#in the novels he flinches when people shout at him

[hawkogurl]

*clawing at the fucking walls foaming at the mouth* RAIMI HARRY WASNT A PLAYBOY AND HE WAS BARELY SUAVE YOURE JUST EXPERIENCING A JAMES FRANCO INDUCED MANDELA EFFECT

[americas1suiteheart]

Hi, how are you? A fruit told me you are asking for requests??? Tangerine x Reader (female or gn neutral) having a fight and he reeeeeallly exaggerates, and must apologize, even if he hates admitting he is wrong (but he hates the thought of having hurt is partner even more)?

Ooh of course! I love writing angst, I love Angst/Comfort fics because you can go from being completely distraught one moment and then nice and happy the next.

I'm Sorry, Love

[Tangerine x GN! Reader]

[Notes; I based Tangerine more off of his character in the Novel, but it works perfectly well with his character in the movie as well.]

[Warnings; Some yelling, mentions of drinking, just overall some angst.]

Word Count: 1677

You and Tangerine were currently in your shared flat, having an argument because you complained he was never home enough; which was in fact true, but it was obviously something Tangerine didn't feel too swell about.

"I work 12 hours a day from Monday through Friday, and get payed 26£ an hour! I don't understand how you need to be away all the time for these missions, because it most certainly isn't money," You shout frustratedly, throwing your hands up into the air.

"First of all, its none of your fuckin' business, is it? But if you have to really know, I would much rather be employed with a good job, getting paid no less than at least 100,000 fuckin' pounds per mission, than work a stupid fuckin' job at a hotel!" Tangerine angrily shouts back, turning away from you as to not blow up even more.

"What the fuck do you mean by 'stupid job'? I'm just asking the reason why you're going on these dangerous fuckin' missions, when we live in a decent pay flat and I make just enough money for us to live more than just comfortably in here!" You cross your arms, now walking towards Tangerine to try and get him to look at you.

This argument had been going on for a heated 20 minutes now, and one neighbor has already knocked on your door to ask if you were alright and to quiet down.

You hadn't liked arguing at all, but it was starting to take a toll on you when Tangerine would show up from a mission bruised and cut up. You wouldn't sleep some nights or eat enough some days, worrying if him and Lemon were fine and if they would come back in one whole piece alive or delivered to you in a body bag, it scared the shit out of you.

"You know exactly what I mean by 'stupid job'! Getting fuckin' hit on almost everyday by fuckin' pricks. You complain about that shit so much, why not just fuckin' leave then? Who knows if your staying because you like all that fuckin' attention on you, maybe if you want attention all the time constantly you should try for one of those creeps instead!"

You were taken aback by what he'd just said. Yes he had some bad anger issues and he would say stuff he never meant sometimes, but it was never EVER anything like that. He had taken it way too far.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" You look up at Tangerine, who is still turned away from you.

"You know exactly what I fuckin' said, want me to repeat that for you though, love?" He says in a sarcastic nice tone, peering over his shoulder to glance at you.

"You think I like working for 12 hours? You think I like being told all of that stuff by these people? You think I like being here without you, DAYS IN A FUCKING ROW, MAY I MIND YOU!" You shout even louder, flinching slightly at your own volume.

No response. He just stood with his arms crossed, still turned away from you.

"I can't handle you right now, I want you out of my fucking flat right now. If you're not going to say anything then leave," You say, sternly.

Tangerine doesn't say anything, he just takes the key to the flat off of his key ring and places it on the table before walking out, shutting the door gently.

You were frustrated. You'd been with Tangerine for 4 years now, and no fight you two have had has ever been this bad, not to the point where he's actually left, though you can only blame yourself for that one.

After blankly staring at the door for a few seconds, you walk to the kitchen and grab the bag of takeaway leftovers from 2 nights ago from the fridge, taking it to the living room and placing it on the coffee table before sitting on the corduroy navy couch you and Tangerine bought together.

You two had moved in with each other just last year. Before that, arguments like this were never a problem, and it wasn't until your 3rd month of living together that the fights started to get worse, usually resorting to either of you sleeping on the couch for a night or two. But again, it was never this bad.

Maybe you caused it, you're the one that told him to leave, you're the one that brought up the topic right as soon as he came home from a mission, still bloody and bruised. You didn't think to wait until he was cleaned off and a little more content to approach the question more calmly to him.

He had every right to leave, and every right to be upset with you.

You sat there for about two hours, finishing the remaining leftovers, your figure slumped on the couch with the lamp lit dimly.

Suddenly you hear keys jingling into your doorknob, assuming it may be Lemon as he's the only other person except for you and Tan to have a key, though now it would just be you and Lemon at that point.

You hear a plethora of curses as the keys jingle some more before the door finally unlocks and opens.

Inside walk Lemon and Tangerine. Tangerine was slightly red in the face, presumably from drinking, whilst Lemon looked fine.

"Hey Y/n.. I hope you didn't mind me taking him here. I know you two had that fight but when I offered to take him to my place for the night when I was driving him from the bar he practically begged me to take him here or he would, 'jump out and walk on his own,' " Lemon says, closing the door and looking at Tangerine who was now standing next to him.

Tangerine had a look of sadness on his face you'd never seen before, and you suddenly felt a rush of guilt pass by, making your stomach turn in displeasure and disgust from yourself and your own behaviour.

"No I don't mind at all, I was hoping he'd come back actually.." You say, looking at the two. As soon as you say that, Tangerine's face lights up slightly, eyes slightly widened, eyebrows raised, and a small upwards curve on his lips.

"Cool, cool. Well, I'm gonna leave you two to figure it out, if Tangerine needs or wants to leave, call me so I can grab him and take him to my place alright, Y/n." Lemon says, placing a hand on Tangerine's shoulder before Tan swats it off.

Lemon then leaves, leaving you and Tangerine alone once more.

"Tan I'm so-" You say, getting up before quickly getting interjected by Tangerine.

"No, I'm sorry, love. Instead of blowing up and getting all pissy about something important you asked, I should've tried to be more patient about it." Tangerine says, a sympathetic look on his face.

"I saw that you'd just had a bad day and I proceeded to ask, and on top of that I'm the one that told you to leave. I fucked up too and I'm sorry," You say, walking towards him.

Tangerine pulls you into a tight hug. He smelled strongly of alcohol and his faded cologne, the smell of blood ever so slightly evident as he was still wearing his blood stained clothes.

You two stayed like that with each other for a while longer, just holding each other in silence, only the lamp illuminating the dark living area.

Tangerine lifts your chin up so he could look at you, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

"Lets get to bed now, darling. I'm absolutely exhausted." He says, still holding onto you.

"You've got to take a shower first though and let me tend to those wounds you've got, I don't need you staining our sheets with your gross blood. Or maybe that was someone else's. Regardless, it's still gross." You jokingly say, playing with the lapels of his suit jacket.

"Mm, only if you join me," Tangerine says, a cheeky grin on his face.

"You're terrible, Tan.. How about some other time, you've got to get all that dry blood off, and I need to clean those stains out of your suit so it can be ready to be taken to the dry cleaners tomorrow," You sigh and walk to your shared room, Tangerine following behind.

Tangerine walks into the restroom and strips of his clothes, hopping into the shower.

You grab his bloodied garments and gently take off most of the dried blood stains out with the proper cleaning agents. After getting most of the stains out, you place Tangerine's clothes on a hanger and hang them on the laundry closet door knob, then walk back into the room.

You see Tangerine laying on the bed reading his book with the bedside lamp on, when he sees you walk in he gives a warm smile before putting his book into the nightstand drawer and turning the light off.

"Were you able to get those stains out, love?" Tangerine asks, turning on his side to face you.

"Of course I was able to, was there ever a time where I couldn't?"

"No, I suppose not. Let's get to bed now though, I'm exhausted," Tangerine says, letting a yawn out in between.

"You said that already, but I agree. One hell of a night for you, I apologise by the way," You say, snuggling yourself into his chest.

Tangerine pulls you closer, if that was even possible, and places a soft kiss to the top of your head.

"Lets not worry any longer about that, love," Tangerine says, looking at you lovingly.

You could make out the colour of his damp curls and his gorgeous blue eyes, the moonlight illuminating his face as it peaked through the sheer blue curtains on the widows.

"Alright, goodnight then, my love," You say, as Tangerine closes his eyes, with you doing the same.

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

This would've been out completed if tumblr didn't bug out yesterday and delete half of my work, but it's alright I guess. I'm terribly sorry it took forever, anon, but hopefully you enjoyed it.

[persephone11110]

Trust In Me

tom kazansky x reader

warnings: abusive relationships(not Ice/Reader), talks of injuries, blood, curse words, self victim blaming,low self esteem, derogatory words used ,suicide attemp angst w/happy ending??

• Please tread lightly as this story is heavily about abuse.

Summary: Ice knew the signs of abuse, when he was a young boy he watched his mother get covered in black and blue bruises, and he’s not letting that happen to Hound. Not Again

callsign:Hound

Last Name: Miller

- navy inaccuracies

- one day im going make a happy story with Ice

- -

The great Hound Miller, Lieutenant Commander in the navy, the first woman in history to be indoctrinated into top gun. The first woman to graduate and successfully be the top of her class.

Hound Miller was strong, scary, cold-hearted on the oustide. The woman never broke a sweat during missions, always face death with a straight face, yet on the inside was as broken as anyone could be.

In the inside she was a woman who faced the abuse her boyfriend put her through. The bruises that covered her back as Josh spent morning, even and night punishing her for the mistakes she made.

She had developed a cold exterior as a consequence of the pain and suffering she had endured.

Who’s knows maybe she’ll get the guts to leave him. Maybe she’ll realize her worth and leave him.

But she can’t, because under all that aviation shit all she is a weak little bitch, not directly her words but Josh’s. A weak little bitch, who wouldn’t leave because she has nothing, not inch of space to claim as hers. She sure as hell no one to take her in, no one wants her, no one going to put up with her like Josh does.

But he’s right.

What strong woman can deal with almost dying everyday, but not be strong enough to leave.

- -

She finally got guts to leave him. What a mistake.

Hound never thought he lose it in public, where other people could see his facade crack and break.

To see were he isn’t the perfect boyfriend.

“Are you fucking dumb Y/n, did you really think you could leave me?”, venom laces his voice as he shouts at her, his facade slowly dropping.

His backhand flys across her face, she whimpers as she’s feels the stinging.

She knows better, Hound knows what to say, when to say and how to say it but she’s fucking exhausted. Has been for awhile, she’s knows love isn’t supposed to be like this, it’s not like that in poems, rom-cons, and novel.

She doesn’t care anymore, Hound is done being his broken toy, she doesn’t care if he beats her to death atleast she’s in peace.

She flinches harder than before, even though she knows whats going to happen. Hound thought she could take it, like she does all other times but this time the hit knocks her back a couple inches.

She stands there cowering under his angered gaze as the left side of her face burns. Her cold hands grab at her stinging cheek, soothing the burn.

“You think you can leave me Y/n!, who’s going take care of you?”

“Hm, what man is going to deem you worthy of his time?”

She whimpers, as he shakes her like a rattle toy.

“Stop, I’m sorry Josh” she begs him, his eyes turn dark, his hand runs up her neck, gripping it tightly.

Hound feels stupid, Why did I think I could get away?

Her throat starts to hurt, as his grip gets tighter.

He’s getting angrier.

Tears drench Hound’s eyelashes, as they fall down her cheek—damping her face as they drop.

“Please” she trys begging again, normally if she submits to him in defeat, and in weakness he stops.

Sadistic piece of shit.

She can’t see anything, the tears blurring her vision. She can’t see if this is the end of life, if this is the end of her suffering.

Josh chuckles darkly and it sends fear down Hound’s chest, she listen to his heavy breathing.

She done for, there no way she’s getting out of this relationship alive.

“I give you my home, my car, my love and you think you can leave me!” he shouts loudly into her ear.

She chokes on a sob.

“I-I’m sorry, please no”

“I’ll do whatever you want”

He starts laughing in her face. literally, “I always knew you were whore”

I’m just whore, dirty piece of meat that belongs to you.

“Answer me slut” he re-grabs her throat pressing harder than earlier.

Hound was supposed to be stronger than this. Why can’t she break out his grasp. Why didn’t she leave when he first got violent the first time.

Her airway is starting to close and she feels the neee to cough, but can’t.

She starts to choke, body starts convulsing from the lack of air.

“Look at me Y/n and allow me to remind you of who puts up with your shit”

A broken whine leaves her mouth.

I guess this is goodbye.

I guess this is me getting peace. It feels nice.

She starts to feels the darkness succumbing her, the sounds of blood rushing in her ears.

“Let go of her—”, a familiar voice she knows by heart. A man Hound hates humanly possible yet is happy he’s here. His voice just as cold as his personality

Somehow Hound felt so humiliated. But shouldn’t she feel relieved?

She’d already knew who it was by his ice tipped hair, his stone cold face. She recognized his cologne from anywhere.

Iceman Kazansky

Funny enough Hound is known for her elephant memory, yet she can’t remember what happened and how she ended up in Kazansky’s house.

- -

Ice never thought he’d ever see his enemy look so fragile and nervous in his life.

Bruises covered her arms, her legs and back. A mean purple bruise was forming around her neck.

He choked her, like actually tried strangling her to death.

He and Hound weren’t exactly friends, they also weren’t enemies either.

She and him don’t see eye to eye majority of the times, Hound flys like her life isn’t worth shit, and Ice flys to confident.

He may dislike her, but Ice sure as hell wasn’t leaving her die like his dad did with his mother Anya.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as concern entered his mind about her. She had been gone a long time.

He gently knocked on the door,“Hound you okay there?”

She could feel herself letting go, the water started to fill her ears.

Life left her body.

“Hound, you all right?”

She could feel herself letting go, the water starting to fill her ears.

There wasn’t any movement going on in the bathroom, there wasn’t noise either.

“Hound Miller?”

Hound started to slip underwater, the water was slowly claiming her lungs, her life.

Hound wasn’t worth anything. She doesn’t deserve the help Iceman giving her.

She could hear muffled sounds coming from the otherside of the door.

Bang.

Bang.

The door was ripped open.

“Hound!”, Ice hurriedly grabbed her body out his tub.

“Come here”, he beckoned with arms, his eyes closed out of respect. Hound slowly wrapped herself in the towel.

She was shivering in pain, her entire body was numb.

“You can open them Tom” Hound whispered to him. She was ashamed of herself, first Kazansky open his house up to her after saving her from Josh. Now she’s returning the favor by being suicidal.

Maybe Josh was right, she truly is worthless.

No man will ever love her. She’s broken, unfixiable.

Iceman slowly ran his eyes over her, inspecting the bruises that were casted all over her body.

A jagged knife scar. dragged down her lower back.

A knuckle ring imprint bruised her thighs, burns mark from cigarettes.

Stitches on her shoulder.

God he hated himself with everything, he could’ve given her the help his mother was denied.

He felt horrible, it explains everything about her.

The dark emotionless eyes, the angry tones, how she flew in the air. This woman had been going through hell for god knows how long.

Hound had been suffering and he had only added to it.

She clinged to him,like her life depended on it.

“I-Im sorry” Hound sobbed loudly into Ice’s shoulder.

“Shh, your okay— if not I’ll help you get there”, Ice promised her and he’s never the man to break his word.

“You’ll be okay”

“Oh, your shirt is soaking wet” she lifted her face from his shoulder.

Of course she’s more worried about his shirt, worried about his reaction.

“It’s fine Hound I got loads of Navy shirts, price of being the Navy’s favorite”, he joked with her.

A small smile appeared on her face, she quietly laughed.

“Funny—very funny Kazansky, me and you both know I’m the better pilot” she chuckled softly.

She plucked him gently , in return Hound earned a soft kiss on the side of her forehead.

Ice gave her his hand, and she took it willingly.

Lieutenant Commander Y/n “Hound” Miller has never has never felt safe before, but the way Kazansky held her felt safe and protective.

He made her feel safe— a man who was once her enemy is now her safe place.

Tom“Iceman” Kazansky isn’t cold, he’s warm.

[up-to-some-good]

A bit late (and long. I’m not great at the ‘micro’ part), but written for @wolfstarmicrofic – November 15th Braid

Sirius Black had always had a thing about his hair. Since his first year in Hogwarts, he had been obsessed. Letting it grow out was his first sign of rebellion against his parents, and he made sure that his long locks were well-cared for – ordering expensive shampoos and other hair products by owl with his pocket money. Every year, he’d arrive at school with short hair and leave with it grown past his collarbones.

It wasn’t just about the length, though. He was constantly playing with it and find new ways to style it – pinning it up with his wand and stealing hair ties from Lily Evans. At one point, any of the other marauders could be found with hair ties along their wrist just in case Sirius needed one.

He also loved it when other people played with his hair. He’d sit on the common room sofas and let James run his hands through the inky locks while they studied or plant himself in front of Marlene to let her create intricate hairstyles whenever she was bored. When he woke up shaking from nightmares, the only thing that would calm him was lying on Remus’s chest as his boyfriend stroked his hair.

When Harry was born, he didn’t seem to mind sticky fingers in his hair, and even smiled when the toddler pulled his hair with his strong grip.

It changed one day, about three months after Harry’s first birthday. There was a battle. Sirius and Remus were in the field, flanked by not enough backup and barely keeping track of each other. Remus was distracted, fighting two Death Eaters and not watching his boyfriend as closely as he’d like. He glanced back at Sirius, having finally overcome his enemies, and gave him a brief encouraging smile. In the second Sirius smiled back, everything changed. Bellatrix moved quickly, too quickly for Remus to shout a warning, and yanked Sirius back by his hair.

Remus hadn’t been able to run to him. He’d been pulled back into battle and lost track of his partner. They won the battle, and Sirius survived despite his cousin’s torture, but the day was a turning point.

Sirius started to flinch away from anyone touching his hair. He moved away if Remus brushed it out of his eyes or ran his fingers through it as they lay in bed. When they visited the Potters’ hideout, he made sure it was tied up, out of Harry’s reach, so even the toddler couldn’t touch him.

Bellatrix hadn’t left any scars on his body, but he seemed to be living in a constant state of anxiety. He was barely sleeping, plagued by nightmares and unable to get back to sleep.

Remus hoped it would get better with time, but it only seemed to get worse. One week, after Sirius stopped washing his hair, now incapable of touching it himself without flinching, Remus gave up waiting and decided to take some action.

“Sirius, love?”

“Mmhmm?” Sirius was curled up in an armchair, reading one of Remus’s novels.

“Can I wash your hair for you?” Remus offered as gently as he could.

Immediately, his boyfriend tensed up, closing his eyes, and taking a few deep breaths.

“I promise I’ll be gentle, Pads,” Remus continued. “I just want you to feel better, and I know you just got a new bottle of that lavender shampoo you love.”

It took a few moments, but eventually Sirius nodded. Slowly, Remus got up and took his hand, leading him to the bathroom. He ran a small sink of water and fetched a chair from their bedroom to make sure Sirius would be comfortable.

At first Sirius, sat stiffly with his head in the sink, taking incredibly slow breaths and squeezing his eyes shut. Remus didn’t talk, didn’t comment, just carefully massaged the shampoo through the long locks. As the smell of lavender began to fill the room, Sirius began to relax, his shoulders creeping down from their place at his ears and his face smoothing into a calm expression.

When they were done, Remus, wrapped Sirius’s hair in a towel and led him back to the lounge. He sat on the couch, Sirius on the floor between his legs, and slowly unwrapped his hair, gently drying his hair with the towel as he went.

When Sirius’s hair was fully down and mostly dry, he began to braid the long locks, taking care to disentangle any knots as gently as possible. He tied off the end of the braid with the hair tie he had on his wrist before pressing a kiss to his boyfriend’s hair.

Sirius released a heavy sigh and leaned back against Remus’s legs, tilting his head until he was resting on Remus’s lap, his closed eyes facing the ceiling. There were tear tracks along his cheeks, which he allowed Remus to wipe away, leaning into the touch in a way he hadn’t for a few weeks.

“Thank you, my love,” he whispered.

Remus didn’t answer immediately, pressing a kiss to Sirius’s forehead before speaking into his skin.

“No need to thank me, Pads. I love you, and I want you to be okay.”

“How could I be anything else when I have you?” Sirius whispered back. “I love you too.”

[ateliaers]

❛ —he's still sleeping, by the way. just so you know. ❜ sleeping was a good way to put it. it made it sound like lamorak was merely resting, recuperating from their time on mount tombe, rather than stuck in limbo for the third week in a row. it must be her former proximity to lancelot, gareth thought, that made her presence slightly more tolerable than that of her siblings in the eyes of the welshmen. or maybe it was simply that with the most vocal part of their trio laid up in bed and comatose, the sons of pellinore simply did not have it in them to uphold their feud. whatever it was, they hadn't shouted her off when she'd come by for news ; aglovale had merely looked at her like she'd grown a second head and then a third, which wasn't novel enough to warrant a comment. she slumped into the space next to gaheris, crossing her legs and snatching an apple off the basket sitting in front of her twin. ❛ not that you care. right ? ❜ — @sentinaels.

indignation should have welled up within her at the implication. in a world where it did, gareth’s approach would have been met with a withering stare, & an apt, if sardonic, remark, or an ill – conceived crack at lamorak’s expense, perhaps. as it was, the eyes turned upon her sister were dull & listless, puffed with what gaheris had staunchly claimed was a lack of sleep, & for half a heartbeat, she wondered if she should put up the token defence that would be expected of her, before letting the notion slip away.

she had never been able to hide anything from gareth in her life. what was the point in starting to try now ?

