availability. A true Sage, Salvia mellifera has long leaves that are dark green on top and silver underneath. It is found in the mountains of the West Coast from California north through British Columbia. The plant can be difficult to identify because it resembles other species. The leaves only darken dramatically in times of drought. To add to the confusion, there are several cultivars, and Black Sage readily hybridizes with Purple Sage and Blue Sage plants. Other Black Sage products come from shrubs in the genus Artemisia. They are commonly called sagebrushes, but these dark-green plants are more closely related to the Daisy than to true Sage. When dried, Artemisia tridentata has a lighter, straw-brown color, and may also have small crowded blossoms on its stalks. But Artemisia douglasiana (shown in the photo above) is leafier and easy to mistake for dark Sage such as Salvia mellifera. Why does it matter? The metaphysical properties of both plants are similar, but Artemisia-based smudges may also contain small amounts of thujone. This mildly trance-inducing compound is best-known as the active ingredient in traditional absinthe liqueur. Black Sage contains less thujone than the common herbs Mugwort (Artemisia vulgaris) and Wormwood (Artemisia absinthium). Black Sage won’t cause you to “trip” or wildly hallucinate. At most, it may intensify your efforts at visualization and vivify your dreams. Even so, some people (like pregnant women and straight-edgers) should avoid using Black Sage. Desert Sage (Artemisia tridentata or Artemisia californica [pictured]—Desert Magic, Mountain Sage, Grey Sage, New Mexico Sage, Sagebrush Smudge)

This aromatic shrub thrives in the windswept deserts of the Santa Fe/Taos area. It has skinny, branched leaves and a light brown color. Desert Sage shares some common nicknames with Blue Sage, and the two plants are sometimes sold interchangeably. (Are you noticing a pattern here?) Desert Sage has a warm herbaceous aroma that is a bit peppery (think Bay leaves or Mint tea). It is used for cleansing and purifying, protection, and inner strength. It is said to bring pleasant thoughts and relieve headaches and anxiety. Desert Sage is available both loose and in smudge sticks. It blends well with most other smudging herbs. Desert Sage produces a dense, straw-like bundle that is sometimes sprinkled with resin incenses for an especially rich combination. Desert Sage laced with Dragon’s Blood or Copal is just delicious! Dakota Sage (Artemisia ludoviciana—Badlands Sage, Silver Wormwood, Old Man Sage, Silver King, Western Mugwort, Dakota White Sage)

Another Artemisia smudge, this one grows all over the badlands of South Dakota stretching all the way south to Louisiana. Dakota Sage is rarely found in commercial Sage products, but I’ve included it because it’s easily gathered in many places across the United States. The aroma and appearance of Dakota Sage is very similar to that of Desert Sage. However, the fragrance is usually less intense. Piñon Pine (Pinus edulis and others—also known as Pinyon Pine)

The Piñon Pine is a generous evergreen tree from the foothills of the American Southwest.  The nuts were an important food source for early Americans--these days, the tree is best known for stocking chimineas (Southwestern patio stoves). Piñon has a smooth, woodsy scent that's especially powerful, thanks to its high concentration of pine resin. Piñon is an excellent all-purpose smudge, and a capable stand-in for White Sage, if you prefer to avoid the latter. Its energy is cleansing, healing, and strengthening. Oh, and it repels insects, too. Cedar (Calocedrus decurrens [California Incense Cedar], and many other species)

Cedar is an ancient tree, one of the oldest beings still thriving on the Earth. Cedar trees look much the same as they did when dinosaurs roamed the land. Back when other trees were trying out those newfangled “leaves,” Cedar said “I’m good” and stayed with the tried and true. The smell of Cedar is woodsy and fresh. It recalls ancient forests, and invokes their protection and wisdom. Both the wood (in the form of chips or shavings) and the foliage make effective smudges.