❛ fuck you, ❜ she gave in greeting, without any of her usual vehemence. ❛ i’m surprised they even let you in. i wouldn’t have, ❜ & there, in the space where there should have been a joke, was silence. she felt herself listing, little by little, until her head came to rest on gareth’s shoulder, a comfort she hadn’t sought in who knew how long.

❛ i — we should have been there, ❜ it was a sentiment she had expressed more than once since the others had returned, but never with such a heaviness in her voice. ❛ if they’d had more bodies, more people to act as back – up, distractions, even … ❜ nothing explicit had been uttered, but her thoughts seemed to hang in the air between them, saying he wouldn’t have had to fight alone. she could picture it so clearly, too — lamorak, & only the chip on his shoulder for company, that burning desire for glory which would have driven him to make a stand. if it had been possible to kiss such foolish defiance away, she would have rid him of it long ago.

❛ go on then, ❜ she said, shifting slightly as she searched for a more comfortable position against gareth’s impossibly bony shoulder, the act of sitting upright apparently beyond her now that she had a warm body to laze against. ❛ i know what you’re thinking. & i’ve already called myself an idiot for it a thousand times, but you might as well have your own turn at it. ❜ better to be called a fool than a coward, even if, in her heart of hearts, she knew both to be the truth. gareth, at the very least, had been able to bring herself to cross the threshold of the listenoise household, & ask after the middle brother directly. she had tried half a dozen times, & had turned back before she even reached the door, fists knotted in her skirts, berating herself all the while for what she lacked.

❛ it’s just … no change at all ? not even a flinch ? you’re sure aglovale wasn’t just keeping quiet to get rid of you ? ❜

[catsvrsdogscatswin]

Higurashi Month 2023, Day 23: Confused

Keiichi Maebara wasn't a bad person.

He wasn't.

He clung to that thought like a lifeline, like the spider's thread that would let him climb out of this hell. He wasn't the kind of person that would do this.

He wasn't the kind of person that would beat his friends to death, who would hit and hit and hit as their skulls crunched and crunched and squished, wasn't the sort of crazy maniac who would keep beating someone even after he was drenched in their blood and it ran hot and dripping over his hands.

He wasn't.

And yet… and yet there had been Mion and Rena, lying dead on the floor of his room with their blood seeping dark and sticky into the mat. There were his hands, sticky with blood, blood crusting under his nails, blood drying in spattered droplets on his face, blood coating the shining silver bat he had taken to defend himself, blood spreading wet and thick on the front of his shirt.

They were dead, and he had done it.

Keiichi knew he had done it, even if his memories after they had pulled out his arm and lowered the needle were twisted and distorted and dim by the blinding flash of fear that had overcome him. He'd read enough mystery novels, he knew about blood splatter patterns and evidence. No one else could have been the one responsible for this.

Maybe, if someone wanted to frame him, they could've dumped blood on his shirt and his hands and flicked more at his face, but they couldn't get it crusted under his nails like this, and they couldn't cause the lingering tremors of exertion that had wracked his frame, or the sore tension in his hands, one still wrapped around the dripping bat.

Keiichi may have blacked out, but he knew that he had done it.

He had murdered Rena and Mion with his own two hands.

It didn't matter that if he hadn't done it, they would have assuredly killed him. They had been his friends, and he had killed them.

He felt like his heart had been torn in two when he'd run from the house, fleeing the shouts of the people in the white van as he ran out into the sunset. He'd run for almost an hour before coming to a stop in the mountain forest, dazed, knowing that he couldn't afford to stay out here, but dreading going back to civilization.

Keiichi had survived this long. He'd had to kill his friends to make it this far.

He couldn't just leave things as they were –he needed to go to the police, to Oishi, to lay this all at his feet and receive the cold splash of harsh reality that the cop would bring. Oishi didn't believe in Oyashiro-sama's curse. He didn't believe in anything but human culprits. Keiichi needed to hear that right now, even if it would paint him bloody with guilt.

He needed to hear that he was imagining things, and there wasn't a curse.

Because- because he was imagining things.

When he'd heard the soft crunch of a footstep on the gravel road behind him, he'd just been hearing things. There hadn't been anyone there when he'd turned around. Of course he was hearing things.

When he'd got home and heard the flap of another bare foot on the linoleum of the stairwell, that was just him hearing things, letting his fear control him, letting his imagination get ahead of himself. It didn't matter that it had felt so real, like he could stretch his fingers back to brush against the presence lingering like a pall of doom directly behind him. When he'd heard someone breathing behind him, just over his shoulder…

His imagination. Just his imagination.

It had to be. There had been no one there when he'd turned around.

Because if it wasn't- if it wasn't-

Then creeping through the village like this, flinching at every noise, ducking through the grass and shrubbery, it was useless. Keiichi was running from something that dragged behind him like his own shadow (except it wasn't there, it wasn't, don't look, don't look, it won't be there if you don't look), trying to escape something that had already inextricably wound its fingers through his being and cursed him.

Keiichi wasn't a bad person. He wasn't the kind of person who'd beat his friends to death with a baseball bat.

So why had he?

Why had any of them done anything? Why had the dam crew dismembered their foremen in a show of needless brutality that paralleled Hinamizawa's legends? Why had Satoko-chan not been swallowed by the river with her parents? Why had Rika-chan been left alive after the priest and his wife were taken?

Why had Satoshi-kun done everything Keiichi had done, but vanished anyway?

And why had Rena been possessed by something so chilling, so unnatural, that she knocked out all the windows in her school, and stared at him with those needle-slitted eyes that knew things she couldn't possibly know, as a human?

Keiichi swallowed thickly, raising a hand to scratch at his neck as he crouched in the bushes near one of the village's payphones. The humid air of summer had closed around him as soon as he'd left the house, and even if he'd managed to wash out most of the blood in the river, his skin was coated and clammy with sweat, and he was covered bug bites, and he itched, all over.

His scratching grew more feverish, nails curling against his throat. He wanted to peel his skin off and writhe in a bed of steel wool –maybe that would cure this persistent, nagging sensation. Or maybe this was just another symptom of the curse-

No.

A cold sweat broke out over Keiichi's already-gleaming face.

No, he didn't believe in the curse. There was no curse. There was no such thing as a curse. He just itched because he'd been outside and it was humid, he hadn't-

He hadn't gotten any of the drug from that needle inside him, had he?

That thought was what had him launching out of the bushes and stumbling towards the phone booth, yanking it open with damp hands. The glass walls closed gently around him as he stepped inside and rang up the number that had been dancing through his head for hours, and Keiichi clutched the phone to his ear, desperation running through his veins like fire.

He was almost there. All he had to do was call Oishi and tell him what had happened, and Oishi would fix everything, would help, would know what to do. He was a detective. You gave the mystery to a detective and they solved it, that was what detectives did.

He could get help.

He could fix this.

There wasn't a curse.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, this is Oishi."

Keiichi let out a shuddering gasp of relief as the line connected.

"O-Oishi-san?" he croaked, his throat feeling dry.

"Maebara-san?!" Oishi's shout did nothing to calm him, and his next words sent fear blasting down Keiichi's spine. "What happened?! Where are you right now!?"

Oishi should know what was happening to him. Oishi was a detective.

OishishouldknowOishishouldknowOishishouldknowOishishouldknow-

So if he didn't- if he didn't know-

A whimper choked its way up out of Keiichi's throat as he scratched feverishly at his neck, his fingernails digging and pitting against the raw welts there with all the futile, momentary relief of picking at a mosquito bite.

"I'm sending a police car to your location right now. I'm on the way as well." Oishi continued, and Keiichi trembled, shaking his head.

"I-it won't do any good…" he whispered, and he could feel the presence, now, rolling with slow, gentle, inexorable doom down the street, creeping towards him with all the inevitability of shadows following the setting sun. Keiichi's fingers clenched, nails digging deeper into the plastic phone and his own skin. "There's no time…"

"Please stay calm, Maebara-san." Oishi said, and Keiichi coughed as the sudden fear, the overwhelming dread, lodged like a shard in his throat. He hacked, he choked, even, and he realized that perhaps his fingers were digging too deep. But he couldn't stop. Just like any kind of itching, he couldn't stop once he'd started.

"O-Oishi-sa…" he wheezed, but his throat burned and throbbed and he coughed again. His cough seemed wetter than it should be, and he tasted a hint of metal on his tongue.

"Maebara-san!" the detective shouted, and there was fear in his voice, as there should be. "Who's doing this?!"

"I-I thought humans were behind it…" Keiichi choked, and then hacked again. "But now I think…"

His body shuddered as another wet, racking cough peeled out of him.

"No, now I know… Oyashiro-sama exists."

He couldn't believe it, but he had no choice but to believe it. Keiichi wasn't the kind of person to do this, but he had. he was. He knew he was scratching too deep, that it was hurting and burning with a jagged pain as he dug his fingers into his throat, but he couldn't stop.

He was cursed.

Something had cursed him.

No- not something-

Someone.

Someone that was a something that closing fingers around him right now.

"He was following right behind me… I ran and I ran and I ran, but he stuck to me like my shadow… and little by little…"

Keiichi coughed again, and knew he was being silenced. But he had to force the words out, to explain to Oishi, so he'd know what to do later.

"He crept closer to me…"

"Maebara-san, is he there now?!" Even the detective's voice was sharp with fear, and Keiichi could easily imagine that he had leapt to his feet. Good. He was right to be afraid, and maybe this would help him avoid Keiichi's fate. "Who's behind you?!"

Keiichi involuntarily squeezed his eyes shut at those words, feeling the presence loom harder behind him. It was there now, standing in the entrance to the phone booth, all but pinning him up against the receiver. It wasn't there, and yet he could feel it. He knew that if he dared to step back, he would move through nothing –but there was something behind him. He knew it. He knew it.

"There's no way I'm turning around!" Keiichi wheezed desperately, trying to make Oishi understand, to know this inescapable dread that spread its wings over him, to know that there was no choice but not to look because looking would invite the knowledge that there was nothing there and that… "If I do, I'll… I'll…"

"I know you're scared; you only have to turn your head just a little bit!" Oishi insisted, his voice crackling down the line. "I need to know who's behind you, Maebara-san!"

Keiichi let out a strangled groan at the very thought, his body shuddering. Turn and look? But what would he see? Worse, what wouldn't he see?

His psyche was too fragile: he couldn't look, his mind wouldn't be able to handle the lack, the nothingness, the delirium that swirled through it as it tried to make sense of a senseless curse. This was something that was just simply beyond him. He couldn't bear to try and make sense of it.

He opened his mouth to begin chanting his apologies as something popped wetly under his nails and blood began to stream violently down his throat and across his chest.

[patrickcharlton-oshea-author]

Waging War. An Age Of Steam and Sorcery Novel. Chapter Six.

Once more, Peter woke in a stone box. It was nice, Jacob had laid him out a soft cushioned blanket under him and stuck a glow stone to the roof. It’s the little things that let you know your friends care, Peter thought to himself before pulling the velvet rope to let Jacob know he was done cooking.

Jacob’s incredibly, stunningly, ugly face appeared in the gap as the lid slid aside. Even as many times as Peter had seen it he barely managed to suppress a flinch at the sight but did succeed. “Jacob! Long time no dying!” Peter levered himself out of the sarcophagus and stepped down to the floor. “How’s work treating you?”

“Ever popular, this place,” Jacob replied. “People are dying to get in.”

Rather than head up through the temple and all the rigmarole that goes with it, Peter opted to take the short cut up the nearby ramp and out through the cemetery. He chatted with Jacob as they went, exchanging pleasantries and trading jokes. Jacob was a font of Dad Jokes, much like Peter’s grandfather had been, and they got on well.

Waiting just outside the massive wrought iron gates that allowed entrance to the cemetery was a small crowd of people. Peter had expected Pham, Dani and Warren, but there were a few locals there chatting as well. The mayor of Averton and Peter’s favourite barmaid as well as the man-mountain from the local smithy. They made for a strangely diverse group, but Peter was glad they were all his friends.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Peter apologised. “I was spending a night dead, for tax reasons.”

“SQUEAK!” A soft furry body leapt from Warren’s shoulder to latch onto Peter’s face. DB immediately started licking every inch of exposed skin and pawing through Peter’s hair. When the rodent had satisfied himself that Peter was ok, he clambered around and tucked himself in Peter’s hood. Soon little ratty snores could be heard from the dark recesses.

“Ow,” Peter winced slightly. “He’s getting way too big for that.”

“You need to feed him less and give him more exercise then,” Dani said, idly flipping a dagger end-for-end and catching it by the tip each time.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to say anything,” Pham added, “but that rat is getting fat. Have you tried teaching him karate?”

“Now that you mention it, I have,” Peter held up a finger. “Turns out he’s more of a tracker. I’m thinking of getting him a little set of goggles and maybe a waistcoat to put tools in. What do you think?”

“I think you need to die less, Peter,” said the mayor in his usual declaratory voice. Peter sometimes wondered if the man knew how to speak quieter than a shout. “You’re a good lad, but Travellers famously take a hit to their attributes every time they die. I’ve been the mayor of this town for many years and seen a great number of newly minted Travellers pass through my gate. None have ever ended up as pale as you, except young Pham here and he at least has an excuse. Not to mention that mechanical marvel you’re sporting instead of an arm there.”

“At least those wings are coming in,” the waitress inserted kindly. “I remember when I first saw you, those cute little things could barely flap. Now they’re almost down to your knees. You might be able to fly soon if you keep training.”

Peter often forgot he even had wings until they got in the way. His real-world body had no equivalent of course and he was still learning how to move them. He remembered the fight in the dungeon, where he’d managed to use them to glide down from one level to another. Glide might be overselling it a bit, he admitted to himself. They managed to slow my fall enough to avoid a respawn at best. “Thank you, I’ll keep working on them.”

The mayor and the waitress proffered their goodbyes and went about their day while Peter and his friends discussed their plans. 

“That bloody scythe is OP as hayell,” Pham complained. “How much XP did you get from that one shot?”

Peter shrugged. “Not that much. I only killed one mob, I just managed to piss off a whole lot more in the process. I managed to pick up another hourglass before I took a dirt nap too, so I think there’s a high chance of getting them on crits. Sneak attacks and snipes will be a good way to harvest them for the house.”

“Is that what you want to do today?” Warren rumbled through his helmet. He was in full plate today, with a helmet that wouldn’t have looked out of place on the battlefields of ancient Europe. His breastplate in particualr drew the eye, a thick, clockwork filled monstrosity that Peter had seen before. Warren was able to eject two child-sized clockwork golems from the back to assist him in battle. “Because I have better things to do than traipse through the tulips kicking bunnies.”

“Well, what’s your idea?” Pham eyed Warren suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you want to… No. Nononono. Noooooooo. Nope. Uh-uh. You know what happened there last time.”

“Last time it was just the two of us,” Warren said. “And we were on a time frame. This time we have Peter and Dani, if they’re willing, so we’d be better set up to fight and clear the traps. Worst case, we sent Peter in and pick him up after he respawns. There’s even a town nearby where he can bind his spawn point to.”

“Ugh, fine. We can’t spend the rest of eternity in Averton. How do we get there though? Peter doesn’t have a mount and I’m not dinking him.”

“Where do you want to go to?” Dani asked. “After taking down pretty boy last week we’re pretty flush with cash for now. I’m sure Peter could afford a portal service-”

“No magic!” Pham interjected.

“- or the steam bus,” Dani finished. “Steam bus it is. It’s a bit slower but until Peter buys himself a horse it’s the best non-magical transport around. Safe, reliable and leaving in ten minutes.”

“How do you know it’s leaving in ten minutes?” Peter looked around in confusion. “Can you see it from here?”

“The clock just struck midday. Didn’t you hear it?”

“Oh.”

It was only a short walk from the cemetery to the outskirts of town, it took longer for Dani to harangue the driver for attempting to charge a whole gold coin for what turned out to be a three silver ride. The companions piled into the back seat, as all the cool kids do, and soon they were off, chugging down the road that had taken them an hour to walk the day before.

“Hey, uh, why didn’t we catch the bus yesterday?” Peter asked as he looked out over very familiar fields. 

“Did you see the bus go past us yesterday?” countered Pham. Before Peter could respond, he continued. “No, because it only runs once a day and it had left long before we were ready.”

“Woah, what’s got your pants in a knot?”

“This thing is so sloooooowww. Honestly man, get a mount already. Or I’ll make you one. Whatever.” Pham threw his feet up on the seat in front in irritation. “Most people get one in the first month.”

“I’ve only been playing for just over a week.”

“Well.. get some time up, noob.”

Warren punched Pham in the shoulder. “We’ll be there soon. I know you think this thing is slow, but it’s much faster than walking. Log out if you want, or read a book. Remember when you first started playing and had to walk everywhere? Before they removed the autowalk feature? You’d pick a direction, stick your nose in a book and read until you ran into something.”

“I-”

“Including that lake that one time.”

“Shut up, why are you picking on me?”

“I’ll give you three guesses and the first two don’t count.”

Pham just ignored him and pulled out a book. Dani went to sleep on the window, despite the pane vibrating with every thump of the steam engine. Warren also pulled out a book, but this one looked to be a school textbook and Peter had no intention of wasting a night’s fun on learning. He opened the window and leaned out, enjoying the smells and sights of the passing countryside. He marvelled anew at the realism in the game and pondered how much computing power it must take to simulate it. He pulled DB out of his hood and held the rodent out in the breeze for him to enjoy the trip as well. 

DB sniffed and looked around, his little ratty eyes wide in amazement. “Squeak?”

“Sure is, bud. We’re out of Averton. We’re going on an adventure!”

DB washed his face with his paws and sneezed. “Squeeeak?”

“Of course! Heck, it’s been a bit for me too. Sorry I forgot in the excitement.” Peter pulled a small tea cake out of his inventory. He broke bits off and gave them to DB, occasionally eating morsels himself. Being half out the window as they were, any crumbs fell to the ground and were whisked away. “This is the life, isn’t it?”

“Squeak!”

He was so distracted that he nearly fell out of the window when the bus lurched to a stop. “Stand and deliver!” A voice echoed around the glade where they’d pulled up.

Bodies boiled out of the surrounding trees to surround the bus, weapons pointed at the occupants. Peter could hear the driver throw himself in the dust and beg for his life. He hauled himself back in the window and scrambled down the aisle, surprised to find himself following Warren.

Warren’s armoured feet slammed into the dirt beside the door with a resounding crash. “Chadwell, ye bastard, I know it’s you! Show yer sael!”

A second, similarly armoured figure rounded the front of the bus, slowly clapping in the most sarcastic manner. “Oh Woz, fancy meeting you here.”

“Is this what my guild is reduced to under your leadership? Mere banditry?” Warren stormed up into the other Traveller’s personal space. “I built sommat great and you have them robbin’ coaches?”

“Look around you,” Chadwell gestured expansively, taking in the whole glade. “Does this look like mere banditry to you? We’re here to take everything, including your lives.”

“Come on Chad, this isn’t you,” Warren said quietly. “What’s going on?”

“Cuz, I need this. We’ve had some losses recently and the team needs a W. We’re not actually going to kill everyone,” Chad whispered back. He continued much louder. “Lay down your weapons and step away from the bus. If you comply now, we might let you live.”

The windows of the bus blew out in an explosion of glass. YOUR SOUL IS MINE! Peter intoned, clawing through the roof in full Paragon regalia. He shook his wings clear of the ruined wood and stepped onto the remains of the hood, the dark metal of his sabatons shining in the dappled sunlight. He was holding his scythe in one hand and pointing at Chad with the other. 

Warren stepped in front of his cousin and turned to face Peter. “Hold, Peter. This can be resolved without blood. Let me speak to him, he’s my cousin.”

BE QUICK, MY PATIENCE MAY BE INFINITE BUT YOUR LIFE IS NOT.  Peter knelt on the hood, denting the metal cowling.

“As you can see, there’s no win for you here. I suggest you pack up and leave before you find out what a respawn is like for the first time ever,” Warren hissed over his shoulder. 

“What are you talking about?” Chad laughed. “We have an army.”

“We have a Paragon.”