Cedar smudges carry a medicine of protection. Cedar is often used to cleanse a home or apartment when first moving in, inviting unwanted spirits to leave and protecting a person, place or object from unwanted influences. Along with Rosemary and White Sage, Cedar is one of the most aggressively cleansing smudges you can choose. Juniper (Juniperus communis)

Juniper has a sweet and spicy "Christmas tree" fragrance and abundant blue berries.  Like Cedar, Juniper is probably one of the most ancient plants. Juniper is said to have a masculine, protective energy, and is used in spells of cleansing and prosperity. Juniper berries are popular in good luck charms, while the leaves are often used for smudging. Juniper is best used for blessing a new venture or dwelling, and inviting in abundance. Bearberry (Uva ursi)

Bearberry is a low-growing North American shrub in the Heather family.  As its name suggests, it is a favorite of foraging bears. It is used for smudging, animal magic, shape-shifting, and other shamanic work. Native Americans traditionally mix it with Tobacco leaf to create a ritual smoke blend (called kinnikinnick), said to carry prayers and bring visions. Sometimes the leaves come mixed with peppercorn-sized berries.  Don't throw these out—the Bear spirit is said to appreciate the offering. Rosemary (Rosmarinus officinalus)

A culinary herb with an assertive fragrance, this woody perennial may also be used for smudging. It clears negativity, inspires confidence, and invigorates the mind and body.

Some people prefer to avoid herbs associated with Native American cultures out of concerns about cultural appropriation. Rosemary is an Old World herb with a long history of use in incenses, and so makes a guilt-free alternative for Western practitioners. Sweetgrass (Hierochloe odorata or Anthoxanthum nitens—also known as Seneca Grass, Holy Grass, Vanilla Grass, Mary’s Grass, Bison Grass)

Sweetgrass is a long, fragrant grass that grows wild across portions of the American Great Plains. It's frequently braided or tied in bundles, then dried.

Sweetgrass is sacred to several Plains tribes. They have traditionally burned it to drive out evil and harm, and allow benevolent spirits to approach. Ancient lore states that Sweetgrass is the hair of the Earth Mother, and invokes love, kindness, and honesty.

A relative of American Sweetgrass was known in medieval Europe. Sheaves of the sweet-smelling grass were strewn across thresholds, especially of churches, where it would release a gentle aroma when trod upon.

Sweetgrass smells of fresh hay with hints of warm vanilla. It induces a mellow, almost soporific state when burned.  (It contains coumarin, which is thought to be mildly psychoactive.) Some say the proper way to burn Sweetgrass braids is to shave small portions off with a knife, allowing them to fall on hot coals. Yerba Santa (Eriodictyon glutinosum and Eriodictyon californicum—also known as Holy Herb, Mountain Balm, Consumptive’s Weed, Bear Weed)

Yerba Santa ("holy herb") is a sweet-smelling plant that grows in the arid hills of the Southwest.  It got its common name from Spanish monks who were impressed with its healing properties. Yerba Santa is burned to honor ancestors, increase psychic powers, and bring healing and protection. It is also a traditional remedy against coughing and many other ailments. Yerba Santa grows wild only in certain areas of California and Northern Mexico—a true regional treasure. Tobacco (Genus Nicotiana)

The health hazards of Tobacco are well-known, so much that its sacred uses have fallen by the wayside. Wild-growing and cultivated Tobacco had a place in the rituals of many Native American tribes. Aleister Crowley considered Tobacco a consummate herb of Mars. And it is said that Faeries particularly enjoy offerings of the stuff. (Along with other human vices, like whiskey and sweets!) Commercially packaged cigarettes are full of reconstituted crud, chemicals and additives that make them unsuitable for magickal use. If you’re going to burn tobacco ritually, the best option is loose tobacco leaves, but they aren’t easy to find. The next best thing might be a shredded pipe tobacco that is additive-free. Palo Santo (Bursera graveolens—also known as Holy Wood)