There’s no way anyone could tell Chad had gone pale inside his armour. He was covered head to foot in metal. Yet, something in the way he held himself changed and Peter was sure the guy had just soiled himself a little. Peter himself was revelling in the Paragon state. The icy numbness had once scared him but was now an old friend. He knew he was going to pay for it once the encounter was over but for now he was the strongest entity in the area. While Warren and his cousin debated the pros and cons of getting an entire guild sent to their bind point the short way, Peter let his mind drift to the scythe. In this state he was a perfect version of the Paragon of Death. As close to the Avatar as any player character could get, thus so was his equipment. He laid the weapon across his knee and twisted the grip to swap it to the alt-fire mode. He felt a little zap of static electricity and a tooltip popped in his vision.

Paragon State Active. Configuration set until deactivated or death.

Well, that’s new, he thought. I guess I’ve never tried changing my equipment in this mode before. I guess I don’t need a ranged weapon at the moment anyway. He stood, stepping down off the bonnet of the bus, the springs decompressing with a screech. HAVE YOU MADE YOUR CHOICE? DO YOU LIVE THIS DAY, OR DO YOU DESIRE THE FINAL SLEEP?

“We have come to an understanding, Peter. You can stand down, and maybe help Pham and Dani out of the bus you wrecked?”

“Right boys, pack it up! We’re going hunting. The guy who told us there was a shipment on this bus lied to us! Let’s go make him pay!” Chad made a circling motion in the air over his head. His men faded back into the trees as though they'd never been there.

Peter relaxed, feeling the power drain away and then some. He fell to his knees beside the cowering driver and dragged in huge ragged breaths. "That is almost not worth it," he gasped. "Almost. You alright there?”

The driver peeked over the arms he’d crossed in front of his face. “We’re alive? How?”

Peter flopped onto his back and continued trying to get his breath back. “Warren here knows how to threaten someone. I’m sorry about your bus.”

The driver got up and dusted himself off shakily. As he surveyed the damage to the vehicle he drew in a sharp breath as though to say something but thought better and blew it out in a long sigh. “Well, I’m alive and it’s repairable. The company won’t be happy, but they’d be less happy if they had to send out a search party and drag back the wreck. Thank you.”

With Warren’s help, the driver extricated Pham and Dani from the seats where they’d been pinned when Peter hulked out. They were quite unhappy about the situation and vocal about it, but settled down when the driver agreed to refund their fare in return for saving his life. Pham even helped him get the engine running again.

The remainder of the drive was a lot more windy than the first part had been. Pham complained bitterly every time the breeze caught the page he was reading and flipped it, blaming Peter for the destruction of the roof.

“It’s not busted,” Peter retorted, “it’s a convertible now. People pay a lot for that sort of thing.”

The driver muttered something under his breath about Travellers breaking everything, but kept driving.

Soon the forest gave way to green rolling hills, then to rocky cliffs beside a body of grey, wind tossed water. “We’re nearly at Cliffton. I’ll be stopping outside the city to drop you off and heading straight to the depot. Please check your seat area for anything you might have forgotten. I’d ask you to check the overhead racks as well, but there aren’t any left. Thank you for travelling with SteamCo busses. Enjoy your stay in Cliffton.”

Cliffton the city was a marvel of civil engineering. It probably couldn’t exist in the real world. The buildings were carved into the face of the cliff so rather than spreading horizontally it ran vertically. The manor houses of the rich reached skywards above the city wall, banners waving and snapping in the wind. As the party walked through the gate they found themselves on a parapet that ran the width of the city and looked out over the water. Every hundred meters or so a gondola station interrupted the wall where wide cable cars entered and left from the bottom regularly. People of every imaginable race were transiting the stations as they went about their business uninterrupted. The manors appeared to have their own private elevators and when Peter leaned over the wall he could see the shafts extending all the way down to private docks at water level. The cliff wasn’t perfectly vertical but there was enough overhang that every level down was shaded by the one above. The buildings that recieved the most sun looked to be better decoated and, Peter assumed, owned by the more affluent members of society. The further down the cliff he could see the less impressive the decorations on even the outermost buildings so there was a clear social stratification based on elevation and access. Right down on the waterline wooden docks reached out into the choppy waters and the furthest reaches of those rose and fell with the waves, leading him to believe they were on pontoons instead of affixed to the bedrock.

“First things first,” Warren pointed to a grand building in the very centre of the top level where they stood. “Spawn point.”

The church was orders of magnitude bigger than the one in Averton. Its pristine white marble towers scraped the sky and massive stained glass windows depicted actual epic events. People were wandering in and out much more regularly, and amongst them were clearly Travellers who had respawned recently. These pale looking figures were usually surrounded by a supportive group of friends and made up only a tiny fraction of the crowd.

“You’re going to be a bit less out of place here, I think,” Pham elbowed Peter in the ribs. “But I’d still get a frequent visitor card if I were you. Ten stamps and you get a free coffee.”

Peter side-eyed his friend, unsure if Pham was joking or not. On one hand, Pham’s a dick sometimes. On the other, free coffee maybe? He opened his mouth to ask but Dani cut him off.

“No. No coffee. Come on,” she headed inside with everyone else trailing behind.

Everyone strode straight up to the font that dominated the room and shoved their hands into the water. They read aloud the inscription on the rim to bind their spawn point and were immediately dazzled as the pool lit up like a flashbang. Peter had been expecting it and had his eyes closed and was only mildly blinded, whereas the everyone else in the vicinity was left blinking, groping about and tripping over. Heh, payback’s a bitch.

Peter rounded up his friends before the effect had faded and guided them to a nearby door and used his special key to access Bani’s house. He deposited Warren on the couch and Dani and Pham on the armchairs and sat at the writing desk until they could see clearly again.

“So, we’re here and have our bind point set. What’s next? I know you were whispering to your cousin for a while there Woz.” Peter asked while the rest rubbed their eyes and blinked to clear the spots.

“Good news and bad news,” Warren rumbled. “Good news, we’re still going to the same dungeon. Nothing’s changed there. Bad news, especially for Pham, we’re back on the clock. Same deal as last time.”

“I hate you so much right now,” Pham whined. “I’m going to do a Peter on this one, aren’t I?”

[twiceasfrustrating]

I'm sorry if I already requested this of you I honestly have the memory of a walnut. But can I request headcannons of the boys + dia who find out MC has an emotionally abusive husband? Like fluff with some murder maybe?

thank you

Rating: Mature

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: Gen

Fandom: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!

Characters: Lucifer (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Mammon (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Leviathan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Asmodeus (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Beelzebub (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Belphegor (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Diavolo (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!), Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)

Additional Tags: abusive relationship mentioned, some are a bit murdery, I don't know how to write fluff for such a situation but I tried

A/N: If you are in an abusive situation in the USA and need to speak to someone, please call 1-800-799-7233. If you cannot call, you can also text “START” to 88788. If it is safe for you, you can also go to the website directly. Abuse takes many forms, but it is always about control.

Feel free to add the numbers/contact for other countries if you have them.

Lucifer

He got upset at MC once and they flinched when he yelled and they started apologizing like there was no tomorrow. That was how he found out something was wrong. They wouldn’t say anything, but he could tell that something was deeply wrong. Perhaps he had never noticed before the formation of their pact how MC shuddered around him whenever he got upset, but now he did.

He is very careful not to yell again and when he does he is quick to lower his voice the second MC shows distress, reassuring them that he is not angry at them and would not harm them. It sounds almost hollow after how he acted when they originally met, but he means it.

There was one time MC dropped a dish on the floor while cooking and it broke, spilling hot food everywhere. They started picking up the pieces in a hurry, not even paying attention to how the hot shards burned and cut up their hands.

Lucifer was quick to pick them up off the ground and tend to the fresh injuries, all while they kept apologizing and saying that they would clean it up as soon as they could and saying they would make something else. Lucifer forbade them from doing either and cleaned the mess himself. He did that a lot. Took care of their ‘mistakes’ and cared for them. They would almost believe he wasn't the same terrifying man they had first met.

It takes a long time for MC to get used to their new relationship with Lucifer and once they do they are far more comfortable and less skittish.

He is not pressuring the story out of them. He can wait, as difficult as it is, for them to open up. However, he is no fool. He knows who is to blame, and that man should be very afraid should Lucifer and he ever meet.

Mammon

MC always spoke so well of their husband when they first met the brothers. Mammon was actually jealous and wished MC would talk about him that way. They would always say how kind their husband was and how he loved them and how he wanted the best for them. It sounded like some kind of cheesy romance novel.

Things started to get weird though when he and MC started to get even closer. He would invite them out, only to hear “I don’t think my husband would like that” or “I shouldn’t be alone with you”. It was weird the first time, but it quickly became a pattern. A very worrying pattern. Mammon knew abuse when he saw it. He was the family butt monkey and a witch punching bag, after all.

The difference is that he’s a fallen angel that is used to such treatment and, as a demon, the things done to him do very little in the long run. Humans are far more fragile though; their minds, bodies, and hearts. And then Mammon started to hate MC’s husband with a passion that could not be matched.

He cared less about making that bastard pay and more about taking care of MC. Such treatment can ruin a person, especially good people like MC. He would do anything to show them that they deserved better than that man, whatever that eventually meant.

Leviathan

He and MC have a little too much in common for his taste. It is actually almost disgusting how little self-worth they seem to have, but he can also see how that was trained into them.

They play down their worth a lot: “It’s nothing”, “It could be better”, “I failed again”, etc. They never say anything positive about themself. They are really good at picking out their flaws, but almost incapable of pointing out their merits.

It goes against everything Levi believes in, but he has to start praising them since they won’t praise themself. He likes hanging out with them, the stuff they make is nice, they are a really quick learner. It feels weird to praise someone, but it’s nice to see MC start to feel a little better about all the things they do.

Although, he also has the mild thought of showing MC’s husband that there are more terrifying things in the world than the horrors a human is capable of. After all, Levi has seen the monsters that dwell in the deep; he is one of those monsters and there is a reason humans fear the darkest depths.

Satan

There are some wonderful upsides to being the avatar of wrath. Normally, Satan wouldn't be so crass as to give into them, but sometimes humanity is just so vile that he can't help himself.

One of those upsides is a mind filled to the brim with the instinctual desire to rip and tear anything he can get his hands on to pieces. It's an instinct he fights off constantly with his centuries of training and self-discovery, but just this once he doesn't mind becoming the beast he was born as.

MC's husband squeals like a stuck pig throughout the entire night, only the winds, spiders, and Satan being able to hear and appreciate the sound. And appreciate it he does, until the screaming stops and his hands are drenched with blood.

He really needs to get himself cleaned off before he sees MC again, otherwise they will be terrified. He needs to look his best when they come running to him worried about their missing husband. It’s sad how much they worry about him despite everything.

Asmodeus

MC was always so calm and docile when he wanted to spend time with them. He didn’t really get it at first but it was easier to dress them up and take them out, so he didn’t question it. At least, not until someone (read: Solomon) not so subtly pointed out that it is unusual for someone to be so passive, almost to the point of being doll-like.

Asmo didn’t believe it at first. How could anyone treat someone as sweet as MC so cruelly, especially someone that is supposed to love them? But from that day onward, his eyes were opened up and he started to notice things.

The way they didn’t put forth their own opinions and let him take the lead on everything, how they stuck close to him when they both went out, the subtle way their fingers reached out then drew back when they liked something.

“Do you like it?” He would ask and their response was “do you?”

It was so difficult to get them to start putting their own wants and desires above what they thought he’d like. When they showed interest in something, he would fawn all over it. If they liked something, he liked it too. He would buy them things they even glanced casually at, told them they were worthwhile and lovely, anything that other man would never say to them.

He tore them down so completely, but Asmo would work tirelessly to build them back up.

Beelzebub

He is the softest man in the world, and sometimes MC just lets things slip out. He’s very easy to open up to and they don’t think about what they say. He was the first person that they opened up to about what was happening to them.

Suffice it to say, Beel was shocked when they mentioned how terrified they were for the exchange program to end. Despite everything that they had been through over the past year, they didn’t want to go back.

Beel had only felt so powerless one other time in his life. He couldn’t go with them to protect them and they couldn’t stay in the Devildom forever to stay safe. It was painfully cruel just how much he couldn’t help them.

All he could do was hold them and listen to them get everything off of their chest, dreading the day that the exchange program would end.

MC has to hurry up and learn how to summon him, because he wants to keep them safe from that awful situation. He would never allow another person it the world to hurt them again.

Belphegor

Belphie likes exactly one human in the three realms and every other one is none of his concern. Or, they wouldn’t be his concern if it weren’t for the fact that the one human he cared about was the victim of this particular instance.

He’s not like some of his other brothers. He doesn’t do comfort and he isn’t the best at torture, prefering to get everything over with quickly so he doesn’t have to expend all the extra energy. But, for such a special occasion, he is more than willing to put in the effort.

Humans really do create their own worst fears. Their minds run a mile a minute and they have the strangest way of finding how their own terrors can overpower what little defenses they have.

He may not be able to touch MC’s husband, but he can certainly return every slight against his favorite human. Long, sleepless nights wracked with unending horrors that only that man can truly appreciate.

All the while, he will gladly hold MC when their own nightmares overtake them, trying to put their mind at ease for just this moment. How he wished that his powers could control the waking world as well as their dreams...

Diavolo

“Don’t go back.” It was the first time Diavolo had brought up the idea. It was one he had been considering for a long time, knowing that it was extreme given that MC was a human and had to live in the human realm. However, he couldn’t live with himself knowing the kind of life MC would return to once they left.

The shouting, the insults, discarding everything MC liked because their husband doesn’t care for it… Diavolo would never feel right knowing he sent someone dear to him back there.

He had the means to help them get literally anywhere but back to that man. Diavolo could help set them free from that life, even if they didn’t want to stay in the Devildom. He knew MC would have the support of everyone they had met.

All they had to do was say yes and he would move the Devildom itself to get them out of there.

[hikarimiyanaga]

Loving You (Part 2)

Part 1

Because I just realized how short the first part was... and despite being hell week for me I'm going to give an update because I expected this fic to be just under 10,000 words but now it's double that amount... I did not plan nor expect this... so here we are! I had a solid plotline... and everything just kinda derived off that.

Oh well, I love Wanda anyways.

Warning: Omegaverse. Beta!Reader x Omega!Wanda Maximoff. Curse Words.

Taglist : @mitchiesdungeon

You yawn as you read the last chapter of your latest novel. Your phone pings and you furrow your eyebrows… Who knows your number? You haven’t given it to anyone ove-

“The goddamn bookmark.” You groan as you remember. Right. That bookmark was pretty important to you until high school that you’ve written your number on it. You finish your novel before getting your phone. It was an unknown number.

Unknown: Pretty smooth.

You: I forgot that my number was there.

You save her number nonetheless.

Wanda: Oh. Still. This works out for me.

You: Why?

Wanda: I get to talk to you even if you avoid me.

You sigh.

You: You still want to hang out with me?

Wanda: Desperately. I love talking to you.

You blush and gulp. You decide to tell her the truth.

You: I love talking to you too.

Wanda: *Heart eyes*

Wanda: See? Let’s eat lunch tomorrow.

You: No.

Wanda: Why not?

You: People will avoid you.

Wanda: Don’t care.

You: You should.

Wanda: Why should I?

Wanda groans in frustration. Why were you so stubborn? Why can’t you just fall for her charms?

You: Just because.

You: Don’t try to eat with me tomorrow.

You: I won’t be in the cafeteria.

You: Goodnight.

You charge your phone and sigh. You like her. You really do but you can’t drag her into the shitty treatment of a Beta. Moreover, she was an Omega. Omegas tended to treat Betas more harshly than Alphas did. You shudder as you think of last year. You clutch your chest as you cry silently. Never again.

-

You yawn as you trudge through the halls again… maybe reading a long novel into the night wasn’t such a good idea. You go to your locker and get your books for the day.

“You still haven’t told me why.” You close your locker in shock and flinch as Wanda frowns at you. You sigh and run a hand through your hair. “Did I wake you up last night?”

“No. I was reading a novel.” You answer quickly and walk away.

“Come on, tell me.” She follows you and you groan as you drag her into a bathroom.

“It’s because you’re an Omega!” You shout and grit your teeth. “The people here will eat you alive if you hang out with me.” You say more softly and run a hand through your hair. “The Omegas will think that you’ve betrayed them and settled with a lowly Beta.”

“I don-“ She reasons but you glare at her.

“Stop being a stubborn idiot! Do you want to get bullied!?” She stops as she sees the sadness in your eyes.

“They bullied you?” She whispers and reach out to you but you pull away as if she’s too hot and you just got burned. You take a deep breath and hide your trembling hand.

“Just stop trying to hang out with me. It won’t do you any good.” You leave her and she clutches her chest. What have they done to you?

-

You eat alone on the bleachers and read.

“Here you are.” You flinch and look down on the voice. It was Pietro. What could he possibly want? Wanda was the only one wanting to hang out with you. The only one trying to be your friend. What was her twin brother doing here? At your hiding place that you chose so she would finally get the clue and leave you alone.

“Wha-“ He hops on and sits besides you. What’s with the Maximoff siblings and never bothering to ask for permission? You glare at him and stop reading. Damn it, you were at a really good part too.

“You’re the Beta that my sister wants to hang out with.” You gulp and nod in confirmation. “She’s avoiding me and was trying to find you earlier.”

“Did she eat yet?” You ask, worry settling in your stomach. Where is she? He sighs and settles in besides you.

“I don’t know.” You stand and get your bag. You stand and jump down from the bleachers. “Where are you-“

“I’ll find her!” You shout and run away from him. What the hell was she thinking?

-

It took at least 15 minutes but you found her reading on a secluded bench. You sigh as you approach her.

“Why are you so stubborn?” You ask and she closes her book.

“I’m not stubborn, I just don’t want to be with Pietro and his new friends.” She looks at you and your ragged appearance. Did you come looking for her? She smiles at the thought of you running around everywhere just for her.

“Aren’t they your friends too?”

“No. Not when they judge someone based on their second gender.” You sigh and sit besides her. You hold out a sandwich. She smiles then takes it. She takes a bite of it and beams. You get your book from your bag and read.

“We can hang out.” She turns to you with shining eyes. You sigh. “Only in places like this or the-“

“Library.” You both say and you hum. You notice that there were some sauce on the corner of her lips so you wipe it with your thumb. Wanda gulps as you lick it up. She blushes even more when you look at her.

“Stop being a messy eater.” You settle in the seat. Wanda just stares for a few more seconds before eating again.

-

You were in your last AP Class when Wanda texts you. You sigh in relief as you don’t hear your phone ping. Thank god, you remembered to turn it into silent mode earlier. You discreetly open it.

Wanda: I’m in the library, where are you?

You discreetly reply to her.

You: Still in class. Syl.

You hide your phone in your bag quickly when you saw the teacher glance at your direction.

“Miss Y/LN?” You answer the question of the teacher and she nods as you gave the correct one.

It took at least half an hour more before the class ended. You were packing up your things when someone hovers over you.

“So you really do take all of the AP Classes.” You look up and gulp. It was Angel. “You have more than me too.” You nod.

“I-I have to go.” You quickly leave and go to the library. You go to the table that you occupied yesterday and Wanda was there. She was reading again and you sit besides her.

“Hey.” She greets and you hum.

“What are you reading?”

“One of your recommendations from the bookmark.”

“Which one?”

“Digital Fortress.”

“Ah. Dan Brown.”

“Yeah. Most of his works are in here.”

“That’s because I got addicted to his works at one point.”

“So what’s your favorite genre?”

“Definitely mystery and thriller. I read most investigation cases.”

“True crime?”

“Yep. I love watching their documentaries too.” She smiles and you get a book from your backpack.

“How about you? What’s your favorite genre?”

“Definitely Sci-fi.”

“Ah. Then you’ve read The Giver?”

“Yeah. You have?”

“Yep.” Before you knew it, the two of you have a two-hour discussion on the book.

-

You were laughing with Wanda when you notice the clock on the wall and pale.

“Shit.” You quickly stuff your novel into your bag.

“What’s wrong?”

“Come on.” You both get outside and you sigh. “Mom is going to get angry if I’m late.”

“Oh. Okay. Sorr-“

“Don’t be, It was fun hanging out with you.” Wanda beams at that and you give her a smile. “Do you have any ride? Or should I walk you home?” Wanda crosses her arms and raises an eyebrow at you.

“What? Because I’m an Omega?” You roll your eyes and huff.

“No. Because you’re my friend, you idiot. I worry if I leave you here alone and your house is too far away.”

“What if my house is close?” You smirk and turn away from her.

“Then I’ll be goi-“ She grabs your bag and pulls you. You turn to her with a smile and she flicks your forehead.

“Idiot.” You rub your forehead.

“So what is it?”

“I’m waiting for Pietro to finish his Track and Field training. He’s my ride.”

“Oh yeah. Your twin is an omega too, right?”

“Yep.”

“Any other siblings then?”

“No. Just us two.”

“How do you handle heats then?”

“Why?”

“Just curious. Both of my older sisters are Alphas and Mom always take care of Ma so I-“ You blush and look away. “I don’t know that much about Omegas.”

“Ah. We typically use a jacket of dad’s and drink suppressants.” You scrunch your face at that.

“How many times do you take it?”

“Typically, twice a day but if it gets bad then thrice, if it’s really bad we double the amount.”

“Damn, that’s a lot of chemicals in your body.” She shrugs.

“The price of a heat.”

“What about your scent?”

“My dad’s clothing.”

“Ah. That’s it?”

“Typically, yeah. Why?”

“Nothing. Just sometimes I can smell some Omegas that have heat even though they’re already wearing an Alpha’s clothing.”

“Whoa. Betas can’t usually smell them.” You shrug.

“Wanda!” Pietro calls out and you two turn at him.

“And that’s my cue.”

“See you again tomorrow?” You smile at her and nod.

“Send me a text again.” You wave her goodbye then leave.

When you get home, your mom is waiting with her arms crossed and you gave a nervous laugh.

“I’m home?”

“Where have you been? It’s-“

“Zale.” You Ma calls out and both you and your mom turns to her. “Don’t pressure Y/N.”

“I was hanging out with a friend and lost track of time. Sorry.”

“A friend?”

“Y-yeah.”

“Alright, then. Go get changed and come back in fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks, Ma.” You quickly go upstairs, and Dahlia sits beside Zale. They look at each other and sigh in relief.

“She’s making friends.”

“Thank god, I thought she would be a loner for all of her high school days.”

-

You sit down beside Zale and Dahlia gives you a plate of food.

“Thanks, Ma.” You smile at her and she gives you a pat on the head.

“So, who’s your friend?” Your mom asks after a few minutes and you stop. Dahlia hits Zale but Zale just shushes her.

“What?”

“You’re friend that you hung out with?”

“Ah. Her name’s Wanda. She’s new in town and a sophomore just like me.”

“That’s good, Y/N.” You nod and Zale pats your head.

“She sounds like a nice friend.” You grin at them.

“She is!”

-

You’ve been watching a docuseries again when your phone rings.

“Y/N?” You sit and furrow your brows.

“Val? Why are-“

“Can you come pick me up? Please?” You assure her that you will and you wear your jacket. You can’t help but worry, why was she there? What happened? Why did she want you to pick her up?

“Where are you?”

“Club Prestige.” The defeat in her voice only makes you quicken your actions.

“Okay. I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

“Thank you.” You hang up and get your mom’s car keys. Both of your parents are watching a movie and looks at you. You inform them before leaving.

“I’m picking Val up.”

“Why? What happened?”

“I don’t know either. I’ll go to her.”

“Drive safely, Y/N, please.”

“Okay. Thanks!” You quickly go to the garage and open the gate. You get inside of your mom’s car and drive after the gate opens up. You got to Club Prestige in under 8 minutes.

“Val? Whe-“ You hear soft sobbing from an alley and see your sister sitting on the ground while hugging her knees. “Val?” She looks up to you and sniffles.

“Y/N?” You kneel besides her and nod.

“It’s me.” She hugs you and wails.

“S-she was kissing another girl, Y/N. I-I thought she wa-was my soulmate.” She stutters and you rub her back to comfort her.

-

You drive your sister back home after calming her down. Your parents, thankfully, have gone to bed already. And even though, you technically still have school tomorrow, you decide to stay up late to comfort Valerie.

“You want anything? Ice cream? Cake?”

“Oreos and strawberry ice cream? Do we have them?”

“I’ll look and even if we don’t I’ll bike to get some.”

“Really?”

“Of course.” You smirk at her. “You’re my sister, Val and I happen to take broken heart seriously.” She gives you a smile and a nod.

“Thank you.” You go to the refrigerator and sigh in relief. The two things she wanted are both there and while you really would ride your bike to get them, you preferred to just stay inside. You get them and two spoons. You give her them and get the remote.

“The Owl House?”

“Please.” She gives you a grateful smile then turns to the tv. You spend all night marathoning the series.

-

“Y/N.” Zale shakes you to no avail. Both you and Valerie slept on the living room. “Little one! You still have school in an hour.” That woke you up and you look around, confused at your surroundings. This isn’t your room.

“Honey, you’re in the living room. You slept here with Val.” Dahlia fixes Valerie’s position on the couch and you stretch your body.

“What time is it?”

“6 am.”

“Okay. I’ll take a shower then.” You get up and Dahlia goes to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. Zale cleans up the mess that you and Valerie left on the coffee table.

“Morning, little one.” You give a kiss to Dahlia’s cheek as you move pass her and sit on the chair besides Zale. She gives you a plate of pancakes and you thank her before eating.

“Sis still isn’t awake?” You look at the living room and can faintly see her arm.

“Afraid not. She’s going to miss her classes.” You scrunch up your face.

“It’s Thursday, Ma, she doesn’t have classes today.” Your parents look at you and you raise an eyebrow at them. “Did you two forget?” They look away and blush while you smirk at them. Dahlia sits beside you and pat your head. You finish eating breakfast and get your jacket.

“Bye, Mom, Ma!”

“Bye, Y/N!” Your sister stirs but stay asleep. You leave your house and go to school.

-

You were getting books from your locker when a voice interrupts you.

“Whoa! You smell like an Alpha!” You glare at Jason, one of the Betas who are friendly with you and would sometimes talk to you. “Good for you, Y/LN!” Wanda frowns at that. You really do smell like an Alpha. You did spend the whole night wearing it while you were with Valerie.

“Asshole. It’s my sister’s scent.” You close your locker and Wanda sighs in relief at your words.

“But we don’t get heats?”

“So? Can’t I spend time with my sister without it being her protecting my scent?” Jason holds up his hands in surrender and you roll your eyes. You get to your first class.

-

Lunch rolls around and you buy some breads and a couple of juices before going into the courtyard. You head to the secluded bench and she was there reading.

“Have you eaten yet?” Wanda looks at you and smiles. She shakes her head and you sigh. You give her half of the things you bought. She thanks you and she puts her book in her bag before getting her wallet.

“How much do I owe you?” You raise an eyebrow as you open up the bread you bought.

“For what?”

“Lunch?” You give her a flick to the forehead and sigh. She rubs the spot you flicked before hiding her wallet.

“Nothing. Go buy tomorrow.”

“And you’ll wait here?” She asks with shining eyes and you sigh.

“Yes.” You eat with her and she smiles.

-

Classes pass by and you meet Wanda again in the library.

“Hey.” You greet as you sit on the chair besides her. She looks at you and catches your sister’s scent… how long will it last?

“How long does an Alpha’s scent last?” She asks and you shrug.

“No idea but as long as someone’s scent isn’t too overbearing or too much then it can last long.” You see her look at your jacket. “Can you still smell my sis?”

“Yes. It’s faint now, unlike this morning.” You hum.

“Betas’ scents are like that. Not overbearing or too much.” She nods.

“I like yours much better though.” You gulp and blush at her words.

“What?”

“Your scent? It’s more calming and soothing to me.” You get even redder. Nobody has ever told you that. Hell, most Omegas and Alphas ignore you because your scent is just average. Nothing special like theirs. Wanda is the first one to ever compliment it.

“T-thanks.” She smiles as you clear your throat and read your book. You really are falling for her charms.

-

A/N:

Hell week is coming after me. Send help.

After I die from my finals maybe someone can summon my soul to hopefully finish this.

Jokes aside... I had another motivation to post this... since one of my favorite authors just followed me and... my heart died? I just really love their stories then they followed and I just.

Thank you, really.

[zuffer-weird-girl]

Notice me.... talk to me.

Sometimes. You cursed your boyfriend's ego.

It just could be so incredibly difficult to just deal with him at some point...

No matter how exausted or just being proven wrong, Chisaki Kai stumped his foot down to just prove for those who doubted or even, with some sorta of courage, talked back to him how stupid and dumb they were. Because he was right. He knew what was best for him, whose he consider dear to his heart and even the world itself. It didn't matter if blood had to be sheed or people to get hurt. He got what he wanted as always would.

You weren't excluded from this harsh treatment either...

Kai and you rarely fight over something. The man absolutely hated arguments that included yelling or some sort of physical combat although it was necessary with some... imcopentent subbordinates of his.

Yet it didn't mean how cruel your boyfriend could be from only just using words. Especially when he had a problem on his bussiness with the Shie Hassaikai.

For your doom, today was one of those days...

"I'm sure if you just took a couple of hours even to just relax and forget about your goal for one minute you would be less tense." You tried to coach your boyfriend but he only glared at you like you were an arrogant child throwing a tantrum.

"And who are to demand things from me (Y/n)?" He spoke through gritted teeth, you could tell even if he was with a mask over his face.

"Im.. Im just trying to help." You murmured lowly, hurt evident on your features.

"Do I look like i need help from you? You cant even walk alone on a city without being glued to my arm on being guarded by the Shie Hassaikai workers." He spoke on a manner of fact tone before giving his back to you to walk back to his desk.

But you tried one less approach...

"Kai... please. I can't- I don't even recognise you anymore. Please just try to listen to me-" you tried to touch his shoulder only to gasp when his rough and covered hands grabbed onto your wrist harshly and roughly pinned you to the wall as he stared with a murder gaze down at you while tightening his grip on your wrist.

"I won't listen to you. And you know why?" He whispered with venom as he etightened even more his grip on you to the point where it actually started to hurt. "Because comparing me and to yourself dearest, you're just a clingly brat trying to distract me to your own enjoyment."

"K-Kai stop it It hu-" you whimpered and gasped in fear as he slammeed a fist on the side of your head.

"I wasn't done talking!" He roared in your face as tears started to form in your eyes " cant even listen and do something right now?!"

"Kai please-" you whimpered and your eyes widenes when you noticed his glove on the hand he was holding your pulsefading away.

His quirk.

He was about to use his quirk on you.

"Kai calm down-!" You cried and hives started to appear on his face.

"Now you want me to calm down after irritating me right you useless-"

"LET GO OF ME CHISAKI!" You screamed but at the shock of you using his surname and shouting... Chisaki did ended up using his quirk on you.

His eyes widened as you shouted and clench your bleeding handless arm. Shit... what had he done...?

He almost stuttered for you to calm down and when he tried to get close to you to fix you screamed again.

"NO! GET AWAY FROM ME! STAY BACK!" ignoring your pleas he grabbed onto your arm as you trashed and screamed on his grasp as his eyes burned and finally fixing what he had done... physically at least.

Just when your hand was back you pushed yourself away from and falling on the ground as you stared up at him with wide fearfull eyes...

He felt so ridiculous and angered with himself at the sign of the one who trupy loved him staring back at him not like a man, but as a horrific monster...

"A-Angel I-" he crouched down and extended a hand towards your direction but soon returning it when you flinched at the montion. "... I'm.. (Y/n).. I.. I truly didn't want it-"

"Y-Yeah.." you whimperex while carefully getting up and maintaning a dostance from him "But you did..."

"(Y/n) wait just listen to-!" He stopped walking towards you as you rushed to the exit of his office, using his door as a shield.

"Kai not now..." you muttered and slammed the door shut. Leaving with the weight of guilt enough to bury him on the ground.

It pained him to hear the hurried footsteps and sobs fadind away and knowing he was the cause of it.

.

.

.

The day has been awful. He shoudl have listened to you and take a break... maybe then you would be by his side right now...

He walked like a deadman towards his room and sighed at the sign of the door closed before knocking. No one answered...

Allowing himself, he opened the door to spy that... you weren't there. Your pillow was the only thing missing and it let him with unknow pain on his chest as he closed the door.

He asked for Chrono and Mimic forbyour location ... but none of them opened their mouths. Those two were loyal to him but they also didn't want to see a quarrel in the night time. By the stain on Chrono's coat he could tell that you cried on him just minutes ago.

He frowned at the thought but couldn't just punish his friend for actually being a decent man... unlike him. After all, when was the last time he let you cry on his shoulder?

... when was the last time he actually gave you attention..?

He morned at his flaws before widening his eyes at seeing a covered lump on teh couch as his feet immediately dragged him.

He exhaled in relief at seing your sleeping face on there but immediately frowned at the sign of dried tears on it..

Crouching down by your side he frowned, carresing your cheek with his gloved thumb... but the mere touch was enough to rouse you from your sleep as you let out a scared yelp and scotted away... afraid of him.

That hurted more than that any punchs of miss treating he ever received on his life.

"I'm... Did I wake you?" He murmured before sitting on tge couch, legs spread as his arms rested on it.

You stared at him for a minute before averting your gaze from him to the floor as you hugged your legs closer to your chest.

"I... assume you're need some time still after what... happened." He frowned when you just blinked, a broken and saddened look on your (E/c)'s eyes as you carresed the wrist where he had injured.

"... I didn't wanted it. I never wanted this to happen." He admitted with a pain on his chest that it hurted even to talk... but your silence was killing him.

"Won't you say anything?" He looked at you with expectant eyes "Scream? Yell?... anything?"

You got up and faced away from him as he blinked.

"... I'm going to sleep in the guest's room."

"Sounds... fair." He sighed in despair as he watched you walk away and the distant sound of the door shutting.

Burring his face on his face he sighed. A headache coming along with the burn on his eyes.

What had he done..?

.

.

.

He tried many aproachs for 2 weeks. And nothing seemed to be changing anytime soon.

You didn't looked at his face and only answered him with one or two words if he was lucky enough. He couldn't even eat in peace without noticing you just made your plate and leave, with some excuse of cleaning up later.

That wasn't the problem...

When he tried flowers or even your favorite food you just declined with a shook of your head and gave the flowers to some epderly woman whoose aold them.

Why wont you accept it?

He heard rumors of the Hassaikai workers that they thought that you only didn't break up with him for fear of your life... or even that he wouldn't mind killing you just to find another.

What did you and them thought of him to say those things?

Ah. Of course.

A monster.

.

.

.

He aproached silently the living room where he found your reading. You soon casting him a glance before closing your novel and moving to get out.

"How long this will continue?" The words are harsh, but the tone of his voice was broken, pleading for you to just end this suffering.

You stopped right by his side, not spating him a glance as you furrowed your eyebrowss at the ground and clinging to your book.

"Will you leave?" He asked sorrowfully before you sighed.

"... if you ever lay a hand on me again. I will do worst than just leaving Chisaki." You spoke harsly and he actually felt fear with those words.

It was almost commical. Him, leader of the yakusa and with a dangerous quirk, fearing his quirkless girlfriend.

The day this happened conpleted one month....

.

.

.

He saw your messages.

Family and friends of yours didn't know he was a yakusa. But it was explicit on various texts that the only advice they were given you about the relationship was leaving him.

His heart actually clenched at it. Trembling hand holding the cellphone as hot drops of tears fell from his eyes.

He did fucked up...

.

.

.

The presents only increased. You felt good enough to eat again and even chattered more happipy around the precepts and with your therapist.

Everything was great... except for your current situation with your boyfriend.

You knew Kai had never the intention to use his quirk. Anger and exhaustion could inflect on someone's quirk and made them do mistakes they never meant to. But you were still avoiding him due to the trauma of having your hand literraly being overhauled and the hurtfull words he said.

That was the first time Chisaki took his anger out on you... yet you were still petulant about not giving any of your attention.

The only comfort you noticed he had was that you didn't flinched anymore when he moved or try it to get closer. Key word: try.

Of course you noticed he was deeply affected to it. To the point that even Rappa out of all people came to you to just ask to talk to him was alarming.

You were walking on the hallway before you made a confused sound at Chrono whoose whistle and mentioned with his fingers to make you come over where he was.

"What's the problem?" You asked and furrowed your eyebrows at seeing your suitcase on his other hand "why are you with my-?"

"Overhaul asked me to pick. He wanted to know if you would like to move." Your eyes widened at his words.

"Move? Is he kicking me out?"

"No." He shook his head before handling you a paper where it showed you all pictures of a luxury apartment "He just wants to know if you would be interested on living there instead."

"Huh..." you frowned at the paper before you lift your gaze at Chrono sighing and taking off his mask.

"He is tearing apart (Y/n)." You frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"Kai is conplicated. We all know. But I swear to you i never saw him like that. During this three months, he only worked at his bedroom. Didn't eat. Didn't clean... you see what I mean?"

You frowned even more... was he just as much hurting as you were?

"He is torn. Basically... it just activated a past trauma of his what he did."

"Past trauma? What the-" you stopped when he patted your shoulder.

"Not important. So? You want to or not?"

"... not entirely but just a few things." You mourned on your decision as he nodded,putting his mask back and going into Chisaki's office.

.

.

.

"... i see. Take her there."

"Kai come on... you guys at least can talk to each other-"

"No Chronostasis." He froze at the broken tone of voice of hsi friend as he stared with a empty look at the window. "She deserves a place of her own. Living with me would only make her worst."

"What about you then?" He chuckled sadly before rolling his eyes to see Chrono.

"I am just simply living through what a monster deserve."

....

(A/n):phew! Just came back with a amgsty scenario! Let me know if you guys want a second part of it! It just got way too big for one post.

[mithrilwren]

I really, really wanted to contribute something to Essek Week​, but unfortunately with two essays and a novel chapter due by Monday, I didn’t have the time or mental energy to write anything new. Cue me remembering that I’d actually started working on an Essek-centric shadowgast Pirate!AU last summer, that never saw the light of day! Though I did a whole bunch of research for it, summer ended before I could get farther than the first couple chapters. Still, I’m very fond of the premise, and I’d like to finish it one day. I can’t guarantee I will (life’s too busy to commit myself to another Big Fic Project atm) but in the meantime, here’s a little taste in the form of the first chapter.

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

For @essek-week Day 7: AU

Courts of Silk (Chapter 1)

Essek startled from his trance to the crackle of blistering thunder overhead.

Mind bled of all drowsiness in an instant, he unfolded his legs and slid off the berth, drifting to the center of the room and tilting his ear towards the boards above. 

A storm…  but the skies were meant to be clear for days, and he trusted Avus to know it. Could the weather have turned so–

Boom.

Essek’s eyebrows flew up as the deck visibly lurched below his feet. 

Not thunder.

Cannon fire.

More sounds now, hurried ones – an erratic tempo of feet pounding through the corridor outside his little room, the floorboards creaking dully under the weight of the crew scrambling over the deck above. He flinched as a louder noise pierced through the commotion: the rattling of a heavy fist falling against the door of his cabin, hard enough to shake the wooden frame. 

“We’ve been boarded!” Zel’ra’s guttural shout startled him out of his confused stupor, and he flew to the door and flung it open. The quartermaster stood outside, her snarling jaw dripping with whitish battle foam, the kind that bugbears of Rosohna so seldom have occasion to sport within city walls. “Come on, magic boy, time for you to earn your– Shit!”

Then she was gone, and Essek was left staring dumbly at the empty corridor, as Zel’ra raced back the way she came. A moment later, there was a yelp, and the grisly crack of metal hitting bone. Then there was no sound at all, save the rocking of the ocean’s pulse against the hull, and the thump of confident, unfamiliar footsteps, coming closer and closer to his open door.

He had only a few moments to make his decision. The fight might still be going on above deck, but if intruders had already made it below, there was little hope of a favorable outcome for the crew of the Barren Bow. He hadn’t thought the Empire would be brazen enough to attack a diplomatic ship in open waters, but there were soldiers of all ilks on the open sea, and no government to hold them to account so far from land. He would not put it past a Dwendalian crew to sight a Dynasty flag on the horizon and decide to take the matter of revenge in their own hands. If so, there was no telling what treatment they might expect at the hands of their attackers. Rage was rarely tamed by abstract rules of engagement, and he doubted anyone would care to ask what the nature of their mission was, once the killing began.

But perhaps…

Quickly, Essek drew aside his sleeve and materialized the leather–bound contents of his wristpocket into his hands. His spellbook lay beside precious components in their embroidered fold, and there, at the bottom of the pile: the folio. He whispered a quiet word and the paper folded apart, revealing its damning – and perhaps, in the right hands, lifesaving – contents. 

The letters. 

If the tides were so unfavorable that he could not fight, perhaps that might be enough to–

He vanished the whole affair back into the ether as two shadows fell across the door. 

From the darkness of the hallway, two figures stepped over the threshold. In front was a young woman: human, with swarthy skin made darker still by the weathering burn of long days at sea. Her hands were tucked beneath bare arms and her hip turned out to an unconcerned jaunt, adorned by a sash of deep blue. Behind her, and looming so tall that she had to hunch to fit through the frame of the door, was a giant of a woman. Taller even than Zel’ra, her bare shoulders glistening with rippling muscles and sweat, pale as moonlight – or as the steely glint of the broadsword at her back. The younger woman swept him over with piercing eyes, her confident grin not quite masking the focused gaze beneath. Though she bore no weapons, Essek could feel the stain of threat in every taut sinew of her body. He held still, waiting to see who would make the first move.

Her eyes finally paused, centered on the floor beneath his feet, and her grin dropped into something more like a startled ‘oh’. Too late, he realized his mistake – that his levitation, as natural and instinctive as standing on his own two feet, had just given him away. 