Palo Santo (or “Holy Wood”) is a sweet-smelling tropical wood that is a natural incense.  Palo Santo is said to clear out negative spirits and energies, increase relaxation, and bring joy and harmony to the home. It is in the family of trees that produces Frankincense and Myrrh, but is native only to Ecuador, Peru, and the Galapagos Islands. Its aroma is smooth, aromatic and spicy. (I think it smells a bit like gingerbread!) The holy reputation of Palo Santo dates back to the time of the Incas, who used it in their ceremonies of healing and cleansing. When the Spaniards arrived in South America, they couldn’t easily obtain their preferred church incenses, so they substituted the local equivalent. To this day, Palo Santo is used there for Catholic holy days and processions. Palo Santo comes from a slow-growing tree that is in danger of over-harvesting. Both Ecuador and Peru have laws on the books designed to protect this rare species. Reputable importers use only fallen limbs and strive to minimize waste. Sticks, chips and even sawdust are sold by the ounce, with the scraps being compressed into incense cones or distilled for their essential oil. Sticks of Palo Santo can be lit on one end and burned just like any other smudge stick, but in humid conditions charcoal may be required. The chips and powder are best burned over charcoal.

Mixed smudges

Sometimes you may want to use a smudge with multiple ingredients, combining the aromas and properties of two or more plants. Mixed smudges come in a huge array of combinations, some laced with resins or flowers—far too many to list.  A Black and White Sage smudge (pictured) combines the psychic openness granted by Black Sage with the protective qualities of White Sage. However, it's worth noting that in some Native American traditions, the Four Sacred Medicines (White Sage, Cedar, Tobacco, and Sweetgrass) are never mixed.

Hope you've found this tour of smudging herbs useful and enlightening. Happy smudging—and for godsakes, open a window!

https://www.groveandgrotto.com/blogs/articles/100896071-sage-advice-an-illustrated-guide-to-smudging-herbs

[masked-buffoon]

Chapter 11: Behind the scenes (Part 5)

Warnings: torture

Author notes: a part longer than the others, with a lot of... Eh... Dialogue. Hope you’ll like it! ;)

Kunikida and I sighed, exhausted by the situation. The illusionist had jumped in front of a moving train and had, obviously, not survived. He had revealed us rather important information about the Taikin family but, soon after, had given up on life for a reason we could not comprehend. Unless he had been threatened… Then, by who?

"This is getting annoying and nerve-wracking." My coworker let himself fall into a sofa, back in the mansion.

"We can't give up now, we have to find Yumiko-san's route with these videos…" I murmured, focused "Dazai, how was it with the servants?"

"Well~" He hummed, sitting next to me "I haven't found anything for the moment, but there are so many people, it's quite a hard job~ Couldn't you scan the entire place thanks to your ability, Ogawa~?"

"... You know that, were I to do that, I would collapse, don't you…? And I can't afford it, not when that case needs to be closed for the sake of innocent kids…!"

"You can rely on me — on us — for the rest if you need to, Ogawa." He assured "Just find the mentalist here, and get some sleep…"

"You always slack off…"

"Even she noticed it." Kunikida commented "She's right, we need her awake for the moment."

"But Yumiko-san's whereabouts are unknown because of that." Dazai defended "Not to mention Sakunosuke-kun could have been sold overseas for all we know…"

"He is still in Japan, you know that too…" I looked up at my friend, tiredly "Don't pretend you truly care about the case… You don't give a damn about that family…"

"Do you?"

"Not a chance." I smirked "I just want to protect two children and put in jail whoever needs to go there."

"... You don't actually mean it, do you…?" Our blond colleague frowned.

"I'm not a liar. I'll find the mentalist and interrogate them. You and Dazai work on the videos for now, we'll improvise afterwards." I said and stood up from my chair.

"But, Ogawa —"

"Let her go." Dazai prevented him from stopping me "Do what you do best, Ogawa."

"Indeed. Interrogating." I chuckled "Leave it to me."

I headed upstairs, towards the servants' quarters. At such a tardy hour, they had all gone to sleep, but, even so, lingering thoughts remained in their brains. From them originated dreams, another form of people's inner desires, albeit more… Fanciful. If anyone had thought about mentalism, it would show immediately. Quietly, I sat down in the middle of the corridor and closed my eyes to concentrate on the whispers coming to my mind uninvited. Chimeric images invaded my own thoughts, visions of whimsical worlds mixing up together. Something about mentalism… Anything related to hypnotism…

I found my culprit the moment a dream about illusions made its way to my brain. Immediately, I spotted the room where its owner was sleeping. As quietly as usual, I sneaked inside and identified the servant. It was a young maid, perhaps in her twenties. She slept so soundly that she would never notice if I were to smother her with a pillow. She would simply be put to sleep… Forever… No, I could not afford to do that. The information she could provide me was far more important than my anger against her. Even so, I did not use any delicacy as I woke her up and covered her mouth to stop her from screaming. With a clear gesture, I demanded her to follow me out of the room. She immediately complied, feared for her life. And I brought her back to the dining room.