“Mage!” she sputtered, and her hand was gripping his arm and twisting it behind his back before he even realized she’d moved. Essek dropped the levitation spell, hoping to get enough leverage from the sudden height difference to slip out of her grasp, but before he could so much as shuffle to the left, the taller woman was at his right, clutching his other arm with a grip strong enough to break bone. 

“Shit,” the first woman spat as she stepped back, allowing the second to take both of his arms into custody. “Who the fuck did we just board?”

Essek kept silent, staring at her, searching for any sign of weakness and finding less than nothing. If he had just had his hands free for a moment longer… but that didn’t matter now. There weren’t many spells without a somatic component at his disposal, and cantrips wouldn’t save his neck, should the giantess move quicker to snap it than he could speak. 

Without a means of immediate escape, he looked next for any way to identify his captors. They were human, but their loose, subdued dress – for the younger woman, a vest of blue cotton, the other, a braided grey tunic, and frayed ribbons in both their hair – was nothing like the silver and crimson finery of the Righteous Brand. 

If not from the Empire, who were these people? Hired thugs? Mercenaries?

“Are there more of you skulking down here?” 

He didn’t ask the woman to clarify, though he wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking. More drow? Yes, but he was not about to reveal the nature of the delegation travelling under his protection to her. More mages? No. As always, he had convinced the Bright Queen that his effort alone would be sufficient. For the first time in a very long time, he wished he’d been a little more conservative in estimating his own skills. Given the current situation, someone else’s power at his back might actually be welcome, rather than distracting. 

Her burning gaze made it clear that he had to say something, and soon, but for once, the right words did not come. The truth did not matter: he knew that any unfavorable answer would be taken as a lie.

Still, Essek would not panic. The only way to regain control of the situation was by carefully gathering information, finding something that he could use to shift the balance of power at a more advantageous moment. That was his particular specialty. 

“I do not know,” he answered coolly. “For I do not know who is above and below deck at all hours of the day. I can only speak for myself.”

“Beau! Fjor– fuck– Captain Tusktooth wants you on deck!” A new voice, its timbre high and grating, like glass against cold iron, echoed from around the corner. The woman – Beau, he filed away – turned her head and shouted back out the door. 

“Just a second, we’ve got one more!” Then, “Tell him to get Caleb over here, we’ve got a goddamn mage to deal with!” 

The giantess at his back leaned down, so close that her dreaded locks nestled amidst the silver chains that hung from tip to base of his pointed ear. “You aren’t going to give us any trouble, are you?” she murmured, and despite every ounce of training he’d undergone for exactly this sort of intimidation, he still couldn’t help the way he shivered at her dark tone. There was a deep quality to her voice that sung of violence, for violence’s sake, and though he wasn’t yet truly afraid, he had no wish to provoke her.

“How could I?” Essek gently flexed his arms in her grasp: not enough to challenge, but enough to reassure her of his helplessness.

Her lips curled back, and… yes. There was a little fear gathering there, in the back of his throat. A good kind of fear – the prudent kind. It would keep him alert, and focused, and ready to strike back when the moment was right. 

When she started pushing him forward, he followed her lead willingly, and the two of them shadowed Beau into the corridor and up the steps that led back above deck. Essek winced as the bright noonday sun slipped into view, already anticipating the stinging burn that was sure to follow. He’d managed to avoid the deck for most of the voyage, much to the chagrin of the Assarian crew. He was not born into a body made for manning rigging, and certainly not under an unrepentant sky determined to scorch his face and hands and neck and leave him itching and miserable for days without relief. His better use was below deck, planning for the engagement ahead, and his hours of fresh air better taken in the evening, when the gentler light of the moons was merely a prickle beneath his skin, rather than a flame. 

Everywhere he looked, he saw mismatched bodies. Though Essek hadn’t met the entire complement of the Barren Bow’s crew, he had to assume most of the scattered orcs, goblins, and bugbears belonged to their side. Most of the ones on their feet were being held in the shallow recess at the centre of the deck, where great cannons might have been lodged on a more modern ship. A handful of unremarkable humans, each equipped with a rapier – or, in one man’s case, a salt-encrusted retort – stood above them, keeping watch. Amidst all that humanity stood a wild–eyed goblin in a blaring yellow dress, hefting a crossbow composed of whirring gears and levers of an intricate make that rivaled Waccoh’s own craftsmanship. She was currently in the process of shouting threats down across the heads of his cowed compatriots. Some were clutching broken arms or wiping blood from contusions and burnt welts. Lying at the center of the group was an unconscious Zel’ra, the goose egg at the back of her skull already angry and red. 

Finally, he spied the remainder of the drow contingent clustered by the ship’s rail. Diplomats, all of them, bound for a parley at sea and not trained for conflict beyond what it took to hold a dagger right-way up. He was the only one among them battle-tested, and even then, his means leaned more towards subterfuge than outright combat. Theoretically, the Assarian crew was meant to be their main line of defence in case of attack. Clearly they had not proven up to the task. 

Essek would be filing a very unfavorable report with their commanders upon his return, if any of them survived the day. 

“Captain!” Beau shouted, and a tall half-orc stepped away from the railing, his wide-brimmed hat only partially disguising the many scars that littered his face. 

“Weather’s turning,” he said, casting his eyes towards the – as far as Essek could tell – clear horizon. Those same yellow eyes flickered up, above Essek’s head, and for a moment seemed to narrow before turning back to Beau. “You finished clearing the hold yet?”

“Didn’t make it that far.” Beau jerked her head, and Essek was thrust into the sunlight all at once. The glare was blinding, and apparently not just to him. The giantess’s hands jerked around his arms, like they wanted to fly up and shield her eyes as well. That was all the opportunity he needed. 

With one quick motion, he jerked his arms from her grasp and drew his hands together, tracing familiar glyphs out of nothing but muscle memory as his mouth uttered an incantation, and the world exploded around him. The giantess was flung back against the doorframe, wood splintering beneath her weight, and both Beau and the half-orc slammed into the deck and began to hurtle towards the side of the boat. Forcing his eyes to stay focused amidst the chaos and the harsh light, Essek caught the glitter of a cutlass skittering along the boards as he took stock of his position on the newly reborn battlefield.

Nearly all of the boarders were in a concentrated area in front of him, and the rest of the Assarian crew were protected by the lip of the recess in the deck. The terrain could not be more advantageous. Essek allowed himself a small smirk as he raised his hand and prepared a vacuum blast that would level the whole of the upper deck, and deliver them all to safety in one swift stroke. 

How arrogant, that this petty group of mercenaries thought they could capture–

“Counterspell.”

The magic sizzled and died in his hand, and Essek whirled, searching for whoever had spoken behind him. Thugs he could handle, but it was always best to deal with a mage first, when they could do such infuriating things as what had just occurred. But once he turned, he found himself facing an empty doorway, and an empty deck above that. No trace of whoever had cast the counterspell. 

The giantess was gone as well.

He heard the click before he could parse what cold and heavy thing was tugging on his wrist, but he was horribly aware of what was happening by the time his other wrist was wrenched behind his back and small hands clasped the second iron band shut. A stomach-churning wave of exhaustion passed through him from scalp to toe, and he staggered, only barely holding on to consciousness. Head lolling towards the floor, he saw two soft-soled boots landing lightly on the deck in front of him.

With great effort, he managed to drag his head up from his chest, and found himself staring into blue eyes and dusty freckles, lips pressed into a thin line, all framed by tangles of copper-red hair. 

“Good work, Nott,” the man said. His accent was one Essek had only heard once before, though through the mire of exhaustion he could not remember where.

Behind Essek, the half-orc groaned and pushed himself up off the deck. “Next time you have a brilliant plan for subduing the prisoner, maybe let’s try not putting us all in the line of fire, hm?” 

The man ignored the sarcasm, still looking all too carefully at Essek.

“Are you finished?” he murmured, and though his body was lithe, his soft voice sung of as much violence as the giantess’s darker growl. 

With a sigh, Essek let his shoulders drop. He could still feel the pulses of magic coursing through the iron bands around his wrists. Even if he got his arms free again, the cuffs would not be easily slipped, or broken. These people, whoever they were, came equipped to handle wizards like himself. Was that what they were, then? Assassins in disguise? Privateers? The blunt instrument of some government or another?

Not that it made much difference now. Whoever they were, he was at their mercy. 

“Spin him around.”

Essek felt himself being maneuvered away from the man’s incisive gaze. Through bleary eyes he caught the looks of frustrated disbelief from the four drow delegates, lamenting their crushed hope in silent, huddled unity. He was meant to be their protection. Now that Essek was taken, what else could save them? Not one of them was brave enough to attempt it themselves. A shiver of disgust ran through Essek, as heady as the self-recrimination it concealed at having allowed himself to be captured so easily.

The half-orc strode up to Essek, the sword in his hand now replaced, though Essek hadn’t seen the man move to retrieve it. It was a silver cutlass, fine enough to cleave a person clean through and leave one half still propped up on the other. Too rich a prize by far for a simple mercenary – he must have come by it dishonestly, or been given it as boon or bribe. Neither prospect boded well. 

The hand that gripped the sword told an equally foreboding story, for only the thumb was composed of green flesh. The rest of the fingers were severed at the third knuckle, and replaced by metal imitations fixed to the wrist by a harness of leather cords. Still, he held the hilt with all the confidence of a trained fighter, and the surety of his grasp left Essek little doubt as to its effectiveness, mechanical augmentation or no.

“My name,” said the half-orc, “is Captain Tusktooth.” A hint of bright teeth flashed from below the wide brim of the hat. “And this ship is mine now. Its cargo, mine too.”

The answer about the identity of his captors, at last, became clear, for what little good it did him.

Pirates.

“By whose authority?” Essek shot a harsh look at the foolish dignitary who had chosen this moment to find their courage, but Tusktooth only grinned harder.

“By my own.” Behind Essek’s back, Nott and Beau slipped back through the splintered doorframe and down into the depths of the ship once more. “Now, my crew is going to finish taking a look through your cargo. I trust that your captain has been honest about the contents of your hold. Are there any other surprises I should be warning my people of? Anybody else looking to make trouble?”

Would that there were. “You will find little of value to take. We travelled light.” He spoke the truth, having no more useful lie at his disposal. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, and another wave of exhaustion teased at the edges of his mind. He fought it with all the strength he had – which was growing less and less by the minute.

“So your captain told me. But that wasn’t my question.” Tusktooth’s voice grew as keen as the blade in his hand as he lifted it and placed the edge to the shallow of Essek’s throat. “Are there others like you aboard?”

He did not flinch. Torment and torture were old friends: his own cherished instruments. He did not fear what this man would do to him, any more than he feared death itself. At least, that is what he told his errant heart, as sweat began to bead at the nape of his neck.

“No.”

Tusktooth stared him down for a minute longer, and Essek held his gaze as best he could with the sun still searing his eyes. But at last, the sword withdrew, and Essek’s breath came a little easier. “Then let’s call this an exercise in… mutual trust.” He smiled once more, and Essek returned the expression with a vague twitch of lips.

The tense exchange was followed by ten excruciating minutes of silence, during which Essek did his best not to fidget in his heavy robes, even when his exposed skin grew so heated he felt liable to burst into flames. As they waited, the redheaded man pulled Tusktooth aside for a private conversation, and Essek sweated, and watched, and tried to formulate a plan.

The pirates would find nothing of value to steal. The Barren Bow had provisions for the voyage, but anything else aboard was the purview of the Assarian crew, who had planned to head back towards the shores of Igrathad as soon as the parley concluded. There were no scheduled stops for trade, and thus, no trade goods in their hold. There weren’t even guns to offer. Essek would never dare to admit it aloud, but the Dynasty lagged sorely behind the rest of Wildemount in outfitting its fleet with the relatively new technology of cannonry, at least of the type that lacked a magical component. Firearms had only entered the sphere of weaponmaking some thirty years prior, and with Xhorhas primarily landlocked, the navy hadn’t been high on the priority list for refurbishment. 

His best hope was that some of the crew had hidden stashes of coin in their quarters. Otherwise, there would be nothing for the pirates to take, and without anything to satisfy them, well… he did not want to be in manacles when that news was delivered to a man who’d already put a sword to his throat. 

If only to convince himself he was not totally beaten yet, Essek watched Tusktooth and the redhead carefully, seeing what he could glean from body language alone. Their conversation was hushed but tense, and every few moments the redhead would turn his eyes towards the drow delegation, and then to Essek himself. He made sure to drop his own eyes before they could meet again, not wanting to spark another confrontation by appearing insolent. As for the pirate captain… there was confidence, yes, but the unwavering edge of confidence seemed to drop away from his shoulders as he spoke to the other man. His arms moved more wildly; his words were more rapid, and at a higher pitch. Perhaps his earlier confidence was not so unshakeable as it at first appeared.

At last, Beau and the goblin re-emerged from the staircase. “We got shit all,” Beau said, tossing down a half-empty sack by Essek’s feet. He winced as a few bruised tubers rolled out across the warped deck.

“...Shit.” Tusktooth ran a hand over his mouth. “Shit. Nothing?”

“Nott and I checked every inch of that hold, the crew quarters, everything. No money, no timber, no – fuck, I don’t know – fine silks or–”

“No cannons,” Nott added mournfully. “No black powder.”

“We went through all this for nothing?”

“Maybe someone’s holding out on us,” Nott said, brandishing her crossbow. “I could make ‘em talk for you, Captain. Make them squeal–”

“Oh–kay, Nott,” Tusktooth said, “let’s take it down a notch.” But despite his placating tone, his look was thoughtful. Again, he turned to Essek. “You never never did say what you all were doing out here, so far from home. You don’t look like a sailor to me.”

“Yes, friend,” said the redhead, stepping up to Essek from Tusktooth’s other side, alarmingly calm, and placing altogether too much emphasis on the second word to be trusted, “what is it you do here?” Essek took a half-step back, not liking the feeling of being pressed in from all angles, and walked himself straight into the chest of the giantess. 

Nowhere to hide. And with his hands bound behind his back, no way to levitate up to a level where he didn’t feel every inch of height his captors had over him. Which, at his firmly average height for a drow, was many.

Focus, Thelyss. Focus.

“Why should I answer your questions,” he sneered, “when you have not done me the same courtesy? Who are you, to board a vessel commissioned lawfully by the Bright Queen herself?” It was a dangerous ploy, but a considered one – a hastily calculated risk. If the pirates could not be convinced there was nothing of value to be found, they might decide to punish the crew for concealing their rightful prize, and when even a beating couldn’t drive his compatriots to forfeit non-existent gold, the pirates might well scuttle the ship and leave them all to drown at sea. He doubted simple brigands would care much for the particulars of a diplomatic mission if there was no treasure involved, so there was little harm in broaching a subject that might be far more dangerous to discuss with more educated captors.

But apparently, some aspect of Essek’s logic had failed him again, because the redhead immediately shot a wide-eyed look at Tusktooth, before looking back to Essek. “The Bright Queen?”

Essek gave a little bow. His head swam as he dipped back up – the handcuffs, no doubt, though it could just as easily be the beginnings of heatstroke – and he had to swallow twice to find the fortitude to speak without slurring. “Essek Thelyss, Shadowhand of the Kryn Dynasty and ambassador of the realm.” The last part was an… embellishment, and if he chanced a glance over at the true ambassadors, he imagined there would be many offended looks. But thankfully, all attention was solely focused on him. “I assure you, you won’t find the prize you’re looking for on a diplomatic vessel, gentleman. Your friends have already given you proof – we carry nothing beyond our own provision. Unless you have a particular taste for the delicacies of Xhorhasian fashion, I’m afraid we have little to offer you.”

Nott snarled, but the redhead put up a hand. “Captain,” he said slowly, looking at Tusktooth. “Might I… make a suggestion?” 

“You may.”

“It’s not something I’d usually propose, but times being what they are…” Tusktooth nodded grimly.

“We haven’t got many options left.”

“Precisely. I believe that our friend Mr. Thelyss here has lied to us.” He could laugh for the irony of it all; this was the most truthful Essek had been in years. “There is indeed something very valuable aboard this ship.” His blue eyes pierced through Essek, and it was only his determination to keep the – now violently pitching – contents of his stomach where they belonged, that stopped him from speaking up in his own defense.

“And that is...?”

“Himself.”

[rose7420]

It All Works Out In The End

A request from @laurenandloki!

Loki is trying to be a better human from the guidance of Tom Hiddleston and he messes up when he finds a borrower.

“I have to leave for a few hours, please don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Tom informed Loki. Loki looked up from his novel, his long-form curled comfortably on the couch in the living room. He only spared Tom a glance in his general direction before focusing on the bland words of the page. Truly the book wasn’t worth his attention, yet, neither was Tom. Tom grabbed his backpack, dressed casually in dark jeans and a navy blue shirt, and closed the door behind him. He was neither impressed nor disappointed in Loki’s progress at becoming a “better” person. As long as he didn’t commit any serious crimes he would be relieved.

Loki closed the book when Tom left. He stood and ambled aimlessly around the large apartment. It was a good size living space, not comparable to that of Asgard but still admirable. His steps echoed on the hardwood floor as he arrived in the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator, looking for what the mortals called ‘strawberries.’ He had taken a liking to the sweet fruit after he had tried it out of curiosity one day. They hadn’t had any type of treat like that on Asgard.

While searching, he heard a small noise come from beside him as he hunted the second shelf. He put back the carton of milk he held and shut the door. His eyes searched the counter. He heard another sound, which was easier to make out now. He could now tell it was some sort of squeak. His gaze flicked to the jar on the end of the counter. Slowly, he approached and slid the jar over revealing a very tiny creature. It was humanoid and appeared to be female by the curve of her waist and long hair. As he took away her barrier she whipped around and let out another squeak. This time it was fearful as her head craned back to look at his face. He couldn’t make out her face and ached for a closer look, he instinctively reached for her. She backed up as far as she could, stopping when she reached the edge of the counter. He knew she was cornered and had nowhere else to go. That drop would certainly kill her should she jump. He smirked as he knew he had won this short chase and wrapped his fingers around her capturing her in his fist.

She struggled, twisting to escape his hold but it was futile. He was much stronger and bigger. He opened his hand letting her breathe for a few seconds in an open palm, sensing her trembling form as she was on hands and knees. After, letting her believe she was free for a moment, he closed his fingers over her entirely, marveling at the fact that he could no longer see her. He felt her tiny fists hit the inside of his curled fingers as he walked to the dining table set in the middle of the kitchen. He opened his fist and let her fall the short drop to the table, hearing her squeak as she hit the hard surface. He lowered his head onto his arms to see her better, watching as she raised herself to a sitting position.

“Aren’t you a little thing?” He teased, reaching out to pinch her thin arm. He twisted it carefully, minding the fragility of her tendons and joints. Despite his gentleness, she whimpered, attempting to tug her limb out of his pinched grip. He loosened his grip, allowing her to think she’d won this match. Her small victory gave her the courage to stand in hopes of running away. With a single finger, he pushed her chest and forced her to fall back onto the tabletop. He was unaware that he had caused all the breath to leave her lungs as he picked her up by the middle with a pinched forefinger and thumb. Another cry escaped her from the sudden elevation. He pinched her jaw to keep her head still trying to gain a better look. Tears escaped her eyes but he paid no attention to that. Releasing his hold he prodded at her form. His finger aimed for her cheek but he accidentally poked her nose. A simple prod to him, but a full punch in the face to her. Her nose leaked blood, dripping from her chin to her shirt. And right at that time the front door opened.

“I’m back, didn’t take as long as I thought it would,” Tom shouted, Loki heard him drop his keys in the dish on top of the table in the hallway. Loki looked down at the tiny girl struck by the blood on her shirt his fingers reaching for her. She cried in horror and pushed his fingers away, tears streaming down her face. His heart rate elevated and he lifted her to his face to examine where the blood was coming from.

“What is that?” Tom exclaimed from behind him. Loki felt him lean in closer and flinched at his voice right next to his ear.

“Why is she crying, and bleeding?” Tom asked worriedly, then looked at Loki suspiciously.

“What did you do?” He questioned. For once Loki was at a loss for words. He truly had meant for no harm to come to the tiny being, he only wanted to tease her a little. She had done nothing to him, and he had scared her immensely and hurt her in the process.

“Give her here Loki,” Tom ordered, holding out a raised palm. Loki did as he asked and watched as the little lady backed away in fear from the new giant. She whimpered audibly and cried loudly when she hit Tom’s curled fingers.

“Shh, you are in no danger here Little One,” Tom coed and reassured. He tentatively rubbed a finger upon her back when she did not flinch away. Tom walked to the counter and went to set her down, but she clung tightly to his finger and wouldn’t let go.

“It’s okay, I’ll be right back. I just need to set you down here.” She shook her head and held steady.

“Alright, I think I can manage with one hand.” Tom kept his voice low and soft as if speaking to a child. He tore a piece of paper towel off and wet it under a stream of water. He handed off the damp towel to the girl.

“Here you go, use this to stop that nose bleed. Make sure to keep your head down and pinch the bridge of your nose. There you go, great job.” He rubbed her back again and looked up from his palm to Loki who stood a few steps away. His face was sad, downturned to the floor, and sneaking glances at Tom’s hand every other minute. Tom knew he felt guilty and was disappointed in him but not angry.

After her nose had stopped bleeding the girl looked up at Tom. He raised her to his eye level so she wouldn’t have to strain her neck. He instantly noticed the bruises on her arms, legs, and one dark one on her cheek.

“Were those bruises there before?” Tom asked.

She shook her head, eyes glistening with fresh unshed tears.

“I’m so terribly sorry Little One.” He apologized but also realized he had no idea what her name was. So he asked for it.

“I-It’s Y/N.” She said meekly. Tom nodded, “My name is Tom, and that’s Loki.” He gestured to the moody god. Loki walked closer, keeping his steps light, attempting to make himself less menacing.

He felt utterly terrible. He had hurt her, made her bleed, marked her skin, and caused her to cry. Standing beside Tom he cleared his throat nervous to speak. He watched Y/N back away from his imposing frame and huddle next to Tom’s thumb. She clung to it like a lifeline, terrified of Loki himself. He imagined if it was quiet enough he could hear her tiny heart pounding in her chest.

“I would like to apologize for my actions earlier. And the harm that I caused you.” Loki wasn’t very familiar with apologizing and the words were awkward, but he deemed them necessary. Y/N said nothing, practically ignoring him, only clinging to Tom’s digit. He walked away, back to his room to clear his head.

Tom had found out that Y/N had lived in his house for years. And he hadn’t even noticed. She was looking for food today and had been trying to get the lid off the jar when Loki had found her. Tom had cooked a nice, hot dinner for them to eat especially after finding out she had never had a hot meal. He had managed to calm her down enough to sit on the counter while he cooked, being extra careful to not knock her down in the midst of the process of cooking. Tom had called for Loki to come to eat but Loki ignored him, locking himself away in his room. He sighed in frustration but made sure to not think too much about it, afraid Y/N would think he was mad at her. The poor thing had been through enough already today.

After eating, Y/N was happily full. Tom let her sit on his shoulder as he cleaned up and talked to her like an old pal. He went into the living room and turned on the television.Y/N had never seen the moving screen up close, and was mesmerized by all the colors and sounds.

“Do you want to watch a movie, Y/N?” Tom asked.

Y/N nodded enthusiastically. Tom laughed from her excitement and set her on the coffee table promising he’d be back soon. After a few moments, he returned with Loki. Their footsteps were hard to miss and vibrated the ground beneath her. She stared up in fear at Loki, backing away from his presence.

“Loki has promised not to touch you, Y/N. Isn’t that right Loki?” Tom explained. Loki grunted his agreeance. Scooping Y/N off the table, Tom let her settle on his shoulder. He scrolled through a bunch of different pictures and settled on one that looked scary. Tom asked if it was okay and she hesitated. Y/N didn’t really like being scared on purpose but she felt like a wimp after today and how pathetic she was with Loki. So she said yes.

A few minutes into the movie she knew she was completely screwed. Five people had already been brutally murdered and it wasn’t stopping anytime soon. She huddled closer to Tom’s neck and buried her face into the warm skin trying to shield her eyes from the screen. He assumed that she was cold and raised a hand to blanket her with.

“Is she alright?” A deep voice asked, Loki’s voice.

“I think she’s cold,” Tom explained.

A second later Tom was handing her a woolen blanket of her own size.

“H-How?” She asked astonished.

She looked over at Loki who winked and settled his back against the cushion wordlessly.

“Hey Y/N I need to go switch out my laundry so I need to put you down. Don’t worry Loki won’t mess with you.” He assured her and plucked her up effortlessly blanket and all setting her upon the middle cushion on the couch.

She looked up at Loki who had his eyes trained on the screen, paying her no attention. She copied his action and regretted looking at the screen at all when a particularly gory scene happened. She whimpered quietly, not noticing how Loki looked down at her worriedly. A loud scream broke through the silence frightening her out of her wits. She dropped the blanket around her shoulders and ran to Loki’s lap. She stayed close to the outside of his thigh and attempted to climb the fabric. Loki looked down at the ticklish sensation and saw the cause. He slowly reached down and boosted her onto his lap letting her rest upon his thigh. She scooted backward burying herself in the bunched-up fabric of his shirt and nestled herself in the soft cloth.

“Are you scared Little Miss?” He asked, feeling the nod of affirmation against his abdomen. He reached over and picked up her blanket and draped it over her dainty shoulders. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hand, so he cupped it around her serving as a barrier from the screen and her sight.

“I’ve got you. Nothing can hurt you now. You’re fine.” Loki repeated, calming her. Soon her breathing slowed and she stopped trembling. He peeled his hand back to view her sleeping form curled into his shirt. Loki smiled with relief as he realized she no longer viewed him as a bad guy.

Tom stood in the corner smiling as he realized his plan had worked perfectly. KnowingY/N didn’t like scary movies, got cold easily, and leaving at the right time. The only thing that had gone wrong was how long it had taken Y/N to seek Loki out for comfort.

[bevioletskies]

the first time (ever i saw your face)

summary: On their six-month anniversary, Apollo and Klavier decide to pose a seemingly harmless question: what did they think of each other when they first met? As it turns out, the topic is a little more complicated than they originally thought.

word count: 4.9k | read on ao3

a/n: For @klapollo-week, day one of seven (prompt: "firsts"). All seven of my fics take place in the same continuity! However, each can be read as a stand-alone, with the exception of day seven being a sequel to day five.

This fic takes place at some distant point in time after Spirit of Justice where Apollo and Trucy have learned that they’re siblings. Mild spoiler warning for the end of Apollo Justice; warning for brief mentions of alcohol. Fic title is from the song The First Time Ever I Saw Your Face by Roberta Flack.

“...why does this look like something out of a direct-to-streaming movie adaptation of a YA novel that has a three-star average rating on Goodreads?”

“If you’re trying to say you don’t like it, baby, you could just say so.”

“No, no, I - I’m actually kinda into it. It’s like we’ve walked onto the set of a staged proposal, though if you ask me to marry you right now, I will start laughing.”

Klavier sighed. “I’m starting to think the phrase ‘romance is dead’ was invented specifically for you.” Nevertheless, he tugged gently on Apollo’s hand. “Come on, liebe, I got our favorite snacks, I queued our favorite movies...and before you ask, nein, there is no engagement ring, so stop looking at me like that.”

“I’m not...totally opposed to getting married, you know,” Apollo added as he followed Klavier. “It’s just...it’s a little early for me. This is only our six-month anniversary, after all.”

“Fair enough,” Klavier hummed, the two of them settling down in their spots. He’d learned long ago that Apollo wasn’t one for flashy, photo op-worthy dates, that he preferred more intimate, low-key settings. And so, for their six-month anniversary, Klavier had taken them to his family estate. He had cleared out the conservatory overlooking the garden of all its furniture, filling it with blankets and pillows, drapes and string lights, and a projector whose screen covered the entire back wall. It reminded Apollo of what he himself had done for their three-month anniversary - because apparently, he was that kind of person now - when he’d planned a weekend’s stay in a cozy lakeside cabin. “A conversation for another time, ja?”

“Yeah, definitely.” Apollo draped one of the blankets over his and Klavier’s laps, then lowered his head to rest on Klavier’s shoulder. Smiling, Klavier turned to briefly kiss Apollo’s temples, then reached for his laptop so he could start the movie. They spent the first fifteen or so minutes in companionable silence, sharing a bag of popcorn and a bottle of wine while they watched, until Apollo eventually spoke again. “...weird, isn’t it?”

“The movie? Not particularly,” Klavier shrugged. “If anything, I’d say the plot twist is a bit predictable.”

“No, not the movie. I mean...this.” Apollo gestured aimlessly. “You and me. Us.”

Klavier’s expression darkened somewhat. “Are you...having doubts about our relationship, Apollo?”

“Wh - no, no, not at all!” Apollo protested, sitting up. “It’s just...I guess it’s mostly weird for me. Like, if someone told me, say, a couple years ago, that I was gonna be in a relationship with you, of all people...hell, can you imagine if someone told me that on the day we met? I-I wouldn’t believe it!”

“You weren’t shy about your distaste for me, true,” Klavier agreed, his slight frown relaxing into an amused smile.

“I don’t think that’s an...entirely accurate assessment of, uh, of how I felt,” Apollo said carefully.

Now it was Klavier’s turn to straighten up, looking at him curiously. “Really?” he asked. “Then what did you think of me when we first met?”

“You first,” Apollo retorted, seemingly on instinct. He then softened. “I mean, only if you want to. I’m kinda curious.”

“I don’t mind,” Klavier reassured him, setting down his wine glass so he could squeeze Apollo’s hand. He hesitated, thinking it over. “...I expected to hate you from the very beginning, to be perfectly honest. And, for a moment there...I did.”

Apollo’s eyes widened. “Wh...what?”

“‘Disgraced Defense Attorney Dismantled By His Disciple’, I believe the headline was,” Klavier continued. He then smiled wryly. “A bit dramatic, if you ask me. But then again, I’m not a big fan of alliteration, so I might just be biased.”

“Did you really hate me?” Apollo’s shout had dropped to a mere whisper. “Because...because you didn’t wanna believe it, did you? About…what had happened. What he’d done.”

“It wasn’t all bad memories, all the time, you know.” Klavier gently released Apollo’s hand so he could brush his hair out of his eyes, though he kept his head ducked low. “We had our moments, him and I. We weren’t close, but...we weren’t estranged, either. In fact, I...I first heard your name from him, not from the papers.”

“He told you about me.” It wasn’t a question. “I guess I should’ve suspected, but I never really knew what your relationship was like...before. I mean, he never once mentioned having a brother, so I kinda assumed…”

“As everyone does,” Klavier shrugged, far too casually for Apollo’s liking. “Anyway, your question was about you and me, not me and him, ja? He told me all the usual things people have to say about you - loud, eager to please, a little bit sensitive. I didn’t think much of it at the time, other than the fact you had a strange name.”

Apollo rolled his eyes, sinking back into the cushions. “Wonderful. Fantastic. Glad to know I made a great first impression.”

“And then when the headlines came along...and Mama and Papa called…” Klavier’s face darkened once more; he cleared his throat. “I looked you up. I hadn’t bothered when I first heard your name, but I had to know. Still, I...I found almost nothing. No photos, no social accounts...nichts. Just a single line on a college graduate roster and the same articles I’d been reading before.”

“...I see.” Apollo fiddled with the ends of his blanket, just so he would have something to do with his hands. “So, when we finally met in person…”

_____

The first thing Klavier noticed was Apollo’s eyes - large, round, expressive to a fault. The color of melted chocolate, though in the sunlight, more akin to the color of honey. Those eyes of Apollo’s, curious and maybe a little bit accusatory, narrowed right at him as he arrived at the entrance of People Park. He internally winced at the sight of Apollo’s companion, who was arguing with the police officer standing guard at the scene. Despite the time that had passed since he last saw her, he could never forget Trucy Enigmar-now-Wright.

Are you working for Phoenix Wright now? Klavier wanted to ask as he approached them. Why? Don’t you know what he’s done? Don’t you see what he’s become?

“I must say I'm used to being inspected by the ladies...but this is the first time I've felt this way with a man,” he said instead, leaning forward to smile somewhat condescendingly at them. Klavier was momentarily struck by how similar they were - how their hair was the exact same shade of brown, how the dusting of freckles across their identically shaped noses matched too perfectly, how their furrowed brows and perplexed frowns were one and the same. The only difference was their eyes, hers more the color of a stormy sea. Perhaps there’s a song lyric there? Klavier mused to himself. Ach, now is not the time.

“Mr...Gavin?” Apollo said disbelievingly, his eyes now widening. His arms, previously crossed tightly against his chest, fell to his sides. The motion caught Klavier’s eye, drawing his attention to the glint of the golden bracelet sitting on Apollo’s left wrist. He wondered if there was some sort of significance to it, what with the way Apollo clutched it tightly with his right hand.

“Ah, fräulein,” Klavier continued, his eyes flickering back upwards. He wondered if she knew him, if she recognized him at all. Clearly, Apollo had no idea who he was; he wasn’t sure how to feel about that just yet. “What is a sweet morsel like you doing in such a dismal place? Can I help?”

“Yes! The police man officer fellow here won't let us in!” Trucy complained, huffing. She brandished an envelope in Klavier’s face, nearly swatting him on the nose as she did. He flinched slightly, surprised by how brazen she was. “We even have a letter of request!”

Klavier’s smile softened into one that was a little more genuine. He couldn’t help but be instantly charmed by her. “You must be exhausted, standing out here. I will take you to the scene of the crime.”

“Ooh! Really?” Trucy exclaimed, brightening. Apollo looked skeptical in comparison, his intense gaze traversing the length of Klavier’s body. Usually, he would have preened at the attention, been flattered by the obvious interest and maybe made a show of looking back, but he knew that wasn’t what Apollo was looking for. I am not him, Klavier thought fiercely. I am not the one you trusted, the one who taught you everything you know. I could never -

“By your leave, officer,” Klavier said with a nod and a wink. He barely heard the officer’s affirmation over his own thoughts. Then, he turned back to Trucy and tilted his head towards the park. “Very well. This way, fräulein.”

Trucy’s giggle was sweet, melodic, as she happily followed him through the entrance. He made a show of lifting the police tape for her to duck under, which she seemed easily amused by. Apollo, meanwhile, was left standing on the street, staring at them incredulously, before he finally seemed to register what was happening. “Hey! What about me?!” he cried. His voice gets raspier the louder he gets, Klavier couldn’t help but observe. Interesting.

Once Apollo had caught up, Klavier turned to grin at them both, teeth clenched beneath his lips. Trucy was rocking back and forth on her heels, beaming back, while Apollo had braced his hands on his hips indignantly, like he had something he wanted to say and was just waiting for the opportune moment to say it. Ach, those eyes, those hands, those freckles, Klavier thought rather stupidly. Wait - you’re not supposed to think he’s cute, Klavier, hör auf!

“On that note, enjoy your investigation,” he remarked. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the flash of a white lab coat further into the park that told him he needed to leave if he didn’t want to be reprimanded - or worse, Snackoo-ed.

“Thank you! Will we see you again?” Trucy asked, hopeful.

Klavier hesitated. Apollo still hadn’t said a thing about the obvious elephant in the room, still staring at Klavier like he was a ghost. He wanted Apollo to say something, anything, to ask questions, to start the conversation that he himself admittedly didn’t want to take responsibility for. But Apollo was clearly stunned into silence, and any courage Klavier had had when he first walked up to them moments ago was long gone.

“Ask the wind, fräulein. I'll be riding on it,” he said, shooting them one last saccharine smile. He could hear the click-click of Ema’s shoes against the cobblestone as she approached. With that, he turned and left, his chest aching in confusion.

_____

The silence was heavy, heavier than Apollo expected. Klavier had turned the movie volume down long ago, leaving them with nothing but the sound of their own quiet breaths. “Makes sense,” Apollo finally said, shooting Klavier a sympathetic smile. “To you, I...I jumped ship from one corrupt defense attorney to another. At least, that’s what it seemed like at the time, right?”

“Part of me wanted to confront you right then and there, but I didn’t want to do it. Not in front of everyone, especially not in front of her. But the other part of me...I just wanted to learn more about you. To get to know you before I decided whether it was a battle worth fighting. Whether he was worth defending.” Klavier then smiled back; now it was his turn to drop his head onto Apollo’s shoulder. “Besides, you were cute, and I’m weak.”

“‘Were’, huh?” Apollo teased, nudging him. “Well, I’m glad Trucy’s presence, your curiosity, and my cuteness apparently deterred you enough to walk away. To think, what would you have done if you didn’t think I was cute - ”

“Achtung, you’re such an arschgeige sometimes,” Klavier groaned, laughing. “Anyway...I got my answer in court soon enough. I could trust you, and he...he wasn’t worth defending. Not one bit.”

“No, not at all,” Apollo agreed. “Still, I’m...I’m sorry, Klav. Not for what I did, I mean, I-I had to, but just...how it all played out. How messy things got. Whenever we, y’know, come here to see your parents, I still see that look in their eyes. It’s that face that you make when you think no one’s looking.” He swallowed. “Mr. Wright says Trucy does that, too. Less now that she’s got me and Mom, but…well.”

“It wasn’t you, Apollo, it was me. It all started with me believing he wouldn’t lie to me.” Klavier’s laughter was bitter now. “Anyway, I’m starting to think we’re all a little too observant for our own good. None of us can ever let things go, nein?”

“We’d be horrible lawyers if we could,” Apollo chuckled, rubbing Klavier’s arm reassuringly. “But fine, fine, I’ll stop psychoanalyzing you now. It’s my turn, anyway.”

“I want to hear this,” Klavier said, snuggling closer. “Lay it on me, baby. Tell me how you fell for me in two seconds flat.”

“I’m gonna lay into you in two seconds flat if you don’t let me talk,” Apollo said dryly, elbowing him again. “I, uh, I don’t think I remember it as clearly as you do, but…”

_____

“Excuse me, coming through.”

It was a voice, a smooth, musical voice, polite but firm, that caught Apollo’s attention first. He turned in its direction, confused by how familiar it felt, how similar it sounded to another voice he knew, but with a light, lilting cadence and a strangely affected accent whose origins he couldn’t quite place.

“Ah! It’s you! Mr. Gavin!”

Apollo’s eyes widened, his heart pounding wildly in his chest, then narrowed at the sight before him. Striding towards them with a swagger in his step was a man who, as far as Apollo could tell, was supposed to be behind bars. Only, his skin was a few shades darker, his hair a shade or two lighter, and he was wearing, for reasons Apollo couldn’t fathom, eyeliner and leather and chains instead of a neatly-pressed suit and wire-rimmed glasses. Who’s THIS guy? Apollo thought, his stomach turning.

“I must say I'm used to being inspected by the ladies...but this is the first time I've felt this way with a man,” the man said, leaning in close; his smile was a little wider than Apollo would have liked. Apollo also didn’t want to think about how pretty he was, how long his eyelashes were or how smooth his skin seemed to be. This can’t be him, Apollo decided, though he was still frozen in place. He could only vaguely feel Trucy’s fingers tugging gently on his shirt sleeve. No, it can’t be - it’s not - but who -

“Mr...Gavin?” Apollo said stupidly. He felt a phantom pinch on his left wrist; he released his arms from where they were crossed so he could rub the spot where it hurt, though the moment he touched it, he realized he hadn’t been in pain at all. The man’s eyes flickered down, following his fingers in curiosity, before moving back up to continue smiling beatifically at Trucy.

“Ah, fräulein,” he said; he was practically simpering now. “What is a sweet morsel like you doing in such a dismal place? Can I help?” Apollo barely managed to refrain from rolling his eyes. Of course, he internally sighed, he’s one of those guys.

“Yes! The police man officer fellow here won't let us in!” Trucy whined, shoving the envelope in the man’s face. Apollo had to bite back a laugh at his startled expression, a contrast to his otherwise indifferent smile. “We even have a letter of request!”

“You must be exhausted, standing out here,” the man murmured sympathetically, eyes sparkling. He seemed intrigued, though Apollo couldn't blame him. He supposed he and Trucy looked like a completely mismatched pair. “I will take you to the scene of the crime.”

“Ooh! Really?” Trucy exclaimed, her entire face lighting up. Apollo tried not to smile himself; her energy was infectious. Then, the man’s words finally clicked in his mind. Wait - really?! But why would he - how can he - who is he?

“By your leave, officer,” the man ordered, winking. A pleasant shiver went down Apollo’s spine, one that he was trying his best to ignore. No good was going to come out of that train of thought, not when this man was clearly someone he needed to worry about - though in what way, he wasn’t sure yet. He seemed too generous, too open. Whether he was a police officer, a detective, or, god forbid, a prosecutor, Apollo didn’t trust him not to lead them astray, not one bit. “Very well. This way, fräulein.”

Before Apollo knew it, the man was walking away with Trucy in tow, leaving him behind. “Hey! What about me?!” he shouted, jogging after them. By the time he caught up, both of them were grinning at him amusedly, as if watching him trip over his own feet was some hysterical inside joke. Huffing, he braced his hands on his hips, ready to open his mouth and protest. The man’s gaze briefly travelled down to his hands once more. What’s that all about? Apollo wondered, confused. What’s he looking at? Is it my bracelet? It’s not that weird, is it? Wait, or can he tell that it’s -

“On that note, enjoy your investigation,” the man said, speaking a little quicker than he did before. He suddenly seemed distracted, like he couldn’t wait to get away from them.

“Thank you!” Trucy chirped, bouncing up and down on her toes. “Will we see you again?”

“Ask the wind, fräulein,” the man said, recovering. He seemed almost too focused on Trucy, like something about Apollo bothered him. Maybe he already knew who Apollo was, what Apollo had done. Was he angry? Resentful? Waiting for the right moment to strike? A shiver of a different kind tingled throughout Apollo’s body at the very thought; the phrase “kill them with kindness” was coming to mind. “I'll be riding on it.” He then left without another word, leaving Apollo to stare stupidly after him, his heartbeat in his throat.