"You were fast." Dazai noted, arms crossed and back against the chair.

"But I'm completely done for…" I groaned, shoving the maid toward him "After that, I'm going to sleep."

"Well, I'll let you interrogate her, then." He shrugged.

Kunikida only stared at me with a strange look. In his eyes, I could see a mix of disapproval and apprehension. Or was it fear…? And was it a tint of curiosity there…? I grinned slightly. It had been a while since I had last sat in front of someone to question them. I brought her to an empty room nearby.

"What do you want from me…?" She asked, completely panicked.

"Quiet." I ordered "I'm the one who asks questions here. And, oh, don't even think about using hypnotism on me, it doesn't work."

"I-I don't know… What you're talking about…"

I exhaled and closed the door, before tying her to the chair with a rope I had taken with me earlier.

"No use lying to me either. I'm basically a lie detector." I warned her "So I advise you speak up quickly. Where is Yumiko-san?"

"I don't know…"

"Alright, suppose you don't know. What's your name?"

"M-My… Name…? It's Isobe… Isobe Hanako..." She stuttered.

"Cute." I commented "Give me a minute, will you? I'll be right back."

With a smile, I left her in the room to walk back to the detectives. There, I grabbed Kunikida's computer.

"Hey, what —"

"I only need a minute." I typed quickly "All done, thanks."

"Ogawa… No need to go too far." Dazai told me.

"You know I hate cleaning blood…" I answered simply.

When I went back to Isobe Hanako, she still had a terrified look in her eyes. Calmly, I sat in front of her and scrutinised her face.

"Mmh… You don't look like a bad girl. I still can't believe you did that…"

"Did what…?"

"Harassed that poor girl until she committed suicide. You weren't alone, your friends in high school pretty much participated too, but you were the perpetrator, weren't you? The leader. The one behind the attacks." I crossed my legs to be more comfortable "What did she do to you, I wonder… Stealing your boyfriend? Getting better grades than you? Being more… Appreciated than you? Being more beautiful than you? So, what did she do to you?"

"How do you… How do you know that…?" She started crying.

"I'm well-informed. Now, if you don't want the world to know about the girl who mysteriously disappeared after making a classmate die, if you want to keep living quietly, without any troubles, it's easy. You can just answer my questions."

"No… I can't…"

I got closer to her so I could grip her shoulders tightly.

"My… You don't seem to understand… Very well, then. I will sell the news of your position to the media. And…" I lowered my voice "I will find dirt about your entire family. None of you will be able to survive the disaster coming to you and that is your fault. But don't worry… None of you will die… I'll only make sure that your life becomes a literal hell."

"No! Not my family…" She sobbed "Leave mom and dad alone… I'll talk okay? I'll tell you what you want to know, so leave them alone…!"

"That's a good girl." I smiled at her "Now… Where is Yumiko-san and why did you put her under hypnosis?"

"I… I don't know… Where she is… She… Went to find her son..."

"Oh…"

Swiftly, I grabbed one of her fingers and broke it. She screamed in pain.

"Needless to say, I hate lies." I shrugged it off "So?"

"You're a monster…" She hiccuped as tears ran onto her face.

"It's up to you whether you talk to me or lie to me. I'm not a monster, you're just quite stubborn. Hurry now, I don't have all night. I'd like some sleep too, you know."

"I… She… I received an order… I had to make her kill the mentalist Nazo Eita… I just told her… 'Kill Nazo Eita'... She went out and… She must be in Kabukichō…"

"Thanks." I took notes "Who gave you that order?"

"I don't know…"

I broke a second finger.

"Who gave you that order?" I repeated, without losing composure.

"His brother…!" She finally revealed "He's my teacher…! Please! Stop hurting me!"