“...who was that?” Apollo exclaimed, stunned, as if he wasn’t confused enough by everything else that was going on. His mind was racing with possibility, with anxiety that he really, really didn’t need. Before he could get into it, however, his jumbled thoughts were quickly cut off by Trucy’s surprised cry.

“Eek! Apollo, look - a c-corpse!”

_____

“...interesting,” Klavier said after a moment’s silence. “Did she really think the mannequin was a dead body?”

“Seriously, Klav?” Apollo groaned. “Surprised you didn’t fixate on the part where I thought you were pretty.”

“‘Were’?” Klavier echoed mockingly, grinning. His expression then sobered. “So...mixed feelings all around, it seems. I suppose it shouldn’t be all that shocking, though. We weren’t...total strangers, after all.”

“You practically were to me,” Apollo murmured, tangling his fingers in Klavier’s hair. Klavier leaned into his touch, his eyes fluttering closed in contentment. “At least you knew I existed, while I...he never…” He then shook his head. “Y’know, I-I’m not sure if I really wanna think about this anymore. Not if it makes us think about him.”

“It’s not one of our happiest memories, nein,” Klavier agreed, humming. “I like where we are now...where we can trust each other. There’s little I hate more than ambiguity. And not knowing how I was supposed to feel about you…”

“Sucks, right?” Apollo let out a hollow laugh. “But at least we were on the same page, in a, uh, weird way. I guess that’s always been our thing. Even when you’re driving me up the wall in court - which is all the time, so don’t even question me, I see that look on your face - we’re, y’know, generally working towards the same goal.”

Klavier’s fingers danced along the length of Apollo’s forearm, tapping out a rhythm that Apollo couldn’t quite pick out. “I’d like to think so. I was never really sure until...ach, well. You remember.”

_____

Apollo was still trembling as he exited the courtroom with Trucy by his side. She was putting on a brave face for them both, but he had a feeling that she was more torn up about what had happened than he was. He wanted to comfort her, to reassure her somehow after they’d learned the truth behind her biological father’s death, but for once, he was completely speechless.

“Polly?” Trucy’s voice was tentative. “I’m...kinda hungry.”

“I...oh.” Apollo looked at her curiously. Out of all the things he’d expected her to say, that hadn’t been one of them. “Do you wanna get something to eat? We could go to Eldoon’s if you want.”

“No, that’s okay,” Trucy reassured him. Her face then lit up. “I was actually thinking about the courthouse café! We can get cake and drinks and stuff. A little sugar goes a long way!”

Apollo smiled softly. “Sure, Trucy. Whatever you’d like.”

And so, they found themselves a small table at the courthouse café - and maybe calling it that was rather generous on Trucy’s part - with two thick slices of Swiss rolls and tall glasses of milk tea. Admittedly, Apollo still felt numb, but Trucy’s running commentary of her thoughts on the trial kept him going. “Now all we need is for Vera to wake up,” Trucy said, gripping her fork with determination. “I’m still so worried about her! What if she doesn’t - ”

“We can’t think like that, okay?” Apollo said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. “We gotta have hope. That’s all we can do, you know?”

“I guess,” Trucy murmured, chewing her bottom lip fretfully. She went quiet for a minute or so, poking at the last bits of her drink’s half-melted ice with her straw. “Hey, um...Daddy says he’s meeting up with a friend later today, and he wants to have dinner. And when he says ‘friend’, he usually means Mr. Edgeworth. You know, the prosecutor?”

“Yeah, I’ve definitely heard of him.” Apollo sat up a little straighter at the word ‘prosecutor’. In his stupor over the whole ordeal, he’d barely spared a thought for Klavier; he could only vaguely guess how he was doing. “What about him?”

“I was just wondering if, maybe, you’d wanna...join us?” Trucy suggested. He’d never seen her so hesitant before. “For dinner, I mean.”

“...oh.” Apollo paused. “No, uh - not today, sorry. I should really go home and sleep all of this - ” he gestured aimlessly “ - off. I feel like I need to sleep for, like, three days straight.”

“Sure, of course,” Trucy nodded, smiling faintly. “But….you’re still coming back to the agency, right? Maybe not tomorrow, but like...in a few days?”

“Yeah. Yeah, definitely,” Apollo promised, surprised by how quickly he’d responded. In all his hesitation, his doubts about law and what it was meant to be, what it could be, he was finally starting to feel like the Wright Anything Agency was where he belonged.

After they finished eating, he and Trucy parted ways after a long, much-needed hug on the courthouse steps. Apollo then went to fetch his bike from the rack adjacent to the courthouse parking lot, only to spot a familiar face lingering nearby, seemingly in no rush to leave.

“...Gavin?” Apollo said carefully.

Klavier turned sharply at the sound of Apollo’s voice. His smile was a touch too wide, his eyes suspiciously glossy. “Ah, Herr Forehead,” he greeted, ducking his head; his voice sounded trapped in his own throat. “Good show in there, as always. You never fail to impress.”

“Thanks. Hey, um - I’m surprised to see you’re still here,” Apollo commented, taking a few tentative steps closer. “Don’t you have somewhere...better to be?”

“Not really, nein.” Klavier let out a short, forced laugh. “I have paperwork to do, I’m sure. But it can wait.”

“...right.” Apollo cleared his throat awkwardly. “Thanks, by the way.”

Klavier blinked. “Entschuldigung? What for?”

“For agreeing to summon your brother, and...y’know, everything after that.” Apollo found himself oddly fascinated with a few stray pebbles on the ground, nudging them around with the toes of his loafers so he wouldn’t have to look at Klavier’s face. “Look, I-I’m not gonna pretend like I know what you, or Trucy, or Mr. Wright are going through. I’m mostly on the outside looking in, so. All I really know, if I know anything at all, is that, uh...we did the right thing. Yeah?”

“Ja.” When Apollo looked up, Klavier was also deliberately looking elsewhere, staring off into the distance at nothing in particular. He’d displayed a whirlwind of emotions back in the courtroom, but none of them were quite the same as the bitter expression he was wearing right now. “...Apollo?”

Now it was Apollo’s turn to do double-take. “Huh? Wh-what is it?”

“Danke schön. For...everything. I honestly don’t think I could’ve done...any of that on my own,” Klavier confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “And I think I...I think I’m going to take a little time away from the prosecutor’s office. Not for long, mind you. Just...I need some time off. A week, maybe two. Some distance, some perspective...it would make a world of difference, achtung.” He then turned to face Apollo directly for the first time since they started talking. He looked tired, defeated, even. His posture, his expression - Apollo felt as if he was seeing an entirely different person standing before him.

Without thinking, Apollo took the last few steps forward and closed the gap between them, wrapping his arms around Klavier and pulling him close. Klavier let out a startled noise; then, he hugged Apollo back, sinking his weight against Apollo’s, his forehead dropping to Apollo’s shoulder. His exhale was long, unsteady. “Take care of yourself, okay?” Apollo said, fingers digging into Klavier’s back, his face buried against Klavier’s bicep. “And if you ever wanna talk about it...I-I mean, I’m sure I’m not your first choice, but still. I’m, uh, I’m around.”

“Danke,” Klavier murmured, barely above a whisper. They stayed like that for a moment, maybe a moment too long, just holding each other in the middle of the courthouse parking lot for anyone and everyone to see. Klavier’s breath trembled against Apollo’s ear; Apollo half-expected his knees to give out from underneath him. Then, he slowly detached himself from Apollo’s grasp, carefully schooling his expression into something more Klavier-like, something brighter and blander, his teeth blindingly white in the mid-afternoon sun. “Anyway, I should really get going. That paperwork isn’t going to take care of itself, ja?”

“Oh, uh. Yeah, don’t I know it,” Apollo said, letting out another strained chuckle.

“Until next time, then,” Klavier said smoothly, winking. “Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Forehead.” He didn’t wait for Apollo’s send-off, instead turning and heading over to his motorcycle, humming and twirling his keychain expertly between his practiced fingers. Apollo watched him peel out of the parking lot, silently wondering if he’d said all he wanted - no, needed - to say.

_____

“Of course I remember.” Apollo held Klavier just a little bit tighter. “But, y’know, again - not our best moment. Not by a long shot.”

Klavier lifted his head from Apollo’s shoulder so he could kiss him briefly, gently. Apollo smiled against Klavier’s lips, cupping his jaw so he could bring him closer. “But I’d still say our first kiss is more of a memory worth reminiscing over. Wouldn’t you agree, liebe?”

“It was a little dramatic for my taste,” Apollo teased, pulling back so he could affectionately nudge his nose against Klavier’s cheek, his fingers lightly pressed into Klavier’s sides. “But you’re into that sort of thing, so I’ll give it a pass. Still, let’s just agree not to cry all over each other ever again, okay? It was honestly kinda gross. And wet. And not in a fun way.”

“You’re saying you won’t cry when I propose?” Klavier asked, pouting exaggeratedly. “Because ach, I know I will.”

“Who says you’re proposing?” Apollo retorted, grinning as he prodded Klavier in the chest. “What if I get there first? What if, while you’re getting down on one knee, I just whip a ring box out of my pocket - ”

“Then I really will lose my scheisse,” Klavier murmured, his lips ghosting across Apollo’s skin. “I’m going to hold you to it, baby.”

“Can’t guarantee it’ll happen, but I’m definitely gonna try,” Apollo said, turning his head to capture Klavier’s lips once more. The two of them exchanged slow, lazy kisses for a few minutes, fingers loosely tangled in each other’s hair. In the background, the movie continued on, long forgotten; not that it mattered, seeing as they’d watched it together many times before.

Eventually, Klavier carefully detangled himself from Apollo. He passed him his wine glass, still half-full, then reached for his own and lifted it above his head. “To making new memories, ja?”

“Are we really cheers-ing ourselves? That’s pretty self-serving, literally,” Apollo said dubiously, though he still raised his glass all the same, amused by Klavier’s dramatics. “But hell, why not? To new memories that don’t involve us crying, sneezing, yelling - ”

“You make us sound like absolute disasters, achtung,” Klavier protested, chuckling. “We’re not that bad, are we?”

Apollo took a sip of his drink, then leaned in close, so close that his nose brushed against Klavier’s, his wine-stained, kiss-bitten lips stretched into a fond grin. “Nah. I think we’re doing just fine.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my first entry for Klapollo Week 2021! I've never participated in any fandom challenges/events before, so I'm super excited to see how this goes. My plan is a little overambitious, with all seven fics set in the same continuity, but in a different order. For example, this fic is actually the last, chronologically speaking, while day seven's fic is set in the middle. If you're wondering why they were crying during their first kiss, you'll have to wait until then 😉

Don't worry about any of that, though, you don't need to read the others to follow along! Day seven is technically a sequel to day five, but it can be read as a stand-alone, though I think it packs more punch if you read it after day five. They're also the longest; every other fic averages out to about four to five thousand words, whereas five and seven are over ten thousand words each. Brevity is the soul of wit? Not in my Google Docs, I am wordy as hell.

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated. Hoping you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[the-remainder]

Greetings weary travelers, did you know, as a budding magus, Ilar has traveled across the Serpentine Coast and witnessed many bizarre and fantastic tales. On quiet afternoons, Ilar and Vyn would share some of Ilar's special blend of tea, freshly baked pastry, and tell a tale to each other. If you've donated to The Remainder on itch or ko-fi, you'll have access to the mini interactive fiction - Story And Tea with Ilar - where all these short stories can be read.

But we'd also like to reward people who've supported us in other ways by releasing some of these stories.

Here is the first in what we hope to be a series of such stories, as told by Ilar to Vyn.

Enjoy!

If you're not sure what I'm talking about, this is a bonus short story that takes place in the world of The Remainder, a dark fantasy visual novel, you can play Act 1 by clicking here.

Tale of the Fog Children

Part 1 of 3

Voices often came to me when I sat in inner silence and simply felt the Currents brushing against my heart. Most of them were only noise, shallow thoughts from shallow realms, the regret of something done, or bickering over garlic skin. But this one was different, it yearned fiercely, single-heartedly, as only a human being could, and yet it has a hollowness that no human being could have, not the least a child.

Curious, I went to a balcony on the upper tower and peered over the foggy shores to the South. A commotion was brewing in a village a few leagues away, nestled next to a Seamouth, a fogdune had barged into the huddle of houses and swallowed one of them. Peculiar, I thought, and bad news. I looked with closed eyes and saw the sense of longing waft from the fogdune.

A thick channel of Currents was carried by the cloudstream to the tower, teasing out memories of my home, of the smell of mud and chicken feed. There was something else in the undercurrents too defused to disentangle at this distance. It was no ordinary fogdune, the magus mentee of that village was out of their depth. I checked my schedule and saw that you would be in a ritual for another three days. I packed a few necessities and headed for the village.

Arriving, I found that everyone who dwelled there gave the fog-engulfed house a wide berth, and little wonder, the Currents gushing from it was debilitating. I felt the longing tinged with sorrow and desperation before I heard the faint sound of howling wind emanating from the fog despite the still air. The energy was so dense that it would’ve turned an undyed - a commoner with no magick training - into a sobbing heap within minutes of close contact. A little more and they'd do anything, anything to end that despair.

“Stay away, traveler!” Someone shouted to me from their yard. “Bad luck that, do ya no good to linger, ya hear?”

Striding toward them, I replied. “Where are the people who lived here?”

“Oy, the Milborns, sunken luck if it could be said o’ anyone. They’d be stayin’ over with the Ashborns there.” The leather-skinned man pointed with his mushroom hat.

“Bad luck, you say? What sort, if I may ask?”

The man stopped chewing his straw for a moment and studied me up and down, clicking his tongue.

“My, pardon me, you’re a magus, ain’t you?”

I nodded, saying. “Indeed, I sensed something afoot here and thought I might help. Now, tell me about this bad luck you mentioned.”

“Aye, real pitiable. First, one child, nary a babe, passes from the winds, then a scant few years later, the other one goes missin'.” He spits out the straw he was chewing and made a face as if it was bitter. “Born on a Howling Eve, they were, and there ain’t no helpin’ that.”

I listened, puffing on my pipe, recalling. “Howling Eve? Do you think the children were…”

“Aye, ‘twas the low ones, Luccasi, the temple mentee said as much. Howling over the skies all that night, lookin’ for souls to snatch. And the children? Twins, ya see? Was s’pposed to be just the one. But he was so scared of the sound that half of him tried to run back to the Waters from inside his mama’s womb, and done got split right in two.

That’s how they were born twins. Sickly, only enough Waters for the one life, forced to be two. Skin the color of mildew. Poor kids, the folks too, what’d they e’er do to deserve such a thing?” He shook his head.

I nodded again, thanked the man, and left for the Ashborn’s house. I’d heard enough to have a theory, and if I was right, there was no time to waste.

Thick incense filled the little room when a young man with hollow eyes and a scraggly goatee opened the door to my knocking.

“Who are you?” He asked stiffly.

“The name’s Ilar, Magus. Are you the Milborns?” I nodded to the young woman sitting next to a makeshift altar that she’d just been praying to, where incenses burned. I recognized the herb. “May I?”

He stepped back to allow me in. “Duma, and my wife Sestra. We don’t got much, you’ll have tea?”

I nodded and entered, sitting by the firepit. A cursory glance showed no Devarna present. I knew then… But they’d just lost another child. I needed to be direct, yet without touching upon an open wound. “Sorry to hear about your child, I’d like to help. When did he go missing?”

“A week ago. He was playing with the other kids along the shore over yonder.” Duma’s voice was hoarse. “One blink he was there, right? Then he was gone, just like that. We looked, depths, we looked everywhere, right?”

“I see. And how long have you been burning the Longing Leaves?”

The young man’s forehead wrinkled into a mass of grooves as he looked down.

He glanced at my magus’s mark nervously and said. “The mentee said we should use it, right? They said no more than three days, if that’s what yer getting at, but there couldn’t be no harm, right?” Sestra began to fidget visibly as he spoke.

With a soft but firm voice, I said. “Devarna of Longing are usually very effective, but after three days, they will have grown disenchanted with the herbs. Further use will net you no boon. If you don’t stop now, you risk attracting something else, something undesirable. Do you understand?”

Duma stiffened, hands gripping at his loose leggings, lips pursed. Sensing this, Sestra leaned over and gently laid a hand on his arm while looking at me with something akin to pleading in her eyes. She wanted to say something, I realized, but—

“What are we to do? Just give up? Our only child, that boy! The mentee said these would call him back, well where is he?” Duma was nearly shouting at me. His wife flinched. Truths were left unsaid, and a lie was told. Tides were unfavorable here, I decided.

I stood up slowly, went to the door, and said. “I’m not your enemy, and neither is that fogdune. It’s getting too dark to Work, I’ll make camp outside the village. By next dawn, I will have a plan.

I hope you’ll consider listening to me when the time comes if you want what’s best for your child.” I threw a glance at them, letting the Waters shine from my eyes, holding the woman’s gaze for the briefest of moments, then departed. That should be enough to let them sense my power, and hopefully for Sestra to take the hint.

I built a fire and erected a simple tent with twigs and mushroom cappings in a copse on the edge of the village and waited. I’d seen fogdunes behaving like this in my youth. Could it be the same thing that happened to me? Another of Fate’s jokes, I chuckled.

To be continued...

If you enjoyed this and want to read the rest without having to wait, please support us on itch.io or ko-fi.

[freeseafirefly]

Ob[li]vious (RinHaru fanfic)

Since I'm back to the fandom after a 7-years-hiatus (not that i ever stopped loving these idiots) and have just learned some exiting things like a new movie coming out on the date Harurinralia episode aired, RinHaru advertizing Tokyo Olympics merch etc, you can imagine what an emotional mess I am rn. Also, i've rewatched the anime and read some things i haven't yet read (like Season 1 novel), and all the feels are so fresh as if i'm back to 2014 T_T Thank you, Free!, for being my time machine. Thank you, RinHaru fandom, for being strong over the years, I love you all sfm T_T

Anyway, there's probably tons of RinHaru Olympics fanfiction (gonna catch up on it), but I couldn't help it once my head started imagining this. It's nothing much, no plot and non-native engrish, but i want to contribute something to this fandom, too. Also, it's probably a parallel universe cause it's Sydney Olympics. Idk. I just wanted it all in one :)

Read on AO3 or under the cut

“Haru…!” Rin chokes out as he claps his hand against the wall and watches the familiar slender shape cleave the air over his head, all in one heartbeat that seems like eternity.

It’s the same as in elementary school. The same as in the second grade of high school. As in a number of dreams Rin had over the years. The same, yet much, much louder.

...The crowds on the stadium lose their minds as Haru slices his way through to the end of the pool, a ferocious underwater lightning that seems to warp space and time themselves, and the moment he touches the wall the world goes white with noise.

Shining.

It’s the shining of the Olympic Gold.

Rin drifts back to reality, at least some limited version of it, to the feeling of Haru's body crushing against his in a stormy hug, and they're both screaming, God knows what, just as the rest of their relay team and the Olympic Sydney and probably the whole freaking world right now.

And Rin can almost process it, flashing before his eyes in an almost coherent sequence of images: years of ups and downs—Haru—their best team—his father’s proud shadow—Haru’s laughter—Japanese flags everywhere— But for an endless moment, the spinning world freezes, and it’s only him and Haru. Alone. They’re together in this place of dreams, right on the spot where Haru broke out of his shell and found his passion, eyes shining and wings unfurled; and Rin can barely breathe as he squeezes him in return, something irrepressible exploding in his chest. And Haru laughs , all tears and sweat and dripping water that leave a salty taste on Rin’s lips because at this moment, it seems only natural to press a kiss to the side of Haru’s neck and then breathe out: “We did it, Haru! We fucking did it...!”

He doesn't think about how gay it must look, and he doesn't have the time to, actually, because the next moment the world picks up full speed, and it's not just him and Haru but their whole team in a jumbled heap of dorks going nuts on the poolside because they have the fucking right.

~

The locker room is a mess, too. They sing and shout something jolly and off-key and victorious, kiss their gold medals, drink non-alcoholic beer because some of the guys still have races tomorrow, but Rin is still drunk and he can’t quite feel the ground under his feet. They have to sober up a bit for some government officials to congratulate them on the phone with high words about the honor of Japan and the historical achievement; then for the press to ask them some obligatory, obvious things. What do you mean what I’m feeling right now? I am HAPPY! What? Me kissing Haru? Of course I would kiss him all over again because WE FUCKING DID IT! Hey, Haru! But Haruka is not by his side as he’s probably answering some stupid questions, too, and Rin just laughs, blows kisses into the camera I LOVE YOU ALL! and rushes back to hook himself into the jumping circle of his precious teammates, coaches and staff, and sing the hymn once again.

~

The emotional burnout afterward is real. They walk down the street in deafening silence, he and Haru, just two ordinary guys in their everyday clothes as if they weren't THE BEST IN THE WORLD mere minutes ago. Hell, they still are. Rin can barely keep in the giggles that are bubbling in his chest. He feels like they’re some galactic heroes in disguise. It’s freaking awesome.

Haru is silent, though, probably still not quite back to it, or maybe he’s just being Haru again. Rin leaves him be.

Sydney fusses around them, colorful and bright, all dressed in olympic yet still the same familiar Sydney that once broke his bones and watched him drown with these bright cold eyes. Yet Rin loves Sydney. Look at me now, he thinks proudly. Look at me.

But Sydney doesn’t care to look, too busy in its daily routine, too large. They could’ve just taken a taxi to the station, but somehow, without sparing a word, they both decided it’s a walk. Sometimes Rin wonders if they’ve already reached that level of synchrony where they just don’t need words. It’s been years, after all. Mostly spent apart, but still. It’s not so hard to read Haru when you know him through. Not hard at all.

Yet now, he keeps dead-silent, and keeps not looking at Rin, and Rin begins to feel uncomfortable.

Is it that kiss, after all…?

Rin tries to think back, through his most recent memories which are a mashup of the wildest moments of his life, back to that moment. And his body immediately flushes with heat from the vividness of it.

...Haru’s skin is silky and smooth, and his wet hair are soft between Rin's fingers. Haru’s hands are squeezing Rin so tight there must be bruises on his back. Haru’s taste is… Haru-like. Rin can still sense it on his lips. He sucked it in too hungrily, absolutely in a non platonic way. At the mere thought, a sweet wave washes through his body from head to toe, making his every nerve buzz. Rin chokes on a breath and stumbles.

“Fuck,” he murmurs.

Haru flinches slightly but still doesn’t look his way.

The reality begins to sink in. Rin is an idiot.

~

It does look gay. Totally.

Rin sees the photos on their train ride—mostly the screenshots various people mailed him—when he jams a cap over his hair and fishes his phone out of his pocket, absently going through his inbox. All the messages are a crazy mess of emoji and caps YOU DID IT WERE SO PROUD OF YOU and they all end up mentioning that kiss. Rin curses under his breath and switches his phone off.

Shit.

And of course, of course where they have to be heading now is that exact same room in that same freaking hotel because Haru called Rin on the night before their flight and said he must book it.

That was a joke, moron! Rin palmed his feverish face, for once relieved they're talking on the phone, no video.

Yeah, I figured, Haruka said, and Rin registered—or imagined?—notes of sadness in his voice. But I thought it's a nice idea for a good luck tradition…

How is it a good luck tradition if we can't stay there before the tournament? Rin moaned, because obviously, they would be living and training with the national team in the Olympic village, what is this airhead even thinking?

Then we'll stay there afterward, Haru said matter-of-factly. It's the intention that matters. Book it.

It won't be available anyway, Rin sighed with exasperation.

Do it, Rin.

And just like that, Rin succumbed and went on to book the damn room, his face hot and his heart jumping and missing beats. Because it’s one thing when it's a mistake, and it’s a whole other freaking thing to do that on purpose, clicking all the OK buttons under the "1 double bed" "ensuite bathroom" shit and the pictures of the said bed and the said bathroom behind the glass.

And of course, of course it just ought to be available for that exact date. Holy fuck.

~

There would be times when Rin would seriously consider confessing. He would even go through the most romantic places in his head and compose the most perfect, totally non cliched lines. In his imagination, it would all be sakura petals and city lightscapes, breathtaking views, fancy restaurants with the best mackerel dishes and—if he let his imagination wander off further—private pools and night beaches. He knew it obviously wasn’t a good idea, but he also knew he would jump into it someday. Probably. When they’ve achieved their dream and he’s desperate enough and—

And what? Haru—suddenly—likes him back?

Rin knew Haru liked him, probably even loved him, but not in that way. Obviously not in that way.

...But now, just like that, everything is out in the open, and there’s no meaning in confessions anymore. Rin clenches his sweaty hands as panic begins to engulf him, slowly like a tide.

They walk the last stretch past the quay, and somehow it feels so nostalgic as though they used to live here, not spent a couple of nights some years ago. The city skyline across the water is drowning in the purplish haze of the evening as the night draws closer. So does their destination. Rin feels nausea tugging at his insides.

His voice is a crack as he finally braces himself and says, “There on the poolside... Sorry. I lost it.”

It does not rip through the thick silence between them. Somehow, makes it even heavier.

...This is not how Rin pictured their post-victory evening. In his thoughts, it would be a blur of merry partying involving blissful laughter and bright sparkles in Haru’s eyes, as well as touching words of eternal friendship, team spirit and camaraderie; and the most intimate feeling of love finally intertwined with the joy of the achieved dream would be only for Rin to bask in, drown in, his deepest secret. It was never supposed to confuse and burden Haru. It was never supposed to come out for the whole world to behold.

Now, it must be all over the news. A spur-of-the-moment Olympic coming out... The Japanese Team lets passion speak after the dramatic victory... The Pride Flag rises high in the Olympic Sydney... Rin hisses under his breath.

He's fucking ruined it.

“It won't happen again. Ever,” he finds it important to add. Like it somehow can turn back the tide, fix things and make Haru—along with the rest of the world—just forget.

“Eh?” Haru's voice comes barely audible through the thick beats of pulse in Rin's ears, and the sound of his steps halts.

Haru...halts.

Rin flinches and turns around.

“Ever... Again...” Haruka's lips move without producing a sound. He still doesn’t look at Rin. The bangs fall over his eyes like a shadow.

Rin is confused.

...until something rings alert in his memory. It was one of Rei's talks while Rin was teaching him swimming on the evenings. “...He had been out of it ever since that loss to you. And in the Regionals, it's like he finally collapsed. ‘Will I never swim with Rin again...?’ He seemed devastated.”

Rin was... shaken once again by Rei's revelation. "I won. It means I don't have to swim with you ever again. Ever." He never knew his words had affected Haru that much back then.

It was another grain of hope, another detail Rin attached to his imaginary “signs puzzle”, too eager and incautious. He knew it was a bad idea, he fucking knew it right from the start, and today it finally overflowed, breaking through the barrier of his self-control.

“Ever. Again.” Haru repeats in a firmer voice, his lips twitching in a scoff. And when he raises his head at last, his eyes are a flash of blue blazing Rin’s heart: “Are you chickening out now?”

Rin gulps. Heat flushes the back of his neck. “I’m not...! It’s my fault, ok. You don’t have to comment on it to the press. Just tell them they can go to hell. I’ll do the explaining.” It’s my fault. You shouldn’t be dragged through that shit. You can’t let it affect you, Haru…

“Rin.” He still can’t read through the calmness of Haru’s voice, and maybe even Makoto wouldn’t. “It is you who cares about these things. I never did.”

...and Rin feels all the air being squeezed out of his lungs. He’s back to that horrible, devastating moment in the dark changing room when Haru yelled at him almost the exact same words, “What future? What dreams? It’s you who cares about these things! I’m not like you...!”

Rin forces air back into his lungs. Now, Haru seems rather steady. It is Rin’s voice that trembles as he says, “Like hell you don’t care… wasn’t it you who stopped in the middle of the pool once because of all the pressure?”

“It wasn’t because of the pressure,” Haru denies right away. "It was because I couldn’t understand why I must feel pressured. I just wanted to swim. Not to please the public.”

“You mean… This thing now doesn’t bother you either?”

“Why must it?”

Rin chuckles as he exhales, “Right. You’re the guy who would undress in the middle of a shop to dive into an aquarium, after all…”

Rin's knees almost give out with relief. He’s been an idiot to fear that Haru may leave this path—the path he’d once chosen and never wavered since then—just because of some stupid public scrutiny. And no, Haru's also wrong, because this shit doesn't really bother Rin on itself—but only as far as it affects Haru.

Haruka just nods seriously, his eyes—deadly focused blue lasers—never leaving Rin’s. “If this issue is settled, let’s talk about the important stuff. You kissed me, Rin.”

“I-I thought we’ve just been talking about it,” Rin says in a small voice, panic returning and hitting him like a wave. Right. Publicity is one thing; but what happened between them still stands, and it can't be brushed away just like that. “Haru… I’m sorry. I was carried away by all the feels. It's nothing. It’s not like I… want anything, you know…” he trails off.

Breathe, Rin. Just breathe.

“So, you are chickening out. Even with the gold medal on your chest.”

“I’ve said that I’m not!” Rin clenches his fists in desperation. "God, what do you want me to say now? The obvious? Wanna laugh at my misery...?” No, Haru wouldn’t laugh, he would feel guilty and sad, like that winter when they were 13, and it’s even worse. “Want it to ruin everything we’ve achieved together...?”

“Ruin?” Haru closes the distance between them in a few firm steps like he means it, and halts only when they’re inches apart. Are they being too loud...? Right, they’re still on the quay… Rin backs off until his ass bumps against the railing. But Haru probably wants to push him into the water because he closes those last inches, too, and presses their foreheads together. “Ruin...like this?” his breath soughs across Rin’s parted lips, “—or maybe like this?” And then it’s not just air, but a touch, too. Hot, angry, gentle, wet, greedy— short. Too short. “You’re such a drama queen, Rin.”

...Passers-by continue walking past them as if the world hasn’t just shaken and ground to a halt. Nobody even looks their way. Ok, this is Sydney, not Iwatobi, not like it’s too big of a deal here, two guys standing like this on the quay and— wait, what…?!

“Haru… Do you… too…”

“Obviously. I do.”

“Since when…?”

“Since forever. I thought you knew.”

“Me? Knew…?” Rin barely recovers enough to peel his hands off the metal and clasp them on Haru’s forearms lest he disappears, and everything is another dream, and Rin is the biggest idiot again. “How on earth? Why couldn’t you just say anything?”

“...wasn’t sure you feel the same,” Haru grumbles.

“Oh? Wasn’t it obvious ?” Rin asks in a mocking voice.

“It kinda was.” Haru is still agonizingly close, just enough a distance to look into each other’s eyes, yet he keeps glancing down at Rin’s lips, and each of these glances releases a jar of butterflies in Rin’s stomach. “You’ve been staring at me with these lovestruck eyes since elementary. But it also could have been that you’re just an idiot, so.”

Rin digs his nails into his skin, outraged but too messed up to come up with a witty response in a second, since another second Haru adds, his voice soft and suddenly not so confident anymore: “Anyway... I was afraid to screw up everything, and before the Olympics, too.”

“Now who is the drama queen?” Rin whispers, tentatively sliding his hands up Haru’s arms, sensing goosebumps popping up under his fingertips.

“It’s still you,” Haru smiles and kisses the tear off Rin’s eyelashes.

~

I want to add the hotel part, of course, once i finish it. So, let me know what you think about it so far! Love you all <3

[accioecho]

Tkem Novel 12

Chapter 15 - “The secret only I know”

Tae-Eul thought over what Nari said.

“If there are two identical worlds, then one is bound to destroy the other.”

She wished Gon would come back soon. She wished he would appear right there, right then, in her courtyard atop Maximus.

Carrying this secret alone was too much of a burden and she felt lonely.

—

Chapter 16 - “Even if the flower doesn’t bloom”

After a long day at the station, Tae-Eul was finally on her way back home. Instead of heading inside the warmth of her house though, she stopped in front of it and took the time to water the small flower pot that contained the seeds she bought in the Kingdom. Crouching down, she carefully examined the surface of the planter.

Only soil was visible underneath the soft glow of the street lights.

“Why won’t you sprout?”

Rationally, she knew it was because they came from another world. Just thinking about the fact that these flowers may never bloom left her disappointed.

Gon was still away and these flowers would probably never bloom.

Tae-Eul stared at the pot for a long while, lost in her thoughts. Finally standing up, she lightly tapped her legs with her two hands.

“How have you been?”

The voice she longed to hear all this time rang clear in the empty courtyard. Turning around, Tae-Eul saw Gon standing tall, donning a dark coat. Still struck by his sight, she simply nodded.

“Have you been waiting for me?”

Unable to tear her eyes away from him, she nodded once more.

From the Kingdom of Corea to the Republic of Korea.

Crossing universes.

Tae-Eul knew how far these two worlds were. How big the space between 1 and 0 was.

She couldn’t go to his world even if she wanted to. She couldn’t meet him even if she wanted to. The only thing she could do was to wait.

Gon who was equally glad to see her let out a small laugh. “That’s a relief. I was a bit scared that you didn’t want me to come back—”

He didn’t get a chance to finish. Tae-Eul reached Gon in a few strides and hugged him.

There were a few things she could do now.

She could touch him. She could embrace him.

With Tae-Eul’s head tightly pressed against his chest, Gon felt his heart skip a beat. Silently, he wrapped his arms around her.

Warmth spreading from one body to another, they relaxed into each other.

Their time spent in the Kingdom was short, and their goodbye felt even more rushed. Their current situation meant they couldn’t send each other texts like any normal couple and Tae-Eul probably worried over him. Feeling sorry for being away for so long, Gon held her a fraction tighter.

As much as he did his best to carry out his work as quickly as he could, Gon wished he could have come sooner.

—

Finally breaking their embrace, Tae-Eul led Gon to the Taekwondo center. 

She was the owner’s daughter yet Gon was the one holding the key to the training hall.

Gon had come in earlier in the day, greeted her father and borrowed the house keys. Tae-Eul didn’t know what to make of it. Did he really have to go that far?

She got the answer entering the Dojang.

At first glance, the man standing in the middle of room looked like Eun-Sup. His attire was the one detail that gave him away. This man was not Eun-Sup. It was Yeong.

Yeong faced Tae-Eul and glowered at her, posture stiff. This wasn’t the first time Yeong looked at her with disapproval but this level of animosity was new.

“You brought Jo Yeong here?” Tae-Eul frowned, turning to Gon.

“It was unavoidable. He wouldn’t let me go alone.”

There was several reasons why Gon had wanted to bring Yeong to this place, but one particularly stood out. Yeong had chased after him in the bamboo trail and blocked his path as he was about to cross the gate.

If he was leaving to go meet that girl Luna, then he couldn’t let him go, Yeong had explained.

Luna.

Gon had also learned about her existence in the Kingdom. He had spent hours and hours searching for Tae-Eul and it turned out that her doppelganger did exist in his universe. That time  when he saw a glimpse of her at the rowing competition was not a figment of his imagination after all. But her name wasn’t Tae-Eul and she wasn’t a police officer either. She was just a fugitive, chased by both the mob and police forces.

Gon couldn’t blame Yeong for being wary of Tae-Eul. His best friend had dutifully looked for her at his request. He believed that Luna and Tae-Eul were the same person, so it was only normal that he couldn’t let Gon go to her.

This was about to change.

Gon wanted to show Yeong that Luna and Tae-Eul were really two different persons. That one person belonged to the Kingdom and the other was from another universe.

Yeong still seemed frozen in place, disoriented from the journey from Corea to the Republic’s Seoul. Examining his surroundings, his confusion only grew as his eyes lingered on the various frames that adorned the walls.

There were several pictures of Tae-Eul posing with her father. Another frame of a younger Tae-Eul with Shin-Jae. Countless awards and certificates bearing her name.

To any outsider looking at these various pieces of memory, this was a real, separate person. A person that matched the police ID Yeong saw, belonging to a certain police officer named Jeong Tae-Eul.

“What… what’s going on?” Yeong asked, face slightly tilted. “What is this place?”

“I totally understand how you feel. I’m sure we both have a lot of things to worry about, but for now, welcome to the Republic of Korea.” Tae-Eul replied calmly.

So… did it mean he had to call her Sunbae here?

Yeong pulled out his phone and tried to get a signal.

Yeong’s confused state reminded Gon of Tae-Eul’s similar reaction when she first visited the Palace.

“I’ve never seen him act like that. He looks so cute when he’s flustered.” Gon chuckled.

Tae-Eul had to admit this was a new side of Yeong. She never imagined that the man who didn’t flinch at the sight of blood could look so flustered. But she wouldn’t go as far as to describe him as cute.

She guessed it made sense. Tae-Eul lips stretched into a small smile. Gon did consider Yeong as his little brother.

“Your carefree attitude is what’s cute. How can you just bring someone with the same face? What are you going to do if he gets caught?”

“That’s why I borrowed this place. Besides, Yeong isn’t the type to get caught easil—.”

The door suddenly burst open and Eun-Sup came strolling inside the Dojang. His face lit up at seeing Gon.

“The light were on so I was wondering…”

Eun-Sup shrieked, frozen at the sight of Yeong.

Yeong returned his gaze on Eun-Sup. Both staring at each other, fingers pointing towards the other.

“You two haven’t met, right? Why don’t I introduce… Well, I guess we could say you’ve met already. Anyway, this is my guard, the Unbreakable Sword, Jo Yeong. And this is the guard of a police station…” Gon explained, looking slightly perplexed.

Halfway through Gon’s quiet introductions, Eun-Sup collapsed. Tae-Eul rushed over to him, grabbing his collar and patting his cheek repeatedly.

“Hey! Jo Eun-Sup! I can’t believe it! You made him faint! What? Did you say that he wouldn’t get caught? Our Eun-Sup was also raised as a precious only child until his siblings were born. What are you going to do if something happens to him?” Tae-Eul shouted.

Woken up by Tae-Eul frantic gestures, Eun-Sup kept on rambling. “Noona, I literally just saw someone who looked exactly like me… that face, he’s right here. What the hell is this? He looks exactly like me. No. He is me. Who are you?”

“And who are you?” Yeong confronted Eun-Sup.

Tae-Eul could feel a headache coming on. Massaging her temples, she attempted a rational explanation.

“Eun-Sup. Let me explain. So this is like a parallel universe or something. Don’t get too startled and listen to me, alright?”

“I didn’t realize it until now, but I’m pretty handsome.” Eun-Sup cut her off.

Yes, okay. This was Eun-Sup alright.

“You really didn’t know? How could you not know? I’m sure people around you would’ve told you all the time.” Yeong added, keeping a straight face on.

Gon and Tae-Eul looked at each other.

Eun-Sup, who seemed to have regained his wits, shook his shaggy hair. “Wow, so this means everything was true, right? The Kingdom of Corea really exists, and King Arthur really is the King? Wow! Then you’re the King’s bodyguard, right?”

“No. Are you doing military duties right now? Is the military service compulsory here?” Yeong asked, looking at Eun-Sup’s uniform.

“What do you mean? Is it different where you live?”

“Our military system is on a voluntary basis.”

“Really? Then it means you don’t need to go…”

Tae-Eul let out a long sigh at Yeong and Eun-Sup’s back and forth verbal sparring. This conversation could drag on and on. The Taekwondo center wasn’t a safe place to hide Eun-Sup’s double.

They would be safer at Eun-Sup’s place. It was a school holidays so the twins were back at home and Eun-Sup currently lived alone in the apartment.

She ushered the two of them outside and set up a few basic rules in order for them to co-exist in this world. Eun-Sup could go out and live his life during the day. They would switch at sundown and Yeong could go out at night.

—

Leaving Yeong and Eun-Sup to bicker, Tae-Eul brought Gon to their usual bbq chicken place. She didn’t know how long Gon would stay this time around. Regardless, she had been meaning to give him a cellphone so they could reach each other whenever they felt like it.

Tae-Eul saved all the necessary numbers and slid the brand new phone over to Gon.

Her number. Shin-Jae’s, Eun-Sup’s, Nari’s and the Dojang’s landline number.

“Unlike someone, my salary is chicken feed, and I don’t have a mountain full of rare-earth elements. So I bought it with a 12-month installment plan. Don’t break it and take care of it. Don’t forget to answer my calls. I saved all the numbers you will need in this world.”

“It seems like you bought it and waited for me to come back. Why did you save Shin-Jae’s number though?”

Gon felt a surge of happiness at the idea that Tae-Eul bought this phone for him and waited for him to come back to give it to him. However, his light mood rapidly changed when he saw Shin-Jae’s number on the phone’s bright screen.

“They are the five people who will help you regardless of anything in this world. And Shin-Jae is one of the most trustworthy people.”

“Not you?”

“For me, the citizens of this nation come first.”

With the device still in his hand, Gon dialed Tae-Eul’s number.

At the sound of her ringtone, Tae-Eul instinctively grabbed her own phone, wondering who might want to reach her at this time of the day.

Lee Gon.

Gon gestured for her to pick up the call.

“Is it you?”

“Hang up.”

“Don’t hang up. I always wanted to try this.”

“What is this?”

“Just a normal daily life with you. Call you… chat on the phone…”

“…”

“Ask you what you did today… and tell you that I missed you a lot.” Gon went on.

He was saying aloud all the things Tae-Eul had been thinking about in his absence. She could see the waiter approaching their table with their order.

“Me too.” Tae-Eul admitted in one breath.

Gon’s chest tightened, joy rippling through him. He didn’t know his heart could beat so fast.

“We have somewhere to go after we eat.” Tae-Eul announced, grabbing a piece of chicken.

“…?”

“It’s something I’ve been planning for a long time.”