"His brother… Oh… I see… It was the third one, Nozaki the Grand. Now you say so, he did change a bit his last name to create a whole new one…" I snickered "Smart… And he had his brother killed… Why would he use Yumiko-san for that, though…?"

"I can't say…"

"It seems you don't care about your fingers…" I sighed and reached for her hand "Are you sure about your answer?"

"S-She's the perfect… Culprit…" Her voice shook "Even if sh-she's arrested, Taikin-san won't be bothered… She's just a pawn…"

"Ah… I think I understand now… Thank you for your answer." I let go of her finger.

"Is… Is it over now…?"

"You're going to resign from this job." I stated "And you'll live far, far from that mansion."

"I… I can't…! That's my job…!"

"It's fine with me, then. Then, I'll have you arrested."

"W-Wait —"

I pulled out a gun and knocked her out with the pommel. She did not deserve that I wasted a single bullet for her. A dog who bit its master… It was useless. And it angered me.

"Make her sign a complete confession when she wakes up." I asked my coworkers "She's the one who ordered Yumiko-san to kill Nazo-san. He was pushed under the train. That maid obeyed the third mentalist of the list, Nozaki the Grand, who is none other than Nazo-san's brother. They worked together for the Taikin family."

"Ten minutes…" Dazai checked the time "You're getting rusty~"

"I only had a minute to look for information, after all. Had I had a complete file about her, it would have been much easier." I put my head on the table.

"She's… Asleep…?" Kunikida raised an eyebrow.

"Knocked out. Nothing too bad. We may need to call Yosano-sensei for her fingers, too." I mumbled.

"Violence? Truly, Ogawa, your skills are decreasing~" My friend laughed.

"Not at all…" I cracked a smile "It's just hard without information."

"Wait a minute… How can you two joke about that…?!" Our bespectacled colleague sounded upset "You basically tortured the poor girl, that's not interrogating…!"

Upon seeing my face, he quickly headed inside the other room, from where we heard a shocked gasp. His steps were quick to bring him back.

"You destroyed her hand…! And her face…!"

"Kunikida… I broke two fingers and punched her jaw… Don't exaggerate…" I rolled my eyes.

"If she even has a trace of psychological issues after that, I swear, you will not join the Agency, unless you step on my dead body…!" He menaced.

I immediately sat up, then clicked my tongue. The Agency… For a moment, most certainly due to exhaustion, I had forgotten about the rules of this world. Could I not interrogate someone normally…? Negotiating with them, instead of threatening them…?

"She won't have side effects… I don't think she will… I mean… I went pretty easy on her…"

I had the terrible feeling that I was worsening the situation instead of helping it.

"Easy…? For goodness' sake, Ogawa…! She's disfigured…! And her cheeks are still stained by tears, what did you tell her…?!" He argued.

"Fine! Fine…"

I fidgeted with my fingers.

"I… Did forget myself and use methods from underground organisations…" I admitted.

"Goddammit, you —"

"Calm down now." Dazai stopped the detective from grabbing my collar "It's done, now. It is true that the method was… Doubtful, but, at the very least, we have a confession. Besides, for knowing her, Ogawa did go easy on her, don't worry."

"I don't care what 'easy' means to you, but that girl… She'll be traumatised…! How do you prevent that, eh…?!"

"Why… People feared retribution too much and were too grateful to be left alive to really care…" I recalled "But you know… Usually… We just killed them…"

"And how am I supposed to react to that…?" He breathed out "I can't even believe I started trusting you…! You and I… We have nothing in common…! You can never belong to the Armed Detective Agency!"

I stood up and grabbed my coat to take my leave. That was my mistake. I had failed.

"Don't you want to sleep before going?" Dazai suggested.

"It's fine…" I assured him "I'm an idiot for letting my only chance to live slip through my fingers, anyway…"

I then turned toward them to offer them my brightest smile.

"Thank you for allowing me to try. Now, I know I can never reach that world you live in. It was very fun, these days with you…!" I waved at them.

I could see Dazai did not like that I had given up so easily. However, there was no way I could work righteously and save that family… They would have to try without me. And I… I would go back to my home.